all the best debts

ronin A man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets After all this time, one would not think that butterflies would fill Ronin's belly with their fluttering. Not like this. He steps carefully over vines and through dense curtains of leaves with a mixture of delight and bemusement, relying on fireflies and partially shifted sight to find his way. And when he does come across the picnic, he has to bite his lip to stop his smile from running away with him. "I have never had a secret admirer before," he purrs, working his way through sticky mushrooms and fragrant petals to reach the blanket. The Oerwoud is humid where Torchline is cold, and so the pale blue shirt he'd chosen to wear is partially unbuttoned by now and rolled up his forearms. Absorbing the note and tilting his head at the square of black silk, the smile does appear, and he obeys with barely hidden enthusiasm. The silk is folded into a band which he uses to cover his eyes, tying a loose knot at the back of his head. "Be gentle with me, okay?" he murmurs.