RONIN
the darkstar
"I would not want anyone else in our place," Ronin whispers, equally without hubris. It's a mix of reluctance to put his life in someone else's hands, and a knowledge that even for all they have been through, he would never wish it on anyone else. More than all of this, though, his world narrows down to two green eyes as Remi speaks, as if the Star might be able to light his way through the emptiness that threatens to swallow him whole.
Leaning in for another kiss, this one a little needier, Ronin draws away only to press his cheek against his husband's shoulder, glaring at the wall because there is nothing and no one else he can really blame. "I would really enjoy that," he mumbles into the fabric of Remi's shirt, though his smile is listless; not even the thought of sailing a skyboat can lift the mood. "Are you sure I ought to go?" he asks. "I can stay, if you like."
Leaning in for another kiss, this one a little needier, Ronin draws away only to press his cheek against his husband's shoulder, glaring at the wall because there is nothing and no one else he can really blame. "I would really enjoy that," he mumbles into the fabric of Remi's shirt, though his smile is listless; not even the thought of sailing a skyboat can lift the mood. "Are you sure I ought to go?" he asks. "I can stay, if you like."
