cinders and smoke

RONIN if there's one thing i'm good at, it's surviving "No, I am not sure either," Ronin said softly, echoing the sentiment and managing a sad smile as Remi spoke out to the air around them. He couldn't blame him - with Safrin's threat at the back of his mind, he found it all too likely that any god or goddess out there might take up that challenge if they weren't careful. His blue eyes dropped back to the winding sands at the confirmation he hadn't been looking for, exactly, but still felt the weight of when it came. "Me," he echoed, his thumb grazing across the firm musculature of Remi's shoulder. Sighing deeply, he nodded to his husband. "Thank you, for making it. I don't think it is poorly done at all, I just wonder what we are meant to put in it." A dark joke, certainly, but it was still something to consider. And would the tide steal it away, he wondered, when it came in? "Remi... If you were staying around for me and at least enjoying it, that would be different. But..." Ronin stared determinedly at the sun, as if that would keep his voice steady. "If you're just staying because you think that I wouldn't cope with you gone, that's... not a good enough reason. Because you're already dead this way. You're just... sticking around in your body so I don't get lonely."