cinders and smoke

RONIN if there's one thing i'm good at, it's surviving "...There are things," Ronin said softly, quietly, like it was a secret that might escape if they spoke them too loudly. "At your shop... There will be things. I didn't go in - I couldn't. But I imagine it looks just the same as the day we left." His fingers tightened around Remi's shoulder, as if even the hint of emotion in his voice was like a lifeline in the dark, something he could catch at and tug, like it led somewhere. "I took one of her pictures once, to Safrin's shrine in the Fields. She made it part of the shrine... it's there still." He shrugged. Evidence, at least, that their daughter had lived. Snorting softly at being told he would cope, Ronin begged to differ, but in truth he didn't know. He had coped with Vanya because of Remi. He was coping now because of Remi. Without him... would he really just be adrift, a ship with no anchor? Some deep, scared part of him begged the world not to make him have to find out. Leaning in, Ronin kissed Remi's temple, his lips warm and his cheeks wet. "I love you too," he said roughly. "Whatever you can muster, however much or little, it's enough. You're enough for me."