the baffled king composing hallelujah
Ronin is glad to be sitting, because at the cold dread that rolls off his husband he might well have made him topple off his cloud. He’s scouring the waters below them when Remi’s voice reaches him, and he just about glances up in time to see the hawk banking around back the way they came. ”I didn’t see anything fall either,” he remarks as the nimbus races after him, though whether that’s because the wedding ring was vaporised remains to be seen.
His landing is a lot more elegant than Remi’s, for once, and he moves to stand beside his husband as he digs around. In the mud. Ronin’s lips part to try and say something, before he changes his mind completely, the Star folding his arms until, amid the clumps of mud and grass and sand, there’s a wedding ring. Safe and fucking sound. A miracle, truly.
The laughter that rumbles from Ronin’s chest is a bright and cheerful thing, though, and he leans down to kneel with Remi, slinging his arm around the Alchemist. ”You,” he says, kissing his hair, ”are one of a kind. You know that?”
His landing is a lot more elegant than Remi’s, for once, and he moves to stand beside his husband as he digs around. In the mud. Ronin’s lips part to try and say something, before he changes his mind completely, the Star folding his arms until, amid the clumps of mud and grass and sand, there’s a wedding ring. Safe and fucking sound. A miracle, truly.
The laughter that rumbles from Ronin’s chest is a bright and cheerful thing, though, and he leans down to kneel with Remi, slinging his arm around the Alchemist. ”You,” he says, kissing his hair, ”are one of a kind. You know that?”
