is there a price to burn this paradise?
So... Ronin had been conveniently absent for much of Flowerbirth and its antics (and that is the last we will fucking say on the subject okay?) but, now that he was out and about, he was learning something about it.
It was muddy as all fuck.
Initially he'd been to see whether or not the excitement of Fiat Lux was anything to get out of bed for (having been conveniently dead for the last festival), but en route he'd become distracted by the curious gloops of memory mud that seemed to spring out of nowhere.
Now he found himself up to his knees in the stuff, half laughing and half swearing in frustration as he tried to battle his way through this particularly boggy patch of the Fields. Arms pinwheeling, clothes ruined, his smile was bright as he gazed over his shoulder.
"Little help, Remi?" he called.
It was muddy as all fuck.
Initially he'd been to see whether or not the excitement of Fiat Lux was anything to get out of bed for (having been conveniently dead for the last festival), but en route he'd become distracted by the curious gloops of memory mud that seemed to spring out of nowhere.
Now he found himself up to his knees in the stuff, half laughing and half swearing in frustration as he tried to battle his way through this particularly boggy patch of the Fields. Arms pinwheeling, clothes ruined, his smile was bright as he gazed over his shoulder.
"Little help, Remi?" he called.
