It's been minutes, it's been days

maybe i'm a runaway train, maybe i'm a feather in a hurricane

A figure sits with his back turned towards a rather out-of-place houseboat. There is a rather charming fishpond and garden between the rock on which the figure slumps and the boat; enough space for his colourful string of swears to be downgraded from fortissimo to a much more appropriate mezzo-forte as they enter the houseboat's open windows. A few birds take offence in one of the nearby trees and flutter away.

Pressing the fingers of one hand (his only hand, really) against the bridge of his nose (and depositing a good amount of soot there), the notebook on Remi's lap tumbles to the ground in response to this slight movement. Another string of expletives leaves the Lullaby's lips as he inadvertently crushes the small nib of charcoal he'd been holding between his fingers. Grating his teeth together, Remi crinkles his nose against the roar of anger and annoyance that begins to build in the back of his throat.

THE LULLABY

maybe it's a long gray game, but maybe that's a good thing

we shall heal our wounds, collect our dead

"I thought those were your sweet nothings I could hear."

The door to the houseboat clicks open, revealing a second figure stripped to the waist, his hair wet and tousled, a towel around his neck. Scars and ink cover his torso in equal measure, some pink and others silver with age, and even a year in retirement hasn't changed the landscape of Ronin's body very much.

Padding barefoot through the garden and around the fishpond (and plucking up some rosemary and oregano to go with their breakfast), he approaches the man cursing on the rock and slips up behind him, letting firm, warm hands glide down his shoulders. "Tell me more," he implores, rubbing the tension from Remi's muscles before leaning past him to retrieve the notebook.

Alas, he hasn't got any more charcoal. Sorry, husband.

THE DARK STAR

and continue fighting

maybe i'm a runaway train, maybe i'm a feather in a hurricane

With a steady inhale, Remi rakes the fingers of his left hand through his curls before turning a boyishly frustrated sea glass stare toward his husband. "If they sounded at all sweet to you I think perhaps you might need to clean out your ears." Remi grumbles affectionately as he leans his cheek against one of Ronin's hands, before reminding himself not to take it personally that the Huntsman has two working hands. All the more fingers to fuss with, or so he tells himself.

"I was trying to draw." The Lullaby mumbles, nodding at the page of the notebook in Ronin's hand. Being down a few fingers had been enough of a challenge, but now that he was down an entire arm Remi was forced to try to do most things with his left, and that...was not an easy feat. Banded and bound, the Lullaby's right arm was a useless shell which ached and glowed a worrying shade of ultraviolet and silver every now and then.

"A year and I am no better off than I was when I first sat down to try." Remi complains, though there's a levity to his voice that hadn't been there prior to the war. A levity that said yes, this is my biggest problem right now, how wonderful is that?

THE LULLABY

maybe it's a long gray game, but maybe that's a good thing

we shall heal our wounds, collect our dead

"Is that so?" Ronin smiles down at the notebook, tilting his head at the attempted sketch before settling it back in Remi's lap where it can't fall a second time. "I think you are too close to your own work, you know. I can see a marked improvement." He punctuates the end of his sentence with a soft kiss to the Lullaby's temple, straightening up only to clamber around and sit down on the rock beside the other man.

"And," he adds, "even if your sketching isn't where you want it to be, your penmanship is lovely." As Ronin should know, given the notes they regularly leave each other on pillows or on the wall of the shower or nestled in the wildflowers.

"I was going to make eggs for breakfast," he says. Ningo eggs, to be precise, collected from Ronin's last flight over towards Halo. "Maybe we can eat on the porch? I'll put whiskey in the tea as well, if you like."

THE DARK STAR

and continue fighting

maybe i'm a runaway train, maybe i'm a feather in a hurricane

'Oh?' Frowning thoughtfully, his smile growing with each and every kiss, Remi shrugs as he settles the notebook into his lap. "Well if you think so it must be true." He adds with a chuckle, not quite believing Ronin, but also not caring much. Once accurately capturing the world around him had been a point of pride for Remi. But after so much war and death, if he was forced to become some strange abstract impressionist, so be it.

"My penmanship, you say?" Remi's smile becomes decidedly wolfish as his eyebrows bob up and down, before the mention of food shakes him out of it. "That sounds delicious. Is there anything I can do to help?" Rolling his right shoulder to try and alleviate some of the stiffness building in his arm, Remi stands and tucks his notebook against his side.

"I nearly told you to turn the waterfall off before bed again last night." The Lullaby murmurs with a sheepish smile as he follows Ronin back towards their houseboat. "It sounds so similar to the Stone Song, and yet..." Shaking his head, Remi shrugs.

THE LULLABY

maybe it's a long gray game, but maybe that's a good thing

we shall heal our wounds, collect our dead

"Your penmanship, Mr. Taliesin," Ronin repeats with a grin, the Huntsman delivering one final smooch to the side of Remi's neck before rising to his feet to follow him back to the houseboat. "In fact, there is," he adds, of helping with breakfast, and he holds up the sprigs of rosemary and oregano for the other man. "Would you mind chopping these with your ever-so-sharp talons?"

Opening the door and stepping aside for Remi to walk in first, the interior both is and isn't the same as when they lived in the Greatwood. It's more spacious, more airy, with an expanded kitchen and several more windows, as well as a spiral staircase up to the study Very Important Lookout Tower.

Trilling from them from a high shelf, Sugar makes her opinion of the waterfall known before Ronin even needs to say it. "Listen," he drawls, giving Remi's butt a soft pat as he heads to one of the counters, "if I could turn the waterfall off, I would. It always makes me need to pee in the middle of the night. The Stonesong never did that." He grins, before glancing back over his shoulder to the man he loves most.

"It has been a while since you mentioned the Stonesong," he remarks.

THE DARK STAR

and continue fighting

maybe i'm a runaway train, maybe i'm a feather in a hurricane

Raising an eyebrow, Remi waits to see what task Ronin could possibly need help with. Rolling his eyes affectionately, the Lullaby huffs a sound of weary acknowledgement. From god destroyer to chop-o-matic, Remi Taliesin can do it all (so long as all doesn't include drawing or socializing).  

Tossing his notebook down somewhere he didn't think would bother Ronin  (#doubt), Remi tugs open a cutting board from beneath one of their counters and lays the herbs onto it. Oria flutters down to assist, holding the sprigs still while Remi tickles them with his talons. Snorting under his breath, Remi can't help but nod in agreement. "I keep thinking that we have left something on somewhere." He murmurs before the frenzied movements of his left hand slow and grow still.

"No...no I suppose I have not." Glancing over his shoulder towards Ronin, Remi's gaze is thoughtful beneath his too-long curls. 'Sometimes I wonder what has become of it, but if I think about it too long, I get a little.." ghengis khan Smiling sadly, Remi shakes his head, at a loss for words.

THE LULLABY

maybe it's a long gray game, but maybe that's a good thing

we shall heal our wounds, collect our dead

Offering Remi a shit-eating grin that says you asked, Ronin leaves his husband to it while he beats together two enormous ningo eggs and grabs a few other seasonings from their homemade spice rack. "Our brains?" he suggests of leaving something on. "I know some days I wake up still wondering where my to-do list is, or what meetings I might have, or where I've left my office," he admits.

And as Remi starts to get a little bit nobody else but me, Ronin is already there for him. Swooping over to finish the Lullaby's sentence with a kiss, he imagines he can silence whatever thoughts are clamouring in Remi's mind with nothing more than their shared warmth and the slow press of lips and tongue.

"I know," he whispers. "Me too, when I think about any of the places we left behind. They'll be fine without us, though. They have to be."

THE DARK STAR

and continue fighting

maybe i'm a runaway train, maybe i'm a feather in a hurricane

Gods but Remi really does love this incredibly charming idiot. Smitten, he turns back to his chopping. "Mmmm. I would have thought the lingering cloud of obligations would fade, and yet.." Remi shrugs. It hadn't; not for either of them, it seemed.

Sighing indulgently, Remi twists away from the cutting board and only just remembers to retract his talons as his hand sweeps into Ronin's hair to pull him close. Closing his eyes he draws from the golden cadence that sings from his husband's emotions, bound on all sides by blood-red lines. I love you, Remi thinks, resisting reopening the conversation about his penmanship if only because the eggs Ronin is cooking have his stomach rumbling.

"They will." Remi agrees, his cheeks vaguely flushed and his gaze vaguely predatory. "I think maybe that is part of it. For so long we were told how very very important we were and so on, and...really?" He raises his eyebrows and tilts his head to the side slightly. Maybe they weren't.

THE LULLABY

maybe it's a long gray game, but maybe that's a good thing

we shall heal our wounds, collect our dead

"And yet here we are. But hey - that just means we need to hide from them even more," Ronin whispers, grinning and kissing the corner of Remi's mouth. And I love you, he whispers into his husband's mind, his hands gliding carefully over the Lullaby's torso to linger at the waistband of his pants. But yes - eggs.

Drawing back and trying to ignore his own penmanship that wants to make an appearance, Ronin tugs the towel from around his neck, gives his hair a final, cursory run over with it, and flings it over the back of a kitchen chair. "Well," he says, preparing the eggs over their stove, "I suppose back then we were very important and so on. And for what it's worth, you absolutely still are to me."

Sunnily said, Ronin beams across at the other man and feels, not for the first time and certainly not for the last, how very lucky he is to have this with Remi. "If you are feeling sentimental, we could always go visiting," he adds. Maybe it sounds a bit like a threat?

THE DARK STAR

and continue fighting

maybe i'm a runaway train, maybe i'm a feather in a hurricane

With Oria's help, Remi scoops the herbs into his hand before dusting them dramatically over Ronin's eggs. "And you are to me. Now if only this knot in the pit of my stomach would understand that, we would be set." Said knot at this present moment was an unhappy mixture of hunger and horniness, but after breakfast and oThEr ThiNgS, it would return to simply being a ball of things that went unfinished.

Reaching for two mugs, Remi holds them together by their handles as he one-handedly brings them toward the kettle. Pouring them each some tea before adding whiskey without question, he brings them one by one to the table. "How dare you." The Lullaby scolds, glaring at Ronin through his curls as he takes a seat. "Just for that I get whichever portion is the better one." He decides.

Visiting. Hah!

THE LULLABY

maybe it's a long gray game, but maybe that's a good thing

we shall heal our wounds, collect our dead

"Clearly I just need to work harder to rub out all your knots and tension," Ronin says with a wicked grin that he wisely keeps to himself, busy mixing in the expertly chopped herbs and smiling gently as he watches Remi putter about the kitchen. "I will remind you of this again - as delicately as possible - but you are capable of duplicating yourself, you know." He isn't sure whether Remi wants to do things 'himself' to keep life as ordinary as possible, but either way, there's help to be had.

Tittering to himself and bringing the plates to the table, he doesn't mention that he always planned on giving the Lullaby the better portion, instead merely setting it down in front of him and taking a seat opposite. Obnoxiously, Ronin starts to play footsie under the table while birdsong and the rush of water filters in through the open windows. "I consider myself told," he murmurs, bouncing his eyebrows at the other man.

"What if we invited Mateo and Flora to come and visit us?" He floats the idea breezily. "Then they could tell us how wonderfully the world is getting on without us, and you can stop worrying."

THE DARK STAR

and continue fighting

maybe i'm a runaway train, maybe i'm a feather in a hurricane

"Husband.."{]/say} Remi sings in a warning tone. He was hungry, yes, but there was only so much talk of rubbing he could take before certain needs overcame others. "Mm, my duplicate is down an arm though too." Remi points out, though Ronin wasn't wrong; there were other ways Remi could make things easier on himself. So thinking, a tentacle slithered out from below his shirt, waggling obscenely in Ronin's direction.

It comes as a surprise to no one that Remi takes footsie quite seriously, always striving to be on top or, when that proves boring, to try and interlace his toes with Ronin's. Mention of Mateo and Flora (not Mateo, Flora, and Enzo), has the Lullaby's chewing growing slow and then stopping altogether as he stares down at his eggs thoughtfully. The mention of his son, or rather, the lack of it, doesn't send him into a furious silence as it had done months before, but still the ache was fresh enough to knock the wind from his lungs.

"It might be better for us to visit them. It is dangerous here." Is all he can say for a moment as he mentally banishes the darkness that Enzo's memory tries to bring. 'I think...' Remi pauses, swallowing. "I think Mort might finally have time to hear me out." Ever since they'd settled in the Cordillera, Remi had been praying to the god. Not to bring his son back, but for the chance to say goodbye.

THE LULLABY

maybe it's a long gray game, but maybe that's a good thing

we shall heal our wounds, collect our dead

"Husband," Ronin purrs back, knowing exactly what he's doing of course; it's probably a good thing, then, that they unintentionally ruin their own good time. His expression sobers as he watches grief slowly creep over the Lullaby, his feet stilling beneath the table and his mischievous thoughts about the tentacle waving at him all but disappearing.

Clearing his throat and setting down his cutlery, Ronin offers an apologetic smile and reaches out to cover Remi's hand with his own. It doesn't seem the right time to say something like oh, so suddenly we are happy to go visiting, so instead he merely nods his understanding. "It is," he agrees. "I could fly us down to Halo and we could send letters, have them meet us there?" With skyports, it shouldn't be a difficult thing.

And then Remi speaks about Mort, the Huntsman raising his eyebrows and giving the other man's hand a squeeze. "You're sure? That... well, that is all the more reason to go to Halo."

THE DARK STAR

and continue fighting