Tepid Thoughts

The changes start with books. When she goes out to forage for food for him, she brings back a handful of books back with her. No reason for it either; when he asks, she gives him a long stare and rolls her shoulders in a shrug. It's not like she can do anything with them. They aren't spell tomes, and her fingers are too clumsy to turn the pages.

So Chrom finds himself reading them instead. To himself at first, then out loud when he sees her eyes linger on him and the pages. She nods a little to the words. When he finishes one parchment, she goes out and finds pieces of another.

And… and he swears that with each day that goes by, there's something different about her. Something more vibrant and less dead than before. Her gaze isn't glassy or unfocused. The red doesn't look as all consuming as before.

"…Robin?" She goes still as a true corpse, when the name falls out of his lips one evening. But with a sigh of fabric in her robes, she turns to him. The red in her eyes seems… dimmer than before. He can almost make out a hint of hazel and ebony in her pupils. But for all that, she also looks bewildered, startled… and he winces over that.

"Sorry, it was just an idea. A name. Since you keep saying 'R' and I was thinking of things that start with that."

"Wh… what…. is?" She just manages.

"A bird. A song bird. Not like crows or ravens," he adds on. "Their voices are nicer, and they usually mean green things. I haven't seen one since…"

He glances aside; thinking back is still like picking at a scab, bringing jolts of pain no matter how nice the memory might be.

"Since the Risen began attacking. Since Emmeryn was still alive." Chrom transfers his gaze down to the pages. It takes two breaths before he's certain his voice won't crack, and he forces the memories into the back of his head. It isn't like R understands what times were like before… so he needs to find a different approach.

"I… was reading one of the books for tonight, while you were out searching. It was a book of poetry, and one of them was a poem about birds. And Robins, and…" The blood rushing to his face feels ready to burn him, but Chrom forces himself to continue. "And when I was reading it, I… I sort of thought of… you."

She stays shock still for a heartbeat, and Chrom swears that his words somehow echo off the ruins. Before he can draw breath to continue, she bolts to her feet and sweeps past him. To the far walls, where the shadows have been a permanent decoration all through the… days? Weeks? It's easy to lose track of how long he's been here.

Her fingers reach out to them, and the shards of wax candles littering the floor. With a gesture every single one lights up, to better illuminate the room and gave him the clearest, strongest light to read by.

She turns to him with an expression that demands him to continue-

But then she halts. Something teases at the corner of her vision and stops the motion. Chrom finds himself following the line of her sight. And finds himself facing the walls.

The surface isn't blank like he'd thought, littered instead with carvings. Time has worn away at the shapes, made them lost their luster, their sharp edges… but he can still pick out some of the details.

R can as well, if the fluttering in her throat is anything to go by. She hesitates over the figures carved into the wall, before reaching out to trace over the carvings. Her fingers run along bodies rising up from a horizontal line; corpses getting lifted up from the earth, the lines on the figures jagged and sharp. Her hands freeze at a symbol over the heads of the carvings, a six-eyed mark carved above the figures.

"It looks… almost like a fell-mark." Chrom murmurs, standing up from the books to look closer at the wall. R's fingers ball into a fist, and her arm shudders. "The books of Naga had always described something much like Risen as a blight on the world… though never how to fix it."

Or if this really was the end times, and they'd just have to deal with a dying world.

"There's… more than that." Chrom whispers, and wracks his brain. "Things about followers of dark gods summoning them up, of them being led by dark mages who sell their souls-"

R flinches from his words… like he's force-pulling memories from her head. And her eyes linger on the carvings as well, hand tracing over one gaunt figure, almost skeletal and raising his hands to draw up bodies from the earth.

Something about the image makes R shudder and duck her head, like there's something sinking into her brain that she doesn't want. That she can barely hold onto, and the weight of it sinks her down to the knees.

"Ro-" Chrom chokes on the name… but the sound lifts her head. She reacts to the name, even half said. It doesn't make the guilt uncoil from his gut, however. "I-I'm sorry. I don't… fully understand what happened, but-"

But whatever it is, there's no taking it back. R turns, putting her back to the wall and shaking her head back and forth. Her hands shudder like dead leaves when they come up to hold either side of her head and clutch at it. The flesh is pale against her hair and the black of her robe… a sharp contrast to his own hands when Chrom rests them on her collarbone. Trying to be an anchor for her. One of her hands slips from her head and the fingers bump against his.

"I… am…" R's breath hisses in and out along with the words.

But what she is? She doesn't get time to finish that thought. Not when a thud near the entrance draws their eyes up. Then its the turn of Chrom's flesh to go cold, and match R's body heat. There's two bodies at the entrance, and the slackness in their limbs is already a dead giveaway to them being Risen.

The first Risen raises her head and gives an angry, snarling hiss. Black hair falls in curtain around the red of her eyes.

"D-don't-" R tries to say, tries to get the words out. But there's no time.

The other throws his head back, the candle light catching the red of his eyes and giving color to his white hair. He gives out a long shriek, almost a hunting call, right when Chrom realizes that lighting all the candles in the room might not have been the best idea for keeping hidden.

R might well be jumping to the same conclusion, even faster than him. She moves faster, in a way that's a far cry from the usual Risen shamble. She barrels into the two, knocking them out of the way with a growl of her own.

"WHAT-" R flinches from the voice, the same as Chrom. It comes from the dark haired Risen, and from the way R stares, that's a surprising number of syllables for the Risen. "Are… you-?"

"Killing?" The silver haired Risen's voice is still loud, his voice stuck at that pitch and with a strange laughing quality to it. R shakes her head to both, standing over them and refusing to let them stand.

"NO. No killing… no… feeding. H-hurry." She glances over to Chrom just long enough to say that. The two Risen on the ground only stare when he jumps over them and follows her, clutching his sword close but not using it on them. Robin only glances behind her for a moment and whispers out "There's… more than this."

And gestures to herself, to Chrom. Something about the words makes the Risen freeze just as much as the impact that knocked them down.

"You've certainly got some interesting friends." Chrom has time to say, before Robin grabs him by the hand and leads him in a bone jarring dash.

The ruins are little more than broken dark blots. Blurring past them and jogging up and down in time to the steps. For all the good it does him, Chrom stretches his eyes wide to try and take in the details. Try and figure out where they're running, if there's even the slightest chance of getting out of this alive.

'Not very likely.' The city is crawling with Risen, and over his gasping breath he hears the groans and heavy footsteps; all of them are converging on their point. Drawn by the howls from before, and the beat of their feet now.

"Ch-Chrom. Up." R's voice cuts in, pulling him up the steps of a building. Chrom stumbles up them, falling forwards more than climbing. It feels like they're just a pair of cats getting run up a tree. There's going to be nowhere to run once they hit roof level, nothing that can-

A nervous whicker reaches his ears, and Chrom yanks his head up to stare.

The pegasus before them has an ashen coat, nearly blending into the night sky. It stirs restlessly from hoof to hoof, almost shying from them… but not quite taking off. R has a hand held out to it, and he can just pick out her face molding into a new expression. She looks almost… satisfied with herself. Maybe it's just that she doesn't look blood thirsty enough to make the pegasus shy off.

"I…" he almost doesn't quite believe it. But a memory teases at the back of his head, some myth saying that dark coated pegasus were a step closer to the dark arts. Maybe there was a grain of truth to that. 'And that witch of Gangrel's certainly likes to ride them-'

No time to dwell on that thought, though. R has stepped closer, a hand touching the feathers of the wings and coaxing the pegasus. The creature lowers its wings, but the muscles in the neck remain tense. Still on guard, still uncertain if R is going to go for its throat or not. She makes a soft noise in the back of her throat, so unlike the usual raspy growls of the Risen-

And Chrom DOES have something to compare it to, since there are groaning and snarling sounds coming up all around the base of the building. They drift up like a dark cloud and remind him that they don't really have the needed seconds to bond with the pegasus; the Risen are going to claw their way up and tear them to shreds.

-o-o-o-

The pegasus feathers ruffle under her fingers, almost tickling and rustling like a fast paced pulse. She wants to dwell on the sensation… but she isn't deaf or numb to the outside world. The dead are converging on the building, and she has precious seconds to convince the pegasus that she isn't going to break its back or tear its throat out.

And R doesn't have the clearest notion on how exactly to do that. It isn't enough to feel satisfied that she remembers there being a pegasus roosting nearby-

Remembers-

Images well up in her mind. Borrowed memories. She walks in Emmeryn's skin again, this time outside. Her face is warmed by the sunlight, still welcoming even with the ill news and omens. She's ordered the capital walls strengthened, and patrols increased to calm the people. And now she approaches the leader of those patrols by sky. A silver haired rider stands before her, calming a similarly colored, winged horse. The woman's fingers are calm and sure, a steady touch on the horse's mane. She makes a soft noise in the back of her throat, soothing the creature.

"They're becoming more than rumors." The silver haired rider says. "I've had some of my own fliers spot them, killed some… even I've killed a few."

"I know, Phila… we can't let our guard down now. They've stopped being unnerving stories to whisper in a tavern, and turned into a real threat." Emmeryn's voice is calm, flowing easily off the tongue. "And I-"

Her words pause. The world loses its warmth and the lush greenery, going gray when Emmeryn pauses. Her voice takes on a different tone, more whispered. "And I worry for my siblings again. And hope they've found someone to watch out for them."

She isn't speaking to Phila, R realizes. She's-

The memory cuts out, like teeth crunching around a throat.

The images are replaced by tactile sensation. Her fingers are on the neck of the pegasus, pale against the black coat. Not ripping at the flesh, but instead mirroring the memory. A strange hum echoes in her throat, further calming the pegasus.

Somehow, she's found knowledge and time to get close enough to sooth the pegasus. A small part of her wonders why, on the matter of time.

A second later she gets an answer. Cinders drift up, bright as blood against the night sky. Below is a crackle of fire, a smell of burning acrid cloth and pungent flesh. More red and orange blooms on the floor of the ruins, and the pegasus gives a nervous snort. R looks down.

The Risen are there in numbers, thick as flies. But they aren't climbing the buildings. There's a barrier between the dead, and where she and Chrom stand. The barrier takes the form of two figures. H has his hands up with fire curling from them and licking out, hot and biting. Incentive for the Risen to stay back. The ones that don't understand that go up like tallow, the magic augmented fires burning so fast and bright the Risen can't even groan or scream. Th is doing even better than that. She snipes with precision, bolts of thunder jumping from her hands to three, four, five Risen at a time.

But there is one who doesn't flinch from the spells. The Risen stands above the others, thin and stretched tall, a dead tree standing alone in a scorched forest. R flinches back when the Risen stares up at them. Black, tattered hair frames his face like a black fire. The red in his eyes is as intense as ever, and somehow she KNOWS that looking at those eyes for too long will pull her back into the numb haze. And need to kill.

A hint of something sparks in her head. just like before with Chrom, something is trying to get pulled from the depths of her head. An image of a dark place, and suffocating power. Much like what is drifting up from the Risen. She could fall into that image-

"R?" Chrom whispers, yanking her head away. She doesn't WANT to go back to that place. Not with Chrom still there, anchoring her back to what is NOW. And now there's a dozen corpses ready to tear him apart, and...

...And way of things or not, she'll die a second time before she allows that.

For a split second, both H and Th pause. They stare up at her and something passes between them, something quick. That's almost unheard of in the world of the undead, outside of feeding time. Th narrows her eyes on Chrom, but still gives them a short nod that H mirrors.

'Go.' For an instant, R swears she can hear them speak. She doesn't let them down, gathering her breath to yell "Go!" to Chrom. Her voice is raspy, but it gets the point across. Both of them climb onto the pegasus, and it surges up to the sky. Leaving the Risen behind, and pushing them forward.

To what, R doesn't know. But it's better than staying at the ruins.

-o-o-o-

They fly on through the night. R guides the pegasus with soft touches on its neck, and Chrom sits behind her. And the horse never complains about having to carry double. R's humming seems to have done much to encourage it to continue onwards.

"How… R who WERE you before?" Chrom whispers, just audible over the beating wings. "The way you coaxed the pegasus into allowing us closer… I've seen Phila and Emmeryn do the same with nervous pegasus."

She doesn't answer. She CAN'T, even if she could get her idiot tongue to work. Because-

"R? I…I'm sorry. I know I've asked a lot of weird and… kind of troublesome questions already. You don't have to answer?" Chrom offers… but something about his voice is far off. She doesn't hear much in favor of the question echoing in her brain, holding her focus hostage.

'Who were you?' The question lingers in her head. The memory of the gaunt Risen and his stare is no longer content to lurk at the corners of her thoughts. It springs forward into her brain, the mental image of red eyes searing into her thoughts. Raw, demanding. Engulfing. Hazy sensations try to latch deeper into her thoughts.

They are... Memories. Memories that aren't stolen from someone else's life; they're plainly hers, and paint a vivid picture in front of her.

The sky around her fades out, replaced by a room, almost suffocating with how close the walls are. No moonlight, no sunlight, just a room hazy with smoke and glowing with faint, ruddy light. The air is thick with incense, and a low chant drones through the air. Something about the voices makes her skin prickle, and dread pool in her gut.

These aren't feelings usually associated with being dead. ESPECIALLY not the way her heart threatens to pound out of her chest. The memory-her thrashes and twists, limbs bound up by something. A hard surface presses against her back, leaving her to stare up at red, RED eyes.

The Risen from before. Still with that strange, fierce light of pride in his gaze… but looking less dead than before.

"Robin…" a voice croons out between his lips. "Do not grieve, and do not fear. You usher in something greater."

A hand more bone than flesh snaps around her throat at the words. She struggles for air, and with each fading breath the eyes glow a brighter red-

"R!" Chrom shouts out, and her head snaps up from the memory.

"R? What… you scared me for a second, with the way you spaced out." Chrom whispers. Regret twists his voice and makes him lean in behind her. "I didn't want to call up… whatever just happened to you. I'm sorry for that."

"Ro…bin." She whispers, and feels Chrom straighten up behind her in surprise.

"Wait, what did you say?"

"N-name." She hates the stumbling, sluggish nature of her words more than ever now. She balls her hands into fists and forces the words out; she'll get a complete sentence even if it kills her all the way. She turns her head around to look at Chrom, and forces the sounds out before the thought leaks out of her head. "M-my… name… i-is, Robin."

It's ridiculous, just how proud she is of managing that one full phrase. But even if it is foolish, that happy feeling must be something Chrom shares; his face lights up in a grin, and a stuttering, breathy laugh works its way out of his mouth.

It's the first she's ever heard from him and something-

Something about it makes her memories shrink back, and give her room to think and relax.

"Your name is really Robin! I-I can't believe… so that's at least something you can remember!" 'And I helped' his voice says, as does the faint twinkle in his eyes. Absurdly proud.

But it helps her focus, and guide the pegasus through the night.

-o-o-o-

Time stretches out as they fly, the ground below featureless and black. Chrom gives up looking below, in favor of glancing at R-

'Robin.' She has a name now, and knowing that makes him… strangely light in the heart. He's pretty sure it has nothing to do with the change in altitude, either.

'And she's risked a lot for you.' Aside from the red glow in her eyes, it's next to impossible to see her as a Risen now. And then there were the others, who somehow stood against the other Risen to get them out in one piece. Something… somehow, seems to be changing.

What, he doesn't have time to dwell on. Something below catches his eye, and makes the breath catch in his throat.

"This is..." Below them stretches a field of lights, which almost mirrors the stars above. Chrom stares down at them, a hand held out and fingers outstretched. Where his glove traces over a patch of lights, his head provides a location. Sentry lights burning at the walls and gates with a ribbon of moat water reflecting moonlight; lanterns on the market pathways, vigil lamps outside churches, and dozens of candles and torches illuminating the inside of a castle.

"Ylisstol." Chrom breathes out. "But, how did you...?"

"Closest." Robin gives a simple answer. And in a lot of ways it makes sense; this is the only place a person COULD come from, and still be safe from Risen. Of course it would also be on the radar of the dead as their closest potential food source, even if they'd never have a chance of breaching the walls.

'Not without inside help, or some sort of guide.'

"You're not wrong." Chrom admits. "I'm just a bit... amazed that we made it here. Even with everything, I wasn't expecting to make it back. We should probably focus on the palace, first." And work out how to go from there one step at a time.

"O-one other… reason." Robin continues as the circle the skies of the capital. "S-safe. Safest place… for you."

"For a certain value of 'safe.' I admit I haven't felt much of that. Not since Gangrel took over." Chrom sighs out. Robin blinks over her shoulder at him, the red light of her eyes easily outlining her confusion. "Right… you couldn't know. But we don't go foraging beyond the walls just for supplies. We don't really have a choice. Gangrel pushes us outside as a search party, barely arming us to fight and waiting to see how many of us come back alive. His way of amusing himself."

"W-who? Is?" The confused look is traded out for a narrowing of her eyes. Disapproval of those actions, or maybe disgust. Or possibly even… shame? Over herself for killing, perhaps? Chrom can't linger on it just then, answering her question instead.

"He was formerly a king, of a neighboring country. Even before the Risen came, he was eyeing up our borders. The dead were just a signal for him to come in and forcefully take over everything… and with our forces spread thin on fighting the Risen, we couldn't-" he remembers who, or rather what he's talking to, but Robin only motions for him to continue. "Emm… my sister. She used to be the Exalt, the ruler of our kingdom. Gangrel relieved her of that job, before assigning her, all of us who resisted, to the search parties."

Robin glances away from him at that, and just then Chrom can't will himself to continue. Instead he points to a place far off the palace wings. A set of rooms lines the section of the palace, dark compared to everything else.

For the world ending, the capital is surprisingly loud. Or at least that's the case at the castle. Voices and laughter drift up, but in Chrom's ears there's a bitter and harsh bite to them. Crows celebrating over a kill. But there's one advantage; with all the noise, their own approach and landing is feather soft on the ears.

They touch down on one of the balconies, the pegasus pulling its wings in tight. The landing displaces air, pushing the doors inside open by a few inches and ruffling the curtains. The fabric drifts up into the night, gossamer thin, and snag on Chrom's skin when he steps through the entrance. From Robin's confused huff, the same happens to her. The curtain fabric sighs over her hood as she glances around, and even her breathing is hushed.

"Where-?" Robin whispers, and there's an unspoken 'why' on the end of it, too. Why are they here?

A second later, she gets an answer. A quiet voice, squeaking from fear when it calls out "Who's there!?"

It comes from the shadows of the room, and a rustle as someone rolls out of bed. And despite how sacred the voice sounds, Chrom gives a weak chuckle and smile.

"Me. Just me, Lissa." There's a sharp intake of breath when he walks over… and then his sister barrels into the moonlight, hair mussed up from where she had to be restlessly sleeping. She all but slams into him, putting both hands on his shoulders. Her grip shakes, unsure if he really exists.

"H-hey." Chrom manages. That's when Lissa gives an indignant squawk.

"Just 'HEY!?' That's all you have to say after… after… I thought you were DEAD! I only saw Emm's body and…" She trails off, dipping her head. Her breathing goes fast, leaving any words far behind. Lissa rests her forehead against his shoulder, staring at the floor.

"I-I'm sorry. I was… delayed in getting back."

"That's putting it lightly." Lissa mumbled. "Everyone is convinced you're dead; even Gangrel. He decided to slaughter a pair of p-pigs and use them in place of you and Emm for a mock funeral." Her shoulders tighten up, the wounds from that insult clearly still fresh.

"Well… I can promise you, I'm not dead. And if Gangrel is still busy celebrating my death… he won't know what to do with me still alive. We just might be able to…" To do something. Escape, launch a desperate overthrow; right now with Robin still standing in the doorway, it feels like any number of impossible things might be pulled off.

"Honestly... I'm still having a hard time believing it, myself. How DID you make it back?" Lissa gathers herself up to ask.

"That would be thanks to Robin." Chrom whispers. Robin's boots scuff forward in answer to her name, and Lissa finally glances up, sees her… and from the way she goes stiff next to Chrom, Lissa clearly picks out the red in her eyes.

"Wait, before you get scared. She kept me alive. Kept me safe, and brought me back." Chrom keeps his voice calm, hoping that will do the same for Lissa. And keep the screaming to a minimum. Since Lissa is only standing there with her mouth hanging open, Chrom counts that as a partial success.

"Right. Lissa, meet Robin. And Robin, meet Lissa; my sister." After several breaths, Lissa gathers her voice up to speak.

"I-I… let me get Libra. Q-quietly. But… we need to talk."

-o-o-o-

She's not entirely sure how Chrom does it, but somehow he keeps her from getting stabbed, skewered, or set alight with spells, and all while getting the others to listen to him. They stream into the room one at a time, and each time Chrom introduces her, and impresses how she managed to help him.

Since she's still standing by the end of the introductions, something about his method works.

A few of them look ready to run her through, even with the assurances. One of them, a knight from his armor and steely gaze, keeps his hand straying to a dagger at his side. Chrom refers to him as Frederick, and Robin feels a haze of recognition. Emmeryn's borrowed memories whisper in her head, painting an image of someone steady and diligent in his work. And more than a little wary, so it's hard to take his cautious attitude personally. Then there's Robin's own faint recollection of spotting him amidst the foraging party.

This Frederick has cut down his share of Risen. Many of the people Chrom calls Shepherds have.

'But no hard feelings about it. That's… just the way it is. Was.' Robin tries to have that show on her expression in a small smile, or in her posture and the way she stands at ease. It's a mixed success, but she can at least look over the gathered living with a minimum amount of flinches.

It's something of a shock, just how clearly she can recall so many faces. Frederick, Sumia, Lissa, Libra. She easily ticks off the names, supplemented by Chrom's voice and Emmeryn's faint memories. Then there's her own thoughts, happy to add in.

She can remember other faces from the battle, and can clearly recall they didn't die. Yet they aren't present; maybe these are simply Chrom's most trusted, or this is the limit of how many the room can hold. Or some combination.

"Unbelievable…" Lissa has gotten slightly better at talking. She manages the one word, and it comes out breathless when Lissa stares between her and Chrom.

"Robin is proof of it." Chrom points out, but something about the situation makes his voice equally soft. Robin does what she can to mute her own heavy breathing, since the mood seems to demand quiet. (And breathing itself is still a new thing for her; must be a contagious side affect of being among the living.) "Maybe… there IS something we can do about this end of the world after all."

He seems almost scared to hope. Robin moves a little closer to Chrom at his words, and he glances up at her. A slow smile crosses his face, and makes his gaze a little more strong.

"Well, related to that." Lissa adds, watching them both. A man in Naga's robes stands next to her, watching the situation through thoughtful eyes. "There's another side to it. I was talking to Libra. To cope with things. And I think that maybe there might… might be a way to undo some of the damage. If what you've told me is true, that one Risen you saw… he could be the source of this blight. It matches up with the carvings on the wall; a mage makes a dark pact, and acts as a focus for the end of the world and all that grim stuff."

"True, but… surely that requires more power than one person can safely channel. He'd need another, someone with equal power to him." Libra points out.

"I have a hard time believing there'd be TWO people out there insane enough to try and end the world." Chrom sighs out.

"Nihilism shouldn't be underestimated. What's more concerning is that there would be two people with enough power to bring it about…" Libra answers, only to trail off into a thoughtful humming sound. It lasts long enough that even Robin finds impatience simmering in herself, before he finally continues. "But. Maybe willing isn't even a part of the equation. If this person had someone with enough power, and a strong enough connection with them… he wouldn't need consent. Something like a blood tie would be enough-"

They posit other theories. Explore other ideas.

Robin hears none of them.

'Who were you?' Chrom's question echoes in her head again. Something in the words distorts, comes back to her again and runs through her thoughts on repeat. 'Who ARE you?'

She has no answer. Only images of red eyes, fading breath, and a voice whispering her name.

-o-o-o-

It hadn't been the easiest thing, slipping back out of the palace. But now Chrom leads the pegasus into a tiny stable, fixed to a near ruin of a building. It could have been an echo for the building he left only last evening; run down, crumbling from lack of care, and completely deserted. It's the way of buildings so near the edge of the walls. For all that they may well be the last bastion of humanity, there just aren't as many people to fill the buildings, as before.

Overhead the sky has gone blue-gray, hinting at the coming dawn.

Reason enough to get inside, before any eyes can pick them out from the gloom.

"Settling in alright?" Chrom asks, shoving aside the slate of wood that acts as a rough door. Just enough for him to slip through. "We've got options now, at least. Out here it's easy to stay out of Gangrel's notice, and I don't think anyone will figure you out as long as we keep a low profile. And-"

And he'd like to ask her for ideas on what to do. If the Shepherds could survive if they all left Ylisse, or if they could even pull off and escape in the first place. That was his plan. It doesn't last when Chrom glances up and sees Robin at ease, leaning against a wall. The stone is rough gray where she rests, bringing out the soft black of her robe. Her eyes are shut for a moment, head tilted to the side like she's resting.

She looks almost like she belongs. Better than the rickety old furniture taking up space. Then she opens her eyes, and even with a red shine, they still have a strangely... warm look to them, resting on him.

"A-and. We have choices." Chrom finishes, blinking his eyes. Yet, he can't dislodge that thought, of how suited she seems to this place. He isn't certain he WANTS to.

She simply bows her head in a nod. Something dances across her eyes, some thought flickering to the surface. Something that warms her face.

"It's... beautiful. I see w-why you... wanted. Wanted... here. Being here." Even with the fabric scraps drawn over the windows, Robin lingers near them. She tilts her head against the wall, stealing glances outside. And something about the coming dawn, the foot-worn streets, and the final vestiges of torchlight... it all works to relax her face. The red in her eyes has dimmed more and more over the hours; now it's just a soft shimmer in her irises, and seems to fade even more with the peace that settles over her face.

"You should've see what it was, before." Chrom finds himself boasting.

"I-I can... imagine." Though something about her words makes her pause for a moment, like there's something else sticking in her memory.

"...Robin?" The new name moves easily off his tongue. And raises her head just as easy. "Are you-?"

"J-just... thinking." She does that a bunch, Chrom's noticed. Spends a surprising amount of time in her own head. Though she seems to try and break out of that, when she can... and now is appearing to be one of those times, when she glances up to meet his eyes. "But the city... It s-suits. You."

Her lips move up when she speaks, and Chrom recognizes that as a smile. It transforms her face; she looks a little more… vulnerable of all things, like she's just opened herself up to him, and let him really look in on who she is.

Maybe that's what prompts him to talk a little more.

"Thanks… maybe it's because I have memories here. I grew up here with my family, defended it, protected it… I'll be honest, even if Gangrel is here now, that doesn't mean I want to give up and leave. At least… not any more." Weird, how several days ago he'd felt the place was so barren. But something about it now… something makes him unready to give up on things, after all.

"What… sort? Memories?" Robin swallows once to try and clear her throat, then continues. "What do you remember?"

His eyelids want nothing more than to mirror the windows and close up, fatigue starting to weigh in. But there's something about the way Robin watches him that seems… hungry. And not in a way that makes him fear for his limbs or his life. It's like with the books; like she's still trying to fill her head in with new things.

And Chrom finds himself willing to oblige, and starts spinning off a few tales; of how he and Lissa started the Shepherds with just them, then roped Frederick and some of the other castle residents into it. How he'd done 'foraging' missions as a boy into the castle pantry, before times got much leaner. And that in turn brings up other stories.

"Once, we caught Gaius trying to sneak into the palace. Not the treasury, but the kitchen instead. Sort of makes sense now; gold doesn't mean a lot compared to food. But this was even before the Risen became a huge threat. So we just found ourselves with a thief that Lissa thought was funny, and Emm didn't really want to punish…" Chrom sighs out. "I… miss that. I'm glad he's still alive, but I still miss that. When things were calmer, and it was easier to laugh."

Outside the sky has shifted from gray to a steel blue, and a bit more brightness seeps in past the curtains. But there's no pull for Chrom to be outside; they've been up for hours now, and a minute change in color isn't enough to coax him outside.

Besides, in addition to needing secrecy... there's the fact that Robin is in here, which makes the outside and its watery sunlight lose some of it's sparse appeal.

Robin dips her head at that, eyes sliding shut. It seems even she has a limit for how much information she can absorb.

"I wish you still- Wish it was true. Still." And… there seems to be a hint of almost… guilt on her face. Maybe just over what she is.

'But it's not her fault.' Who knew who she was, before she ended up as a Risen? And… who she might end up becoming. The knowledge warms him, and makes him a little less sick for the past.

"I don't mind looking forward right now. There's a chance things might get better, and I'll cling to that. But right about now… I could go for sleeping, I admit." And for her part, Robin seems willing to allow that. She slumps along the wall and comes to a rest on the floor, her eyes sliding shut.

"Good night?" Chrom offers, picking out a softer looking spot on the floor. Robin gives a sigh in answer, drifting off.

-o-o-o-

The dead don't dream. And yet here she is, dreaming again. Finding herself in a wide open green place, almost impossibly bright from the sun overhead. So bright that she hears a voice before she ever focuses on the face speaking the words.

"In another, better life, I wish I could've met you in a scenery like this. Or had Chrom encounter you in this backdrop." Emmeryn's voice reaches Robin's ears. Familiar by now in her hearing. Having Emmeryn talk to her is also becoming a familiar thing. Enough that Robin doesn't start over it, and the dream holds around them.

Emmeryn stands in the center of the field, sunlight making her hair almost glow. Robin's own skin feels washed out, compared to her... yet Emmeryn has no trouble meeting her gaze. There's a half patient, half pleased look on her face.

"Robin... right? That's been settled as your name?"

"Y-yeah." This time her voice only stammers out of surprise, not because words are still a foreign entity on her tongue. "I'm... Robin."

"So you remember yourself now? You seem to be growing more alive, too."

Robin takes that as a cue to step closer, and feels a ghost of warmth across her skin. It's good to be here, surrounded by color, light, and air. The only thing that's missing-

"I wish he could see this, too." Robin's voice comes smooth off her tongue. She turns around on her heel, taking in the field. "Chrom would love this."

"You remember that from my life?" Emmeryn's voice stops her mid motion. Robin holds still, eyes staring up at the sky as she desperately combs through her memories. She swears the ground shudders underneath her, reality trying to break back through. A pain starts to build in her chest, warring with the warmth of the field and her wish for Chrom's presence.

'Remembering from her life. HER'S. And you-'

Finally she shakes her head, not daring to speak. She can't remember any preference like that from Emmeryn's stolen memory. Just that... it seems to be something Chrom would love. And him being happy takes a priority for her, beyond everything else.

"...So. You ARE feeling something for him, beyond the scope of what I feel, or you took from my life. I'm relieved." Robin's mouth twists in a frown, and she shakes her head.

"You're relieved, over being... DEAD?" Her voice cracks out at that. And in response lines spread around them. Cracks in the dreamscape, starting to show.

'Dead, dead, DEAD. Because of YOU.'

Robin holds a hand out them to try and stop their spread, for all the good it does. She may as well try to grasp smoke, and the cracks spread spider-web across the field. Emmeryn watches her with a sad smile, shaking her head.

"I'm relieved you've found something good, despite everything. But... It seems we're done with this, now." The field shreds before Robin's eyes, piece by piece. The grass and sky dissolve to float away like motes of dust in a storm.

A grayed out sky lurks beyond the scene. Dotted with ruins.

"I-I don't- I don't w-want-" her voice is going clumsy already. Emmeryn is turning gray to match the surroundings. Figures show around them, a familiar searching party. Beyond them lurch other forms, and faint hungry moans whisper across the scene. Emmeryn holds a hand out to them, heedless of the thick black cracks running along her own flesh.

"I'm sorry, Robin... but you can't hide away from this forever. You have to face this eventually, much as I wish you could be spared that. You and Chrom, both." The black marks jump from her arm and climb towards her face. "Everything is moving forward again."

Robin springs forward to try and stop Emm from breaking any further. Instead her hands turn red where they touch Emmeryn's skin. On their own, her lips pull back to show her teeth and Robin already knows they are just as red.

"You must-"

Robin stirs from her sleep. Emmeryn's eyes vanish from her dreams, and whatever faint conversation she'd been holding with her. A sense of dread lingers in her gut however. Outside the sun has charted its course across the sky, taking any blue along with it.

And Chrom has long since stirred from his sleep, judging by the way he moves around the room. His sleep seems to have filled him with a restless energy, while Robin can barely lift her head. The phantasms from her dream seem determined to weigh her down.

"Back with us?" Chrom asks, turning to focus on her. It takes effort, a grinding of muscle and bones to stand up, but Robin manages it. She dips her head once in a nod, walking to the center of the room.

"We've got a little time to find our feet, before Frederick arrives to go over potential plans." Chrom tells her, motioning to a rickety table that takes up the middle of their chamber. "And… I was worried for a second. You were looking a little, well… more dead than usual. I was almost scared you wouldn't-"

Chrom cuts himself off, shaking his head.

"I think I'm dwelling on loss too much, even though I promised I wouldn't." He sighs out at last. That restless side is still with him, and spurs his tongue to keep wagging. "I was dreaming… about the past."

So was she. And for once Robin is glad she lacks the vocabulary to really talk about what happened.

"I was… thinking about Emm again. I dreamed that she was alive, and…" Chrom ducks his head, a shaky laugh coming out. "Believe it or not, I was introducing her to you."

Maybe she doesn't have words to talk about her dream, but she DOES have a cold feeling creeping up her back.

"And I sort of wonder if Emm… could Emm come back? Like you?" Robin shakes her head at that; she knows that isn't how it works. It's not enough to die by the hands of a Risen. If the gaunt one isn't around to raise the dead afterwards, they stay that way.

Chrom lowers his head at that, sighing. "Didn't think so, but I… I was clinging onto that anyway."

The ring weighs down in her pocket again, and only seems to grow heavier when Chrom watches her.

"I'm starting to think that things might… be changing a little. Or a lot. I mean, look at you." There's a smile twitching across his face, warming his words. But the prior question about Emmeryn leaves Robin cold. It's like the blood and flesh she swallowed is still there in her throat, choking her, forming into a nauseating weight in her gut.

Chrom notices none of it, still watching her across the table. That smile is more than a hint now.

"You've saved me. Brought me here, and I'm sure the others will see there's something… well, something special about you. And maybe that'll help lessen the hurt of Emmeryn's passing. It…" His voice drops to a mumble, almost embarrassed to be saying the words and fighting to verbalize them. "It… certainly helps me, that you're here."

"I…I-It was me." By contrast, her own words flow out with barely any effort. Like blood from a wound. The sun sets outside, drawing deep shadows across the room and turning the walls a vivid red. Chrom's flesh seems to lose its own colors, and he stares at her.

"What… are you talking about? What was you?" Of course now her words choose to fail her. Just the thought of trying to describe what happened with her and what she did to Emmeryn makes her throat go dry.

So she's left with actions. Her fingers are clumsy, and they thud against the wood surface of the table. The ring makes a sharper sound where it clinks and falls free from her grip. The gold of the band and the shield emblazoned on it glimmer in the fading light.

Chrom flinches from the noise like it's a stab to the gut… only to go shock still when his eyes focus on the ring.

In and out, his breath shudders, harsh against Robin's ears. His hand ghosts out, lingering over the ring. His fingers shake, just like several nights ago in the ruins, when he thought back to Emmeryn.

"I wanted… I wanted to think it wasn't you." Chrom finally says, and his fingers tighten around the ring, pulling it close to him like it's the only solid thing. He stares down at it, not daring or just not willing to look back at her.

Can she really blame him, now that he knows?

"I'd imagined it once or twice, playing the ways it could've gone out in my head. But… I just didn't want to think that was what happened." The sun vanishes beyond the horizon, dipping the room completely into shadow. "That… that it was you."

"I… I-" Something's wrong with her voice. More than before, or is usual. Words were hard to come by before. Now they're next to impossible to push around the tightness in her throat. They hitch along with her breath, come out choked, and always with a sobbing that she can't bite back. "I'm… I'm sorry."

They're the only words she has right now. And they draw Chrom's head back up. The smile is washed from his face, and a haunted look settles in his eyes.

"I…I'm sorry… I'm s-sorry." The only thing she can do is repeat those words, over and over again. Her voice breaks on different parts. And no matter how much she says them, she knows they can't fix what she's done. Or the way Chrom stares at her, and the hurt crossing his face.

The table space between them is suddenly vast, and only grows more so when Chrom pushes himself up. He steps back, but whether it's to run or bridge the gap, Robin doesn't know. She doesn't have time to learn, when there's a knock on the door. Frederick's voice rings through, and Chrom turns to it-

And all of the sudden, Robin can't bear to have him look back at her. She can't be here when Frederick opens the door… and so she bolts, out the back way and into the streets. Overhead the stars have come out, and stare down at her like a thousand accusing eyes.