the things we hold are always the first to go
Ronin flinches at the tone of Remi's voice, feeling scales beginning to ripple down over his shoulders and chest even as the other man continues. "I see," he mutters, sniffing and pinching at the bridge of his nose. "Having a dream child with a goddess thrust into my lap with zero warning is not the same," he almost whispers. "We said we didn't want any more children. And then you went to a shrine and you had sex with Hotaru instead of walking away - and you could always walk away and we both know it - and now here we are."
The ringing silence is heavier than the words will ever be, and Ronin makes no attempt to fill it. If he listens closely, though, he hears the fracture worm its way between them, clear as a bell, and he supposes it was only to be expected. It's only you for me is nothing in the face of an innocent child, especially one that's your own flesh and blood. It's how it should be. "I think I'm going to go back to the Greatwood," he mutters.
The ringing silence is heavier than the words will ever be, and Ronin makes no attempt to fill it. If he listens closely, though, he hears the fracture worm its way between them, clear as a bell, and he supposes it was only to be expected. It's only you for me is nothing in the face of an innocent child, especially one that's your own flesh and blood. It's how it should be. "I think I'm going to go back to the Greatwood," he mutters.
