“I have no regrets. What about you?” -Ru 👀
dishonored sentence starters! | @bythestone
Is it the wine or the Love? The latter, he reckons, but who could say for sure? Not him, not now, not ever. But definitely not now, sprawled out on a blanket on a hilltop and sipping wine and eating fancy cheeses with Ruiha. His belly is full and his heart is brimming, and he smiles. Comfortable, he thinks, and squeezes her hand. And he sighs, and he thinks about just how warm this all is.
And he wonders about regrets, and laments, and the contemplative thoughts that seem to accompany alcohol. And he thinks of Darkness and Blights and Trials, and barely making it by the skin of their teeth. And he thinks of how awfully lucky they both are, but especially him. And he hums, for there is nothing in his heart he is so sure of as this: this grand Love. And he loves her in the way that he is certain people have seldom loved anybody, or perhaps the ways in which people think they love people. He thinks that if he were a better writer, this Love that is so deeply hard to articulate would be the stuff poets write about. This Love that is exciting and tender and devoted and utterly Whole, he thinks about, and he smiles.
And, oh, does he feel floaty. With this Love that is so big and so full, and he giggles. Real loud and bubbly, and he kisses her on the cheek. And the other one. And then on the lips. And he laughs again. “Ru. My Love. Light of my Life.” And he trails off, and he’s barely able to keep a straight face, faux-judgmental at the very Concept of having regrets about this, any of it. And he says, very confidently, “Would a regretful man do… this!” And so begins the pounce, the onslaught of kisses, right until they’re both reduced to a slumped over, breathless pile of giggles.
