My shortest chapter to date! Last one was about three pages, and now, this was only one! Rest assured: more will come!
Aylatha: I can't confirm or deny anything :)
FallenRaindrops: and now this one comes a week after! I'm very pleased with myself haha
I'm really crossing my fingers for more sexy Robin/Grima and Ryoma…and hopefully we'll get others too! FEH is chock full of ikemen and bishie characters but Intsys seems to market the fanservice solely in the form of its female characters. Gender equality is important: the men should also wear bikinis in the middle of winter maps!
AmeYuuki: I'm still not saying anything :)
thefangirlfeelz: that's actually a bit of a sore spot for Chrom, and it will definitely come up here!
If the last chapter was dedicated to Robin treading dangerous waters…then I guess I could say this one's about someone barely surviving them.
He remembered falling into the icy, freezing sea. He remembered the waves rolling and throwing him mercilessly, swallowing frigid mouthfuls of water, and clawing fruitlessly at the air whenever he managed to surface. He remembered someone screaming his name as the water finally claimed him. Then, everything went gray and dark.
He thought he was going to die.
He choked himself awake as he vomited the contents of his stomach along with seawater onto the rocky shore. His throat was raw and sore, as though a thousand needles were taking turns jabbing into soft, vulnerable flesh; even groaning hurt too much. Though the rain and lightning had stopped a long time ago, his ears were still ringing from the powerful thunder that had rumbled across the sky. His eyelids were much too heavy to open.
He succumbed to unconsciousness and flitted between the waking world and sleep.
When he awoke once more, he became aware of a sharp, stabbing pain in his side. Then on his back. Then his knees. Soon, a terrible, agonising ache took over him, and he writhed in the throes of torment as his body trembled and throbbed, languishing.
He tried to focus on the sound of crashing waves in an attempt to calm himself. The sound of gulls crying. The stench of rotting seaweed thrown ashore only helped churn his gut, and he vomited again, only this time his stomach was too empty to muster anything else besides acrid yellow bile.
With a great deal of effort, he managed to roll onto his back. He yelled, pained, at the sensation of sharp rocks digging into him.
He took stock of himself: breathing hurt, so he mostly likely had some cracked or broken ribs; the burning in his side a possible open wound; the throbbing in his boots a definite broken toe or two. He wiggled and flexed his arms and hands next. Miraculously, no obvious harm had come to them. He braced his weight against them and his pelvis in an attempt to stand.
He fell back with a loud shout. His head swam and pulsed, dizziness blurring his eyes, agony rendering him defenseless and overwhelmed. He was too battered to do much except stay sprawled there on the beach.
What on earth was he to do in such a state? he thought, panicking.
He lay there for a long time. He was parched and hungry and weak. Now with the sun climbing higher in the sky, and no obvious human presence, he feared that he would die there, alone.
Suddenly, a dark shadow shielded his face from the light.
"Are…are you alright, sir?"
*LAUGHS IN SHAKESPEARE AGAIN*