RONIN
the darkstar
light is easy to love.
In contrast, where Ronin didn't see the space downstairs as being much of his own - it was for Remi, and he was happy to give it to him - with this place? He's already filled it with bookshelves and paintings, with a comfortable couch and various plants and other brick-a-brack littering the ceiling and walls. He can see Remi reading on few mismatched rugs thrown on the ground; he can see curtains flung open and the windows wide to hear the sounds of the markets below.
"It was called a townhouse," he informs his husband, turning to direct his best baron look at the lowly peasant alchemist, before it melts back into a smile. "And no, I don't think you did ever see it. A shame - you'd have been able to criticise the fuck out of it." He strolls to the windows, gazing down upon the morning in the Pacifist Plaza.
Remi's remark comes out of nowhere, but as Ronin turns to look at him, it's with an expression of relief, of warmth; even joy, perhaps. "Me neither," he says gently. "Besides already feeling like our family is as large as it should be now, I... I don't think I'm selfless enough to give more of myself away. Whatever's left, I want to give to you."
"It was called a townhouse," he informs his husband, turning to direct his best baron look at the lowly peasant alchemist, before it melts back into a smile. "And no, I don't think you did ever see it. A shame - you'd have been able to criticise the fuck out of it." He strolls to the windows, gazing down upon the morning in the Pacifist Plaza.
Remi's remark comes out of nowhere, but as Ronin turns to look at him, it's with an expression of relief, of warmth; even joy, perhaps. "Me neither," he says gently. "Besides already feeling like our family is as large as it should be now, I... I don't think I'm selfless enough to give more of myself away. Whatever's left, I want to give to you."
show me your darkness.
