the bastion
i don't want the world to see me,
because I don't think they'd understand
because I don't think they'd understand
Remi sighs wearily and nods, because as much as he might wish there were a cleaner answer, there is only Caido with all its divine shortcuts and impossible choices, and the two of them lying in bed with babies against their chests trying to decide how much of a childhood belongs to the children and how much belongs to the parents who love them. After a moment, though, he glances sidelong at Ronin, a crooked grin tugging at his mouth with the faint, stubborn warmth of humour returning through the cracks. "True," he murmurs, "but just think how proud Koel and Bellamy and everyone else from Northaven would be to see us with so many children." He snorts under his breath, shaking his head at the sheer absurdity of it, because given the world they had come from, the number of children they have now would certainly be thought of as both a blessing to the kingdom as well as a mockery of all it stood for.
His fingers tighten around Ronin’s in the middle of the bed, and though the ache remains, the agreement settles into him with something like relief. "Next season, then," he says softly, not because the thought no longer hurts, but because it has been given a shape they can carry together.
Turning back toward the baby on his chest, Remi considers him more thoughtfully now, watching the tiny movements of his mouth, the soft rise and fall beneath the blanket, the impossible smallness of a life that will not stay small for long. His thumb strokes once along the edge of the bundle, careful and reverent, while through the bond comes a quiet pulse of love for all of them, tangled with grief and hope and the fragile promise that when the time comes, they will try not to hold on too tightly.
~FIN
His fingers tighten around Ronin’s in the middle of the bed, and though the ache remains, the agreement settles into him with something like relief. "Next season, then," he says softly, not because the thought no longer hurts, but because it has been given a shape they can carry together.
Turning back toward the baby on his chest, Remi considers him more thoughtfully now, watching the tiny movements of his mouth, the soft rise and fall beneath the blanket, the impossible smallness of a life that will not stay small for long. His thumb strokes once along the edge of the bundle, careful and reverent, while through the bond comes a quiet pulse of love for all of them, tangled with grief and hope and the fragile promise that when the time comes, they will try not to hold on too tightly.
~FIN
when everything's meant to be broken,
i just want you to know who I am
i just want you to know who I am
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
