[SE] keeping it lit

we shall heal our wounds, collect our dead

"Oh, gods no," Ronin agrees with a bark of laughter. "I was hard headed as they come. Still am, just a little more cheerful about it." His grin fades into the steady warmth of Remi's kiss, the shield of his wings blocking out the roar of the sea, the billowing smoke, the heat of the sun, until it's just the two of them and that gentle but persistent kernel of hope that the Knight can't help but latch onto.

"I feel like you're wondering less about the past and more about the future," he hazards gently. It's not a conversation they've had for a long time - and the last one had been cut with grief and guilt on Ronin's side, especially given the state of the world at the time. "And not Isla's future," he adds, thumb brushing across the scruff of Remi's cheek. "Talk to me."

THE WHITE KNIGHT

and continue fighting

and my heart ran away with me

Remi lets out a soft chuckle, the sound warm and a little self-aware as he meets Ronin’s gaze. "It helps," he admits lightly, "that I can actually look at you without melting into a puddle."

When the kiss breaks, he draws in a steadying breath, fingers splayed across Ronin’s lower back as if anchoring himself there while his thoughts scatter and resettle. For a moment he says nothing, lips parting as though he might, then closing again while he finds the shape of it. Slowly, carefully, he begins. "I think I just...always assumed those days were behind us." There’s a faint smile as his eyes flick briefly to the grey threading Ronin’s hairline, the look boyish rather than mournful, and he gives a small, almost helpless shrug against him.

Then, quieter, more tentative, "But Isla is our age, and she’s having her first." The thought hangs there unfinished as Remi shakes his head, unable—or unwilling—to say the rest aloud, the unspoken maybe? pressing gently between them instead.

remi

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

we shall heal our wounds, collect our dead

"Yeah?" Ronin's mouth quirks up in a smirk. "I feel like I melt more into a puddle now when I look at you than I ever did before." And he's not sorry about it either, leaning in to brush his nose against Remi's before settling back to hear him out properly. His eyes narrow playfully as he watches those vibrant greens flick up towards his temples, the Knight swatting at his husband even before he truly realises what he's saying.

"That is from stress rather than age," he snips immediately, despite the fact that he is, in fact, inching closer to forty than he ever thought he'd be alive to see possible. Closer but not there, though, and as it slowly dawns on him, what Remi might tentatively be offering up, he feels more boyish than ever. Blinking dumbly for a second, like he's misheard the things the Bastion is and isn't saying, eventually Ronin huffs out a disbelieving laugh.

"Remi," he says, his tone gently chastising but also a little puzzled, as if begging him to be serious about this.

THE WHITE KNIGHT

and continue fighting

and my heart ran away with me

Remi chuckles, the sound bright and mischievous as he leans in just enough to steal the space again. "That must be why I get my way so much more often these days," he says lightly, eyes sparkling with it. When Ronin swats at him, he flinches away in exaggerated offence, hand flying to his side as if gravely wounded, widening his eyes in a look so theatrically disbelieving it’s impossible to take seriously, laughter bubbling out of him anyway.

But then Ronin says his name like that, and the moment shifts. Remi blinks, once, twice, as if he’s only just catching up to the shape of what he’s been circling, and for perhaps the first time he looks a little uncertain, a little caught in the open. He shrugs, helpless in the way of someone who has stumbled into honesty without quite meaning to, shifting against Ronin as though proximity might help him sort his thoughts into something coherent. "I just..." He exhales softly. "We always talked about having more children." Ronin, at least, had never been on the fence about wanting more in the early days. "“And then the wars, and everything that followed, the ones we lost, and...I thought that we'd just...gotten too old to think about it anymore."

His head tilts slightly, gaze lifting back to Ronin’s with something tentative and earnest beneath the boyishness. "…Have we?" he asks softly.

remi

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

we shall heal our wounds, collect our dead

"It most definitely is," Ronin confirms, wondering how it is that they're able to so seamlessly able to glide between flirtation and what's arguably one of the most serious conversations they've ever had. His wings shift and then softly begin to open, as if letting in the sunlight will also give them clarity into the decision they're very close to making, and as Remi leans into him further, the Knight holds him close and steadfast against him.

He knows the tragedy of their past like the back of his hand, scarred with grief and war and lost time, but as the other man asks the question out loud - have we? - Ronin already knows the answer, and the kisses he scatters across Remi's cheeks are ruined by the laughter bubbling out of him. "No," he says breathlessly, the hope suddenly kindling in him enough to have it beaming out of him in celestial radiance.

"No we aren't, but I... what about Flora? Mateo? You two only just started talking again..."

THE WHITE KNIGHT

and continue fighting

and my heart ran away with me

Ronin’s laughter brushes warm and breathless across his cheeks, the no carried on it like something fragile and brilliant all at once, and Remi can’t quite stop his brows from lifting in soft disbelief. Hope flickers there, tentative but unmistakable, and he has to narrow his eyes slightly against the literal radiance pouring off his husband, a boyish chuckle slipping free as he offers Ronin a hesitant, almost shy smile.

Then Mateo’s name is spoken, and the colour drains from him in a way no amount of sunlight can disguise. The laughter ebbs away, replaced by something quieter, heavier, and he exhales slowly before answering. "Flora has Enzo again," Remi says gently, certainty anchoring the thought. "And she’s always been quicker to forgive."

Mateo, though. His mouth tightens, a frown creasing between his brows as he gives his head a small shake. "Mateo is...different," he admits softly. "And I think—" He pauses, lips tugging down in a frown. Maybe the choices they'd made over the years with regard to their son had already made this decision for them, and they were being nothing but foolish for thinking the past could be righted. "Maybe you're right. Maybe it's too much to ever ask of them." Of Mateo, the son he'd dreamt to life and the one they'd both along the way left to grow wild on his own.

remi

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

we shall heal our wounds, collect our dead

As quick as the radiance builds within Ronin, it winks out again just as fast, like a freshly struck match plunged into a cup of ice water. His brows flinching together, the Knight lets his wings unfurl fully now, baring them back to reality - to Metacarpal Island and its still smoking shoreline, to the things they've done and the poor decisions that have ensured their family hasn't grown any more than it might have.

"Maybe we should talk to him," he whispers, brushing a wayward curl back out of Remi's face as the sea breeze rushes back in. "To both of them." That hope hasn't extinguished, not entirely, but it's certainly more tempered than when they'd been allowing love and imagination to run away with itself. "Not to tell them a decision, but to ask what they might think if it happened."

And if the response is little more than bitterness and resentment - if it's anything other than approval, in fact - then Ronin is more than willing to close that chapter once and for all. He won't risk their existing children's wellbeing for the sake of chasing a dream from the past.

THE WHITE KNIGHT

and continue fighting

and my heart ran away with me

As Ronin’s wings open and the world rushes back in—the salt wind, the smoke, the still-warm sand beneath their feet—Remi stiffens almost imperceptibly, the shift in atmosphere keenly felt. For a fleeting moment he wonders if he should never have said anything at all, if this fragile, dangerous line of thought might have been better left untouched. The notion is dismissed just as quickly; he has never been able to keep anything from Ronin, and he doubts he ever could. Still, without that golden radiance and the shelter of his husband’s wings, the cold reality of it settles more heavily on his shoulders.

He nods slowly, swallowing past the tightness in his throat, considering what it would mean to place something so enormous in the hands of their children. There is a brief, instinctive resistance to it—Flora and Mateo and Enzo ig were both capricious in their own ways, capable of fierce emotion and sharp rejection—but the thought resolves itself with quiet clarity. If either of them hated the idea, truly hated it, then no amount of hope or effort on his or Ronin’s part would ever be enough to stitch a new piece of family together without reopening old wounds, however unfair it might be.

"You’re right," Remi says softly at last, the words steady even if his heart isn’t. He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of Ronin’s mouth. "Maybe another family dinner," he adds, thoughtful, before wrinkling his nose just a touch. "Though this time maybe without Kaisel."

remi

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

we shall heal our wounds, collect our dead

"For once I'm not inclined to insist you repeat yourself," Ronin says as Remi confirms that he's right; if anything, he'd have liked to have been wrong in this instance, would like to have the thought of growing their family be met with instant excitement and affection. Alas, that isn't how things have worked out, and it's proof enough, he supposes, that they're doing it right this time by testing the waters before diving right in.

"Do you think they'll feel pressured to vote one way or the other if we announce it at a dinner?" he asks with a wince, closing his eyes to fully enjoy the steady warmth of his husband's body still pressed against his own, the lips teasing kisses to the corner of his mouth. "I suppose I was thinking about a more private conversation with each of them, but if you think it would work...?" Without Kaisel for sure, but perhaps it wouldn't be as bad as the potentials he's envisioning.

THE WHITE KNIGHT

and continue fighting

and my heart ran away with me

Remi chuckles softly at that, rolling his eyes with easy fondness as if the concern is both entirely fair and entirely Ronin. He tilts his head, a faint frown creasing his brow as he considers it. "I thought we were just asking for their thoughts, not for a vote?"

As Ronin’s kisses brush the corner of his mouth, Remi leans into them, turning just enough to press his lips against Ronin’s in a gentle, playful block, as though fending him off before he can distract him entirely from the point. Pulling back only slightly, he shrugs, the gesture small and thoughtful. "I just wondered if it might be easier to have everyone together," he adds fewer threads writing with ourselves innit. "So they can hear what the others have to say, instead of it feeling like it’s us on one side and just one of them on the other."

remi

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

we shall heal our wounds, collect our dead

"No, I know. I know, I just... you know how they can be." Ronin's smile is all wry affection, because it's not at all a bad thing for Flora and Mateo to have each other's backs the way they do. Finding himself very unfairly silenced if not pleased about it, he leans into Remi's kiss and loosens his grip around him a fraction so they're embracing more than they're clinging onto one another.

Humming his reluctant agreement, as they part Ronin nods and adds another kiss to Remi's forehead to his collection. "Now you're being right. Stop it," he says, sighing and smiling across at him. "Alright. No being lazy with this. We'll get together with them and ask them for their thoughts. If this happens, I..." His brow furrows, and something quiet and steely flows through their bond. "I'm getting it right this time, Remi."

THE WHITE KNIGHT

and continue fighting

and my heart ran away with me

Remi nods, because he does know and the understanding of it eases him further into Ronin’s arms as they shift into something looser, more comfortable than clinging. He lets out a soft hum of agreement, content to linger there for a moment, forehead resting briefly against Ronin’s as the weight of it all settles without pressing too hard.

Then, despite the seriousness of the moment, his brows bounce once with a brief spark of mischief, a flicker of light that refuses to be entirely dimmed. He drags in a deep breath, nostrils flaring slightly, and when he releases it, his curls bounce faintly against his forehead. Reaching for Ronin’s hand, he gives it a firm, reassuring squeeze, meeting that quiet, steely resolve without flinching. "We will," Remi says softly, certain. "No matter what happens." If their children fly up in arms over the idea and they put it aside for good or if it's nurtured into something more, either way, they'll go about it the right way.

remi

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

we shall heal our wounds, collect our dead

Arching an eyebrow at the mischief suddenly sparking through the bond they share, Ronin finds himself smiling without meaning to, despite the steel in his spine and the decision they've opted to make as a family - as all of their family. "Good. I couldn't do any of this without you. Wouldn't want to, anyway." His smile softening, Ronin's eyes shut for a moment to enjoy this; the potential future cracking open through a door he can't quite see through yet, the knowledge that even if it isn't meant to be, it's a choice that will be made with love. A choice that isn't selfish or fuelled by rage or grief or envy.

"Gods, I love you," he whispers to Remi, closing the distance between them with another kiss that feels like it might last forever so long as neither of them remember why they're here. Alas, Sugar is there to save the day ruin the moment yet again, her warning trill overhead the precursor to another cold reminder of the task at hand. "Alright, alright." Laughing, Ronin steps back at last and glances over to the smoking shoreline, content that they've beaten the fire back for now.

"Can I interest you in that brunch?" he asks Remi. "We can also pick up a gift for Isla, to say congratulations."

THE WHITE KNIGHT

and continue fighting

and my heart ran away with me

Remi lets himself melt into Ronin just as readily, the warmth of LongHeat and the dying fires around them not even beginning to compare to the heat that blooms anywhere they touch. Instead of words, he answers with feeling, sending it openly through the bond and through his magic; an undeniable surge of devotion and affection, threads of gold woven through deepest sea-blue, lightening and softening until they bleed into buoyant seaglass green.

"I love you," he whispers back at last, the words breathed first against Ronin’s lips and then echoed in the kiss itself, unhurried and full, as if he could seal the sentiment there and keep it safe. When Sugar’s return announces just how done she is with all of this, Remi huffs out a quiet chuckle, reaching for Ronin’s hand as the Knight finally steps away. He stoops to retrieve his abandoned shirt from the sand, shaking it out absently.

"Absolutely you can," he says, glancing back up with a smile, brows bouncing suggestively as mischief resurfaces. "And you know what gift I think Isla would like?" His grin widens, boyish and far too smug. "A painting," he adds lightly. "You know, like the one we painted ourselves." Using themselves as the brushes.

remi

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)