wish upon a slip ;
That’s a lot like him, Robin thinks. Henry is somewhat of an enigma to him, and it’s a game, figuring out if what he’s saying is truly what he means. Though the two are similar in many ways — both hailing from Plegia — Robin has no record of what his life was like prior to ending up in Ylisse, and maybe it’s for the better that it ended up that way. From what he’s seen while serving on Chrom’s army, Robin doesn’t want to recall that aspect, at least not deeply.
"That’s a fine wish. See, it wasn’t so hard!" He smiles reassuringly, before lifting the piece of paper and pointing to the bamboo tree, which is already decorated in multi-colored leafs of written-on slips. "Now, you just go and hang it on a branch, any one that you want."
Receiving confirmation from Robin that his wish was a suitable one to place on the tree, he takes the paper carefully from the tactician's hand and looks in the direction that he gestures. Numerous leaflets have been placed from a few days ago, rustling in the lazy night wind, and he tips his head up, looking for a spot to put his wish.
"Like this?" The mage stands on tiptoe, adorning a nearby (but somewhat bare) branch with his paper. He then shifts his weight back down, against the back of his heels, dusting his hands off with a wide smile. "Haha, thanks for helping me out!"














