the wounds are open and bleeding out
Through the trees, upon a crust of snow and with his coat left carelessly open, Ronin strolled through the woods. Black rimmed his eyes, his footsteps quiet and sure, and a biting gale whipped through the trees to ruffle hair flecked with ice. He walked slowly into Remi's line of sight, glanced up, and smirked. Lifting a finger to his lips, the nails caked with dirt and blood, he made a gesture to shhh... before darting off back into the trees.
And so the trap was laid. Because of course it wasn't actually Ronin beckoning for his husband to follow.
No, Ronin was some distance back, crouched in the lower branches of skeletal trees. Watching. He was coiled like a spring, some dark glee begging him to go, to hunt, to rip and tear and chase, and the effort to remain still was monumental. He had bitten his lower lip hard enough to make it bleed, a stream of black running down his chin, and he pressed closer into the branches as if to get a better look at what Remi would do next.
Soon.
And so the trap was laid. Because of course it wasn't actually Ronin beckoning for his husband to follow.
No, Ronin was some distance back, crouched in the lower branches of skeletal trees. Watching. He was coiled like a spring, some dark glee begging him to go, to hunt, to rip and tear and chase, and the effort to remain still was monumental. He had bitten his lower lip hard enough to make it bleed, a stream of black running down his chin, and he pressed closer into the branches as if to get a better look at what Remi would do next.
Soon.
THE
FALLEN STAR
