RONIN
If there is a time where Ronin does not love the bones off his husband, he hasn't found it yet, and this moment is no exception. Rather than coddle or clutch the other man close to him, though, the Huntsman lets out a sharp whistle into the darkness above. A rustling of branches has a pale shape dropping out of the canopy, landing gently about Remi's shoulders. Sugar huffs a cold breath against his temples, her chilly body trying to wick away the nauseous heat from his skin, even as rage replaces grief.
"If I recall," Ronin says softly, reaching out to let his fingers brush along Remi's jawline, as if to persuade him away from performing impromptu dentistry on himself, "they were never all that interested in playing fair to begin with. At least we got that upgrade." So he believes, anyway.
"If I recall," Ronin says softly, reaching out to let his fingers brush along Remi's jawline, as if to persuade him away from performing impromptu dentistry on himself, "they were never all that interested in playing fair to begin with. At least we got that upgrade." So he believes, anyway.
a star in someone else's sky
