RONIN
It was a temple that he walked through. Don’t ask how Ronin knew it, but some intrinsic part of him could feel the weight of the gods upon him as he strode through its airy, marbled halls. His skin was still warm from the sun, his dark hair carelessly tousled, and he followed his feet on autopilot. Feet bound in sandals the like of which he had never seen before. Indeed, every part of what he was wearing was foreign to him, from the bronze cuirass adorned with a blazing golden sun to the golden greaves covering his legs.
He felt tiny, walking through the doors, the entirety of his vision swallowed at first by the beauty of the pool, the tranquility of the room. Then, of course, blue eyes fell upon his goddess and his lips parted in a soft inhale of surprise. It was more than a bit inappropriate, the way his eyes drifted over her, lingering on the spaces where perfect skin peeked through the soft cloth of her gown.
”Safrin.” Had his voice ever sounded so reverent? Had he ever truly looked at the goddess who had pulled him from the sky? Whatever the answers to those questions, it was doubtful that Ronin would be in any state to consider them, given the rush of blood intimately southward.
He felt tiny, walking through the doors, the entirety of his vision swallowed at first by the beauty of the pool, the tranquility of the room. Then, of course, blue eyes fell upon his goddess and his lips parted in a soft inhale of surprise. It was more than a bit inappropriate, the way his eyes drifted over her, lingering on the spaces where perfect skin peeked through the soft cloth of her gown.
”Safrin.” Had his voice ever sounded so reverent? Had he ever truly looked at the goddess who had pulled him from the sky? Whatever the answers to those questions, it was doubtful that Ronin would be in any state to consider them, given the rush of blood intimately southward.
what?
