lay a whisper on my pillow, leave the winter on the ground
It's what he loves most about Ronin these days. The Star is never quick to offer platitudes or half-baked solutions. He doesn't pretend to understand when he doesn't. And the support he does provide? It's always genuine. It's frustrated when it needs to be, it's strong when the situation calls for it, but always, always, is it heartfelt. Gods, of only Remi could thank him enough for it. "All I want is to tear into something." He admits, glancing from Ronin to Sugar and nodding. Perhaps his co-predator will feel up for a hunt later if Ronin doesn't.
Remi won't say he isn't relieved, nor does he hide the way he exhales the breath he'd been holding. His shoulders sag and quickly his expression becomes one of confusion as Ronin mentions it being like an arena. Like some sort of test. "What more could you possibly have to prove to her?" Remi demands with a snarl, knowing that there is no one in the room who could give an appropriate answer.
Tracing the marks with his forefinger, Remi's eyes narrow as he studies what he sees. He touches Ronin not like one who is intimately familiar with the canvas before him, but like some sort of chronicler who has been given access to ancient writings, but only for a short time. It demands all of his focus and care, and for a moment all he sees are the starry imprints on his husband's skin. "Do you wake up wounded, from these dreams?" He wants to know, glancing up through thick lashes.
Remi won't say he isn't relieved, nor does he hide the way he exhales the breath he'd been holding. His shoulders sag and quickly his expression becomes one of confusion as Ronin mentions it being like an arena. Like some sort of test. "What more could you possibly have to prove to her?" Remi demands with a snarl, knowing that there is no one in the room who could give an appropriate answer.
Tracing the marks with his forefinger, Remi's eyes narrow as he studies what he sees. He touches Ronin not like one who is intimately familiar with the canvas before him, but like some sort of chronicler who has been given access to ancient writings, but only for a short time. It demands all of his focus and care, and for a moment all he sees are the starry imprints on his husband's skin. "Do you wake up wounded, from these dreams?" He wants to know, glancing up through thick lashes.
THE ALCHEMIST
i wake up lonely, this air of silence, in the bedroom and all around
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
