ii. weapon of choice / 78 a.d.d

When Robin said that he loved playing the banjo in his interview, they weren't expecting one to fall from the sky a week into the Games.

There are a lot of things Robin wasn't expecting though. Seriously, how could he have predicted that Mila, their totally hot girlfriend turned totally dead ex-girlfriend, would openly admit to have killed his parent a year and a half ago?

When she made that confession, Robin saw red. He still does, even after his scythe carved her head clean off her body, rolling down the stares of this ornate mansion of an arena.

"How could she have…" They grunt, tracing the edges of the banjo, hands still red with Mila's blood. This is never going to make sense to him, huh?

The only person he can be mad at is himself.

He should've known, on the very first day when he met Mila at his parent's grave, there was something off with her. It's just that, she's what he needed at the time, somebody who would shower him with kisses and tell him that everything was going to be okay.

When she took them on adventures, causing mischief and the occasional murder, Robin even thought that he was having fun. Anything to not think about Varsen's corpse on their bathroom floor, eyes-gouged-out and limbs severed.

As a kid, death fascinated them. Now though, they're horrified.

Robin volunteered for these Games, determined to be Mila's sacrifice until the very end, but now that things have clearly changed, they have no idea what they're supposed to do.

"Live," their uncle Calsin's voice fills his ears. "Do it for Four, for our family."

They never told him that they would've been fine dying as long as Mila was safe. Luckily, he doesn't ever have to.

So, as Robin begins to strum the banjo, he promises himself this. For once, they're going to sing their own song.

(And maybe then they'll beat somebody up with this thing.)