we shall heal our wounds, collect our dead
"I knew there was some wisdom in there somewhere." Ronin scoffs, nosing into Remi's damp curls. "Whatever our opinions about it, Isla has chosen Everest. And I'd probably not question that choice even if she weren't pregnant - she's really skilled with a scalpel." His wings tighten around them ever so slightly as he feels the Bastion's arms slip around him in turn; a silent reassurance that they can be and do and feel however they please in this small, warm space hidden from the world at large.
It's more necessary than he ever might have considered as Remi speaks again, and the soft tide of Ronin's grief and regret is something he's already mumbling an apology for as it leaks through all the places they touch. "They're all so, so brilliant," he whispers of their children, the ones both dead and alive. "Talented, resilient, smart. I just wish it felt like it was with our help, not in spite of us."
That had never been the sort of parent Ronin had hoped to be, but it's familiar enough ground that he wrinkles his nose and shoves it away. "Maybe we'll be better uncles, mm?"
It's more necessary than he ever might have considered as Remi speaks again, and the soft tide of Ronin's grief and regret is something he's already mumbling an apology for as it leaks through all the places they touch. "They're all so, so brilliant," he whispers of their children, the ones both dead and alive. "Talented, resilient, smart. I just wish it felt like it was with our help, not in spite of us."
That had never been the sort of parent Ronin had hoped to be, but it's familiar enough ground that he wrinkles his nose and shoves it away. "Maybe we'll be better uncles, mm?"
THE WHITE KNIGHT
and continue fighting
