the baffled king composing hallelujah
"Yes, you do," Ronin whispers, as if the question of deserving his love is something that was never in doubt. "Neither of us is an angel, and neither of us is perfect. As long as you come back to me, there's nothing we can't work out together. Nothing." It feels like they are beyond majestic declarations of love these days, of to the moon and back and so much it hurts.
More and more, Ronin finds his feelings for the Lullaby are so large that they stall like a hiccup in the back of his throat, so intangible that trying to put them into words is useless. But in the little things, the boring things - the press of lips and the warmth of fingers in his hair; waking up in cool twilight and seeking out heat and affection; dinner plans and mundane chores - in those things, Ronin is beginning to find a ridiculous sort of magic.
You couldn't. I shine too bright, he teases softly, and indeed, his dazzle is already broadcasting them to whoever might be wandering around King's End tonight. I'm glad you finally read the letters, but I'm sorry that they caused you pain.
More and more, Ronin finds his feelings for the Lullaby are so large that they stall like a hiccup in the back of his throat, so intangible that trying to put them into words is useless. But in the little things, the boring things - the press of lips and the warmth of fingers in his hair; waking up in cool twilight and seeking out heat and affection; dinner plans and mundane chores - in those things, Ronin is beginning to find a ridiculous sort of magic.
You couldn't. I shine too bright, he teases softly, and indeed, his dazzle is already broadcasting them to whoever might be wandering around King's End tonight. I'm glad you finally read the letters, but I'm sorry that they caused you pain.
