we shall heal our wounds, collect our dead
Ronin will happily spend every morning on romantic gestures and compliments if it means seeing Remi smile the way he has been, the Star letting out a filthy laugh at the muttered remark from his husband. Leaning in, he nips at the Alchemist’s ear, reaching back to give his ass a squeeze for good measure. ”Work first, play later,” he growls, the his breath hot against Remi’s cheek. Then they’re away, of course, hammering nails instead of each other, and getting the house all fixed up for monsoon season.
A morning well spent, Ronin is gathering together the supplies for their next task when Remi asks for his serenade. ”Go on then,” he murmurs, leaning across to kiss his husband’s temple, heading up the steps onto the porch and singing a low, sweet tune under his breath. It’s a song about a solitary rider, about loneliness and cold, about the dawning sun in winter. Hardly the same kind of shanty from when they were building canals, but it’s a fitting melody for the rain beginning to fall overhead.
~FIN
A morning well spent, Ronin is gathering together the supplies for their next task when Remi asks for his serenade. ”Go on then,” he murmurs, leaning across to kiss his husband’s temple, heading up the steps onto the porch and singing a low, sweet tune under his breath. It’s a song about a solitary rider, about loneliness and cold, about the dawning sun in winter. Hardly the same kind of shanty from when they were building canals, but it’s a fitting melody for the rain beginning to fall overhead.
~FIN
THE DARK STAR
and continue fighting
