there will be scrapes and sutures; viciousness and victory
"Thank you for agreeing to meet me out here. It's been a long time since I was in Torchline for more than an hour or so, and Stormbreak, for all its good points, is very grey." Ronin's voice is soft as he meanders towards the shrine to Rae and Frey, a basket of the Pacifist Plaza's finest fruits in the crook of one arm. He's pale compared to when he lived along the island's tropical shores, squinting in the Leafchange sun, his dark hair swept back from his face.
"Even greyer, since what happened to the Tower," he adds, gazing down at the prismatic colours of the road, before glancing over his shoulder at Torchline's queen. "But how have you been? I feel like all I do lately is talk about terrible things. Some real conversation would be a balm."
"Even greyer, since what happened to the Tower," he adds, gazing down at the prismatic colours of the road, before glancing over his shoulder at Torchline's queen. "But how have you been? I feel like all I do lately is talk about terrible things. Some real conversation would be a balm."
RONIN
