RONIN
Ronin is not privy to the intensity of the emotion that flows from Shield to Alchemist, but his Attuned bond can discern enough. He stands in quiet reverence of all that is happening, tilting his head to rest it against Amalia’s, his fingers strumming out a slow pattern on Remi’s lower back. A smile tugs at his lips as Remi’s remarks reach him, the huntsman nodding gently in agreement. However that looks, he adds, standing with them for a little longer before carefully letting them go.
”Come on,” he murmurs. ”Figuring it out doesn’t have to happen all at once. We’ll go into the lounge, I’ll bring wine, and we’ll see what we can do.” The news of Kiada’s death is sad, it’s true, and Ronin feels it keenly in a place he’ll not visit until later. But now is not about them - it’s about Amalia.
”Come on,” he murmurs. ”Figuring it out doesn’t have to happen all at once. We’ll go into the lounge, I’ll bring wine, and we’ll see what we can do.” The news of Kiada’s death is sad, it’s true, and Ronin feels it keenly in a place he’ll not visit until later. But now is not about them - it’s about Amalia.
soft spoken with a broken jaw
we step outside, but not to brawl
we step outside, but not to brawl
