like the dawn breaks through the night

RONIN if there's one thing i'm good at, it's surviving Ronin didn’t reply - not because he didn’t believe Remi - but because he wanted to so badly. Flinching at the Alchemist’s touch, at least this time it was because whilst none of his ribs were broken, they were all bruised to the bone, and even the most gentle of caresses sent vibrations of agony though his abdomen. ”No,” he mumbled about Safrin. ”No, I don’t... I need...” What he needed didn’t have words, which was a good thing because his throat tightened around the rest of what he was trying to say. Still too new at this to be able to properly control it, the things that Ronin projected at his husband were fractured and unfiltered, roaring out of him in unsteady waves. Images of the monstrous form of their daughter at varying ages throughout the longest night; the tiny, dead body of the baby, her father choking with his eyes streaming black; bodies in the streets; the boy chained against the wall of the Spire; starfire and guts and metal and blood. And Ronin drowning through it all, his sanity a delicate mosaic afloat in the abyss. He was silent but he was screaming out for Remi: gods take me away from this, please.