bleed it dry, leave us here with nothing
“Shaken and exhausted, but she’ll live, I think.” Ronin gazed down as their daughter as he followed wherever Remi would lead them. Aoife was bundled carefully in the blankets the alchemist had provided, snug against Ronin’s chest, utterly silent. He hushed her nonetheless, telling her stories as they made their way to the alcove; stories about the bright luxere herd that had led them to the Temple; stories about Vanya; stories about the dragons that adorned her blanket.
Perhaps Ronin was numb. Perhaps it just hadn’t fully registered yet, that the guildhall was gone. Or deep down, perhaps he just wasn’t able to admit it yet, that he was glad it was burned to the ground. Glad not to have the burden of its memories upon his shoulders. Because whilst his first kiss with Remi, their drunken fumble, his return from the stars - while all of those were well and good, they were eclipsed by the long and lonely night spent bringing his daughter into the world, and seeing her mother fade out of it.
The blood, the tears, the screams, feeling lost and young and helpless...
The guildhall was gone, and good riddance.
“Are you alright, though?”
Perhaps Ronin was numb. Perhaps it just hadn’t fully registered yet, that the guildhall was gone. Or deep down, perhaps he just wasn’t able to admit it yet, that he was glad it was burned to the ground. Glad not to have the burden of its memories upon his shoulders. Because whilst his first kiss with Remi, their drunken fumble, his return from the stars - while all of those were well and good, they were eclipsed by the long and lonely night spent bringing his daughter into the world, and seeing her mother fade out of it.
The blood, the tears, the screams, feeling lost and young and helpless...
The guildhall was gone, and good riddance.
“Are you alright, though?”
