[SE] a muddy good point

there will be scrapes and sutures; viciousness and victory

"I really hope so," Ronin calls up with a returning grin. "I'm getting forgetful in my old age. I'll need you to stay as close as you can to take notes. And to taste test." He winks. Hopefully that sort of proximity won't distract them from the all too important results of the practice-dinner - or if it does, Ronin hopes they won't forget about it afterwards in lieu of passing out in each other's arms.

The house goes toppling over the outcrop, though, and Ronin approaches the edge of it through the mist like some gothic hero checking if he has managed to conquer the monster, peeping down at the sharp rocks and turbulent tide only to see that Remi is correct. "Ugh," he says at the sight of it trying to reassemble itself, even as the waves continue to steal bits of it to ferry them out into the deeper water.

"Well good for it," he says, scoffing and taking a few steps back before holding out a gentlemanly hand for Remi to descend, as if he's helping him out of a carriage. "In the meantime, let's go continue our lives. We've got ramphire to hunt."

RONIN

& my heart ran away from me

Remi grins, brow arching with amused challenge at Ronin’s suggestion. He might no longer have the demigod’s ability to curl right up against his husband’s soul, but he can still keep close; very close. "You can count on me," he says with quiet warmth, his tone threading between sincerity and flirtation, as he begins his descent.

Remi accepts the offered hand with an affectionate nod as he touches down next to Ronin, the gesture more tender than formal. His wings fold neatly against his back, catching the glow of the molten air before fading into stillness. Glancing down at the churning water below, he lets out a small huff of laughter. "Of all the monsters we’ve faced," he muses, eyes bright with wry disbelief, "I wouldn’t have thought mud would be the one undefeated against us, but here we are."

With a shrug and an indulgent smile, he keeps Ronin’s hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze before turning toward the dense green of the jungle. "Come on then," he says, tone soft but playful. "I’ll flush the ramphire out of the brush for you to take down." Still joined by the hand, the pair start their trek inland.

~FIN

THE

BASTION

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