#volume v.

one strike. two. he needed to learn to let ren come to him. he was disadvantaged when it came to speed, but he could take the damage in his blows quite easy, possibly redirect the force. he could hold ren at bay, counter strike when necessary, pin him down if jaune had the reflexes to do so. he was already panting from the exertion. the hot mistrali sun was beating down on them, and shedding his armour for the mobility didn’t seem to be having much of an effect. ren would come at jaune with the force of a speeding bullet and it felt like  the wolf was moving in slow motion, catching up only enough to avoid serious damage. one blow prompts ren’s dual blades to clash against his own, sparks between them as jaune stares at magenta hue, widening for a moment as distracted mind once again becomes enchanted with the pretty colour. he faltered, cheeks flushing as jaune tried to regain balance.

the air about ren was different, lighter in a way. though scarlet had been witness to the dragon’s mischief as children, the parts of them that made them youthful had been tarnished by circumstance, by the cruelty of raising oneself in such dangerous environments. slivers of their guarded persona fell away in the company of friends, companions who had known them in rougher, darker times. now ren’s lilting laughter, the undercurrent in their amused words, made prominence over regularly guarded countenance. it was easy to speak and concentrate on cooking at the same time, even in a foreign kitchen like the one in the mistral safe house.

they wondered idly who took care of the mistrali safe house, that it was so well maintained, with bookshelves clear of dust, with a kitchen fully stocked and house well furbished. whoever it had been who lived there, or who take care of, came often enough that the blooms lining its garden beds hadn’t died from a lack of maintenance, even if they’d somewhat overgrown with weeds, save for one curious dead patch near the backdoor.   ‘   this part of the garden confuses me.   ’   @emeraldbeacon   (   @oscar   !   )

they’d been watching the elder huntsman from across the other side of the weapon stall for a little while now, head tilting curiously as ren attempted to see the link between the knives mr. branwen was inspecting. surely a trained professional would know a great deal about which ones would make an excellent weapon. they wondered idly how different their tastes in the blades varied.   ‘   how do you choose yours,   mr. branwen   ?   ’   @dreadpoured.

@brokenclockwork​.   “i made you some soup, and i’m going to sit here until you eat it. i can wait.”

‘   oscarrr   —   ’   delirious whine met the insistent demand as the dragon stubbornly placed themselves down at the dining table. only a few weeks since oscar had arrived at the mistrali safe house and ren was getting used to the familiarity they once had with the younger boy. given, they weren’t exactly themselves in this moment. ren, with their impeccable eating habits and tendency to pick the most healthy options concerning their health never really got sick, but even they weren’t immune to the occasional common cold.   ‘   i’m not sick.   ’   a lie. a stubborn lie, accented by the fact that they’d brought an entire blanket to hang over shoulders. they wouldn’t remain bedridden, their pride wouldn’t allow it. dejectedly, they picked up the spoon and started eating, pausing a moment after savouring the flavour before looking back at oscar.   ‘   you made it spicy   ?   ...   ’   they looked down at the soup once more, their voice touched. ‘   ...   i can’t believe you remembered how i like this dish.   ’

caring for stubborn muses.   (   not acc.   )