RONIN
the white knight
Remi surges forward and the tidal wave of emotion that roars through him is enough to scatter Ronin's senses to the wind. He comes undone both physically and emotionally, back arching beneath the Bastion and every nerve catching fire. The breath burns in his lungs and even with demigodly endurance he feels as if he might just pass out, each thrum and pulse of his release threatening to drag him into the dark. Eventually some animal part of him remembers to gasp for air, and with that simple reminder his projection flickers out entirely, the concentration for it vanishing with Ronin's return to sanity.
"Gods," he whispers, the words whispered into damp curls, his arms clutching around Remi now that he can properly hold him close. "Gods, that was something else." Whether because of the underlying intention, the location, or something entirely separate, the Knight is lost in the honey sweet perfume of the meadow and the searing weight of his husband's body atop him. His hands run gently down Remi's shoulder blades, tracking each old scar, every perfect part of him like it's brand new.
"Gods," he whispers, the words whispered into damp curls, his arms clutching around Remi now that he can properly hold him close. "Gods, that was something else." Whether because of the underlying intention, the location, or something entirely separate, the Knight is lost in the honey sweet perfume of the meadow and the searing weight of his husband's body atop him. His hands run gently down Remi's shoulder blades, tracking each old scar, every perfect part of him like it's brand new.
i'll get over it
i just gotta be dramatic first
i just gotta be dramatic first
