don't call it black and white

i've got a river for a soul

"Not hearing it first from her boyfriend, no. After having heard that she told him about our kraken experience as well." Unwilling to part his teeth from where they've pressed together into neat and jagged rows that approximate a shark's mouth, instead Remi pulses a bloom of appreciation into Ronin's fingertips as his astral self deals with the water.

"Very much so." It wasn't an exaggeration to say that she was the only woman for him, not in the slightest. There as some pull, a tether that had managed to remain even after death and resurrection in various forms. That now it had been cut? It was a loss he bore all on his own, and he wanted it back. He supposed that was the selfish and sulky part—a gust of guilt blows through Ronin with these emotions as they sweep from Remi—and eventually there's nothing left to say or do, other than turn in Ronin's arms.

"And to keep you attached." He replies a touch wickedly before his expression softens. "You are far too good to me, you know that?" What other relationship could bear this sort of conversation? "I love you for every star Safrin has ever made, plus three."