the things we hold are always the first to go
They arrived back at the guildhall just after dawn. Ronin had walked largely in silence, unsettled and with his worries painted all over his face. Worry for himself? Not one bit. No, he was anxious about his daughter and if he had made her sick, anxious about Remi, too. (Was the blight even contagious?) Still, there was nothing more he wanted than to hold the other man in his arms and tell him it was alright, even though he knew he shouldn't.
...And as they lingered outside the doors to the guild, the sunlight catching in his hair and in Remi's shattered sea-glass eyes, Ronin realised and remembered that his husband-to-be probably didn't care. So he reached out and drew Remi against him, holding him tightly, pressing his lips in a kiss against his unruly curls. "I am not going anywhere," he promised.
...And as they lingered outside the doors to the guild, the sunlight catching in his hair and in Remi's shattered sea-glass eyes, Ronin realised and remembered that his husband-to-be probably didn't care. So he reached out and drew Remi against him, holding him tightly, pressing his lips in a kiss against his unruly curls. "I am not going anywhere," he promised.
