RONIN
the white knight
"How about setting a few torches in the walkways between each bonfire?" Ronin's voice is quiet, tentative almost from over Flora's shoulder. The Knight had approached with a much different greeting in mind, but upon seeing the wind softened sketch of her plans for Longnight, he's spoken before he can stop himself. (Story of his life). Clearing his throat and remembering himself, he draws up beside her and rubs at the back of his neck, the wind tousling his already unruly hair and tugging at the fabric of his shirt.
Ronin looks comparatively chipper compared to the last time they'd spoken, in energy if not in mood; the dark and sleepless smudges beneath his eyes are considerably reduced, and though the stress that keeps his back straight and his shoulders tight is still there, it's of a slightly different flavour these days. "I'm sorry I didn't come to see you sooner," he begins, glancing from Flora and back down to her sketch in the sand.
"And I'm sorry for a lot more than that besides. Can we talk...? Or if not, I can help to shift some of the deadfall so it doesn't take so long."
Ronin looks comparatively chipper compared to the last time they'd spoken, in energy if not in mood; the dark and sleepless smudges beneath his eyes are considerably reduced, and though the stress that keeps his back straight and his shoulders tight is still there, it's of a slightly different flavour these days. "I'm sorry I didn't come to see you sooner," he begins, glancing from Flora and back down to her sketch in the sand.
"And I'm sorry for a lot more than that besides. Can we talk...? Or if not, I can help to shift some of the deadfall so it doesn't take so long."
