no rivers and no lakes can put the fire out

RONIN if there's one thing i'm good at, it's surviving Humming a non-commital noise at Amalia's remark, Ronin seemed tired, defeated almost - and so when the baker rose to her feet suddenly, he assumed that she was leaving to go elsewhere. So the sudden, primal curse that left her throat had him jumping in surprise, and he watched the rock sail out into the ocean with a distant sort of remembrance. Blinking stupidly up at her, he didn't seem, at first, to understand. But his body got him on his feet quite without his brain's permission, seizing a hefty rock from the sand instead. What did he want to say? What did he want to howl to the sky? Words came and went, and as they did that familiar, black anger began to bubble up into his chest and throat. When his arm curled to launch the rock out into the water, it was accompanied, in the end, not by words at all. A feral roar, a cry to the heavens echoed into the waves, pain and fear and frustration and rage all balled into one. His chest heaving in the silence that followed, Ronin barely wanted to glance at Amalia. "Feel any better?"