[SE] show me what it's like

Now the ashes of tomorrow sing your sad song

There are a lot of things Remi might be called cruel for, but dragging his fighty, rut-wired husband down into a former void pit with a bottle of wine and a picnic blanket probably shouldn’t be one of them.

And yet.

"Don’t give me that look," he says, tossing a grin over his shoulder as they descend the jagged lip of the fissure, careful not to brush the walls—because even Remi, even now, knows better than to pick a fight with glowing mushrooms and air that smells like someone’s kept a wet rug full of meat in the sun. "You were the one brooding on the roof like a thundercloud in a stag costume. I’m just giving you something better to do."

The violet glow slicks across the curve of his grin as he jumps lightly from one uneven ledge to the next, sure-footed and too pleased with himself for someone actively stepping over a mummified ribcage.

He’s got a blanket slung over one shoulder and a bottle of wine tucked safely under the opposite arm, and his curls bounce as he turns to peer back at Ronin. "Come on. Don’t pretend this isn’t exactly your kind of romantic. Forbidden terrain. Rotting things. And your overly generous husband who packed snacks."

He stops near a flatish bit of stone surrounded by softly glowing ferns that definitely want to kill them, and sets the blanket down with a proud ta-da. Then he straightens, planting a hand on his hip and eyeing Ronin with that glint in his sea-glass eyes—the one that says you’re mine, but only because he wants to be.

"I figured, now that the Family’s fucked off for the moment, there’s no better way to celebrate than claiming this place as ours. What do you say?"

the bastion

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

gladiator, picked a fight with the gods, i'm a giant slayer

"I wasn't giving you any look," Ronin says in a tone best described as sulkily, the Knight somehow managing to make grumping along with his hands in his pockets and his shoulders slouched look graceful. He dodges around ominously glowing funghi and slime coated walls with an agility that feels foreign even to his usually fast-paced movements, though his blue eyes are focused entirely on the man who steps before him.

"And I wasn't even wearing my horns on the roof," he adds with brows furrowed like a hormonal teenager; stag costume his ass.

Following across the ledge - he'd not bothered to offer to carry anything for Remi only because he knows he's more likely to be shoved into a void-slick abyss - Ronin lands quietly behind his husband and raises his brows questioningly. "Rotting things?" he repeats, unsure quite when that had made it onto their list of romantic, but he can't deny the other parts. Boooo.

"I say it entirely depends on the type of claiming you intend to do." Responding to the look in Remi's eyes with a lascivious grin, Ronin prowls forward to close the distance between them, his hands leaving his pockets to settle on the other man's hips to draw him closer. "Though I will reluctantly say that I feel much better having you all to myself in this dank pit, though it has nothing to do with the surroundings."

bone shaker, dominator, freight train, wreckin' ball, i'm the gladiator

RONIN

Now the ashes of tomorrow sing your sad song

Remi raises his brows with the slow, theatrical incredulity of a man who has definitely caught someone in a lie and plans to milk it for all it’s worth. "Mm-hmm," he hums, eyes narrowing with pandering disbelief. "Not giving me a look. Just coincidentally radiating I'll kill everyone energy from across the roof like a heat lamp set to possessive."

And then, with a grin that turns positively indulgent, he tilts his head and adds, "You really should’ve had your horns out, though. Gods, Ronin. You have no idea how attractive you look with them. It’s wildly unfair." The way he says wildly is very pointed indeed.

At the Knight’s confusion over rotting things, Remi just shrugs, utterly unbothered. "’Tis the season," he says, as if that explains everything. And then Ronin’s hands are on his hips and the air changes, the grin on Remi’s face shifting from boyish to wicked in a heartbeat. The heat hits him fast—low and warm and humming under his skin—and it shows in the flush that starts to creep across his cheeks, even as he tries to keep his composure.

"Reluctantly said or not," he murmurs, eyes half-lidded as he steps in closer, "it’s the fact that you said it that counts." And then, before Ronin can grab for more, Remi leans forward and presses the softest, slowest kiss to his lips—maddening in its restraint, in the way it promises everything without giving any of it away.

the bastion

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

gladiator, picked a fight with the gods, i'm a giant slayer

"Exactly. Entirely coincidentally. I'm affronted that you'd doubt me about it," Ronin says with an honest-to-gods pout at Remi, one that melts into something mildly suspicious and uncertain, though there are hints of a smile that want to curl into the expression. "Are you mocking me, husband?" he inquires; it isn't as though the Knight is even entirely aware of when he's crowned with antlers at Leafchange - it just happens, like the tide coming in and out. Or the mailman receiving death threats. You know, normal stuff.

'Tis the season for something, he might have countered, but then his hands are on Remi and he tracks the flush along his skin like it's a light to lead him home. Already stepping closer, already letting his fingers skim across the other man's hips to try and tease beneath his shirt, he shrugs a shoulder at his last remark - evidently he's happy to concede anything if it means no more walking and much more of this.

When the kiss comes it might as well be poison for the fire it sets in Ronin's veins; slow, infuriatingly gentle, loving and soft and absolutely not enough, he hisses in a quiet breath that already suggests a tentative limit to his restraint--

And then he hears the fucking void messengers.

Their echoing cries might as well be laughter for how the Knight feels this is personal, and he turns to glare up into the archways of stone and darkened crags, searching for the little fucks.

bone shaker, dominator, freight train, wreckin' ball, i'm the gladiator

RONIN

Now the ashes of tomorrow sing your sad song

Remi lifts both hands in mock surrender, the picture of a man wrongfully accused and loving every second of it. "So sorry for doubting you," he says, his tone far too graceful to be anything but theatrical. "Truly. I’ll take every precaution to ensure it never happens again." At least for the next few seconds.

And when Ronin accuses him of mocking, the Bastion’s brows shoot up with exaggerated innocence. He purses his lower lip, gives an emphatic shake of his head. "Never," he drawls, boyish and entirely unconvincing, his sea-glass eyes glittering with amusement. "Perish the thought."

He’s already stepping just out of reach, dancing backward with a playful skip as Ronin’s fingers try to chase under his shirt—but then the sharp, uncanny sound slices through the space overhead. Remi pauses, his smile turning sharp at the edges as he feels the flare of fury pulse off Ronin like static before a storm. Oh, there it is. He glances sidelong, already turning to check the bottle and blanket, making sure nothing is liable to grow legs and walk off if this turns into a brawl.

He straightens and rolls his shoulders, the motion loose and fluid before his wings unfurl from his back in a sweep of light tan and gold, catching the glow of the fungi like fire along their edges. He gives Ronin a light nudge with his hip, tilting his head toward the shadows above. "Shall we?" he murmurs, grin back in full force. "It isn't like there's anyone around to complain if you starbolt this place back to hell."

the bastion

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

gladiator, picked a fight with the gods, i'm a giant slayer

Had they not been in the business of fucking with the void (instead of actually fucking, which if you haven't guessed yet, is what Ronin would actually like), the Knight might have paid much more attention to Remi's too-innocent routine. Perhaps he'd have even interrogated him about it, with all sorts of results in the making. Alas, perhaps later.

Right now he's too angry with the void messengers and their interruption to even realise that the Bastion seems pleased about it, and as Remi ensures their picnic isn't at risk, Ronin is already turning to tip his head up towards the caverns above. Dragonic wings, pale and tipped with gold, almost rip from his shoulders, spreading wide before settling, and he grumbles despite the jovial nudge to his hip.

"My firebolts still don't do shit to these things," he mutters. "Luckily I've got other tricks up my sleeves these days." One takes the shape of an axe and the other will cut through void-tainted feathers like the air itself has become a knife, and the Knight is of a mind to use both.

With a beat of his wings he takes to the air, shooting elegantly upward and causing the messengers to croak and flutter their alarm as they try for a quick escape.

bone shaker, dominator, freight train, wreckin' ball, i'm the gladiator

RONIN

Now the ashes of tomorrow sing your sad song

Remi hums thoughtfully under his breath, his grin still etched in place as he watches Ronin’s wings flare wide, catching the violet glow like something mythic and furious. "Maybe not," he calls casually after him, "but I’d bet you could bring a few boulders down on their heads. Or a tree. Or a ridge. Whole ecosystem, really."

He steps back a few paces to give the Knight room, folding his arms as Ronin launches skyward with all the grace of someone who’s absolutely going to take this personally. The void messengers scatter in a flurry of oily wings and ragged screeches. Then, with a low whistle and a glint in his eye, Remi unfurls his own wings and kicks off the stone with a lazy beat of air. He doesn’t rush after Ronin, if only because this isn’t his moment. Yet. For now, he follows in Ronin’s wake, a shadow of amusement and hunger trailing behind the storm that’s already started.

He’s here to help, sure. But mostly he’s here to watch his husband absolutely ruin a few birds.

the bastion

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

gladiator, picked a fight with the gods, i'm a giant slayer

"Oh, environmental damage? I never even considered that. Very astute of you," Ronin purrs, offering a slightly sharp grin over his shoulder towards Remi before he's gone, sailing up into the cavernous reaches of the Descent. And ruining a few birds is absolutely on the agenda and then some; in response to the first hoarse croaks, the Knight lets loose a coil of his new zephyr magic, and though it isn't visible, the way it whipcracks through the air and pumphs one of the void messengers into a clump of spiralling feathers is rather self-explanatory.

Laughing despite himself, a dazzling array of radiant bolts of fire comes next, pummelling the rock and sending it splintering and cracking with an echo that feels too big for the space they're in. The messengers continue to try to flee with Ronin hot on their heels, faster now than he thinks he's ever been and with Emmett's axe in hand. He could throw it and he could probably even hit if he tries, but there's something about swinging it up close and personal that just feels right after everything.

bone shaker, dominator, freight train, wreckin' ball, i'm the gladiator

RONIN

Now the ashes of tomorrow sing your sad song

Remi grins after him, wings steady as he glides along the lower air currents like he’s out for an afternoon sail rather than a hunt. "I’m not just a pretty face, you know," he calls sweetly.

Above, Ronin is poetry and violence, all golden light and crackling air, and it’s no wonder the void messengers start to multiply in earnest—summoned by the racket or outraged by the desecration of their eerie roost. They spiral down from the cracks and crevices in droves, their oily wings blotting patches of violet-glow like soot through fog. Croaks turn to shrieks as they dive, too late to realise they’ve brought rage to a maelstrom.

Remi hums again under his breath, low and idle like he’s listening to a favourite song. He doesn’t interfere, but he does cast out his magic to ensure that no errant blow actually strikes his husband. For the next few moments, the Bastion remains lazily airborne, sea-glass eyes following the arc of Ronin’s axe like a man admiring art in motion.

the bastion

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

gladiator, picked a fight with the gods, i'm a giant slayer

Gods it feels good to let loose, and not just in a way that satisfies the crackle of something unruly in his blood with the change in season. This is a place they've not been able to explore, its crags and depths banned by penalty of death to their children, and though the Family had fled Caido with a whimper rather than a bang, Ronin has a lot of anger still pent up and ready to go.

His axe carves through feathery bodies like they're made of butter, sending blood and feathers scattering through the air, but he's already following it up with another arc of zephyr, slicing it through the cloud of void messengers, heedless of how many fall to it. His wings beat hard to keep him aloft and something sharp and bright kindles in his chest; evidence of emotion that has been given no outlet until now.

The birds are trying to escape back up through the Descent, and though Ronin should really let them go, he tries to soar after them instead like a predator nipping at their heels, his eyes like shards of a storm-churned sea, his jaw set with fury.

bone shaker, dominator, freight train, wreckin' ball, i'm the gladiator

RONIN

Now the ashes of tomorrow sing your sad song

Remi watches the blood and feathers bloom in the air like some terrible snowfall, the air thick with the scent of void and rot. "I love watching you like this," he murmurs mostly to himself, wings glinting with lavender light as he rises into the upper reaches of the cavern to trail the chaos his husband leaves in his wake.

He doesn’t interfere; has no reason to. Ronin, all storm-split fury and golden vengeance, is in his element. But when a second flock appears in the upper alcoves, their wings slick with void and their cries furious, Remi angles upward with a beat of his wings. Not to stop Ronin, but to make sure nothing gets behind him.

Breathing deep, Remi flies forward, a tentacle suddenly streaking out to knock three of them clean off the ledge, sending their shrieks spiralling down into the violet dark. Above, Ronin blazes like a comet. Below, Remi is like some horrible animorphic clean-up crew, ensuring that nothing is left lurking.

the bastion

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

gladiator, picked a fight with the gods, i'm a giant slayer

You're the only one who ever really gets to see this, Ronin sends back to his husband, his voice like low, velvet fire through the Attuned bond. He'd just about heard his husband's remark, however much it was to himself, but by now he's far too high and there's far too much screeching going on to try and shout back a response. But either way, since Remi likes it so much, Ronin isn't in the business of disappointing, and so he commits to the hunt in earnest.

A commotion from below causes a distraction, albeit brief, and though the Knight is grinning wolfishly to see the Bastion join the fray, his lapse in attention does give a chance for one of the messengers to lance out at him with its talons. A surface scrape he doesn't truly feel (though that's arguably due to Remi's magic), and he obliterates it via magical means a second later anyway.

Alas, for all the endless creatures the Descent is able to supply them, the messengers are spiralling out of Starfall's mouth far more quickly than Ronin can dispatch them, and it's with a hiss of frustration that he finally drops a few feet in the air, letting the stragglers fly to live another day.

bone shaker, dominator, freight train, wreckin' ball, i'm the gladiator

RONIN

Now the ashes of tomorrow sing your sad song

The pulse Remi sends back through the Attuned bond is golden and slow, a simmer of heat and adoration that winds around Ronin’s words like ivy curling around stone. I know, is all he says in return; simple and full of something reverent, something feral.

The flicker of pain that grazes Remi's magic scratches over his senses like a stone tossed into still water, but it’s brief, inconsequential. And when Ronin drops a few feet in the air, finally letting Starfall breathe after his tempest of violence, Remi is already there—hovering in the violet-lit stillness, one hand extended. "Very magnanimous of you," he says with mock solemnity, lips twitching. "Such mercy. Such restraint."

Remim extends a hand that beckons playfully toward the Knight. "Now, what if I said there was wine in the basket and at least one thing that isn’t covered in spores?" His tone is dry but warm. "Would that tempt you to come back down?"

the bastion

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

gladiator, picked a fight with the gods, i'm a giant slayer

With his eyes still pinned on the departing void messengers, Remi's outstretched hand appears in Ronin's periphery and he reaches for it without needing to think twice. "For now," he mutters. "We'll see if they try to come back while we're still here." Scowling for another few beats out at the overcast sky above, eventually the Knight turns away, adjusting his wings to let them glide and flutter towards the ground.

"Ah, you know me. I'll eat it even if it's covered in spores," he says, a slightly tired smile kicking up the corner of his mouth. The moment his feet touch the rocky outcrop, he dismisses his wings to draw Remi in as close as he needs, eyes carefully roving over him. "Are you alright? Nothing nicked you?" he asks, hands greedily following the path his eyes are taking - just to make completely certain, you understand.

bone shaker, dominator, freight train, wreckin' ball, i'm the gladiator

RONIN