I shouldn't laugh, but I know I'm a failure in your eyes
Let's camp out in the snow.
A crazy suggestion, for those who don't possess a demigod's constitution, and crazier still given the region they're in. But since they are in the Hollowed Grounds, and since they weren't present for the rumoured shenanigans of the Blood Moon Festival, the Nova is determined to see the view at the top of Peekaboo Rise at dawn.
Maybe it will help to wash away the old memories of the Grounds with new, fresh ones.
And so, having gathered all they need to camp - a tent sturdy enough to withstand freezing air and snowdrifts, firewood, supplies and a sled to put it all on - Ronin has painstakingly set everything up beneath a crystal clear blanket of stars. But that was some hours ago now.
Now it's the middle of the night and, call it Deepfrost or call it their recent conversation in the Frostfields, but sleep evades him like a dream upon waking. And he's not even that annoyed about it, either. Inside their tent, tangled in blankets and plush ursur fur, the Nova watches their dying fire through content and half lidded eyes, his arms locked securely around his partner.
With his face nestled into the crook of Remi's neck and his lips kissing slow prayers against his throat, Ronin wouldn't mind passing the rest of the night like this. It isn't often he's allowed the quiet solitude to simply exist and appreciate what he has, and he isn't going to begrudge the opportunity now.
A crazy suggestion, for those who don't possess a demigod's constitution, and crazier still given the region they're in. But since they are in the Hollowed Grounds, and since they weren't present for the rumoured shenanigans of the Blood Moon Festival, the Nova is determined to see the view at the top of Peekaboo Rise at dawn.
Maybe it will help to wash away the old memories of the Grounds with new, fresh ones.
And so, having gathered all they need to camp - a tent sturdy enough to withstand freezing air and snowdrifts, firewood, supplies and a sled to put it all on - Ronin has painstakingly set everything up beneath a crystal clear blanket of stars. But that was some hours ago now.
Now it's the middle of the night and, call it Deepfrost or call it their recent conversation in the Frostfields, but sleep evades him like a dream upon waking. And he's not even that annoyed about it, either. Inside their tent, tangled in blankets and plush ursur fur, the Nova watches their dying fire through content and half lidded eyes, his arms locked securely around his partner.
With his face nestled into the crook of Remi's neck and his lips kissing slow prayers against his throat, Ronin wouldn't mind passing the rest of the night like this. It isn't often he's allowed the quiet solitude to simply exist and appreciate what he has, and he isn't going to begrudge the opportunity now.
RONIN
