RONIN
the darkstar
light is easy to love.
The door to their little bathroom squeaks on its hinges, and a plume of steam heralds Ronin's arrival. "Average Julia avenge you abbastanza?" he repeats, his voice a low hum. He knows that it isn't correct, but what is Ronin if not a complete shit to his husband? That, as they say, is the meaning of true love. (Do not ask who they are or if this is something he has made up).
With soft nubs peeking through dark hair bejewelled by the shower instead of antlers, and a rather impressive string of bruises along one shoulder and bicep, the Huntsman has been true to his name over the past evening, and the banshee wailing along the riverbank beside their boat is now little more than a rag on the wind. Boy does she leave her marks, though.
"That smells like the evening after a hard day's work," he remarks of the prismatic candies that Remi appears to be making. Adjusting the towel around his waist, he slinks up to inspect them only for Sugar to hiss a freezing breath at him which catches directly on his left nipple. "Safrin's tits that's cold!" he curses, fanning at his chest as if worried he'll get frostbite.
With soft nubs peeking through dark hair bejewelled by the shower instead of antlers, and a rather impressive string of bruises along one shoulder and bicep, the Huntsman has been true to his name over the past evening, and the banshee wailing along the riverbank beside their boat is now little more than a rag on the wind. Boy does she leave her marks, though.
"That smells like the evening after a hard day's work," he remarks of the prismatic candies that Remi appears to be making. Adjusting the towel around his waist, he slinks up to inspect them only for Sugar to hiss a freezing breath at him which catches directly on his left nipple. "Safrin's tits that's cold!" he curses, fanning at his chest as if worried he'll get frostbite.
show me your darkness.
