the breath in my lungs

the baffled king composing hallelujah

Whistling for Remi? Not in a million years. Ronin laughed helplessly as he watched his projection get dropped on by his husband-turned-hawk, the two of them tussling and wrestling in the sand while the real deal caught up. ”I think you’ll find it wasn’t a race!” he said brightly, grinning as he hopped down from his nimbus and purposely dismissed his projection - the hope being that Remi would fall on his face as a result.

That would give Ronin the perfect opportunity to run up and muss Remi’s curls. ”Tag!” he announced, giving the alchemist a gentle shove for good measure before he darted away further towards the wagon.