cinders and smoke

RONIN if there's one thing i'm good at, it's surviving I saw Ludo. It was a simple sentence but one that filled Ronin with dread, and he found himself looking over his husband in renewed detail, like he could see any new curses or mental injuries. Alas, for all of his abilities, that wasn't one of them. "What happened, when you saw it? Are you alright?" A stupid question that always seemed to slip out these days. Remi wasn't alright, might never be alright again. Following Remi's gaze down at the pit decorated with shells and feathers (and oh, now Ronin understood the blood, the wounds), he tilted his head slowly. "A grave?" he repeated, uncomprehending. "A grave for..." Meeting the alchemist's stare told him everything he needed to know. Ronin felt the breath catch in his chest, felt himself tense all over; suddenly the Longheat sun did not seem so warm. What exactly Remi expected to put in her grave was a mystery in itself - Aoife's remains were long gone, her ashes sucked into the sea or drifting into the sky. Surrendering his hand willingly to his husband, Ronin lifted bloody fingers to his lips to kiss them, like he could fix them up that way. "...It wasn't about me," he said in quiet explanation regarding Aoife's cremation. "I thought it was enough, what we had done. I didn't want to hurt you any more than you were already hurting."