and on to the glory at my right hand
Ronin can't hide the brief curl of his lip at the reminder of what Flora had said and the wound that hasn't really closed yet as a result of it. He doesn't know if he agrees that letting their infants be infants is passing on damage, exactly, but at the same time he's not nearly self-righteous enough to proclaim that what Flora said is wrong. He senses Remi shift in bed more than he sees him, his eyes on the twin in his arms and the way the baby has released his finger to yawn widely and nestle closer into his chest.
"Without gods," he says quietly, "this would not even be a consideration." Alas, this is Caido and there are gods, and Ronin has to let that sourness sit in his chest in a way that refuses to shape itself into anything soft or kind. He can't offer agreement with Remi because he doesn't agree with him, but in the same vein, he can't deny the logic in it and he won't argue it either.
So instead he lets his hand find the Bastion's in the middle of the bed, fingers curling around his own. "Next season," he offers quietly. "When it's warmer. We'll need to teach them to swim, and it will be hell when the water is cold."
"Without gods," he says quietly, "this would not even be a consideration." Alas, this is Caido and there are gods, and Ronin has to let that sourness sit in his chest in a way that refuses to shape itself into anything soft or kind. He can't offer agreement with Remi because he doesn't agree with him, but in the same vein, he can't deny the logic in it and he won't argue it either.
So instead he lets his hand find the Bastion's in the middle of the bed, fingers curling around his own. "Next season," he offers quietly. "When it's warmer. We'll need to teach them to swim, and it will be hell when the water is cold."
ronin
