RONIN
"What if we get more snow after that? It'll cover the food colouring, and it'll just be harder to clear," Ronin complains as if this has already happened, grinning and surrendering one of his scarves to the love of his life (aren't you lucky, Remi). He does indeed plan on shifting to clear a path, opening the door and stepping outside onto the very fucking slippery deck. Gliding across to the side of the boat, Ronin is already giggling his way to full wakefulness.
"What kind of music? he asks. "Do you want to hire a band to stand outside? Or we could get a music box, or teach Oria how to play a teeny tiny little lute?" Still grinning, the Huntsman has to very awkwardly waddle his way into the snowdrift before he shifts to avoid setting the boat on fire, but soon enough there's a phoenix stretching out large crimson wings and hopping a melty pathway across the riverbank to the copse of trees.
"What kind of music? he asks. "Do you want to hire a band to stand outside? Or we could get a music box, or teach Oria how to play a teeny tiny little lute?" Still grinning, the Huntsman has to very awkwardly waddle his way into the snowdrift before he shifts to avoid setting the boat on fire, but soon enough there's a phoenix stretching out large crimson wings and hopping a melty pathway across the riverbank to the copse of trees.
soft spoken with a broken jaw
we step outside, but not to brawl
we step outside, but not to brawl
