even as i wander

for 1000 nights i've been a restless soul

The violence around them combined with the sound of devastation somehow soothes the alchemist. It might be a dreamscape, but not all are capable of such raw potential and awe-inspiring destruction as Ronin is. Wrapping his arms around Ronin's shoulders to tug the Star closer against him, Remi merely nods. He doesn't try and fix or dissuade, doesn't try to gloss it over with platitudes.

The Grounds have been a massive source of injury for Ronin, the likes of which he'll never fully heal from. So yeah, fuck that place in particular.

"We always said we could do anything, as long as we were together. It's one of the few promises we've made." And though it wasn't their fault they were apart, though there was likely nothing they could do, that the gods saw fit to force them to break one of the few vows that bound them together, was...

..well infuriating, really. And Remi didn't need a flower to add his own anger to Ronin's.

the wounds are open and bleeding out

The Star's heart thunders in his chest, something that Remi will likely feel against him as he holds him close. And Ronin goes willingly, his arms slipping around the alchemist in return, his face buried against the side of the other man's neck. Quite when his cheeks became wet he doesn't know, but the idea of broken promises between two men who don't make them as a rule is enough to fill him with renewed fury.

But he's not alone, even if it's a dream, even if it's not real, and Remi's anger is there right alongside his own. Maybe it's that which allows Ronin to finally let it go, and slow, grey clouds begin to drift lazily through the punctures in space that they've made. "And we did do anything, while we were together," he agrees. "Now we're not, and... well, it's the rest of the world that's going to feel that problem."

And fuck them, honestly. Ronin just wants to get back home to his husband and his son.

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for 1000 nights i've been a restless soul

Ronin's thunder reverberates not just through his husband, but through the entire universe of their making as well. With galaxies and star-systems swallowed whole, now it's the pitch-dark fabric of time which threatens to tear with every thunderous beat of the Star's angry heart.

"I don't mean for every time we meet for it to be like this, but..." Remi grates his teeth together, before sucking on the small cut on his lip hard enough to open it up again. The pain is bright and renewing, but it isn't enough. "I hate this so much." He says finally, almost emotionlessly, a dry laugh finishing off the thought.

"Do you think we're strong enough to take on a few cranky heralds yet?" The words are whispered, blasphemous as they are. Even here they might not be properly alone, and the thought of being overheard sends a shiver down Remi's spine. It isn't one that feels entirely wrong though. "Do you think we ever will be..?"

the wounds are open and bleeding out

"I hate it too," Ronin whispers, his shoulders tensing, his face burying further in Remi's neck. "It won't always be like this." It doesn't even sound hopeful anymore, just like a mantra that he's taught himself so he won't go insane. In the dark void of the starless sky, clouds are beginning to form; large, black stormclouds, heavy with a downpour soon to come. "I wonder if I could just walk out of Stormbreak... or if something would actually stop me."

What Remi has to say causes the Star to sit up a bit, wiping the wetness from his cheeks and raising an eyebrow. "No," he says honestly, a little miserably. "They are where we get most of our power from, so... I doubt we'd ever get enough to take one of them on." It is blasphemous, but at the same time, it's so futile that it can't possibly hurt to talk about it.

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for 1000 nights i've been a restless soul

Mantras are meant to help calm. To reignite some latent belief tied to them. No, it wouldn't always be like this. Remi did truly believe that. But did he believe it would be as short lived as he and Ronin once so naively believed?

No. No, and no, and no.

I want to ask you to try, Remi thinks, and the words likely spill into his husband's mind regardless of whether he meant for them to or not. It's a broken sort of resignation that keeps the alchemist from giving voice to his thoughts, though his fingers do clutch at Ronin's skin hard enough to leave bruises, were this not a dream.

"Then I go for Safrin." The Lullaby says, his voice edged with a dangerous smirk. He'd already argued with Mort, why not Safrin? Star bitch that she was. Fucker of husbands and the worst of all things, keeper of souls.

Unable to keep these thoughts from Ronin and knowing well the consequences of not being able to, Remi suddenly stands—or more aptly, he's simply not near Ronin anymore, thanks to the non-physics of this world—hands balled into fists. "Just...give me a second."

the wounds are open and bleeding out

Ronin can't help but smile at that, leaning in to brush his nose against Remi's and close his eyes. The rain has started to fall now, and with it his temper begins to lose its thorniness. The water is a cold, refreshing patter against his skin, and he's about to let himself relax at last when suddenly his husband is simply gone. Blinking and rising to his feet as well, his shirt quickly soaked through, his dark mop of hair plastered to his forehead. "Sure," he says slowly, rubbing at the back of his neck.

His hands find their way into his pockets, Ronin turning slowly away to try and construct a world that's a little more to their liking. He conjures a treehouse, the earth beneath their feet turning to mossy boards, branches worming up and around them. "I won't pry, just come back to me when you're ready," he murmurs.

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for 1000 nights i've been a restless soul

It's the perfect answer and the wrong one rolled into one, and Remi can't help but wonder whether he's just being an ass or if this has to do with Safrin's stupid flower. In this world though, with his defences lowered, it's all too easy to be swept away by Ronin's emotions. That's likely all it is.

Safrin was still a lying bitch, though.

It takes longer than he'd like to be able to calm himself, and longer still to find his way back to Ronin. He wears his worry coldly, and it threatens to turn the falling rain to sleet all around him. But soon there is a roof over his head and floorboards thick from years out in the sun and rain beneath his feet. Turning his head over his shoulder to find Ronin standing in the middle of a treehouse, Remi can't help but smile. "You're a mess." He softly tells his husband, reaching out to muss his dark hair so that it doesn't lay quite so thickly atop his head.

the wounds are open and bleeding out

Whilst his husband continues to calm himself using whatever means necessary, Ronin is busy furnishing his treehouse. He's filled bookshelves and decorated the canopies with lights, and when Remi finally approaches he's putting the finishing touches into their bed; a magnificent thing that erupts out of the trunk of the tree itself. "I'm your mess," he says softly, apparently soothed by the act of creation. He turns in time for Remi to muss his hair, his smile warming, and his wet clothes are suddenly replaced by a pair of tartan pajama pants.

"Want to come and drink in bed with me? I'll read us one of the stories from the bookshelf," Ronin offers, gesturing to the books and the bottle of deep red wine behind him. The iron cups from before have come to join them, pulling the threads of their dream through whatever madness they walk.

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for 1000 nights i've been a restless soul

Pleased as anything to suddenly see Ronin dry and wearing only a thin layer of plaid, the alchemist grins with a weary sort of relief. "I would like that more than you know." Keeping secrets from Ronin was one thing. Keeping secrets from Ronin when he was a million miles away was another thing entirely, and one he certainly hadn't planned for. Curbing his emotions was something Remi did for the rest of the world, but doing it here, for Ronin? Even to protect their son? It was more exhausting than Remi had ever thought it dared to be.

"Dealers choice." Remi says of what book Ronin might pick. He nestles himself into bed, reaching for the wine and pouring them each a glass. The iron cups have elongated and twisted so that they might have stems with which to hold them by. Still, the manticore chases the luxere, and the luxere chases him in return, round and round and round the glass.

the wounds are open and bleeding out

Ronin smiles warmly back at his husband, strolling to the bookshelf and selecting something for them to read - he settles on fairytales, of course, clambering into bed as well and burrowing himself as obnoxiously as possible into the covers with Remi. When he emerges, propped up against the pillows, he's pretty much dragged the Lullaby back against his chest so he can loop his arms around him and hold his wine as he reads.

"Cheers," he murmurs, clinking the flute against Remi's and leaning in to kiss the line of his jaw, flicking to a random story. "Mm, this one's about a gingerbread house and a witch," he says, the words mumbled against Remi's cheek before he pauses to take another drink. "Reckon the witch wins at the end?"

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for 1000 nights i've been a restless soul

Remi, the taller of them by that all-important 1-inch, of course fits easily within Ronin's arms. Especially here, where the blankets move precisely where they should and pyjama-legs don't get bunched up around knees. "Cheers." The alchemist agrees, holding up his glass where the liquid falls in a precise line from the rim of the cup onto his tongue. It might be a dream, but Remi isn't about to shift unnecessarily. Not when he doesn't need to, and not when the arms he's wrapped around in are so cozy.

"Not if the house is anything like this one." The alchemist murmurs slyly. "And maybe the witch is a good witch, like Vai." He adds with an antagonistic smile, as if daring the book to prove him wrong.

the wounds are open and bleeding out

"Oh, I think the witch lives in the house," Ronin says, grinning as he watches the wine pour in an exact line into Remi's mouth. He can't resist sticking his tongue out to interrupt the stream and steal some of the wine, though he makes up for it by conjuring some sugared segments of fruit into his husband's lap for them to snack on. With another wine-stained kiss to the alchemist's cheek, Ronin settles back and gazes down at the book.

"I imagine we can make her a good witch," he suggests, though for now the story begins with the children, the woods, the trail of breadcrumbs. And Ronin begins to tell the story in a low, sweet voice, his head tilting to rest against Remi's, his accent lilting around the words. The only thing missing, really, is Mateo, and he might just be able to pretend that this is entirely the real world.

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for 1000 nights i've been a restless soul

'I've killed for less, you know.' Remi grumbles as Ronin steals his stream of wine. The fruit in his lap hardly makes up for the stolen alcohol, but lucky for them both there's more than enough to go around. The kiss to his cheek however has the Lullaby practically purring in his husband's arms (or he would, could lions purr).

"Knowing what I know now, Vai aside, I think I'd prefer bad witches." Remi says with a crooked smile, glancing up at Ronin. The pair of them had far too many good people in their lives, or so the alchemist thought. Too many focused on principles and morals that they tangled themselves up so completely as to make their own nooses.

"Besides, who are we to judge? Maybe she is like me." Remi didn't quite have to lure anyone to their deaths (not yet anyway). And that she was making the most of what was left over? Well...that was...efficient.

the wounds are open and bleeding out

"And how many bad witches have you met in your time?" Ronin wants to know, pausing in his reading to nose at the other man's soft curls, to let his fingers ghost along Remi's shoulder and upper arm. There's something sweetly beautiful about this moment of frivolity, of simple enjoyment and relaxation, and honestly, Ronin would stretch it out infinitely if he could, moulding it between his fingers for eternity.

He reads a few more passages, between sips of wine and quiet conversation. And when Remi speaks up again, the Star scoffs and leans in to rest his chin on his shoulder, kissing his neck. "I hate to break it to you, but I don't think anyone is quite like you, Remi." He means it in a good way, of course, shoving way the book so he can properly wrap his arms around the other man.

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DARK STAR

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