we live in a world someone else imagined
"They definitely chose their timing well," Ronin mutters through a hoarse voice, shamelessly leaning into the familiar touch of his husband's hands. "They said that Gideon killed Sam. Last night... or, well. The night before last now." Revenge, he imagines, is the reason behind it. But he still doesn't understand... any of this. The civilians buried beneath the rubble, the children left motherless, the parents left childless.
But spinning on a dime is the flavour of the morning, and it's with a sudden and lopsided smile that Ronin holds up a hand covered with fresh pink scar tissue. "I don't think he can die, but he's as close as he'll ever be to it. I wanted to give you his eye as a gift, but I was... it exploded. Sorry." Does Ronin need to sit down? Probably, yes.
But spinning on a dime is the flavour of the morning, and it's with a sudden and lopsided smile that Ronin holds up a hand covered with fresh pink scar tissue. "I don't think he can die, but he's as close as he'll ever be to it. I wanted to give you his eye as a gift, but I was... it exploded. Sorry." Does Ronin need to sit down? Probably, yes.
the dark star
