the baffled king composing hallelujah
"You don't have to apologise," Ronin says, his voice reaching a more normal level now that the unknown that is Sunjata has been resolved. "And you can talk, too, I promise. He doesn't mind voices, it's just... the rest." Slamming doors, creaking floorboards, the stairs, the icebox, you name it. "Thank you. It... he's a bit of a surprise." To spare Sunjata the pain of so many questions, he gives the Flood the cliffnotes version of events. Dream magic, an imaginary paradise, Mateo's appearance in it, Ludo's interference and... voila.
"So yeah. He's... a little bit Remi and a little bit me. I don't even believe it still, some days." Huffing out a breath, he absently lets his fingers run along the sleeping babe's back. Bundled in only a thin blanket because of the heat, he barely even stirs, his tiny hands balled into fists that seem determined to cling to any awkward bit of Ronin that they can. His chest hair, he's learned, is a favourite. "You alright? Not one for kids?" He grins; he could have fooled him, with Seren.
"So yeah. He's... a little bit Remi and a little bit me. I don't even believe it still, some days." Huffing out a breath, he absently lets his fingers run along the sleeping babe's back. Bundled in only a thin blanket because of the heat, he barely even stirs, his tiny hands balled into fists that seem determined to cling to any awkward bit of Ronin that they can. His chest hair, he's learned, is a favourite. "You alright? Not one for kids?" He grins; he could have fooled him, with Seren.
