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

[foresightis2020]

Hmm...it does seem that unlike with the heliobi, in your world these malevolent spirits of yours pale in comparison to the avarice and egotistical mania that exists in the hearts of some men. Rather, indeed, a lot is simply driven by the individual, rather something supernatural.

[ Jing Yuan easily thinking back to, indeed, that man who called himself Walhart, considering himself a champion of humanity when he clearly showed himself as something he recalls considering himself as anything less.

But, as it is...

He can feel a wry smile almost touch itself at his lips, even if that dissipates sooner than later. He does not find disagreement on that matter regarding the differences of species there, so there is a nod there.

As for the other subject, Jing Yuan thinks it too is something all too common; strife existing as a result of civilization...misfortunes, disparities, the hardships, the quagmire that is the nature of people trying to come together, and the like. Even if he would like to see that 'so often' in this respect change. ]

Such is the burden carried upon civilization as a whole, it seems. Grand faults persist, greater still so that disparities and unfairness are bound to exist for long stretches at a time.

Though, it is also true that I believe people should do what they can in order to amend such matters. Quite a burden to bear, perhaps; an insurmountable task that will always need to be pursued, with it feeling like never any guarantee of success. Even that too seems the nature of things as well.

But, it also seems graceless for me to imagine accepting that this will forever be the case. That people cannot one day come together in agreement; even if to acknowledge their differing points of views. But, also so that those who need a helping hand are not neglected; that people are not scorned for their differences, and that even though perfect harmony would be far too idealistic...it would not be so terrible.

Though, I know that in of itself seems too far reaching to grasp and expect it to be universal across different worlds, I believe it's not something too unusual for a leader to strive forward for. But, such sentiments...would you find them strange or idealistic yourself in light of all that's been witnessed so far by yourself, however?

[fellheart]

If there's someone out there who can lead the world with such high minded ideals of peace and harmony, I'd love to meet them. Oh, to be sure, there might be some in every age— but typically they are outnumbered by those who wouldn't do the same, and their efforts amount to little in the faces of those who won't bother to try to meet them halfway, or those who would hear and yet lack the power to do anything with it.

[ it's deplorable, is what it is. regrettable. ]

What I've known of them is this: that such idealists tend to wind up in an early grave, killed or martyred. Betrayed, even, by those they called their closest friend. And their legacies ... they don't last, if they had any to speak of.

[ it always seems to revert to status quo eventually, and status quo is an ouroboros of self-destruction. squabbles among themselves, petty and endless wars. ]

[foresightis2020]

[ Jing Yuan himself cannot be surprised at this — in that there is a sense of futility in prolonging such attempts. At struggling at all; yet, if that were the case in its entirety, that would be subscribing to the kind of thoughts IX or the efforts Nanook would happily bestow on the entirety of the universe. To say nothing of the Disciples and the Abominations of Yaoshi...

Which in the end amount to something ultimately unacceptable in his opinion — that continuous cycle, that ouroboros...

Is it truly destined to continued? Can it not be broken at the least for a significant amount of time? If the alternative is worse, then there is no point in trying. ]

The universe itself is filled to the brim with history wrought in conflicts that never seem to truly end. Where others would gladly take advantage of one another in its entirety, and where even back home cycles of conflict seem inevitable after one has met a climax of some sort.

Though, all the same, as unfortunate as it is to hear that you've seen the efforts of such good go to waste...

I have to wonder if those striving for the better would have certainly accepted the other outcome. But, more than all of that, I suppose I must wonder who exactly you witnessed take up such a mantle. Whomever did would not be someone I consider would be deserving of such an unfortunate end; though, if an individual is an idealist, I can understand how that would be possible.

[ Jing Yuan himself has seen the kind of deception time and time again from those who hide in the dark to champion their cause as well. Character evaluations are required as a necessity, but in the end one must be ready to change them on a dime. That, in of itself, has kept himself from falling victim to the worst outside of battle. A leader must be prepared for someone who one has thought to be loyal to have not been all along. Though, he thinks that concept can be hard for many to accept. ]

[fellheart]

[ saint king alm the first, the first exalt, the 12 crusaders of jugdral, hero-king marth ... the radiant hero, the mythical kingdoms of hoshido and nohr. legends near and far, distant and ancient. all of them, their names or titles live on in the history he's studied, and yet...

as the esteemed general says, it's all cyclical. is there any way to break the cycle? ]

... you can wonder. I wonder if you haven't your own ideas, at this point.

[ steadily, around them, their surroundings begin to darken. ]

[foresightis2020]

[ Nothing lasts forever.

Cycles that seem unbreakable even moreso. Though, how they can be broken is also the question, isn't it? Though for Robin's question, there is a pause. ]

I might, however...

[ Jing Yuan prefers to have more information to back that up.

But, it seems with their surroundings darkening, he may have more of that, won't he? Or perhaps not. Who can tell? Who can say? ]

[fellheart]

[ ... yes. everything ends, doesn't it? that is his truth. that is grima's truth.

as slowly as the first heralds of this new memory unfurled, they are thrown quite unceremoniously into the middle of it. the hall is dark. the walls are dark. they are lit gloomily by the torches spaced at regular intervals upon them. there is a suffocating aura that pervades this space, something not quite like hallowed ground. it does not echo with the sounds of widespread battle. it is intimate, each and every detail rendered with more truth than the broadstrokes canvas that had portrayed the field and fortress in valm. this memory is simpler, yet somehow more dizzying than the previous, a strange sense of overlapping duality and double vision, half an observer looking on, half as if experiencing it as if it were newly your own.

and you know you cannot lose here. whatever happens, you can't, and you mustn't—

(robin doesn't respond to jing yuan, only looking away and around as the shadows grew. when recognition set in for which memory exactly this is, his expression remains blank, a distant, unaffected impassivity,

up until the moment that phantom sentiment from the too-personal perspective, fresh as the day it was felt, ensnares them both. then and only then does the mask crack as he blanches. no.

feeling didn't leach through from the memory of walhart. that was safe. that couldn't betray what this—)

there's no time for thought. feigning parley, the generous return of the emblem, a trap you knowingly sprung because better that than the one you weren't aware of— all to lure the two of you here and for what—

blade and spell clash. the movements are instinctual. not a dance, not a duel, just a struggle. a bolt— "up there!" —a counterspell, you throw yourself away, disrupt the matrix, turn your attention back below—

chrom-! a flash of worry —too late to stop him from being thrown into the wall, see him struggling to stand, but you can still interrupt the cursed lightning that would follow and easily,

the backlash of both spells meeting throws everyone back. a moment's respite that isn't. the man sneers at you, haughty and unimpressed. the prodigal son has finally returned home.

somewhere, where you tuck away all your emotions that aren't immediately useful, you know you are angry, that you despise this man. you understand why your mother stole you away. you've spent your entire life in hiding because of this man. the cursed blood within you roils to know that the man in front of you has any relation to you at all, because the madness he speaks of cannot be allowed to succeed—

(robin's posture is rigid and stiff, still deathly pale. in their time here— if there's a way to interrupt one of these memories in the middle of their progress, he hasn't found it.) ]

[foresightis2020]

[ Now...isn't this different?

Or perhaps something along the lines of the same, only employed in different means? That may be more apt, in the grand scheme of things.

Still, the disorientation taken into this perspective is ever the more surprising and certainly not something he expects given that one memory has been showcased; though, the forest is unforgiving in the way it unloads visions. So, perhaps, he should have not given into underestimation for something that cares so little for the people to who navigate its treacherous depths.

The intimate thoughts that follow alongside the feelings that of which are not his own are also mercilessly upon him, such that he finds himself being more immersed in what's happening more by the minute.

He does not have time (mostly) to turn his gaze upon the other, though it shouldn't be too surprising if before it truly ensnared them too deep if he saw those definite cracks in that ancient visage. The double vision does not make it easy to keep track of how elsewise Robin is handling this, but in his heart he knows the answer to that, he thinks.

This seems indeed a far more personal battle. Jing Yuan simultaneously remembers vividly the discussion they held about Chrom — his fate. Would the display of his end be shown in this clash, he wonders?

How merciless indeed if that is the case. But, even so...Jing Yuan doesn't — can't — look away.

After all, this can't be how this memory ends, right? ]

1/2

[fellheart]

[ of course it's not where the memory ends. the battle continues, of course.

in the moments before charging in to close the distance made in the wake of those two spells, chrom regroups with you and places a hand on your shoulder even as he keeps his eyes fixed on your father. "this is it. our final battle." his expression is resolute, but his grip briefly firms before letting go. "you're one of us, robin, and no "destiny" can change that. now let's kill this dastard and be done with it!"

the man you're confronting only laughs. it's an ugly thing. "why do you resist? fools! struggle all you want," he says, with the air of a man who knows he's already won. your grip firms on the hilt of the sword you carry. "you cannot unwrite what is already written."

a momentary respite that isn't. as if something gives way, all three of you again throw yourself into conflict. spell and blade are brought to bear again; your sword bats away a bolt of miasma aimed for chrom, the divine blade of falchion gleams as it forces validar to abandon another spell intended for you. back and forth this exchange goes,

until finally, with a decisive blow, the sorcerer falls. but something's wrong. heavy magic still roils about the body.

chrom makes a mistake, too exultant in victory. you don't look away from the sorcerer, but he does to smile in relief at you before they've confirmed the man's death. it lurches to throw out one final spell, snarling, "this isn't over. damn you both—!"

you don't think, you just act, throwing yourself forward and throwing chrom out of the way—

your vision returns. everything hurts. your body feels distant as you collapse to the floor. you feel heavy you feel alight with energy you feel something's wrong. chrom rushes to your side, skidding on bent knee, panting with exertion. your body hears, somewhat distantly:

"are you all right?" concern is naked on his face before being replaced by an attempt at a reassuring smile. "that's the end of him."

distantly, your gaze slides over to the man, noting that validar does truly seem to be dead this time. it feels like a veil has been pulled over all your senses. "...anks to you we carried the day," chrom is saying. you try to keep your eyes on him, but every thought and movement feels heavy and sluggish, as if you have to fight for each one you make. your body's gaze lolls to the floor, your feet, and— "it's because you've been with me this whole time. we can rest easy now..."

—your(?) racing pulse echoes loudly in your(?) skull as chrom continues talking, hauling you(?) to your(?) feet, supporting you(?)—

something's wrong something's wrong something's wrong—

chrom's smile transforms itself back into concern (fear? terror? desperation?) as his eyes meet yours again. "what's wrong? hey, hang on—"

something's wrong. chrom staggers back, face slack. there's a bolt in his gut. it is a mortal blow. there's a hand in front of you. it sparks with the aftershocks of a recently cast spell.

whose hand is this? who does it belong to?

ah, it is—

"this is not your—"

this is—

"your fault."

numbly you stare, frozen. the world narrows itself into a single point. you cannot make your body respond. he shouldn't be able to speak with a wound like that. this must be taking everything from him to say.

and he wastes it on—

"promise me... you'll escape from this place. please... go."

you are rooted to the spot as he collapses. this is... a joke, right? a waking nightmare? a dead man's laughter resounds in your ears, your mind, your blood. you understand what happened, with a cold and unreassuring certainty. the truth is ice in your veins.

if it weren't for you— if chrom had taken literally anybody else, trusted anyone else in place of you—

(you're the plegian in ylisse. there was, is, has been pushback against you since chrom appointed you as his right hand. what do they know of you? you've a past and fate you keep running from. you wear a coat adorned in the sigils of the enemy. how can you be placed in a position of such high favor? the exalt is too kind, too blind. you can't be trusted, the whispers went.

they were right—)

the body you're in stumbles, drags, crawls itself gracelessly, desperately over to chrom. the atmosphere of this hallowed ground is suffocating, oppressive, pervasive. it curls around the notacorpse it can't be, it can't and hauls it into itself. white magic flickers fitfully at the fingertips of the hands extended towards the body. please. o radiance. holy breath. a surge of force, something stoppering your throat. please. o naga's grace— dark magic, then, in a fit of desperation as you claw at the reserves of your own soul to fuel nosferatu. blood for blood, life for life. nothing. nothing. nothing. nothing. ]

2/2

[fellheart]

—That's quite enough. [ snarls the man in the present, eyes blazing a furious, bloody scarlet. there's a rushing of magic, a harsh gale billowing away from his form, as if that will dispel the scene set by forest toxin and bitter memory.

(another trick of the dark: a phantom shadow of three sets of dark, phantasmal wings pluming out from the back of the man called robin for a brief instant.)

he has no care to witness this again with the emotions as raw as the day they were first felt. it is one thing to know his own younger self played pantomine through the same scene (and had it not play out the same way), another entirely to live it again—

but whether it be due to his own actions or not, the memory draws itself to a close there, with chrom's body clutched in hands that don't feel like your own as something deep within you shatters into pieces, puts itself slowly back together with all the jagged edges sharp enough to draw blood, snaps back into place with a terrifying finality, and you scream and scream and scream without a voice.

(after all, everything ends, doesn't it? certainly a wishful dream of being human, and living among them must be chief among those things. to someone else, he had recounted: the dragon dreamed of a world that was more than endless solitude...

again.

"these followers of naga will spurn you now that they've learned what you are. kill me, and you incur the wrath of the grimleal as well.

"would you truly choose to be so utterly alone?") ]

[foresightis2020]

[ Everything truly begins to come to a head, all at once.

Jing Yuan can only observe each and every action from beginning to end, keeping an eye as the dire memory mercilessly peels away into view the reactions as well as thoughts from the point of view assigned to him.

The sensations as well, the intensity — nothing seems to be held back in the slightest, and perhaps that makes it ever the more heavy. Soon enough, the feeling of something wrong invokes a feeling of dread — rightfully so, it seems, given what occurs next. Somehow, he feels that he internally recoils from the shock, eyebrows raising, mouth opening slightly, even if it be but brief. Then, he's watching, feeling those things — Robin's shout suddenly high and loud over the internal commotion, as everything continues. The appearance of those wings swiftly and their dispersal, perhaps, that scream without a voice — and then it all ends. ]

...So, that is what you meant when you were there for his death.

[ His voice is steady, and he is sorting through his own emotions, which he deftly yet swiftly discards lest he comes off as pitying the man — Jing Yuan has no desire to feel such things ever onto himself, and he suspects the same of Robin. He has already given his condolences; no need to repeat himself either, though even so, he can feel his heart aches. It reminds him of perhaps what happens with the Mara-Struck, but this is different...he feels. ]

Yet, I imagine that last spell from that man is what caused it, didn't it? There was the sense that something was wrong after you were hit...what an abominably wretched action for that accursed man to have taken.

[fellheart]

Blood magic. [ the man opposite him snarls, spitting out the words like a curse. he stalks back and forth through the forest, pacing like a caged animal, or a man possessed as the gale of a fell wind continues to billow around him. ] It would not have worked if I had been literally anybody else. If I weren't his damned son!

[ anyone else, who didn't have the same accursed blood as the dead sorcerer running through their veins.

can he salvage this? jing yuan's tone despite his efforts comes too close to pity, to sympathy for his liking. how does one represent oneself a monster when all that was felt in full? an observer's position, he could have worked with, could have played off.

his expression is— not controlled. there's a manic cast to it so very unlike the sardonic and unaffected, wryly amused if sometimes short-tempered ancient of the manor. ]

But now you know— the noble exalt you saw was felled ignobly. Not in battle, not in defense of his ideals, or to save someone else, but instead murdered simply because he placed his trust in the wrong person.

[foresightis2020]

[ When someone is caught up in such a turmoil, their heart along that which they wished to have hidden revealed out in the cold to be left with no way of salvaging from

He doesn't know how else to react outwardly, keeping his expression impassive, even when deep inside he knows that he can never bury the fact that he certainly knows what it's like to cut down someone you care about. But at least in his case he was in control of himself — but that person was not. He wonders if Jingliu felt much the same as Robin.

All the same, even as Robin says this, even as he states that it is because he placed his trust in the wrong person — he knows he does not agree.

But if he said as much, when such things have been ingrained deep in Robin's heart — his feelings, given to lash out as the wind whips mercilessly about them. He closes his eyes for a moment, and simply accepts that most of what he will have to say will not make things better. ]

You blame yourself for being there for that man to enact what he did, then.

...Yet, in the end, Chrom never blamed you. Perhaps because of how he is, or perhaps he suspected what happened.

[ He turns away from Robin, looking back at the forest set behind them. ]

I suppose you might wish that I would at least believe the same too. That I would agree to assign blame. But, as it is, I wouldn't be able to.

[ Chrom was murdered not simply because he trusted the wrong person, but because someone else played an underhanded move. Which, well, all moves are viable in a war. The fact that it was easier to utilize a spell on Robin because the putrid man was related to him was unfortunately what it was. He doesn't think convincing Robin that he shouldn't blame himself is possible at this time, though. ]

[fellheart]

Do you wish to test me right now? Yes, he looked at me, his murderer, and wasted his breath on telling me it was not my fault. What does that prove but that the man was too godsdamned forgiving as long as it was to the right face?

[ gods, but he hates chrom for making those his final words, and to the very one who killed him no less. it's nauseating. the prince who once bore his heart on his sleeve, who had to be chased around to keep from picking up every single stray, who so firmly said that he would be there to help if someone were to be hurt or in need... to the end, that prince died with thoughts of others on his tongue.

predictable. he's being too predictable, where is the mask that he's learned to wear—? ]

Someone who can be compromised so— in our line of work we call those liabilities, general. Surely a man of your position understands this? My job was to be the one who mitigated such things.

No matter how you try to dress it up, I am the one responsible for his death. Do not try to deny that.

[foresightis2020]

I believe it proved that he still had faith in you, even in the end.

[ Robin's state means that going about this gently would ruffle feathers. That going about it roughly would certainly not be his style in general, so he isn't about to change it. Going about it pragmatically would still ruffle feathers ("You were mind controlled, so how can it essentially be your fault when you were set up to fail?")

So, he just concedes that this is how it'll be. Besides, he isn't about to turn around and call Robin a monster now. No, refuses to.

If that further chafes him like cold wind exposed to anyone, then...that is how it will be. ]

...Is what I'm saying dressing it up? I simply call it how I see it.

I believe I understand why you would not wish to absolve yourself of such actions. The man was a dear friend, and you regret having a part in it. From a solely isolated observer's standpoint without considering all the details, your presence means he fell, and you indeed became a liability to him.

As for myself, I cannot consider the putrid man involved to be blameless. He has great fault for engineering this conclusion. I see no reason not to factor that into this as well, or to ignore such a fact.

[fellheart]

And it was my job to account for the heinousness of such men. We'll be at a standstill if we keep trying to argue around this particular point.

[ abruptly he stops, his coat settling more slowly behind him as the gale dies down into a more restrained eddy. a quiet growl through gritted teeth, before he glances back over his shoulder to fix jing yuan with a sharp look. ]

Why do you even care? Why bother to try to convince me that I was some unfortunate, hapless victim in this?

[foresightis2020]

[ Jing Yuan gives the other a brief, wry smile as if to concede that point.

But also perhaps a reminder of what his own argument will be; it seems even surprisingly he can be quite stubborn in his own way though Jing Yuan prefers oftentimes not to make that obvious. It just isn't his way. ]

...An unfortunate, hapless victim?

Robin, I do not see you as 'unfortunate', nor someone who can be considered pitiful. Those who are strong can be taken advantage of. That remains the truth, no matter how difficult it is to come to terms with — though, it doesn't make oneself weak or pathetic. It is simply a fact of life.

Yet, all the same, I also care not for men such as this managing to gain the last laugh. One can argue that he already has, with your dear friend dead. But, I imagine he did this because he wished to propel you into despair or path; he seems exactly like that wretched type of man.

Rather than convincing, I suppose it comes down to the fact that I see no reason for me to not care about what you think of yourself or what happens to you regardless. I recognize that this doesn't mean I will be able to necessarily change your opinion. Though, it doesn't mean I have to agree with it either.

[ Jing Yuan states this firmly. He does not beg or ask for Robin to change his mind, but he also does not meekly accept that point of view. Robin is certainly more than what this man wanted him to become. He believes firmly in the end that Chrom saw that; and his own way, he sees it (knows it now, from that memory) too. ]

[fellheart]

A fact of—

[ when jing yuan says despair, when jing yuan talks of a path, of what happens to him after, robin can only let out a harsh bark of a laugh.

(it was a mistake, perhaps, to still use the name 'robin'.) ]

No reason not to care, you say. You have no idea who I have been, or what I have or haven't done since, general.

Stem your bleeding heart before someone not nearly so kind does it for you.

[ whatever chrom saw in the man (whatever jing yuan supposedly now sees in him too) ... will not be in plain sight for much longer, it seems, because with a muttered, baleful incantation, he casts a spell purely to invoke a sharp, blinding light around them, glaringly harsh after the dark of the memory.

by the time the light fades, only a single feather lingers on the forest floor.

well. that certainly seems an end to whatever conversation they might have been having. ]

[foresightis2020]

[ ...

Well, that ended exactly how Jing Yuan expected it to have, so he's actually not entirely surprised about that.

But, he doesn't dare to chase after Robin following that.

Still, they're not through just yet, either. Though that will be for another time. For now...even in the silence of the cold, of the feather he curiously picks up, Jing Yuan turns on his heel and begins to head back.

He'll...take his time because he sure was blinded, but he will be just fine otherwise. ]