all i've got is time until the end of time

arms give away your need

"No - you don't understand--" Ronin begins, before Remi is talking and the Star can do little more than stand and listen to it all, until the cogs in his mind are whirring too quickly for him to keep up. He just needs some space, a little time to let the darkest parts of him settle, to rise above it so he doesn't do or say or think the things he's already thinking. But even as the entire dreamscape is swallowed up into the blackest parts of Ronin's psyche, his husband is still pressing to be here and be around him and finally it all just bubbles over.

"Remi!" Ronin snaps, the fingers of one of his hands half raked through his dark hair, the other clapping around the alchemist's wrist. And it roars through them both, taking shape around them in warbling, bubbling swathes of fog. Sometimes it's a blanket of stars and a whispered request into an ear that he's sure will listen: make this go away. Other times it's an imagined, snowy little hollow in the Citadel and death arriving on fiery wings. It's violence and horror and all of those things in the Star that make him dark, and it's relentless.

"I do hate this child," he whispers. "I don't just want to - I do. It's not fair, and it's not right, and don't want it, but it's still true." I hate your child, Remi, for not being ours.

tie them up and around me

and play me as you please

RONIN