I shouldn't laugh, but I know I'm a failure in your eyes
It feels as though the rain arrives overnight. The parasol they'd been using to keep the sprout - their child, their twins, he should say - protected from the beaming sunshine has become a shield against the downpour almost immediately, and for that Ronin is grateful. He's grateful, too, for the distance between the garden and anywhere else in Caido, right now more than ever.
The Knight has fallen victim to his own nature enough times to know that no amount of preparation helps, and with the imminent addition of two newborns as well as his usual attentiveness (possessiveness, some would argue, and would be right) towards his husband, Ronin is... highly-strung this Leafchange, to say the least.
He stands watch over the plant and its twin buds - ready to bloom any second, it feels - with his own umbrella to protect him from the rain, a silent sentinel against any who might approach. The abrupt change in weather makes Meadowreach feel decidedly more gloomy than usual, so it's perhaps no surprise that Ronin has also opted to partially shift his crown of antlers to cast a warm glow over proceedings.
If he's cold or tired or hungry he doesn't show it, and when it looks as if one of the buds seems to move, even minutely, he merely squeezes his hand more tightly around the umbrella handle, blue eyes intent on the miracle beyond the picket fence.
The Knight has fallen victim to his own nature enough times to know that no amount of preparation helps, and with the imminent addition of two newborns as well as his usual attentiveness (possessiveness, some would argue, and would be right) towards his husband, Ronin is... highly-strung this Leafchange, to say the least.
He stands watch over the plant and its twin buds - ready to bloom any second, it feels - with his own umbrella to protect him from the rain, a silent sentinel against any who might approach. The abrupt change in weather makes Meadowreach feel decidedly more gloomy than usual, so it's perhaps no surprise that Ronin has also opted to partially shift his crown of antlers to cast a warm glow over proceedings.
If he's cold or tired or hungry he doesn't show it, and when it looks as if one of the buds seems to move, even minutely, he merely squeezes his hand more tightly around the umbrella handle, blue eyes intent on the miracle beyond the picket fence.
RONIN
