one and only

RONIN if there's one thing i'm good at, it's surviving "Your assistance is appreciated, citizen," Ronin said with a grin in response to the moniker, nodding at Remi in what was supposed to be a regal or military gesture (it failed at both). He got comfortable with Aoife before the fire, speaking to his daughter gently as she cooed and wiggled and nestled close, seizing one of his fingers in her own. Still, her starlit eyes moved to Remi every now and then, as if to make sure he hadn't gone anywhere. So when the alchemist chose to sit comparatively far away, Ronin felt the not-rightness of all of this twist low in his stomach all over again. Still, he cracked a smile at Remi's explanation nonetheless, nodding to him. "Yeah, that's pretty much it I guess," he murmured. Glancing down at himself, at his clothes that smelled old and unworn, at the body beneath it that was so different and yet so similar to the one he'd lived in his whole life, Ronin's shoulders sagged. "No extra limbs, but... I feel... sad. Lost, maybe. Confused? I feel like everyone was starting to heal, and to move on, and I've just shown up. I feel like I'm an intruder."