drifting

RONIN if there's one thing i'm good at, it's surviving Pouring them both a cup of chilled wine, Ronin slid Rory's across to him before settling back in his chair, joining the other man in a sip of the cool liquid. Surviving, then, was a state they could both relate to, and Ronin's amusement flickered across his face in a smirk. "I know how you feel, but... from the other side of the coin, I guess," he said empathetically. "If the upheaval from Northaven wasn't change enough, the ups and downs of building a life here..." He sighed, shooting Rory an apologetic look. "Perhaps that's why we learned to roll with the punches, with everything that happened at the Spire. We were already used to chaos." Not like the Naturals, whose world have been torn up and thrown back in their faces. Glancing down at Aoife, Ronin fussed at her mop of dark curls and tried not to let his smile falter. "Just over two seasons. She'll be a year old at Longnight," he said - and even thinking about reliving all of that now, in Longheat, was enough to put a chill up his spine.