you've long seen your downfall, spelled out in another's bones
I'm taking you away somewhere.
That had been Ronin's vow to Remi at the beginning of Flowerbirth, when the sun rose at last over the longest night, and Vai was still gone. Since then - since the meeting at Torchline with Sunjata (ew) and Vai's funeral (gods) he'd been true to his word, and as the morning sun rises over the Mistbanks and penetrates the dreamlike fog, it will fall on a quaint and colourful little tent.
The fabric doors have been tied open so the fresh breeze can circulate within, and just outside a cookfire is giving heat to a stewpot, letting whatever breakfast within simmer and bubble. For his part, Ronin is sitting up in the mess of furs and blankets that have provided them ample space to sleep, having shifted to seat himself behind Remi - even if it means propping up a sleepy and reluctant alchemist.
"I used to do this to Aoife's hair, when she'd sit still long enough," he's murmuring softly into the other man's ear, even as his fingers carefully wend through Remi's curls, adding errant feathers and beads into the braid he's placing there. Once he's done, it's with a smiling kiss to the Lullaby's shoulder that he tries to tug them back into the nest they've made, reluctant to get up even if the sun is beckoning them.
That had been Ronin's vow to Remi at the beginning of Flowerbirth, when the sun rose at last over the longest night, and Vai was still gone. Since then - since the meeting at Torchline with Sunjata (ew) and Vai's funeral (gods) he'd been true to his word, and as the morning sun rises over the Mistbanks and penetrates the dreamlike fog, it will fall on a quaint and colourful little tent.
The fabric doors have been tied open so the fresh breeze can circulate within, and just outside a cookfire is giving heat to a stewpot, letting whatever breakfast within simmer and bubble. For his part, Ronin is sitting up in the mess of furs and blankets that have provided them ample space to sleep, having shifted to seat himself behind Remi - even if it means propping up a sleepy and reluctant alchemist.
"I used to do this to Aoife's hair, when she'd sit still long enough," he's murmuring softly into the other man's ear, even as his fingers carefully wend through Remi's curls, adding errant feathers and beads into the braid he's placing there. Once he's done, it's with a smiling kiss to the Lullaby's shoulder that he tries to tug them back into the nest they've made, reluctant to get up even if the sun is beckoning them.
RONIN
