the things we hold are always the first to go
”Think that’s part of why I’m confused,” Ronin muses, though his words are muffled by the way his cheek is pressed against Remi’s chest, the Star grumbling some sound of contentment at the fingers working at tender muscles in the back of his neck. It’s easy just to let his eyes slip shut again, fingers fumbling for the blankets to pull over them a bit more. ”Mm, it rocks a little less than a boat though,” he mumbles.
Though it would be nice to lull back to sleep, Ronin’s night has been disturbed enough already that his body is awake and won’t be soothed to slumber. ”How did you manage? In the wagon with your father, when storms like this hit?” he wonders, their conversation carried on the pounding of the rain outside.
Though it would be nice to lull back to sleep, Ronin’s night has been disturbed enough already that his body is awake and won’t be soothed to slumber. ”How did you manage? In the wagon with your father, when storms like this hit?” he wonders, their conversation carried on the pounding of the rain outside.
