we shall heal our wounds, collect our dead
Ronin is the shepherd in this little endeavour, herding the ramphire as they run, watching from the safety of his nimbus. Rain is pelting down around them, but the flashes of light from his starbolts are enough to corral them right towards Remi’s waiting jaws. And as his husband makes his move, venting anger and frustration and pure predatory glee, Ronin flies higher to let him find peace in his bloodshed. The Star has done violent things, he has even enjoyed them on occasion, but they are normally linked to his temper. And whilst it’s true that he is quicker to anger these days than he’s ever been, he doesn’t tend to do... things like this.
Which isn’t to say that there’s any judgement in him for Remi - on the contrary, he’s made himself scarce to give his husband solitude rather than to avoid what’s happening. As the roaring subsides, he lets his nimbus dip down below the clouds, summoning his astral projection to walk through the grasses towards the manticore. His husband he might be, and he might love Remi through and through, but Ronin still isn’t stupid enough to interrupt the monster’s meal and put himself in real danger.
”Hey,” he says, glowing softly in the night. ”You’ll spoil your appetite.”
Which isn’t to say that there’s any judgement in him for Remi - on the contrary, he’s made himself scarce to give his husband solitude rather than to avoid what’s happening. As the roaring subsides, he lets his nimbus dip down below the clouds, summoning his astral projection to walk through the grasses towards the manticore. His husband he might be, and he might love Remi through and through, but Ronin still isn’t stupid enough to interrupt the monster’s meal and put himself in real danger.
”Hey,” he says, glowing softly in the night. ”You’ll spoil your appetite.”
THE DARK STAR
and continue fighting
