“ne, ne,” he approached blair, a hand placed on her shoulder as any familiar person would to greet. they weren’t exactly on the best of terms per se, but maintaining an equilibrium between friend and foe is what any informant could rely on most. it gives an appealing sort of edge without exposing what his true intentions were — though he knows blair may be suspicious, it doesn’t deter him from approaching all friendly-like, as if nothing in the world, or between them, was wrong. which blair’s irritation from their previous conversation proved otherwise.
japanese honorifics clung to his speech, weaving itself in and out with his dialect like a bizarre weeaboo. “mason-san, do you know what today is?” his voice was light, floating easily from his lips as he rested his chin on the other’s shoulder. an acidic smile curled at the ends of his mouth.
eyes flare with some unknown energy — excitement, maybe — flicker as they observed the side of the woman’s face. only innocence henceforth, nothing underlying or misleading. then again, conveying just that was his forte. plentiful of information regarding her background and connections was sifted through, checked upon — is still being checked upon — and put to the test.
he’s inviting and warm like this right now, but there always is something shady that hides itself behind those brown eyes. even if they weren’t brown as rumors claimed. demons would have that potential, wouldn’t they?
PART ONE: of something i’ll never really work on again.
i couldn’t even sort out my thoughts well enough omg.
it’s all like .. hella scrambled.
A breeze, the cheers of onlookers, and the stage floating above.
His breath escapes him, lungs unable to keep it in as his weight falls onto the net invisible to the viewing audience. The audience gasps, the announcer yells out his defeat, as the final two on stage battle it out. Despite the tension that forms on-screen, everyone is fine with each other off. No one’s out to slit anyone’s throat, even if their eyes flare with pure rage and exhilaration in the midst of every battle.
Come the end of their fights, Robin is bruised. Everyone is bruised the moment they leave the main arena; if you didn’t get some type of marking, you didn’t sap out the pure sweetness of the brawling fruit Robin learned, this being his first year here. It took him a while to get used to it -- actually, he still believes he’s working through the kinks and process of it. Being a punching bag for his friends isn’t the ideal way to bond -- he much rather speak with people at the barracks just like before.
The good ol’ days if a year, or two, ago can be considered that.
Sometimes, the battles can be a bit overbearing on his muscles, his mind, his entirety. It leaves him to dwell on the times that weighed more on him emotionally than physically, when he felt each decision his job as a tactician would serve -- each life and death under the weight of his hand.
A breeze, the sounds of birds chirping, and Lissa and Chrom.
He can see their faces, each look casted his way to see what the next decision would be when enemies were scattered out ahead of them, what moves they should make that prove beneficial in their side’s favor. Sometimes, Robin did well, stepping out of their circumstance in a good, intellectual stride scott-free. Other times, fatal injuries and death rung all over their team’s heads, all at the fault of Robin. They all learned to press on though.
Suppose that’s why brawling isn’t so bad. No one’s life was at stake, everyone’s always hurt, yes, but gods it was always fun to be laughing afterwards and eating a nice meal at a restaurant, or laughing about funny slip-ups when someone literally tripped over a banana peel.
---
In the locker room, devoid of any other noise except the voices of the other brawlers, and Shulk.
“Hey!”
Robin snaps up, unaware his gaze fixated to the ground, giving the impression he fell under a deep contemplation Michelangelo's David statue can’t even compare to. “Huh?”
Robin looks up to see Shulk, beaten from the same fight with a bruise on his cheekbone and perhaps more discolored skin beneath his clothes. Robin can tell by how the younger shifts uncomfortably from merely standing that there had to be some bruises. “Did you hear me?” Shulk’s accented voice questions.
“Do you want the honest answer? .. No,” he smiles upon his reply. As Robin stands up, bringing his sword back to his belt and tome in his grasp, his hamstrings found perfect reason to nearly give way.
Shulk places a hand on Robin’s shoulder -- too, causing the tactician to wince and a sorry to come from him -- “Sorry ‘bout that. .. I think this fight really became intense. Samus and Bowser, mostly. Did you see them?”
“I think I saw Bowser soaring off the stage because of Samus, yeah.”
“Haha, that was great! -- Oh, you should clean up your cut. Hopefully it isn’t deep,” Shulk removes his hand then glances down at his blade, an apologetic smile sure to graze those normally headstrong features away.
“No, no. It’ll be fine,” Robin’s fingers search blindly for the aforementioned cut, then found it the moment it stung from contact. There it is. “Gods, I didn’t realize I was cut at all.”
“Wait here, I’ll fetch you a towel to wipe the blood from. It’s not too bad,” he says as if it could be worse which had Robin nodding, albeit curiously. The tactician sits down again, a long sigh withdrawing from his mouth. He really is looking forward to having another hang-out with his new brawler friends, but a bit of him wonders how his friends from before are doing. For now, it’s only him and Lucina -- Chrom only giving a hand here or there. Suppose he can’t complain though -- at least he wasn’t completely alone from the start of this new brawling endeavor.
Shulk became one of his good friends.
Upon his return, he holds out a damp towel for Robin to take. He did and promptly pressed it against his wound, or somewhere on his cheek. “Wait, wait, you missed. Here,” Shulk moved the towel-holding hand above the seeping cut.
“Thanks. Oh, by the way, is there any plans to hang out later? With the other brawlers, I mean.”
“Yeah! Marth mentioned it to me. Lucina told me she was going -- Link and Pit, too. I’m not sure who else, although there’s already a handful of people planning to go.”
“The usual spot?”
“Yep.”
“Great. I’m already looking forward to it.” Robin laughs, a smile sneaking its way onto his face.
