you are terrifying and strange and beautiful
Remi writes (or fails to); Ronin hunts. It's a wet day in the Greatwood, but the banks are holding well so far thanks to their efforts, and Ronin ducks into the houseboat with a sprig of peppermint bark between his teeth and a few rabbits slung over his shoulder. "I got lunch," he says around the bark, working on depositing the rabbits down and shrugging out of his wet coat. "It's muddy out there," he complains, having left his boots by the door.
"Oh, are you napping?" This he says when he finally glances across at his husband with his ink and parchment and his forehead on the table. "...Or dead?" Taking the sprig from between his lips, he moves to gently prod Remi with it, as if he might be able to discern more from this.
"Oh, are you napping?" This he says when he finally glances across at his husband with his ink and parchment and his forehead on the table. "...Or dead?" Taking the sprig from between his lips, he moves to gently prod Remi with it, as if he might be able to discern more from this.
The huntsman
