we shall heal our wounds, collect our dead
”A gun,” Ronin echoes, his voice warming with he gratitude that he feels slip along their Attuned bond. It sounds better than boom-projectile-thing, he supposes, which has been the Star’s unofficial name for it since the dream happened. Eyes widening a little to hear what kind of uniform it is he was wearing, he nods gently, both at the explanation and at potentially seeing some of the less traumatising parts of Sunjata’s subconscious. ”Maybe when you aren’t potentially going to get sick again,” he suggests.
Ronin brightens, naturally, as the subject turns back to wedding gifts, and he slides a ring off one of his fingers, offering it out to the Flood. ”Remi made me this, before Safrin gave me antlers,” he explains. ”If you place a drop of your blood on it, and give it to Nate, he’ll be able to hear you. Like, the way Attuned hear each other.”
Ronin brightens, naturally, as the subject turns back to wedding gifts, and he slides a ring off one of his fingers, offering it out to the Flood. ”Remi made me this, before Safrin gave me antlers,” he explains. ”If you place a drop of your blood on it, and give it to Nate, he’ll be able to hear you. Like, the way Attuned hear each other.”
THE DARK STAR
and continue fighting
