RONIN
Ronin is sailing on a seashell to the moon when he hears it. He can’t place what it is, exactly, but it’s like an itch in the back of his brain, like someone’s attached a string to the base of his skull and is tugging him down. Down...
His shell soars into thick, deep blackness, the Star radiating light to try and make sense of it. It feels like wearing a coat that’s too big - he has the distinct impression that the shadows he sails through are not his own. At first he thinks the light is doing no good, but then he realises it - there’s nothing to see.
”Hello!” he calls, rising to his feet and glancing down at himself, brow furrowing. He’s in his Storm Guard gear, a uniform he hasn’t worn for years - but his mind can craft its every detail. ”Hello?” he calls again, Ronin squinting as he thinks he hears something in return, in a voice he recognises well.
Can you fall down?
”Remi?” He urges the shell towards the sound of the voice, keeping his eyes keen for his husband, dropping to one knee so he can pull him up if he needs to.
His shell soars into thick, deep blackness, the Star radiating light to try and make sense of it. It feels like wearing a coat that’s too big - he has the distinct impression that the shadows he sails through are not his own. At first he thinks the light is doing no good, but then he realises it - there’s nothing to see.
”Hello!” he calls, rising to his feet and glancing down at himself, brow furrowing. He’s in his Storm Guard gear, a uniform he hasn’t worn for years - but his mind can craft its every detail. ”Hello?” he calls again, Ronin squinting as he thinks he hears something in return, in a voice he recognises well.
Can you fall down?
”Remi?” He urges the shell towards the sound of the voice, keeping his eyes keen for his husband, dropping to one knee so he can pull him up if he needs to.
don't close your eyes
something beautiful is still alive
something beautiful is still alive
