this madness of now

”Commotion? I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about,” Ronin said, as if his arrival that morning with the wagon had been timely and calm, without any shouting or chasing. Giving the wagon, the Hels and the mare a sunny wave, he allowed his husband to tow him along at a quicker pace, laughing as Remi tried to navigate the hot road and hotter sands on bare feet. The notion of a race was one Ronin couldn’t rightly deny, though he was already set to lose by having to get his boots off. ”You cheated, sir!” he called, shoes abandoned at last and his shirt pulled over his head - a minor wince as he pulled at all too fresh scar tissue. Remi would beat him to the waves, of that there was no doubt, but Ronin still found himself halting before the lapping, sparkling water. The amusement dropped from his expression and he found himself, for a moment or two, caught somewhere else, in another life, painting a ship and speaking to a beautiful woman. RONIN Darkness is a funny thing. It creeps up on you.