But my words, like silent raindrops fell

Remi There’s only two mistakes that I have made: Running from the people who could love me best, & trying to fix a world that I can’t change "Ronin." Remi whispered when it seemed clear that all the ex-captain was going to do was stare into the fire, or at his feet. The water he'd left on the table was untouched, and though Vai seemed to be soothing Ronin's daughter (daughter!), the man looked no more at ease than when he'd first stumbled in. If anything he looked worse. "Come on." The guildmaster needed air and Remi did as well. There wasn't much of it to be had trapped from the ghosts and ghouls that lingered outside, but there were spaces not filled with wandering eyes and hushed whispers. Did they whisper about Ronin? Or about Remi? The alchemist didn't know, and was too tired to care. Placing a hand beneath Ronin's arm, Remi's firm but gentle grip tried to force encourage the man up and out of the Rathskeller. At least in the temple there would be room to breathe.

The fire held no answers for Ronin, but the sound of silence in the wake of his daughter's cries was a balm on nerves too frayed to make head nor tail of the situation. Staring into the flames burned his eyes after a while, but he couldn't seem to tear his gaze away. Distantly, the guildmaster registered that his throat was dry and his head pounded a steady rhythm against his temples. When had he last eaten, slept? He frowned, raising a hand to rub at his forehead, only to pause as he caught sight of himself in the light. Rust red, his clothes, his hands... he was covered in dried blood. Glassy-eyed, Ronin felt himself begin to tremble, to let his mind wander back. He was saved by Remi's grip on his arm, and though he flinched at it the merest hint of encouragement had him on his feet in a moment. "Okay," he whispered back to the alchemist, seeking out Vervain and his daughter and only moving when he was able to confirm she was alright. "Where are we going?" ronin the long and lonesome road

Remi There’s only two mistakes that I have made: Running from the people who could love me best, & trying to fix a world that I can’t change "Somewhere that is not here." Remi whispered back, looking around at the faces of those crammed in the Rathskeller. There were other rooms for them to meander and sleep in, yet most had seemingly resigned themselves to spending the entire week in the great room. It made sense of course, that need to be surrounded in the wake of so much death and uncertainty, but right now Remi just wanted to be alone. Alone with Ronin. Remi recalled after that first night as a lion with his mother's blood drying on his arms and in his mouth, he hadn't bathed immediately as if he didn't deserve it. Looking at Ronin now, the alchemist wondered if the guildmaster had simply overlooked it, or, if it was merely all that he had of Vanya with him in this moment. Either way, Rmei wouldn't begrudge his friend his appearance. They were long past that stage anyways. Leading Ronin out of the Rathskeller and up the stairs, only a few candles lighted the way into the temple. Within the walls a little light probably couldn't hurt—and the way to the infirmary needed to be clear—but blazing sconces just weren't the risk. The subdued light felt fitting. "Is she back at the guild?" Remi asked in a low and gentle tone.

That sounded good, actually. Ronin followed Remi from the main room of the Rathskeller on quiet feet, the guildmaster knowing better than most how dangerous it was to make noise in the middle of this particular night. The air was cool out of the tavern, Ronin wedging his hands in his pockets and sticking close to his friend, as if for the first time in his life he was afraid he might get lost in the dark and never come back. The question about Vanya he tried to answer, but his throat closed around the words at first. Breathing in deep through his nose, Ronin managed a nod. "Yeah," he said, his voice tight. "I didn't... I didn't know that the dreamfish would... it kept us safe when we left." He spoke, of course, about himself and the baby. "I didn't know," he murmured again, shaking his head like he could dislodge the thought. If he had known, perhaps he and Vanya could have left before the baby came. They could have been at the Rathskeller, or in the infirmary, where there would have been help and skilled hands and more than just stupid Ronin and his stupid inability to just stop her from bleeding. Ronin hadn't realised that he had tottered to a halt, or that now, in the silence and the darkness of the Temple, his eyes were brimming with tears. "Remi, I miss her." ronin the long and lonesome road

Remi There’s only two mistakes that I have made: Running from the people who could love me best, & trying to fix a world that I can’t change As Ronin worried out a response, Remi kept his eyes peeled into the dark. He'd let his eyes partially shift so that he could better permeate the corners and places where things might linger, but also to give Ronin all the metaphorical space he needed to collect himself. Hazarding a glance towards Ronin as he finally put more than a word or two together, Remi bit the inside of his lip hard, wanting nothing more than to somehow end all of this and take them away. Flashes of Vanya at the various weddings the pair had attended together danced in front of the alchemist's eyes. Her quick wit and scantly clad body, yet so at ease, especially in the captain's arms. "The dreamfish? The one that Safrin..?" The question was out of his mouth before he could think better of it, but as soon as he could, he let it die away. It hardly mattered at all where the fish had come from. "I'm glad you made it here alright". Only they didn't. Father and child were here, but not alright. Safe? That seemed entirely contextual right now. "You could not have." Remi replied immediately, but uselessly. There were no words to be said in the face of this kind of grief. None that the alchemist knew anyways. Taking a step passed the guild master, Remi turned to see that he'd paused. Spinning silently, Remi's brows knitted a concerned expression that immediately dissolved into something that ached and clawed at his heart and pressed pins against the back of his eyes. "I know." He whispered, stepping forward to wrap his arms around Ronin's shoulders, holding them against him regardless of whether the guild master hugged him back. Ronin smelled of sweat and blood, and in his unkempt hair, Remi could smell the sea.

A shuddering exhale left Ronin's lips as Remi drew him close, the ex-captain's muscles bunched tight as if he could somehow defend himself against his own grief. He couldn't, of course, and as the warmth and familiarity of a friend enveloped him he felt the dam within him crumble to nothing. And then the dark tide of loss and fear and sadness that had gripped him for days was loose; there was no putting it back behind its wall. The next breath Ronin took hitched in his throat, and the one after wouldn't seem to come at all. He released it with a sob that had him all but collapsing against Remi, his hands clenched tightly in the alchemist's shirt as the tears he'd blinked back for so long were finally given release. He had been so frightened, trying to save her, so utterly out of his depth. And she had known - that dawned on him now - she had known she was dying and he'd wasted so much time looking for other answers. Ronin sobbed hard against the alchemist's shoulder, trying and failing to pull himself together. "Why?" There wasn't an answer, of course, but he had to ask anyway. ronin the long and lonesome road

Remi There’s only two mistakes that I have made: Running from the people who could love me best, & trying to fix a world that I can’t change Remi stood sentinel against Ronin's tears and racking sobs. It was a strange thing to have to decide between being empathetic and remaining strong. Remi so often leaned towards the former as he could feeling himself wavering to do now; to let them both collapse to the floor and throw out sentiments of grief and heartache like faded Polaroids to stare at in the darkness. But surely the heart of that was selfish, wanting to just let them fall. And so Remi stood, arms around Ronin as firmly as he could, hugging the captain against him for balance as much as for support. Remi's fingers curled into the dark and tangled depths of hair at the base of Ronin's neck, feeling his sobs wet and heavy against his shoulder. "I do not know." Remi whispered back, his ear against Ronin such that he felt the word echoing through his friend's skull and into his own in a way that seemed to memorialize it in the alchemist's mind forever. Briefly he thought of creating a thousand vases for Ronin to smash, but of course the noise would be too much. But Ronin's tank of tears seemed endless just now, and so stupidly with his own tears mildly beginning to wash away Vanya's blood on the side of Ronin's neck, Remi merely held on, fingers offering reassuring pulses that Ronin probably wouldn't even feel.

Remi didn't know, and damned if Ronin did either. He tried several times to catch his breath or get his bearings but there seemed to be no end to it, no balm to his suffering, no words to make it better. The guildmaster was a slave to it for longer than he could comprehend, having no choice but to just ride out what he eventually realised was a fucking panic attack. He didn't know how long passed before his hands came up to clasp Remi's shoulders, allowing him to straighten up out of the hug. It almost seemed as though he was holding the other man at arm's length - and he was, but it was less so he could keep him away and more so he could use him to stay on his feet. "S-sorry," he mumbled, releasing the alchemist and folding his arms around himself, clenching his teeth to stop them from chattering. He felt very cold suddenly, and very small and very lost, and the tears on his cheeks left clean tracks through smudges of blood. "Can we sit down somewhere, please? I don't feel good." ronin the long and lonesome road

Remi There’s only two mistakes that I have made: Running from the people who could love me best, & trying to fix a world that I can’t change As Ronin pulled away, Remi's hands slipped to the captain's biceps, not at all trusting the distance between them. Through the darkness Remi peered, hardly knowing what he was looking for in Ronin's tear-tracked and blood stained face. He looked gaunt, exhausted, and broken in a way that the alchemist could hardly stomach. Remi frowned at Ronin's apology, neither needing nor wanting it. "Come on." Remi said, his voice impossibly resonant in the expansive high-ceilings of the temple. Releasing Ronin, a blanket suddenly appeared in Remi's hands. Draping it around Ronin's shoulders, Remi nodded gently leading the captain into one of the small alcoves alongside the wall with cushioned benches. "Grief can do that. You may well be sick, Ronin." Remi murmured, and then produced a small bucket which he held in one of his hands, just in case.

Ronin nodded gratefully as Remi led them further into the temple, managing a weak smile that was entirely a token gesture, but feeling more than appreciative for the blanket he conjured. "Thank you," he mumbled, all but collapsing down onto the seat in the alcove. He had long stopped trying to control the tears that still wanted to stream down his cheeks, merely thankful that he could speak whole sentences again. A broken laugh even made it out at the appearance of the bucket, Ronin shaking his head gently. "I already did that," he admitted. "I don't think there's anything left in me, besides..." He pulled the blanket tightly around him, like it would help to hold him together. For a second he looked like he might shatter all over again, before he pressed his eyes shut and simply forced himself to breathe. "Aoife," he mumbled after a few minutes of silence. "That's her name." ronin the long and lonesome road

Remi There’s only two mistakes that I have made: Running from the people who could love me best, & trying to fix a world that I can’t change Sitting next to him, Remi adjusted the blanket snuggly around Ronin's shoulders with a sad smile. "Maybe it is a new trend that I am developing. A sort of multi-purpose hat. You don't know." The alchemist said with regard to the bucket, the easy banter that normally came between them flowing unbidden from his lips. Coughing quietly, Remi leaned back against the wall, drawing his knees to his chest with a sigh. Looking towards Ronin as he pressed his eyes shut, Remi wanted nothing more in the world than the crawl inside of his skin and begin mending. But the alchemist doubted that even the most skilled healers could do that. How one mended a broken heart Remi knew that neither of them knew. Once when asked a similar question, Ronin had said something about time and moving on ... that rang true now, though Remi would never say it. "Aoife?" Remi repeated into the silence. In his accent the latter syllable rattled a bit longer, sounding more melodic than when Ronin had said it. An image flashed in his mind of a girl with long dark curls running through the sand towards the ocean, and Remi could hear Ronin calling the name he'd just said. But in that vision Vanya was there, gliding on long wings across the tides. Tears continued to fall silently from Remi's eyes as well as his mind selfishly drifted towards Sam, wondering how it was things could go wrong so quickly. Had he not just seen Vanya, bouyant with the life she was creating (and annoyed with Ronin and Remi for how loud they were?). Likewise, hadn't Sam just been professing his love? Running both hands through his curls with a heavy sigh, Remi leaned against Ronin. "It is a beautiful name. What does it mean?"

"As long as you don't attempt to wear it as a hat once it has been used for its other purposes," Ronin quipped back automatically, his voice low and hoarse. But like his friend, he settled into the easy wit they engaged in so often; it was simultaneously horrible and nice, to do something so ordinary. He leant back against Remi as the alchemist shifted closer, Ronin gazing out into the Temple and its small, flickering candles. "Radiant," he murmured. "It was Vanya's choice. She almost didn't tell me what it meant, but... yeah." Letting out a shaky sigh, Ronin reached up to wipe the wetness from his cheeks. "Thank you... for opening the door. I don't even know that I would have done the same thing in your situation." ronin the long and lonesome road

Remi There’s only two mistakes that I have made: Running from the people who could love me best, & trying to fix a world that I can’t change “You just let me worry about it. It is my trend after all.” Remi replied back, the amusement automatic in his voice, but hollow sounding just the same. Glancing just slightly towards Ronin as he explained the name, the corner of the alchemist’s lip twitched upwards in a smile that wanted to reach his eyes, but could not. The weariness and lines of exhaustion and sadness prevented it. “Radiant.” Remi repeated, trying it on just as he had her name. Again that future-memory came unbidden, though this time his mind had left Vanya out of it. His teeth clenched. “Yes well, what are friends for? I could not let my noble steed stand outside in the cold.” Running a hand across his eyes, Remi sighed. “You might have yelled just a bit louder you know.” He added, glancing towards Ronin with a brow slightly raised. With the death of his (nearly) wife so fresh, Remi could understand completely the draw of darkness. The monsters in the snow could bring them back together. But Ronin wasn’t alone anymore. There was Aoife to consider now.

Ronin huffed out a breath that might have been a laugh once upon a time, but he was far too exhausted, both mentally and physically, to conjure anything more. Let Remi have his bucket-hat. His eyes lowered to the ground again as he echoed the meaning of Aoife's name, fresh tears falling to mark the blanket with wetness. "Yes, I might have... I... I'm sorry," he said quietly, though he didn't sound sorry at all. It was only the baby in his arms that had made him call out to begin with, but he supposed with the dreamfish he would have been protected whatever he might have wanted. "What am I going to do, Remi..." he wondered aloud, squeezing his eyes shut. "I don't know how to take care of a baby. I'm not... I won't be good for her. I don't think I am good for anyone anymore." ronin the long and lonesome road