thousand dreams, lotus boats upon the waters

[promittere]

NEW MOON ADAGIO

Between the constant requests from the North and the sense of tension that pervades the manor, Sage Tatara makes an executive decision: we're going North, baby.

Of all the things that have happened thus far, let this be the ultimate test of your magic. Even as we near summer, it's frigid. Protect yourselves and your allies from the cold. Protect yourselves while also fighting off monsters (or other territorial wizards, should you make the terrible mistake of wandering into another's territory), flying through the vast wilderness, or protecting the poor humans who need your help to survive. Time to blow off some of your steam. Just be sure to obey Tatara's one rule: don't kill each other.

One particular problem of note is in the Forest of Dreams. Without its guardian, many of these rogue monsters and dangerous predators, displaced from their normal habitats, have found their way into the forest. Many of them, however, are unable to survive against the fatal toxin, and there are plenty of animal corpses and mana stones that litter the forest. It might be best to clean these up before the forest guardian returns...

That said, the toxin is yet another thing you must protect yourself against in addition to the cold. While you can likely keep yourself from dying from the toxins, you may not be immune to its effects. This deadly toxin causes anyone who breathes it in to dream and hallucinate vividly, be it images of the past, imagined futures, thoughts of the present processed and warped...

Strangely enough, those nearby may end up sharing in your dreams... Did you want the darkest recesses of your thoughts, hopes, and fears unearthed for others to see?

Those who decide to venture far past the more populated (in relative terms) parts of the North may find themselves stumbling upon what looks to be an abandoned bandit hideout. It seems it's been abandoned for quite a while—nothing to loot here, sorry!—but there sure are a whole lot of monsters that have decided to make this hidden corner of the North their home.

While you're at it, you may find a nearby cave. Beautiful crystals dot the walls and the floors, and there are small pools of hot spring water free for relaxing. It seems to be relatively free of monsters, too. So maybe this wouldn't be a bad spot to relax, away from everything else?

However, there's one thing that makes this cave truly unique, and it isn't the vistas or the springs—it's the bats. These bats hear echoes of the past and replay them for visitors. Should you stay a while and listen, a bat may pay you a visit. And when it does, it may play for you the voices from the memories of visitors past, whose stories may hold a clue or two to your circumstances...

While the Forest of Dreams is a memory/dreamshare free for all, the aural memories replayed by the bats in the Cave of Time will come from one of the original wizards only. If you'd like an audio replay of a perhaps significant moment either in their personal life or a clue as to what happened to them (it will be randomized), then please reply to this comment!

JOB BOARD

Clean-up and repairs. While thanks to the hard work of your Eastern friends the worst was prevented, the City of Rain emerged from their short ordeal a little worse for wear.

Buildings need repair, blood needs to be cleaned off the streets, the injured need help. This is, perhaps, the only time you will be allowed to use magic openly in the city (you've been given permits and everything!), but you still are not allowed to talk outside of designated zones. Please, please don't get arrested...

As for the scrap that litters the streets? Unfortunately, you'll have to take it back to the scrapyard. But this time, there's a big, roaring bonfire out there. Just chuck all the scrap and debris in the fire. The city isn't taking any second chances—extreme situations call for extreme measures.

Reverence. Several Northern villages are currently outside the protection of a wizard, and have requested the sage's wizards' presence. They're terrified of the monsters and worried the barriers for their villages will fail sooner than later. They don't simply ask for help for free, however, and these smaller villages are steeped in their tradition—they'll pay you their respects, praying to you, offering you gifts, groveling at your feet, in hopes for a modicum of your time and protection. Do their offerings please you? Then assist them with what you deem appropriate for their worship to you: kill a few monsters for them, or a lot if you're pleased. Strengthen the barrier a lot, or not at all if you're displeased. It's up to you! You have the power here. What's it like to be a god for a day?

Ladies' night. The monthly lady officers' gathering is coming up in the City of Affluence—it's an exclusive meetup for the women involved in and related to Western military and bureaucratic affairs. Anyone is welcome, so long as they meet two requirements: they are outwardly presenting feminine, and they have an invitation to the gathering. Here's your chance to flex your transformation and glamour spells! Infiltrate the meetup with a disguise and a fake invitation, mingle, enjoy the drinks, the jazz, the entertainment, and find out what you can... What's the Western army up to? Be careful, though—don't get caught and kicked out!

The attendees seem to be excited about the new phantasmagoria technology and the upcoming display, and many whisper about the upcoming Venator meteor shower...

G'RAHA TASKS

Greetings, new friends! I am G'raha Tia, and while I hesitate to call myself a mentor or a replacement for the one you had, I am eternally grateful for the assistance I received and will do my best to help your cause in any way I can. To that end, I feel I may need to be caught up to speed on the events and get to know all of you.

We can have some tea and sandwiches and have a discussion! That's the best way to learn, sometimes.

TATARA ACTIVITIES

Even if we're not here for very long, I think we should leave our mark (not literally! Don't paint on the walls!). I got paint and big paper in the dining hall, but no brushes... Do you know what that means? Finger paint! Finger paint a portrait of yourself with your name and I'll hang it up in the library when they're all done!

Thanks to Cid and Khun, my camcorder works now. The thing is, what's the point of filming anything if we have no way to watch the film?! Could you guys work together to make some kind of projector? Or like...VHS player? We could have a movie night together!

OOC NOTES

🌙 Welcome to your fourth event! It's your dreamshare and memshare event! Ready to open up with your deepest and darkest secrets?
🌙 We're halfway through the game. How do you feel?
🌙 Back at the manor, Kurapika and Maya have set up a bulletin board! Leave comments, argue with your neighbors, have fun. Be nice. Don't set it on fire.
🌙 On the admin side of things, Lav has swapped out Wanderer for G'raha! Please say hello to your new mentor NPC.
🌙 Your OOC plotting post is here! Remember to keep all wider plotting to the post, and remember to check back frequently, since not everyone checks plurk or discord all the time.
🌙 The next country to go on their mission is North. Do you think a PVP-enabled mission will go well?

» NAVIGATION

Comments

custom starters under here

[fellheart]

DAY

[fellheart]

[ it is, it turns out, strangely easy to lose sight of robin in the forest. perhaps it's the shock of white hair blending in with the snow, the dark clothing seeming little more than a stray shadow or trunk or bough at a great enough distance,

or perhaps it's the way the man skirts away from company like a ghost as he flits through the forest, attending to the same busywork most everyone else is. the promise of mana stones and beasts that become mana stones; it's reason enough, in the end, for robin to bother with remaining despite the threat of knowing the enchanted forest poses. that's fine. robin can minimize the risks in the little ways he can, keep to times and locations people aren't so active at, wander an eerily silent forest in the eerily cast half-light of dusk, the shadows stretching longer with every minute that passes.

perhaps that's why it's hard to immediately tell exactly when the surroundings begin to warp and shift, twilit forest melting into candlelit chambers, stone and architecture in place of wild nature. however day comes across robin, whether through happenstance or design, he'll find now that the man sucks in a breath through his teeth, shoulders squaring away as his expression grows shadowed beneath his hood. ]

[troublereduction]

[ In this case, it's happenstance. He did notice there was someone else in the forest, but he figured as long as they weren't 1) trying to harm him and 2) getting in the way of the task, it was probably fine. They'll reveal themselves whenever if they ever decide to.

...That said, imagine his surprise at finding himself "inside" when he's supposed to be in a forest. ]

Robin?

[fellheart]

[ robin glances sharply over at day when addressed, opening his mouth to respond, ]

"what are you doing?!" [ hisses robin's voice,

but it doesn't come from the man in front of him. that man only grimaces, what seems almost like an uncharacteristically hunted expression on his face, but it's fleeting, quickly schooled away into an expression of irritation because... no. absolutely not. how dare this forest.

from elsewhere in the 'room,' now identifiable as someone's personal chambers in a castle, robin's voice issues forth again from the phantom hovering at someone's bedside. "you're not supposed to be up! lie back down, chrom, before you reopen something you shouldn't and render all the healers' work useless—"

... the present robin mouths along to the reprimand word for word before folding his arms and stalking over to day, mouth a thin line. ]

... Hah. If it isn't enough to dredge up these things in the first place, it's going to have others witness them too, I see.

[ if day is watching the scene, the unfamiliar figure in the bed only groans, disoriented. then: "robin-? what did- oh gods, emm! the assassins- is she all right? what happened with the assassins?" ]

[troublereduction]

[ Oh, this is... A younger Robin, perhaps? Or, if he assumes that story wasn't just a story, the human the dragon dreamed it was? ]

Yeah, uh. Sorry 'bout that. [ Day is just along for the ride now, apparently, despite never actually having bought a ticket for it. He won't comment even as he watches, however. ]

[fellheart]

[ "what ... what happened?"

younger ... yes. not the most obviously so, as the current robin doesn't look his true age, maybe seems a few years older at most, but... ]

... I know how this all goes. [ says robin, his expression carefully blank. ] Watch, if you must. I'll attempt to maintain watch on our surroundings despite the illusion.

[ the difference is perhaps made more starkly apparent when the two of them speak shortly after one another. there's a distinct sense of sincerity to the younger, a sense of earnest feeling not yet worn away into the jaded detachment so often found in the older. he wears his stress freely. he wears his frustration clearly. he blanks his expression well but not nearly as well as his older counterpart, forcing on himself a calm he doesn't remotely feel in order to answer the question asked him.

and day knows that, because there's feeling, now, leaching through the walls. these are someone's private chambers, and they carry with them a lack of the warmth or comfort one would expect from such a space. instead there's the sense of a place that should be safe but isn't anymore; the uncertainty of not knowing where to go from here. he cannot be calm when his thoughts are racing, rushing through possibility after possibility.

it's the sensation of he should have done better, should have been able to plan for this eventuality somehow. what is he good for if not his ability to do just that? a whirlwind of thoughts on the multitude of ways things might progress from here, the fallout sure to come, but nothing to change what's already been done.

"... right." fingers curl, gripping at the sheets before releasing them. "they came through a fault in the castle wall, behind the maple grove. their targets were— well. i'm sure you can guess.

"you were gravely wounded in their initial attack, which is why you shouldn't be sitting up—" says robin, reaching out a hand to forestall chrom's response. "it was all i could do to force back the ones who ambushed you and keep you from bleeding out until reinforcements arrived and the healers found us. ultimately, we drove them to retreat, but not in time to prevent them taking the emblem."

"... and emm?"

gods, he's going to have to say it, isn't he?

"... i'm ... i'm so sorry, chrom." ]

[troublereduction]

[ Oh. Funny how this younger Robin is, in a lot ways, how he felt when he first started going on missions and he wasn't terribly good at being serene. AndtThis is a feeling that he's had before, though he often tries to not dwell on it. When you're tied to fate and can foresee possibilities up to a point, it is easy to think this whenever sometimes goes awry and you can't easily iron out those creases.

He puts that aside, because something more painful is unfolding right here. Day tries to maintain a neutral face, but his brows start to crease. ]

...She's gone.

[fellheart]

[ like a script playing out, day speaks what's been already written. the younger robin's voice overlaps with his as the words ring out in unison, sounding far too loud in the darkened, candlelit room.

(there's no light outside the window. it's late. everyone else must have already retired to their quarters.)

the man in the bed makes a wounded noise, the ragged ends of it turning into a growl that sounds like it could be a sob. "damn them... damn those monsters! spineless cowards! why...? emm would have never hurt anyone! everything she did, she did because she thought people deserved peace, no matter who they were... and look what it's gotten her!"

"chrom..." you don't know what to say to the man in front of you. you don't know what you can say. he wears anger, righteous and grieving, like a shroud, working up and stoking his own fury because the only possible alternative is despair.

"they'll pay for this. they made it clear the only thing they'll be happy with is escalation when they killed the one person in ylisse who wanted to negotiate. if gangrel thinks i won't be willing to march on their capital—"

this. this, you have plans for. routes of invasion drafted up in sleepless nights and just in cases as border tensions had continued to build; plans to weather siege; plans to try to protect or secure the people from towns that would undoubtedly be caught up in skirmishes along the border; plans for an incisive strike to the heart of another nation—

and yet

you don't raise your voice, but the feeling of it is present anyway. you don't know how to drag him back from this precipice, but— "chrom. listen to me. look at me. do you hear yourself? are you listening to yourself? did you hear a single word i've said earlier? if you intend to march on plegia, then know that we'll follow you, but you're not doing so with those injuries."

robin leans forward, honey-colored eyes shining bright in the candlelight, hands taking one of chrom's into his own.

"i had to send lissa to bed earlier because she and maribelle both wore themselves out taking care of you. she refused me more than once because she didn't want to leave your side. they don't think ... your injuries will ever quite heal in full. i might not have trained as deeply in it as them, but i know white magic too, and i agree with them.

"beyond that ... you just ... you told me about your father, not all that long ago. about how he was a cruel man, whose brutal war caused so much suffering for both sides. you said you didn't want to be like him. if you invade plegia now, don't you think that's exactly what gangrel wants? another bloodthirsty, warmongering exalt to feed into whatever propaganda he's been spreading, no better than the man he descended from?"

it seems, for a moment, like chrom will argue, will try to rise from bed anyway via sheer force of will. the moment passes, and suddenly he seems much smaller in defeat, swallowing before he speaks again. his eyes are anguished, lost.

(they're both young. younger than day by several years, if one were to estimate.)

"... i'm not emm either. i can't ... i'm not even half the person she was, robin." ]

[troublereduction]

[ They're both young. Maybe as old as Day was when destiny came for him, or a little older than that. So it's painful to watch the emotions that emerge here, in this memory, and the talk about war and injury and...

... "The prince's sister, leader of her halidom, pacifist to the end, who spoke purely of peace between two countries with an ancient animosity between them, was slaughtered in her sleep."

Ah.

Day doesn't say anything. He just watches. ]

[fellheart]

[ "no one's ... no one's expecting you to be her, chrom. really ... alone, i don't think any one of us can be half the person your sister was."

i'm sorry. i should have done better. i should have had a plan for if they'd ever breached the walls. this isn't about him. robin swallows the thoughts down, expression a little watery.

"you don't have to be emmeryn," he says instead, letting his weight settle, still holding chrom's hand in his. "you can still be true to yourself. you can still give people hope in the ways that you know how. but if you want to fight for your sister's sake, for her ideals... i'll be by your side. maybe alone, neither of us is enough. but maybe together, we can try to be something more."

chrom's mouth works for a moment to put together words and fails. "you say that, but ... i want to believe you." a tendon pulses in the line of his throat, something tight in his jaw and the entirety of his expression as he looks away toward the wall. "i want to believe you, but i'm so angry, robin. i can't stand it. even now, all i want to do is ... what if i'm not worthy of her ideals? what if i drag you down with me?"

robin shakes his head. "i know you. if you aren't worthy, you'll keep at it until you are. if you fall, i'll be there to pull you back up. you'll have my support, mine and everyone else's."

chrom is reckless. worryingly so, even if robin knows it comes from a good place. he wears his heart on his sleeve, and he can't help but to pick up strays. he cares with the entirety of his being, and that's why it hurts so much now. robin lets his eyes fall closed, lowers his head, and makes himself a promise (no more scenes like these, not again, he won't let this happen again if he can help it) as he says aloud:

"i promise you, i won't let you stray."

(and if they both should fall, well ... then they'll have done so together, at least.)

...

there's no more words after that, though the scene in the dark, candlelit room lingers a while longer. surely they must have spoken more, after, but if there's anything else to the memory it is silent, a younger robin sitting alone in solemn vigil at the bedside as a prince mourns his older sister.

(and like a solemn shadow, the current robin lingers somewhere closer to where would be the threshold to the room, expression inscrutable.) ]

[troublereduction]

[ Day almost hates how much he understands Robin's concern here because it's what Flint told him once (or twice, or any number of times) during training. Not necessarily that he was reckless, but that he cared too much for a job where one day, inevitably, he would have to make choices that other people would pay for.

After a while, Day moves to where the current Robin is standing, silent for a moment. ]

...You were even younger than I am.

[fellheart]

And yet Emmeryn was barely over half our ages then when she took to the throne.

[ it is, in part, a bit of a diversion away from himself. his gaze is focused on nothing in particular, though it remains watching the scene regardless. if day means to say that the two in front of them are too young for what they've inherited, then the fact of the matter is that there have been younger.

... a quiet, long sigh. his arms are folded over his front. ]

Their father wasn't kind to anyone. Not to his family, not to his own countrymen, to say nothing of the country he all but razed in his crusade to wipe out the wicked infidels and heretics who would worship a fell god. It engendered him faith and loyalty in... oh, just about no one, and he was killed when Emmeryn was but maybe ten, Chrom less than half that. An uneasy peace followed, but...

[ well. ]

We were old enough to know war. All that matters is that.

[troublereduction]

[ ...

Truly, serenity is difficult no matter which world it is. ]

...You wanna go, Robin?

[ Instead of staying here and watching this, he means. ]

JING YUAN

[fellheart]

[ death by airborne toxin tends to leave most of the non-magical corpses relatively intact, compared to other possible methods. predation, for one; injury from an attack in a struggle due to overlapping territory another.

still, not every one of the creatures felled by an unfortunate choice in temporary home is quite so unmarred. to that end, as robin walks the forest and collects mana stones and tends to corpses both, sometimes he'll just... pause. kneel down, nearby one of the more unfortunate seeming carcasses.

let feed a small trickle of his power into the deceased forms, even as he minds the wards maintaining both warm and clean air carefully. the method is not quite the same as he knew from his home, several missing intermediaries rendering an exact replication impossible, but he understands all the mechanisms involved, the anatomy and systems that must be preserved and how they do and don't fit together. it should not be difficult to recreate them via a magic that is, in some ways, more freeform than the systems in place whence he came.

so bones and flesh, even in varying states of decay, knit themselves back together. in one aspect, it's healing, because he's certain it will be a valuable skill to have in reserve should they be called out to deal with anything untoward. he knows life and death well, after all, and he's mentioned as such before, that he can be a capable healer if one is willing to accept the cold mercies of the north, the healing that isn't so much a surplus of life as it is a lack of death.

in another, it's ... well. you cannot properly heal the dead, cannot bring them back to life, but you can certainly do something else with them. a small wolf, whatever it is he's knelt over, eventually shambles slowly to its feet, tongue lolling out in breathless pants as robin checks over the integrity of its limbs. its eyes glow a color somewhere between ocher and red as it paces in circles for him to test the soundness of its reconstruction.

most likely, it will be in the middle of these kinds of experiments and exercises that jing yuan will come across robin in the forest of dreams, where surely nothing involving dreams or memories will happen. ]

[foresightis2020]

[ Considering the constant requests and other tasks assigned by a poor village, Jing Yuan finds himself once again in the Forest of Dreams, having come upon seeing Robin revive this wolf. To many people it'd be disconcerting and to Jing Yuan he is at least a little wary because he has to figure if its a friendly creature not attacking Robin first.

The eye color isn't exactly something that immediately gives to an easy confidence, though the vibes he can tell is that it isn't a threat after he visually assesses the situation properly. Especially since he knows Robin is essentially a strategist and would have reacted accordingly himself. ]

...Is this a familiar of yours, Robin?

[ A fair question to ask, considering everything, and it kind of looks like that since he wasn't here for the beginning of all the experiments — but in the midst of this one, sort of. ]

[fellheart]

It is not. [ said, matter of factly. ] It's simply an organic construct animated by magic that happens to still look like a living creature. Any breath or will it once possessed was long gone before I got to it.

[ though it certainly resembles a tame hound when it puts a paw into robin's hands for him to examine. he'll do so, briefly, before setting it back down and having it sprint another circle around them. ]

... convenient, though, when one wants to work on knitting together a wounded body without having to slice someone open for it.

[ because imagine how that would go down. 'hey, need to stress test and work on healing, you wanna get beat up a bit for me?' anyway.

the reanimated wolf isn't autonomous, can't move on its own without robin making it so. still, some notion of whim has him pacing it up to jing yuan, tail wagging— before a sighed gesture has the light fading from its eyes as it lowers itself down again, well and truly dead.

... faintly, though. is that the march of soldiers, baying of horses, hoofbeats of cavalry resounding somewhere in the distance around them? do some of the patches of snow now more resemble blades of yellowing grass? ]

[foresightis2020]

I see. You created one to practice on healing abilities in the event you would have to do it for someone else?

[ Too dead to truly be considered alive...is it? Simply puppeteering the corpse to act in turn? It does make him think of certain creatures potentially encountered back home, but there are obvious differences. Though enough that he keeps an eye on it still, at least somewhat still wary even for a moment if it is not going to attack.

But, Robin's motives for it are understandable, and this is not the power of the Abundance of work, even if it is inherently similar. Not that it matters much either way because it suddenly falls dead; when it did come close, tail wagging in nothing less than friendliness, he didn't find himself seeing that as a threat. It may even be docile enough for a head pat; not that it matters, since it falls dead once more.

Indeed, not the same as the Abundance after all.

In the midst of his questioning, he also does notice that he hears something, and temporarily turns his attention towards it. ]

...An illusion?

[ Mostly to himself. The way this place brings about unreal phantasms isn't an unknown or abnormality to him by now. Is there more to this sound of a marsh and the horses on the move? To the change that shifts beneath their feet even now? ]

[fellheart]

Correct. I am confident in my ability to do so where I come from. I've little need or opportunity yet here to test my limits in this realm.

[ their resident souths are so industrious in that regard, after all. ]

Better to find out now than in a more dire situation...

[ he trails off because he also hears the sounds of the battlefield. he's been here long enough that he knows what to expect from this place, and by now mostly— mostly only harbors a faint, wry curiosity for what the forest will dredge up next. this particular scene... ]

... Well, I suppose it could be worse. [ he remarks, musing. ] This field and climate ... Northern Valm? —Ah. I see.

[ what he sees is made starkly apparent once the rest of the illusion finishes painting itself into being: a siege on a fortified keep, defended by the most powerful cavalry in the world. around them battle has already broken out, faceless soldiers meeting each other in fatal clash.

but one man stands out for the bloody red of his armor, eye catching by design. he rides out to meet them rather than hide away.

"you do your sister's legacy proud, little king!" his voice booms out, cutting uncannily through the din. memory is a strange thing, what it etches into permanence, what it allows to fade. this man is the focus of the memory, that much is clear. "but humanity already has a savior. a conqueror who broke stronger men than you when they refused to bow. warriors of valm! ride with me now! together, we will stamp out this final pack of insurgents and unite the world!"

a god amongst men, that's how his followers see him. simply a man, and yet, at the same time...

two phantom figures dart through the battlefield, navigating its dangers deftly; the divine sword blocks the sharp bite of an axe that means to maim the mage. a spell-wrought tempest handles the foes who would think to strike them down from afar. a younger robin in regalia the current no longer seems to favor, shadowing a man clad in shining armor and wearing the marks of his station. it's all a blur, weapons clashing in a dangerous dance ...

up until the man is in front of them, the sanded edges of the memory giving way to a sharper clarity once more. all parties have their weapons drawn, but for now they speak.

"why do you resist me, your grace? did your exalted sister not want peace? yet here you stand, betraying her cause."

"don't you dare use my sister to justify what you've done. you enslave the weak and kill the able. you are the enemy of peace."

watching all this, both robins, older and younger, remain silent. his hood shadows his expression as he settles into a guarded stance, sword drawn, at his king's back.

this is not a place for tacticians to speak their thoughts. this is a conversation for king and conqueror only, ideologue against ideologue, beliefs brandished like steel. this triumph will only have any meaning if they break the valmese belief that walhart the emperor is a god among men. ]

[foresightis2020]

[ Better to find out far later indeed — as it is, Jing Yuan's concentration and focus intensifies on their immediate environment. The sounds of battle reach his ears, makes him refocus his attention on what's to be displayed before him — Robin's words and judgment on what is to be seen before them also heard. But more in the distance as everything twists before his sight.

The sudden vibrant of red etched into what he can see feels like somehow the first thing he sees, above all else, even if the background before the starkly imposing figure certainly seemed to catch his eye first. The boldness is characteristic of nothing less than a leader who believes himself assured victory, who believes that he is to claim less losses than gains than his enemy.

His words, proud yet complimentary, are another indication — he blinks at the volume, and the arrogance dripping in every sound, every tone. Still, it isn't like he is going to go unchallenged...he hears the dark-haired man bristling in his condemnation as his gaze falls upon Robin, silent as death. ]

A man that only thought of conquering, hm?

[ He has heard only just a scant words from him, and his position is obvious — his cares clear-cut.

While it seems like the kind of memory that gives to a significance of sort, he recalls still Robin's unworried reaction. ]

[fellheart]

... I believe he imagined to tread in the footsteps of one of his ancestors, though that's admittedly some speculation on my part ... Valm was a tiny nation on the continent before he came to power.

[ a pause, as he collects stones still from the in between earth. ]

Well. His motives, you'll yet see.

[ the memory isn't yet finished, after all.

around them the battle rages on, and robin must have taken action back then, relayed formations and called out orders, parried blade and spell alike from fatal consequence, but in this illusory recreation of a memory, the confrontation between the two men seems to exist separate from the world around them.

"i would end the reign of the gods, and you object on moral grounds?" the man— walhart— scoffs, shaking his head. "blood is spilled in any new birth, your grace. and in many a just cause, as you know..."

"there is no justification for what you've done," insists his opponent.

"by whose laws do you judge me? yours? your sister's? the gods'?" derision drips from every word.

"you cannot—"

"look at you!" rebukes walhart. "are you not ashamed? your mind is filled with nothing but secondhand beliefs. you dance upon the stage of your gods like a mindless puppet! that is what i reject: being a slave to tradition, to obligation. the old ways. the ways those of your continent cling to so blindly!"

"and your response is to force your own beliefs on those who would not want you?!" snarls the dark haired man in retaliation. "at least in ylisse we choose what we believe in!"

"you claim the freedom to choose when belief lies at the very heart of the foundation your country was built on? even your own title is dependent on your absent goddess!" and that is true, of ylisse and plegia both, but walhart continues before any response can come, making a grand, sweeping gesture with a hand. "damn the gods! damn their fates and their destinies! i will have true freedom! and any man who offers less is my enemy."

"enough!" snaps the king. "i don't require every detail of your twisted philosophy, or the things you tell yourself to justify what it is you do. you're a villain and a murderer, plain and simple, and i am the justice you deserve."

a death on the battlefield, being felled not by the gods, but simply another man. exalt and conqueror, steel against steel.

walhart seems to agree. with a laugh, he declares:

"better. much better! be not an agent of someone else's justice, but justice itself!" his eyes blaze. his steed snorts and paws at the ground in impatience. "now, let us fight as two great men, freed of their gods." the man briefly looks to the younger robin, who squares his stance and heightens his guard, but the moment passes as he once more addresses the exalt: "i grant any challenger the chance to test his will against my own... but you, too, shall be found wanting!"

with that and a whinny, the destrier charges. ]

[foresightis2020]

Mm, I see. I suppose I shall, then.

Though, I will find myself surprised if they are ones worth thinking over.

[ Robin's voice echoes on two fronts — between his battle commands, but also the one who is merely picking up stones ever-so-casually between the flashing of memories before his very eyes.

Though that seems to pale in comparison to the grand stage presented by the two fighters going head to head with their convictions and weaponry. He has to admit, Walhart uses the exact kind of tones that can very well easily stir up his fellow countrymen into action. As for how Jing Yuan personally thinks of them? He compares it to the sound a man who is far too bigheaded would definitely make when he has the chance to use his lungs at full capacity.

In order words, this is the kind of charisma that has negative effect on him. It seems to be the exact same case for this other man who is facing him down; most certainly because for the most part he is his enemy, but likely values as well. ]

I have heard his motives indeed, though his execution is rather basic.

[ What a man.

And that is all he is in the end — just a man.

Though, he does idly wonder what Robin thinks — even if he was on the opposing side. ]

i'm sick of how much red there is in this damn room, /has a ch20 video open as reference

[fellheart]

[ there's a derisive snort from the robin of the present day at jing yuan's words. ]

Quite. The end he speaks of may be a pretty thought, but no matter how he dresses it up, the reality is that he's invaded countless nations and spilled no small amount of innocent blood in his crusade to rid the world of gods. He would try to lay claim to the title of revolutionary, of humanity's savior, and perhaps he was able to sway many to follow him, but... I wonder.

[ will the memory continue? for how long?

blows are traded; the bite of the noble rapier the king handles scoring superficial strikes at best on the red armor, walhart's wolf berg striking into places quickly vacated by his would-be opponent- and on at least one occasion, parried and deflected by the younger robin himself, expression determined, though not without effort.

in the end, the clash isn't decisive, but walhart comes off the poorer of the two sides. the man retreats into the fortress capital, a clear invitation to follow— which the king and tactician and their army take him up on.

the memory doesn't follow them, instead fading to blank whiteness ... and then into the vast, open halls of a keep, carpeted in red, light streaming down from the windows high above. again, it comes to a duel,

and again, there is a final exchange of words.

"walhart! will you surrender?"

the man looks haggard at this point- both of them, chrom and walhart both bear the proof of their weariness, in truth- but his spine remains unbowed, the proud jut to his chin making his answer clear before he even speaks it. "don't waste our time with questions you know the answer to, boy."

"it did not have to be this way," says the exalt, simply. his eyes are resolute, even if he speaks of alternatives to the scene playing out now. behind him and to his side stands the younger robin, again watching their backs for any who would dare interrupt. "you believed in mankind's strength, as did my sister. you believe that we are masters of our own destinies, and so do i. you could have joined with us, instead of ruling by strength, and strength alone."

"pretty words!" once again, the man scoffs, not a single word making a single dent in the shield of his convictions. "will we just talk, or will we fight? me, join you? does a pegasus join with the flea on its back? a dragon, with a cow it eats? you forget your place, boy. look where you stand! you stand within the halls of an enemy's castle, ready to paint the stones red for your cause. for all the borrowed ideals you parrot, you're little different than i, save for the strength needed to see your convictions through."

he sneers, his next words a challenge.

"but i am the conqueror, and i will see this world united!"

"not you!" the king retorts, the force of both parties' declarations cracking the air like a thunderclap. "i will. and not by forcing all the people to choose the sword or the knee! i would stoke their hearts, for peace cannot come about in a land ruled by fear!"

(if jing yuan thinks to look at the robin of the present, who has straightened up from collecting mana stones and instead is now watching his king speak, he may note a distant, solemn expression on his face.)

the world seems to come to a standstill as whatever forces bidding them not attack seem to shatter, sword flashing up to meet axe. it is there that the memory ends, reality bleeding back in before any sure end to the clash of ideals, but robin's words, likely, eliminate any doubt that might exist of its outcome. ]

... Is that where it ends? I suppose his dying moments were just that unimportant. [ a harrumph, even if he can't quite clear his expression of the pensive cast it's taken on. ] When Chrom defeated him ... he held onto his beliefs to the last.

Still, I suppose it must be that strength of conviction that led to many to support him such that they would rather die than surrender, that day we marched on the capital.

help help

[foresightis2020]

[ Ah, there it is — there is something like a sense of understanding when Robin's tone sinks into such obvious and clear disdain about this man. Especially the more he hears of such putrid men. ]

...Humanity's savior, hm?

[ A man like that, who is so conceited to spill blood even long after the goblet has overfilled with innocents who died at his hands. A man who begrudges the gods and is made blind for all the horrors he commits in his crusade. And he dares believe him humanity's savior? Who did this man save? His own condemnation burns in his throat, and in the place of the man, he sees something else instead — those who would dare call themselves saviors. Disciples of the Sanctus Medicus — Abominations of Yaoshi. Scum that slither out from the shadows and think themselves glorious for it.

He thinks, above all, he dislikes those who parade themselves as saviors and kill and distort their fellow men.

(It's all the same...isn't it?)

The man continues to speak with arrogance still — declaring his previous words with the air of the one who is just and subsequently undermining them as he looks at his fellow man like he is ant beneath his shoe. Such it is that for a moment it causes his gaze to tear from the sight, and fall upon Robin — the sorrow and distant gaze surprising him a bit. But he follows it to his King, his own gaze softening in contemplation.

And then it ends. ]

This is where it ends, so perhaps so.

How unfortunate those people believed his drivel to be taken as sacred to throw their lives away.

[ A sigh. Quite a pity. ]

...Chrom is the one who fought valiantly against him, yes? The one you supported. I would be correct in assuming he is quite a noble man, is he not? He seems strong, not just in his combat capabilities, but his beliefs — of what is right, what is wrong.

[fellheart]

[ self-righteousness is such a heady drug, isn't it? it inoculates against doubt. it guards from criticism. it is the poison that leads you to be blind to any belief that detracts from your own.

to the end, walhart believed himself true. he cannot have been the only one of his kind, for him to have amassed such a following. on an academic, purely utilitarian level, robin can understand walhart's logic, but not the means.

chrom, though. now, there's a topic both more and less fraught. ]

... Chrom was my friend. He wanted to be nothing like his father, a man who he later related to me must have greatly resembled Walhart. [ says robin, carefully. ] I supported him, yes. I swore to, when he threatened to waver and break in the wake of his sister's death.

[ and perhaps, what may not be a surprise to jing yuan, who has already noted the traces of sorrow in his gaze earlier, and may now note the continued used of past tense: ]

He has, however, been dead for longer than I actually ever knew him for.

[foresightis2020]

[ Isn't it just?

Well, he has been assuming that the topic concerning Chrom would not involve discussion of the man having passed away. But those assumptions are simply incorrect; evidenced by the way the other refers to him in the past.

Though what truly is the ultimate confirmation is the final statement Robin makes afterwards, regarding his state. ]

...Even though it must have been for some time, as I certainly don't know how long you must have known him for, I extend condolences for such a loss.

Losing a dear friend is never easy; and no matter how much time has passed, there will always remain a hole where they once were. Even if moving forward every day without them is a necessity.

[ Speaking from experience, really. ]