[flightlessfell-blog]

Requies || Chrom & Robyn

[flightlessfell-blog]

sapphiresovereign:

Almost as a contradictory instinct, when he felt the cold press of her hand to blind him, he forced his eyes open. She… sounded like Robyn, but what she spoke made little sense.

He felt his chin cupped between two long fingers, and his head weakly lolled backwards. Scrutinizing eyes bore into him though he could not see it. What… had happened…? He could not reclaim the foggiest memory from his mind, and when he finally felt the clasp of shackles around his wrists, he could only say that presently he was being held against his will.

“… chat…?” He finally spoke, though his voice was weak and hoarse. The hand finally moved and he found it only left him bewildered and brimming with more questions. She laced their fingers together, and he was shocked that for the first time, he didn’t want them like that. His hands, forced where they were, could not refuse it however. And their fingers weaved together above him.

“Robyn…? … Break me…?” He said distantly, and his mind began to conjure any and all explanations for the current situation. Surely he was still dreaming. This was a vivid fever dream. Or perhaps he truly had been captured and she was playing along to rescue him. Or Gods forbid, this was some kind of elaborate prank. Anything to justify why his friend - dearest friend, most treasured and trusted companion - would be doing this to him.

“Aren’t I broken enough?” He argued weakly, before beginning to struggle against his bindings. But his arms only screamed, and the crown placed upon him pierced and irritated his skull further. A fresh streak of blood ran down his forehead before he sagged back down. Whatever game this was, he didn’t want to play.

“Robyn, please… this hurts… please… help me down…?”

There was a twinge in her chest, so fleeting and instant that she snarled beneath her breath, gripping his torn fingers with sudden force. If Robyn was still there, it would stifle what remained. It had no patience for lingering feelings; the unfamiliarity of them was maddening. For a moment, it nearly had second thoughts, too: perhaps it would regret keeping Chrom alive?-- but it dismissed the thought immediately. Arrogance, maybe, would keep it from going back on a decision it had already made. 

She cupped his cheeks with her hands, dotting his face with residual blood from the cut on his palm. His face was bloodied enough though; just one more streak made little of a difference. Sneering coldly, she wiped the fresh cut on his forehead with her hand, movements tender.

Her hand found its way to her mouth, and she lapped up a drop from her thumb, face unmoved. As if it were a whim, she reached to the shackles that suspended the prince and released him in a single motion, allowing his body to crumple to the floor. “I’ve come to save you,” she added dispassionately, like reading from a script. And then, supposing it would be amusing to play such a game, she knelt down beside him, taking both his hands in hers. She contorted her face into one of worry... or at least, what she supposed one would look like. Hm.

[cursedbybirth]

The Two of Us || Robin & Robyn

[flightlessfell-blog]

cursedbybirth:

Robin was glad that this was going so well! It was hard to say what could have happened between them. It seemed they weren’t just alike in appearances but in personality too. Curious and intrigued by the situation instead of worried or afraid of meeting yourself. It was a good thing, the curiosity involved. Together they could be better than they were separate! There was so much that they could accomplish together.

“I have some memories of her. Not as much as I’d like. Most of them were from when I was a child. She was very kind and supportive. I didn’t see it until now, but she seemed a little sad too.” Robin frowned. There wasn’t much else he could remember about her and it upset him. “I don’t remember what happened before we got… separated. I know she’s gone but I don’t remember how she went.” Robin wondered if Robyn knew how her mother went. Maybe they were the same woman? Confusing. “I have a daughter actually. Morgana. It seemed that we are meant to be opposites.”

Robin brightened at the mention of books. “I picked up a book on tactics. It takes from other countries and how they differ in each place. I thought with everything, it’d be good to know how others plan just in case.”

The edge of the campsite neared along the horizon as they exited the forest, and she couldn’t help but marvel at how similar everything seemed. Had she not met Robin here in the forest, she surely would have failed to suspect anything had been amiss. But perhaps her circumstances were different in this reality? She couldn’t help but feel a bit of nervousness. In light of all the minute differences Robin had previously mentioned, it wouldn’t be unthinkable for her to have been forgotten by their shared comrades- or to have never existed at all. The thought made her wring her hands together, though she did her best to seem untroubled.

“I don’t remember much of my past, myself... so I suppose I have little to offer you in that regard. But I’d love to meet Morgana, if you’d allow it.” She pushed her hair back a bit sheepishly, providing Robin a small smile. “I suppose not everything between us is opposite, though.” She dug through her pockets,  before producing a thick leather-bound tome. “Was it this book, by any chance? I bought this one on tactics from the market just yesterday, along with a brief book on Ylissean history... Perhaps we have similar tastes.”

[dark-sorcerer-henry-blog]

🐣 (if you're still accepting for tiny henry... he is cute)

Meet my muse as a child meme || Age: 13

The slightest tug at her coat was probably the only indication that she’d not been alone.

Henry, despite what the adults had said about him, DID have some manners—raised by a wolf or not. He knew that he shouldn’t touch her, and that he’d likely end up being punished for laying his hands on such a nice thing, he knew it, but he just didn’t care. Consequences didn’t really strike fear into his heart anymore. Not after all that he’d been through.

Running his fingers along the lavish colours and soft embroidery of her coat, the Plegian boy puffed out his chest, mustering the strength to find his voice.

“It’s really nice.” It’d been weeks since he’d last willingly spoken to a human, and so the sound of his own voice was strange to his own ears. He continued. “These are robes suited for a king, so… you must be a powerful wizard.” His hands fell straight to his sides, his elbows locked. 

“Are you looking for an apprentice? I uh, can’t pay you… but I follow directions really well!”

[flightlessfell-blog]

Had Robyn been outdoors instead, she would’ve mistaken his tug for a stray breeze. Upon finding the face of a child instead, she stared with mouth agape, blinking obtusely. Between her usual expression and her Plegian features, she was rarely considered approachable in Ylisse- most certainly not to children. “Huh?”

A word spilled from her mouth clumsily, and she fumbled for something more articulate to say, tensing up. As eloquent as she could be, being amicable was a different matter entirely… but his diminutive voice and wary fingers made her expression soften slightly. She held her sleeve out to him, trying not to fluster from the unfamiliarity – her clothing was rarely looked upon so favorably in Ylisstol. Robes of a heretic, after all.

“… Are they? I’m not sure where they’re from. It’s the first time anyone’s really liked them other than myself.” She reached down to place a hand on the boy’s head carefully, briefly observing matted hair. Without thinking, she used her fingers to comb through the tangles in his bangs, glancing down at his hand clasped on her sleeve. Pale fingernails. Malnutrition? He had light skin, too.

She searched for his eyes with hers, offering him a small smile. “Your parents would be alright with you running off with a strange woman in a strange coat? To learn strange magic?” Though she asked, he didn’t have the look of a boy with parents… or very good ones, anyways. He was too thin for that. “I may look rich, but I’m really not, so you know. I sleep in a tent and eat bear because it’s cheap. You’d acquiesce to that kind of lifestyle?”

[flightlessfell-blog]

Fireside Chat

[flightlessfell-blog]

heartofchonsin:

“I had the fortune to find some treats that reminded me of my youth,” Say’ri said, and gave Robyn the stick to hold. She knelt in front of Robyn to gesture for her to open the bag, and drew a pale oval something from inside it.

“This is a mage’s confection, for the specific conditions for these treats to be made involve temperatures higher than the regular hearth might attain. Take one - put it upon the stick and put it to the fire.”

Say’ri took her seat beside Robyn, and folded her legs neatly.

“They are made from the mallow plant, which grows by the fresh water in inland courses, where the wetlands are,” she said, “And some sugar and eggs, of course. Upon the fire’s touch, it melts and bubbles.”

She regarded the speared oval with a little crook of a grin.

“There is little I might enjoy more than a hot mage’s mallow. And this-” she said, bringing out a pair of crisp biscuits from the bag, “-Is how they might be eaten in safety.” 

The thought of Say'ri’s childhood made something shimmer in the back of her throat. Say'ri as a child? Surely, that’d be a wonderful thing- part of her felt a little regret, that she’d come to late to bear witness to it. With considerable care, she undid the bag Say'ri had offered her, peering inside. “Oh!”

It looked like a snack, perhaps a sweet- but whatever one it was, it was certainly fascinating. One upside to having forgotten most of everything was the good fortune of reliving it all again: though she remembered simple things and slivers here and there, most things were new. Even if she’d eaten these before, she certainly didn’t remember it. (Then again, how would she miss something that never existed? Amnesia was a strange, fickle demon).

“A mallow plant… I don’t think I’ve heard of it.” Accepting the excuse to scoot closer, she wrapped one side of the blanket over Say'ri, pushing their arms together. (Perhaps she was being sly- but the hour always left her predisposed to affection). “It’s interesting! Have you any idea how to make them?” She waved her hand slightly, glancing to her coat pocket to where a spell tome was tucked. “Perhaps I should try! The sciences related to food are so… curious.”

But first and foremost though, how did they taste? She eyed the bag, giving it a thorough inspection before pulling one out between two fingers gently. “You ate these often, Say'ri? Are they something you find frequently in your country?”

[sapphiresovereign]

False Prophet || Robyn & Chrom

[flightlessfell-blog]

sapphiresovereign:

The crunching of snow beneath his boots was the only sound to be heard. The delicate flakes falling and those already on the ground, insulating and hushing the air.

How far had he walked now? He couldn’t say. His tracks in the snow would be easy to follow, but it wouldn’t matter come morning. He looked to where she was slung over his shoulder, and she still did not stir. This wouldn’t last though.

He exhaled.

The ash of his breath intermingled with condensation.

He continued on through the underbrush, but not long after, he spotted an abandoned barn in a clearing. He wasn’t sure exactly what he had been looking for, but maybe it was this. Upon entering, it was clear that, yes. This was what he was looking for.

Decades old tools and machinery lined the wall. Tinted with dings and rust. There were plenty of pretty instruments here to play with.

Despite her being the vessel, it had assured him that nothing he did could not be undone. Nothing he did could ultimately tarnish the Host, and that he would only fail his Master should he not awaken the heart within. Any means permissible.

It had warned that she would use anything against him to stop this fate. False memories, deception, subterfuge. Anything. And he must never fall victim to any of them.

The ropes that bound her to the chair were tied so tight the skin welled up around them. He glanced back up at her still sleeping face. It wasn’t Grima’s. She wasn’t Grima, he knew this. But still - cupping her chin between two clawed fingers - he found it as bewitching as if it were.

Her eyelids felt heavy, swollen shut by discordant sleep and winter frost. But though she tried, rest refused her. Awake or asleep, he was there, like a scar, or a wound, or providence: her ruined thoughts had yet to decide whether her delirious visions of Chrom were a plague or her saving grace. 

But even in her daze, she was no fool, though she wished desperately to be one. His eyes were sunken, and his skin was pallid... in spite of that, though, his face looked so familiar that she nearly grieved. She turned her head slightly to look away. The weather had chilled his armor, and his gauntlet stung when he pressed it against her chin.

 “You.” Her voice quivered slightly, but she hoped to blame it on the cold. Her dream had been a marvelous one, a golden field that slipped away too quickly, like blood from a wound. (”I missed you”), she nearly added, still half-sleeping.

[sapphiresovereign]

@flightlessfell drew fun beach day so i wanted to as well

[flightlessfell-blog]

FUCK ME LOOK AT THEM.. LOOK.. AT... oh my god???

[flightlessfell-blog]

@flightlessfell:

 From Here 

melioristicman:

“Charming they may be, but truthful nonetheless,” he points out to her. His compliments, though perhaps more abundant than warranted, were always earnest. Robyn was no exception, especially not in this instance. What he says about her is what he wholeheartedly believes. …As for the future, that’s where his honesty may falter if ever so slightly. He’d experienced firsthand what the world could become, all heartache and wasteland and bloodshed. It makes him hesitant in the certainty of their endings, some days more than others, but at the very least he thinks that a brighter future is worth continuing to fight for. And so he throws no verbal doubt upon it.

“I understand your fears,” he says, voice retaining its tenderness. “You’ve no need to apologize for confiding them in me. I’d like to think the two of us are friends, comrades if nothing else, and I want you to know that you will always be free to talk to me about this or anything.” He offers her yet another small smile, a gesture he hopes to set her at ease. “We all have our doubts sometimes. But we’ll get through it together, alright?” He lets his hand finally return to his side as he straightens up ever so slightly. “Now, how about you and I get our minds off of things. Perhaps you’d like to have tea with me? Or–er, whatever you’d prefer.”

Robyn rested her hands on the scroll splayed out in front of her. Painted corner to corner was the continent of Ylisse, from Plegia to Regna Ferox. Nervous fingers tangled themselves with the map’s edge, and she sighed out softly, pursing her lips. There was little more she’d achieve now, even if she agonized over the map for another hour or ten. Though warfare was her singular talent, this battle had been challenging, to say the least. Grima, Validar, the ruined future: the stakes seemed far too high for... tea. But Inigo’s offer was far too considerate for her to decline thoughtlessly, so she nodded, fiddling with the hems of her sleeves. She was powerless before charisma. (Of which, Inigo had plenty).

“You smile well, you know,” she remarked with surprising lack of shame. And then, feeling staggered embarrassment, she waved her hand dismissively. (What’s your secret?, she nearly asked- isn’t it burdensome?) - but she wasn’t sure if she was privy to the answer, so she remained silent. Of Inigo’s timeline, she had little knowledge... and perhaps that was a good thing.  “Tea sounds... nice. Thank you.” In two strokes, she folded the map, setting it beneath the table to leave the surface tidy. “For offering, and... calling me your friend.” Her ears felt warm, so she pulled her hood over her head firmly, averting her eyes. But she managed a quiet smile, small enough to go unseen.

“Do you have a favorite kind of tea? I would love to try it.”

[flightlessfell-blog]

did someone say beach headcanons

This is really important to me

[flightlessfell-blog]

these are overdue by like an actual year and i greatly apologize

(hi guys! I’m back from AX so I’ll be hopping on replies ASAP! Thanks for those of you that dropped by to say hello at my booth! I haven’t unpacked yet, but if I have any leftover FE merch I’ll try to make a giveaway post for ferp folks!)

[flightlessfell-blog]

@rutger-of-sacae WAIT RUTGER COME BACK I WANTED TO GIVE YOU CANDY AND FORGOT

[flightlessfell-blog]

(some ooc stuff butbutubutt are any FERP folks going to AX this year?)

I’m a bit down on activity at the moment since I’m cram-drawing convention merchandise BUT i’ll be sitting at table I39 next week...!! if you’re a ferp folk maybe  come drop by so i can say hello!!! and maybe throw some pins at you or something..!

[flightlessfell-blog]

dad maybe

Robyn thought of him now and then, when the moon was ripe, and her arms were laden with mead. Perhaps in another time ("in a better life"?) they could have been; when she saw the hierophant wearing her face, standing by his side, she'd felt a flash of jealousy so sudden it left her reeling. It reminded her: had they been fighting the same war, she likely would have stood by him instead.

If things had been different, perhaps she would have- could have- stayed that way, too. Ignorance, after all, was the greatest bliss. And despite how she lauded herself as intelligent, occasionally, she thought blindness would have left her at peace. Deep down, she supposed he would have raised her well. Even if his affections belonged to the Heart of Grima and that alone, it was still a predilection for something she possessed. Would he have raised her like a princess? Or maybe, like a daughter?

She simmered in thoughts of possibilities and the drink in her hand. Maybe even empty love could have made her happy.  But even so, the one she had already was better. Besides, this one had left the end of the world out of its architecture.

In the distance the campfire flickered orange, and a crowd laughed at the aftermath of someone's drunken joke. Her ears felt flushed, so she stood to breathe in the night air. She hoped her past life had raised Morgan well- that she'd fed him on stories and daydreams, and tucked him in to the sound of something warm. Maybe one day, when it was time for his father, they'd rewrite Validar, and that scripted fate nonsense he'd been so fond of. Until then though, she had twice the work cut out for herself... and she accepted the responsibility with relish.

[dreamyarcher]

chu... ! ! ! ! ! ! ! (given they've never really met, ten bucks if you can make this as awkward as possible)

She sees a flicker of robe the corner of her eye and relaxes as she feels the kiss against her cheek. Oh, it had been a while since she’d last scene her friend, she wondered how they were doing.

“Robin, hello, I-” She pauses as she turns to the person. They were dressed like Robin and looked like Robin but…this was not Robin. Or was it Robin? It certainly looked like it could be Robin but there were certain obvious differences that made Setsuna hesitate. She frowned and stared at this Not-Robin, probably for much longer than she should’ve.

“…You’ve grown out your hair, Robin.”

[flightlessfell-blog]

She touches her hand to her mouth, about to apologize. The market streets in Hoshido were bustling with afternoon activity, and in her haste she’d been jostled right into the side of the archer’s face- though she had to admit, the soft accidental collision with the woman’s cheek hadn’t been entirely unpleasant.

Instead she pauses though, hearing her name. Had she met this person before...? If not, how did she know her name? “Huh?” She stumbles slightly when a determined shopper bumps her lightly from behind. “My hair? It’s always been this length.” ... Rather, that wasn’t the topic at hand, was it? 

“Er, I mean- have we met? I’m Robyn, but.... you are?”

[flightlessfell-blog]

chu!!!

It takes her only a moment to begin flustering: being kissed by someone is one thing, and being kissed by Emmeryn is another thing entirely. But though she has a thousand thoughts about it (What? What??? What’s going on?), she can only stand there with her mouth agape, ears turning scarlet. She draws her hand to her cheek, where the feel of Emmeryn’s lips still tingles.

“… H-??? H- Huh?” She still doesn’t know quite what to call her: Chrom and Lissa called her Emm, and Frederick called her Milady– but surely, neither of those things would be appropriate for someone of her own stature. “Is something the matter- your highness?”

[cursedbybirth]

After leaning in for a quick peck on the cheek, she pulls Robin in for a hug, twirling him with her arms around his waist. (A THOUSAND CHU FOR THE BEAUTY BIRD TWIN)

Send “chu” to surprise my muse with a kiss on the cheek!

Robin smiled as Robyn kissed him on the cheek before spinning him around in her arms. He was surprised she had the strength to to it, but once they had finished spinning, he hugged her back, squeezing Robyn tightly. Then he kissed her on the cheek as well.

“You’re going to make me dizzy Robyn.”

[flightlessfell-blog]

She starts to laugh when he kisses her back, pressing her face into Robin’s chest. “... What a tragedy it would be,” she replies with eyes gleaming, “if you were just so dizzy that you had to take the day off and go on a picnic with me instead!” She reaches up to tug on his bangs. “Should I spin you again and make you dizzier? I want to eat lunch with you!”

Send “chu” to surprise my muse with a kiss on the cheek!

[flightlessfell-blog]

Night Terrors (Gaius + Robyn)

[flightlessfell-blog]

sweetest-thief:

Gaius snickered a bit, despite himself. “Oh, what? The famed tactition, resorting to petty theft? I must be a bad influence – you never struck me as the type, Bubbles!”

After a moment’s pause, the smirk softened into something much more genuine, as he added, “And… Hey. I appreciate this. A lot. You’re like family to me, too, now. All of the Shepherds, but especially you, Robyn. I love you a bunch.”

He leaned forward slightly, resting his forehead against hers, smiling. He was so thankful to have her… have them all. He wouldn’t let them down. That much was for certain.

“When I joined the Shepherds, I pledged my fealty, not sainthood.” She pressed her pointer finger on Gaius’ forehead, feigning seriousness. “But you’re right. Your sticky fingers might be contagious.”

His words sobered her, if only for a moment. Family, love: until recently, all those words sounded foreign. Nowadays, she had the privilege to hear and speak them more frequently than she deserved. She sighed out softly, leaning back against Gaius and closing her eyes.

“I love you too.” It was bewildering to her, but returning his sentiment was... easy. “... Immensely.”