where the wild things are

gratuitous violence; unnecessary, satisfying, heartbreaking

That sounds like a you problem, Remi, Ronin sends haughtily back to his husband, and the smile he flashes up to the other man is tipped with sharp fangs. Still, he settles down in the undergrowth to wait for the hawk to spring the trap, and only when the piercing cry fills the air does the Huntsman realise he's been holding his breath. He swears he can feel the thunder of hooves against the ground as the herd start towards the trees, Ronin holding himself as still as possible until the first deer leaps into view.

At that point, his vision may as well have gone red for all the control he has over himself.

He moves half like the predator that lives and seethes within him and half like the Huntsman currently (mostly) in the driver's seat, but it doesn't make what happens any less brutal. Ronin all but tackles the deer on its flight past, sharp talons raking across its throat and letting hot blood spray out across the forest floor. In the meantime Ronin holds on tight, wrestling the creature to the ground where it can bleed out and they can feast.

RONIN

we are like birds of a feather, we are two hearts thrown together

One that I will happily make an us problem. The hawk snarks back, unsure what the content of his threat actually entails but not really caring.

As the herd of deer enter the treeline, Remi swoops up high over the canopy. He's unable to do anything useful within the confines of the trees with his wingspan being what it is, but of course, he's already done what he set out to do. Through the bond the alchemist can feel the red-pale gust of murderous wind blowing outward from the Huntsman, freckled intermittently by moments of clarity and rationality. Both Ronin and the dragon know where their claws should go to kill the deer as quickly as possible, but only Ronin has a name for those places. Only Ronin is aware of how the blood splashes against the mulch, though they're both keenly aware of the bright smell of blood that rises up from the leaves.

Tucking his wings and gliding carefully onto a branch overhead, the hawk watches the light fade from the deer's eyes. Not the sort of creature that could posture himself against the dragon-man below, it's quite easy for Remi to watch the scene without feeling compelled to steal Ronin's kill or take part.

I am surprised you went only for one. He comments, tucking his wings tightly against his body.

THE ALCHEMIST

we will be forever as one, my brother under the sun

gratuitous violence; unnecessary, satisfying, heartbreaking

Waste not, comes Ronin's reasoning behind only going for the one deer, though his voice is low, and the feelings that roll along with it seem much more brutal and dark than anything the Huntsman usually feels. The deer bleeds out, the iron tang of blood mixing with the sweet scent of the earth, and Ronin straightens up, on his knees at the side of the prone creature.

There will always be more deer, he continues, and in a flash of talons he opens the kill across the flank to get to the sweet meat beneath. It's not as tender as it would be if the creature had not died so startled or afraid, but it is nonetheless everything that Ronin has needed since walking into the Greatwood with Remi, and he sets upon the deer with gusto.

I never realised how good this felt, he half growls through the bond.

RONIN

we are like birds of a feather, we are two hearts thrown together

It's interesting to hear such rationality from the mind of a man covered in blood, whose fingers are buried against the fur of his fresh kill to hold it still as it dies. There will. The hawk agrees, though his mental voice is tinged with something suggestive and dark. Things larger too. Things that do not die quite so quickly. He murmurs, and had he cheeks capable of blushing, they would have looked as though they'd been circled with blood.

It can feel better, yet. Remi adds almost hoarsely. A deer was a quick kill, an easy thing to bring down once its feet were out from beneath it. Perhaps one day we can hunt the ursurs in Halo..perhaps even the dragons in the Cordillera.

THE ALCHEMIST

we will be forever as one, my brother under the sun

gratuitous violence; unnecessary, satisfying, heartbreaking

When Ronin sits back from the deer, he's red from the chin down, and there's something dark in his blue eyes that suggests he wants to relive this moment again and again, until there are no deer left in the Greatwood.

Oh? At the implication of bigger things, more dangerous things like ursur or dragons or anything else that might declare itself the apex anything of a region, a surge of electric need ripples through the bond, and a shudder ripples through the Huntsman's body.

We could have a competition, he suggests, his chest heaving, a sharp smile playing over his lips. Whoever gets the most kills wins. Rising lazily to his feet, Ronin glances up and into the trees. I want to fly. You coming? he asks.

RONIN

we are like birds of a feather, we are two hearts thrown together

The look in his husband's eyes would have Remi's breath catching in his throat had he not been a hawk. Curling his talons more tightly against the tree branch, the hawk nearly spreads his wings as if the heat rising up from his belly might be strong enough to flow beneath his feathers.

A competition. Remi repeats dryly, his eyes closing and his head twisting. The very last emotion he needed to be added to the broiling concoction in his stomach was the need to win and best his husband. This is about you controlling yourself, not me. Remi adds, unsure if Ronin has any idea the effect his blood-drenched mouth against the blue of his eyes has on the alchemist.

Always. But I will have to shift. I cannot keep up with you, like this. Remi replies, leaving it to Ronin to decide if he could share the skies with another predator just now.

THE ALCHEMIST

we will be forever as one, my brother under the sun

gratuitous violence; unnecessary, satisfying, heartbreaking

I didn't mean now. Maybe when we go to hunt ursur, when I'm better at controlling myself. Because for all of Ronin's ability to hold a conversation and look darkly charming, it's only the lack of stimulus that's keeping him on his knees beside the deer carcass. Any challenge to his kill, or challenge in general, and he's likely to become a bleak shadow against the Leafchange sky, looking for more bloodshed.

I meant more like how you fly, sometimes... Rolling his shoulders, a pair of black and leathery wings emerge and stretch out, and though Ronin has partially shifted before, he's never done it quite like this. His wings are large enough almost to drape over the deer, and it's with a great reluctance that he rises to his feet. If you want.

RONIN

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

Gods but his husband is unfairly attractive. I see. So saying, the hawk morphs and grows until the alchemist is sat upon the tree instead with his legs dangling effortlessly down from the branch. His own wings are folded up tight against his back, and as he gazes down at the bloody and dark man dappled by the sunlight, he finds the familiar phrase of I have never loved you more than I do right now, resonating in the back of his thoughts.

"I do." Stilling the urge to simply drop from the canopy and pin Ronin to the forest floor, Remi instead glances up. "Lead the way, and do not overthink it." He remarks gently, unsure if Ronin has tried to fly this way before. "It is not like flying as a dragon. It will feel different, but do not try and correct it or you will end up pitching forward and diving into the ground.

gratuitous violence; unnecessary, satisfying, heartbreaking

Ronin is sure he can sense it as Remi shifts, and not just in the miniscule sounds of the trees that canopy above him. His wings flex and fold over his shoulders, and he turns to gaze up at his husband with an unfamiliar and yet very welcome predatory glint in his eye. In that moment he could just as easily imagine himself leaping up to join the other man and pin him against the boughs, to kiss him hard enough that he's not sure if the taste of blood is from the kill or from Remi.

Of course, that wouldn't get them flying, and so as the musical sound of the Lullaby's voice hits the air at last, Ronin grumbles his way back out to the meadow where he can take to the air more easily. "Perhaps that would knock some sense into me," he mutters, taking a deep breath in and wasting no further time before taking a running leap into the air. Leathery wings snap out to catch him, and luckily enough Ronin is more in tune with his instincts than usual, so it doesn't take much effort to climb higher into the sky.

Hopefully diving into the ground can wait until later.

RONIN

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

"If only." Remi chuckles with feigned cheerfulness that wants to descend into something far more wicked. Following the Huntsman into the clearing where not 10 minutes prior a herd of deer had been grazing without concern, the alchemist folds his arms comfortably across his chest to watch his husband. There was little he could do in the way of helping—flight of this sort was not a two-person operation—but at least he could catch him if he fell.

As Ronin's wings blot out the sun for a moment leaving Remi's mind groping with images of black leather, he too spreads his wings to join the Huntsman in the sky. They are quite the pair now, their shifts seeming to settle all the more into fairytale tropes quite without their permission. Whatever they look like, it all feels perfect to Remi.

"I have always wanted to fly with you, like this." Arm capes were simply not the same, despite the tight leather outfit that they came with. "Now come on, and catch me if you can." So saying, the alchemist's wings snap down to his sides and then extend as he settles into a warm pocket of air that helps boost him higher into the sky.

gratuitous violence; unnecessary, satisfying, heartbreaking

As glorious as it would be to be caught by the Lullaby, Ronin can't deny that he much prefers this. The warm air catches beneath his wings, the Huntsman only aware that he's holding his breath once Remi shoots ahead. "Hey," he half growls, though there's a fanged grin on his face (and drying blood on his chin and his clothes, good job buddy) as he strives to mimic what the other man has just done.

Still, leaning into his instincts or not, there is no substitute for the kind of experience that Remi has had for years now, and so it's with a great deal of flapping and an overuse of energy that he scrambles through the air after his husband. "I've always wanted that as well," he says, though it sounds much more threatening than it really ought to.

The flight brings with it a yawning sense of freedom that rises like a scream in the back of Ronin's throat - the Huntsman barely knows what to do with it, knowing only that he wants higher, faster, and it doesn't matter how tired he gets after this if it means he can reach that.

RONIN

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

Soaring, experience and strength winning out over adrenaline and fresh need, Remi glances at Ronin over his shoulder as his wings continue in an easy rhythm. "Well I suppose this answers that age-old question..." He calls down with a crooked smile. "Feathers, or leather?" There's a hum of laughter that pulses through their bond as the alchemist chuckles to himself, a sound utterly lost to the wind.

Stretching out his fingers to feel the brisk chill of the higher air, Remi slows his relentless climb and begins to simply glide. Below the Greatwood looks nothing more than a blur of green with a few indistinct smears of colour. "If we fly high enough, we might find Vi." He calls out conversationally, not that any part of him wants to see the god of life again.

How do you feel? This is thought rather than said as if the words were too important to be shouted across the airy distance between them. With the span of their combined wings and the arcs of their movements, the two men might as well have been encased in giant balls that kept them apart lest they collide and hurl each other down from the sky.

gratuitous violence; unnecessary, satisfying, heartbreaking

"Why do I have to choose?" Ronin grins after his husband, his energy nearly boundless as he strives to catch up to Remi. He's nowhere near able to concentrate enough to send enough feathers trickling down his spine to trigger his leather getup, but he hopes his point gets across through the Attuned bond. His focus is primarily on pitch black wings and glaming black talons, in blood and flight and the sight of the Lullaby high above, looking more than good enough to eat.

As they level out and they're able to feel the sun on their wings and the world shrinking away below, Ronin lets himself catch a thermal and lets out a long, easy breath. "I'd rather stay here with you." Finding Vi can wait. Everything can wait. I feel... It's not something he can really give words to, so he projects it out instead; screaming freedom, adrenaline setting every vein alight, the ache and burn of muscles well-used and a yawning sense of almost tranquility beneath it all.

I don't feel like murdering anything, he says, which is probably saying something.

RONIN

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

"I think the real question is, why do I" Remi chuckles back. Having been a feather-y creature since the age of 12, the alchemist can't imagine being anything else. But it is nice to have options where his husband is concerned, even if his feathers were apt to give Remi third-degree burns should his fingers get too curious about them.

Cocking his head to the side as if listening to his husband's emotions rather than feeling them, Remi considers for a moment before nodding. It can feel... Frowning, he too is unable to come up with the words for it. Instead, he projects feelings of a shaky recklessness followed by the stomach-churning sense of falling. Not unlike the feeling that takes over when one stands at the edge of something very tall, so too does the sense of vertigo rear its head all the way up here. The drop couldn't kill either of them, but would it bring a blackened sleep that neither of them could readily wake from right away? Absolutely it could.

Well that makes one of us. Remi jokes back. Though speaking of murder...What say we flush the rest of those deer out and bring one back to Vai. I owe her several hundred thank-yous at this point.