RONIN
the darkstar
light is easy to love.
"I think chilli flakes would work too. But are you not worried they would overpower the gin?" Ronin asks, as if they are two culinary vagabonds and this is their life. No war, no demigodding, no banshees on the riverbank or relics in the Maw. Just lemon juice and cracked pepper and frostbitten nipples. (For one of them, anyway). As if unaware of Remi's eyes on him - he isn't - the Huntsman rubs at his hair and lets the towel drop, making a show of trying to find a shirt he deems appropriate.
Sugar, naturally, is the picture of obedience for Remi, and so she lovingly watches over the mixture as he goes searching for lemons. Ronin turns, holding up a shirt and shrugging into it, before smirking to see seaglass green peeping over at him. "Can I help you?" he asks, turning back around to delve back into the trunk for underwear and pants.
Sugar, naturally, is the picture of obedience for Remi, and so she lovingly watches over the mixture as he goes searching for lemons. Ronin turns, holding up a shirt and shrugging into it, before smirking to see seaglass green peeping over at him. "Can I help you?" he asks, turning back around to delve back into the trunk for underwear and pants.
show me your darkness.
