RONIN
the darkstar
light is easy to love.
"Drawer...?" Ronin reaches over to open the bedside drawer and the lid of the box, peering inside and scoffing. "Oh yeah, I'm edgy," he teases, closing the box and the drawer once again and sitting back without touching any of it. Not his thing - never has been, even before the army, but he doesn't begrudge anyone their vices. Still, as Bandcamp returns with his old family recipe, he can't help but scoff at the disparity between this man and the one he saw on stage. "You're a regular old weirdo, aren't you?" he says, reaching out to accept the jar.
He takes a sip from it, relishing the burn as it goes down this time instead of wincing at the pain in his mouth, before handing it across to the other man. "And you don't want to? Oh, to be able to see stardom and turn it down," he laments with an exaggerated sigh, though honestly, Ronin couldn't care less about fame. "So what then? You going solo, or finding a new band to roll with?"
He takes a sip from it, relishing the burn as it goes down this time instead of wincing at the pain in his mouth, before handing it across to the other man. "And you don't want to? Oh, to be able to see stardom and turn it down," he laments with an exaggerated sigh, though honestly, Ronin couldn't care less about fame. "So what then? You going solo, or finding a new band to roll with?"
show me your darkness.
