where the wild things are

gratuitous violence; unnecessary, satisfying, heartbreaking

"Are you sure about this?"

This being here, where the Mathair had made her home for so long, in the very heart of the Greatwood. Ronin can see the merits of it - there's no open sky here, nothing to tempt him up towards the open air above, but he's also at risk of damaging the woods around them.

Then again, with the Mathair more a portal in a tree than a goddess these days (at least in this part of the forest), he supposes it might not be so bad. Still, the Huntsman shuffles to a stop and rolls his shoulders, rubbing at the back of his neck. "How do you want to do this? Is there enough space here...?"

For a full shift, he means. Otherwise it will have to be a partial shift, but even then Ronin doesn't know how it's going to go.

RONIN

hope keeps us breathing, just to kill us in the end

"Yes, very sure." Remi chuckles as he bites off the last bit of white flesh from his apple. "Though I could be very easily tempted back to bed, if you like." He adds with a sunny smile, tossing the core into the underbrush where he's sure something will scamper away with the last of it.

'How?" Remi grins. "Being confined in the trees is going to be both better and worse. Better, because you will not have your full range of motion. Worse, because you will hate that you don't." He says with a shrug. "Basically, you are going to shift, and I am going to try to harass you into attacking me and you are going to do everything you can to keep yourself in check."

gratuitous violence; unnecessary, satisfying, heartbreaking

Remi is far too sunny for Ronin's liking, especially given the nature of what they are about to do. Indeed, as the alchemist explains today's task, all colour drains away from Ronin's face, the Huntsman fidgeting with the sleeve of his shirt. "And what if I can't," he whispers, like it's an inevitability rather than something that might happen. He doesn't want to think that way, of course, but it's not something he really has much experience in, other than nearly murdering his husband.

And he almost does suggest that they go back to bed, only changing his mind at the last moment and stepping forward to wrap his arms around the Lullaby to hold him close. "I love you," he whispers. "It should be the easiest thing in the world not to attack you. I'll do my best, okay?" Pressing a gentle kiss against Remi's cheek, Ronin steps back into the clearing and glances around. "You might want to back up a little."

RONIN

hope keeps us breathing, just to kill us in the end

Wanting very much to go to the Huntsman, to wrap his arms around his waist and reassure him that everything will be okay with kisses and soft touches, Remi knows better. So instead he stands, quietly confident. "And if you can't, then you will find yourself in a dream, bound up with tentacles and forces to watch me drink wine with bits of soggy bread in it as your punishment."

As Ronin does what Remi couldn't, the alchemist sags adoringly into his husband's arms. "I love you most." He whispers back, very briefly wanting to suggest a quick roll in the hay to rid Ronin of some of his energy. Shaking away the thoughts, Ronin will find Remi's cheek round and ready for his kiss.

Stepping back a few paces, the alchemist positions himself cagely behind a rather large and towering oak tree. "Alright then lizard-breath. Let's see what you've got." In his curls, Oria gives his head a part of warning not to let his guard down.

there exists a tipping point between gods and monsters

"Well that doesn't sound very fun at all," Ronin grumbles, though there's really very little worth grumbling about when his arms are around his husband in the middle of the woods. Still, he offers a small smile and a nod at his 'punishment', though honestly, compared to the consequences of last time, it's a very small price to pay.

They part from one another at last and Ronin draws in a shaky breath and lets it out again, shifting as if uncomfortable in his skin. And it's only as Remi hides himself behind one of the trees that he decides at last to let the dragon loose. Scales fleck along his skin, his mass growing and stretching and changing until the branches that arch over head press uncomfortably against pitch black wings, until the star-flecked belly usually visible from the sky is pressed against the ground.

A low rumble, barely perceptible to the human ear, thrums through the dirt as Ronin lowers his serpentine head, eyes trained on the woods before him. This is degrading.

ronin

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

hope keeps us breathing, just to kill us in the end

While Ronin is shifting, Remi takes whatever momentary advantage he might have to slip through the trees toward the backside of his husband's suddenly hulking frame. Amidst the trees the alchemist is far more nimble than a dragon, but of course a quick thrash from the Huntsman would be enough to send the trees sprawling. Reaching out a hand that's suddenly covered in fur and tipped with claws, Remi reaches out to slash at his husband's tail.

Is it? Remi wonders in a teasing tone. How very unfortunate for you.

Combining his magics now, the alchemist's duplicate will appear before the dragon, though behind him, the Woods will melt away into one of the suites of the Halenani. Therein will be Maeve, in the bath as she had been what felt like ages ago, beckoning for Remi to join her. With a glance over his shoulder, the duplicate will simply smirk in Ronin's direction before tugging his shirt over his head and making his way toward the former Madame.

there exists a tipping point between gods and monsters

It is unfortunate for Ronin, the dragon still attempting to get his bearings when a paw tipped with claws swipes at his tail, and his jaws part in a growl that is much more audible this time around. He twists instinctively, though catches himself shortly before he can turn in full, doing his best to keep a hold on the fury that wants to tear apart the trees looking for the owner of said claws.

By the time he's got himself front and centre again, his blazing blue eyes settle on his husband, and for a second or two Ronin seems to relax. A wisp of smoke curls from his nostrils as he huffs out a sigh, the dragon vaguely wondering if he might be able to tempt Remi into scritching him beneath the jaw.

But then there's Maeve.

Maeve and Remi.

As the alchemist turns away the tenuous control Ronin has wrestled over his shift disintegrates instantly and gladly, and with a maw full of dagger like teeth, he roars his outrage loud enough for it to echo throughout the Greatwood. Tearing at the dirt beneath his claws, he's already thrashing and flexing his wings to get free of the confined branches.

ronin

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

hope keeps us breathing, just to kill us in the end

Oh come on. That was meant to be an easy one. Remi protests as the illusion disappears, leaving just the duplicate standing amidst the trees with his arms folded. The real Remi is still aiming to stay behind Ronin, where a simple touch of his tail will render the dragon utterly harmless. We both know I did not enjoy that. Remi says, of his time with Maeve. And it was clearly an illusion. He adds with a mental roll of his eyes, having expected Ronin to see through this obvious poke at his emotions far more easily.

Perhaps it was time to see how Ronin faired with another of his senses being toyed with.

Replacing the bathtub and naked Madame are now a pair of lions, having torn into a luxere. One lion has its jaws around the creature's throat while the other is bloodying her muzzle deep within its belly. The light from its antlers is slowly going out as more and more blood pours from its neck. The smell of death and fresh meat is bright and tangible in the air as the lions, one with green eyes and the other with blue, gorge themselves on their feast.

there exists a tipping point between gods and monsters

Have you always been such a smug cunt? Ronin barely even sounds like himself; a couple of the younger trees have snapped and splintered in the dragon's attempts to stretch out further, and he snarls again at the realisation that he's effectively stuck now in the branches. Still, with wings splayed and crooked and his talons buried deep within the earth, at least he's not lunging towards the duplicate (yet).

And luckily for Remi, something much more interesting appears over his shoulder, and the tang of blood fills the air more deliciously than anything Ronin can remember recently. (Not in this form, anyway - as anything else he'd probably prefer pancakes). There are no words, now, in the bond, merely a pulse of something close to mine, and he snaps his teeth towards the lions as if in warning.

ronin

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

hope keeps us breathing, just to kill us in the end

Is that really what you want to know? Remi sings back, indeed sounding quite smug, though whether there's a cuntish quality to his voice he has no idea.

Despite how real the illusion seems, and smells, and sounds, the lions do not turn if only because they exist in Remi's memories, and not here in the Woods. So it is his duplicate that steps forward, arms still folded across his chest. "You get nothing." Now the smugness is absolutely intentional. "This was the first night I ever spent with Isla." Behind the lions appears a chair, whereupon Remi sits looking youthful and flushed, gripping the arms of the chair with Isla's head bobbing up and down between his knees. "She was able to hunt with me. When have you ever been able to do that? All you ever do is run."

Behind Ronin, partially hidden by a tree, the real Remi winces and crinkles his nose. Oria has slipped down onto his forehead, patting the skin there as if she might smooth away the wrinkles that his unease has caused.

there exists a tipping point between gods and monsters

Ronin's teeth bare further as the lions very rudely refuse to trot away and leave the kill to him, and he's just about settled into a position where he might aim a blast of celestial energy their way (out of pride rather than a desire to salvage the luxere carcass) when they are replaced by something somehow worse than anything before now. The dragon's snort of annoyance becomes a seething hiss of fury, and not for the first time in the past few minutes, his hackles raise that he might try to thrash and free himself.

Never needed to hunt with you when I could cut out the middle man and hunt you, he points out, jaws parting to take a wild snap at the duplicate. There's no part of Ronin that doubts whether this is the real thing, and if there was ever an indication that he's out of control, this is probably it.

ronin

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

hope keeps us breathing, just to kill us in the end

Remi's duplicate tilts his head back and laughs cheerfully, even as the real Remi tenses with what he knows is about to come out of his mouth next. "Hunt me? Even big and black as you are now, you don't handle a candle to me. You'll have to slither back between Safrin's legs and plead for her help if you ever want to match me."

Stretching out his fingers so that he can send Ronin into sleep the second the situation becomes too dire, Remi bites his tongue as he lets his duplicate continue.

"But that's the only way you've ever been able to manage anything, isn't it? With her help? You're lucky that Sunjata is with Nate...if he wasn't, Safrin would have already bumped you down to second-string in favour of him."

gratuitous violence; unnecessary, satisfying, heartbreaking

It's different, this time, the transition into blind rage and then back again. It's different in that Ronin comes back from it, but also in that the cause comes from hurt rather than outrage. So in that way, he supposes he has Remi to thank for this degree of control. But ask him in the moment and he doesn't particularly want to thank Remi for anything.

The celestial blast of energy stays caged behind the dragon's teeth, but it's strong enough that it seems to ignite his entire throat with its white hot brilliance. And when it dies down again, so does the dragon in its entirety, until it's just Ronin panting on his hands and knees. He shoves himself roughly up within moments, though, swallowing hard.

"Too far," he grates to Remi, already starting for the trees that he might storm away into the woods. "Why do you always do that? You twist all the knives in me. It's not to help, it's just an excuse to be cruel."

RONIN

hope keeps us breathing, just to kill us in the end

Remi's hand hovers, shaking, above his husband's tail, waiting. Only the moment never comes. Instead, Ronin shrinks and somehow becomes less for how his rage has bled away into a collapsed flash of anger and hurt. 'Hey," Remi calls softly, not needing Oria's tug of his curls to tell him that he ought to go after his husband. Though it's his projection that tries to halt the Huntsman's progress, it's the real Remi that reaches out for his shoulder after having trotted to his side across the mosses.

"It isn't. I promise." He says with a soft sweetness, trying to find his husband's gaze. "Maybe once long ago it was, but not now." Remi adds with all the solemnness of a vow. 'Anger. Hunger. Possessiveness. Jealousy, and pride...I do know where to push the knives, it is true. As a man you swallow them down well enough, but as a dragon they will swallow you." Searching for one of Ronin's hands, Remi aims to bring it to his lips, to breathe the words against his husband's skin. "I only wanted to give you the confidence to know that if you could withstand this...that you could withstand anything."

Or...almost anything, perhaps. Instinctively somehow Remi knew that had he shown the dragon Hotaru or the twins, unthinkable things would have happened. Everyone had lines, and the alchemist did not need Ronin to cross this one to know firmly where those markers stood.