fellbranded-blog

[fellbranded-blog]

MOTHER

          “’Once this war is over and everything is safe’ what? You will bury yourself in your own self-pity? Look at yourself. Look at who you are talking to.  To your own mother, who defected from the life she knew, and betrayed an entire kingdom for the sake of her child, that you are going to end it all over a situation you can fix, but have been consciously delaying? Are you serious? Listen to yourself– how foolish you are being,”

     Anger festers in her chest, yet it does not show itself on the sage’s visage, nor in the way she conducts herself, for even if he has wounded her in a way that will take some time to mend, the boy before her is still the most important person in her life– someone that the mother loves with all her heart, and would give up her life for in a heartbeat. Had he not been, then her reaction would not be so intense or dragged out– the figurative knives that embody her child’s neglectful and hurtful behaviour would not have lodged themselves so deep into her soul, and tormented the woman for what now feels like an eternity. Naeva cannot ever recall being in a spat with Robin like this before, and so, with such a lack of experience in this situation, she finds herself unsure of how to control her emotions, and so every part of the sage proceeds to fight against one another– something which presents itself in the way she stalks over to the boy in a manner that would seem annoyed, but instead places a single hand on one of his shoulders quite gently, though her tone is still so lifeless and serious, leaving no room for jests or any way but her own.

          “You think I am going to inflict some sort of punishment on you? You have hurt me beyond belief, but I will not harm my own child. If anything, I will take it out on myself, and I would be lying if I said that I would not do so the next moment I get to myself,”

     The mother’s free hand then moves to rest against the side of her son’s features, for the female deems that grasping onto his chin might come off as too aggressive, and she does not trust herself to not accidentally execute such an action with too much force. Once again, Naeva finds herself burying her emotions for the sake of fixing his own– a concept that is so familiar to the woman that it comes almost as naturally as breathing. Perhaps the sage has said things that she truly does not mean, but instead came out in an attempt to hurt him, like most people might do in such a heated situation– the statement about him not being the same boy she knew being a primary example, for never would the widow even think that in any other state of mind–, however such a realisation does not click into her mind as of the moment, and why should it?

          “Look at me, Robin. For one second, stop wallowing in your own, selfish emotions, and look at the person whose heart you have destroyed. I do not want to hear excuses, or about Henry, or to be guilt-tripped– I want to know if you truly care; if you still have any love in your heart for your own mother. If this was your last chance to say something to me before I wound up dead, what would you tell me? Do not take this question lightly– I cannot promise that it is a hypothetical situation.”

   The sound of his mother’s footsteps find Robin’s eyes torn from the ground and fixed firmly back on her, and upon realizing her approach, he finds himself pressing back against the wall in an attempt to maintain some distance. He can’t remember if he’s ever been in trouble with his mother before. He doesn’t know how she disciplined him if he was ever an unruly child-- Once upon a time, he would have imagined something as benign as explaining to him why whatever he had done had been wrong, but now... He’s not so certain. Indeed, the tactician’s gaze is one of fear, a silent bracing himself for not only a verbal reprimand but a physical one as well. 

   The hand to his cheek is met as though it had been a slap, and the hand on his shoulder despite his knowledge that his mother’s touch is actually quite gentle for someone so utterly furious, it feels like a vice grip. He doesn’t like this. He doesn’t want to be touched. But he says nothing, endures it as best as he can until a rolling wave of nausea forces his voice and a hand is pressed to his stomach as a deep, shaky breath is taken. Eyes scrunch up in a genuine pain, but he forces them open and speaks.

“...Mother, may I... Have a little space? Please? I’ve been feeling rather ill since all of this came to a close, and I don’t wish to... Should I actually be, I’d... Rather not... Do that all over you.”

   His request made, he’s quick to continue-- As that was not the answer to his mother’s question, and the last thing he wants is for her to think his ‘last words’ to her are a meaningless request to move. Another twinge of his stomach. He winces. “To answer your question, though, I would... Want to tell you how sorry I am. And that I do love you, very much. You’ve sacrificed so very much for my sake. You’ve sacrificed everything, in fact. I’m... Sorry that I haven’t appreciated that as I should have, and I’m sorry that I can’t remember any of it either. Despite not knowing how to act sometimes, I am truly glad that you came back into my life, and... I... Want to make this right.”

   But with this kind of talk, it feels as though you don’t want me to. It feels as though you’ve given up on me. 

   Those words go unspoken, hinted at only by a renewed wetness of the boy’s eyes.

[fellbranded-blog]

armsthriift replied to your post:    He’s been avoiding absolutely everyone ever...

puts a blanket on him

   He’ll accept it without complaint, but won’t exactly respond positively either. Is he even responding?

[fellbranded-blog]

   He’s been avoiding absolutely everyone ever since this all ended. Catch him in a corner somewhere wishing the floor would swallow him up already and be done with it.

[fellbranded-blog]

MOTHER

          “Let me put this simply– I do not believe a word you have just said. Not a single one. Never in my life have I been treated so horribly before. Your father treated me better by tenfold than how you have been. Compared to him, you have been nothing but a heartless, disrespectful brat who has, to be quite frank, abused his own mother, because that is what neglect is– emotional abuse. Do you realise that? Are you proud of yourself?”

     Fragile arms proceed to cross themselves over her chest, the tips of long fingers drumming against the limbs in a noticeable manner– almost as if to deliberately make the boy feel as though he is not the one with control in the situation; that he is powerless, and as far from being in the right as one could possibly be. He has no excuse– there is never a reason to ignore someone that one claims is so dear to their heart–, and unless he has been lying about loving her, Naeva finds his words to make no sense.

          “My friends died so you could live– my father took his own life just to keep our whereabouts safe. All you have done over the past few weeks is take my sacrifices, my friends’ sacrifices, and your grandfather’s sacrifice, and stomped them into the ground as though they meant nothing. Thus, I do not believe that you love me– not anymore. You are not the son I remember– the boy who would cling to my side; the boy who cared about me; the boy whose smile could make me weep tears of joy. You have killed him in your choice to neglect me. Your past, true self would be horrified at what you have done,”

     Her voice does not falter once, and remains quite on-edge– quite acidic and low in pitch as she attempts to get her point across, for it is obvious that her son does not truly grasp why his actions hurt so much, how they have, or to what destructive degree they have impacted on the sage. He is blind to everyone’s feelings but his own, the mother thinks, and as her brow furrows down into an annoyed frown, she continues her onslaught, uncaring as to how harsh her words are, for sometimes the truth is not easy to hear.

          “Just in case if you did not hear my words before, your actions have driven me to my breaking point. Have I attempted to make a clean cut with the world– to take my own life? Yes. Many times at this point, ever since your conscious decision to leave me in the dust as though I did not matter. Even now, your words lack emotion. I know that straight after this, you will assume that passive-aggressive act you always adorn, and break your promise to pay attention to me. You could have told me about that disgusting scheme. You are a liar. A disrespectful, manipulative, heartless lair who has broken his mother’s heart and will to live.”

   Oh, that stance she’s taking works like a charm-- He’s already well aware he’s in the wrong here, but the shift in power is absolute, and eyes find themselves fixed firmly on the ground. A hand reaches out to rest against the nearest wall, for should the youth remain standing without support he’d surely crumple to the ground.

   The tidbit about his mother’s life is new information, and should this have been any other time he would find himself tentatively curious. Instead it’s a slap in the face, a painful reminder that he’s not the same person he used to be once upon a time, and that he probably never will be. It’s a heartrending feeling, but... Well, he supposes that’s just how it will be from now on. Once again, he’ll have no family. ( He’ll never consider Validar his father, never. Not with his intentions being so incredibyly malicious. He might be a monster, but at least he doesn’t seek to drive the world to ruin. )

“I don’t blame you. Like I said... If I were you, I would be incredibly skeptical myself at best. And... I’m sure I would be too, if I were even myself.” Because clearly he’s not Robin anymore, if the real Robin would have reacted so. “I... Don’t know what else I can say for myself. There’s no excuse, and I know that. So... Whatever you wish to proceed with, I will accept without complaint. Whatever you decide, I am aware I thoroughly deserve it.”

   The last words are spoken in a softer, more broken tone. Clearly, he means every self loathing word. “Gods, I wish Chrom never found me. It should have been a brigand who put an axe through my head, if it would have meant avoiding doing this to you. Maybe, once this war is over and everything is safe...”

   It feels like he’s got someone swinging an axe at his head at this point. Repeatedly.

[fellbranded-blog]

   Contemplates throwing himself into the abyss. Or just not showing himself until he’s back home. Whichever works.

[fellbranded-blog]

MOTHER

          “Oh, the ungrateful child remembers he has a mother, and not a pawn in his cruel schemes,”

     Bloodshot, brown eyes narrow themselves in the boy’s direction, her visage stained red, and slightly puffy in some areas, as though the woman has spent perhaps all of her time since stalking off to wallow in her own misery crying.

          “…Fine. Consider this your fourth and final chance. But if I find out that this, too, is part of an act… gods know that being sacrificed to Grima will be the least of your fears. Go on– astound me. Make me wonder why I gave up everything I knew for your sake. Move me to tears with another rehearsed and insincere apology. Pretending to care seems to be a skill of yours.”

“...I... Thank you for your time.” 

   She really doesn’t look too good. Bloodshot eyes, puffy eyelids-- And are those shadows? Gods, the sinking feeling in his stomach is getting to be too much to bear. He feels ill. He very well truly wants to flee, but then everything well and truly would be ruined forever, wouldn’t it?

   ( He wonders whether a second disappearance from his mother’s life would be considered a blessing in her eyes. Wonders whether or not vanishing entirely off the face of the planet once Chrom no longer has need of him once and for all would be better for everyone. He’s messed up, he’s messed up, he’s messed up-- )

   Brown eyes find themselves welling up, but the tactician makes no effort to stop or hide the tears. If they were to fall, they were to fall. Instead, though it feels as though he could drop dead at any moment, they stay fixed on the angry pair so similar to his own (the twins have inherited their grandmother’s eyes, he can’t help but think to himself) and allows his mother to view the utter shame within. 

“Mother, that... That apology was a real one. I know it’s nigh impossible to believe given the... The incident. And I don’t expect you to believe it, because if I were in your position I would be having some very severe doubts, too. 

We were wrong not to inform everyone that the game was... Well, a game. That was a terrible idea, even if horror is the genre of choice this time of year. We thought that it would be an obvious observation given the night we chose and the nature of the festival-- Not to mention that if anyone had actually been hurt that badly, we would never have continued on as we had --but I suppose that... Pardon the language. ‘To assume only makes an ass out of U and ME’. Er... I heard that one in a village we passed through once. It’s crude, I know, I’m sorry--

But in any case... Because of the horrible timing and bad decisions, I think we can both agree that no matter how true the words were, they may as well be hollow now. I do not ask that you forgive me immediately for my negligence, as I am well aware I don’t deserve it, nor... Nor anything from you ever again, really... And if you never wish to look nor speak to me again for being such an atrocious son, I... I know I well and truly deserve it. But...

Please, please don’t hold anything against Henry. The only thing he did wrong was swear himself to secrecy in regards to the game, like the rest of us. He well and truly likes you, Mother. He’s been so happy to get to know you, to learn more about your life and Plegia in general... I heard what he did for you-- The-- The enchantment? He was so excited to get to help you enjoy yourself, I... I’ll take whatever punishment you deem appropriate for me without complaint, but... Please, forgive him.” 

   Words are growing too hard to manage, and the youth presses a hand to his mouth and shudders a shaky breath as though he’s trying to keep himself from being ill. If nothing else can be believed about the boy, he well and truly has not been coping with the stress very well. He’s shaking, trembling, as he tries to reign himself back in and continue, but it’s... Very difficult.

“I-- I am so sorry, Mother. I’m... I’m the worst child anyone could ask for. I can’t remember you, I throw myself into my job and get so absorbed I neglect you... Then there was all of this... I... I’m not... I shouldn’t even call myself your son anymore. You don’t deserve to be insulted like that.”

[fellbranded-blog]

royal-botanist replied to your post: royal-botanist replied to your post: ...

“Those votes were no doubt all Kaze.”

“Even though we set it so you could only vote once? I know he’s a ninja, but really, Prince Leo.”

[fellbranded-blog]

i-nsubordination liked your post:“Prince Leo, it might not be my place to comment–...

   Speaking of Mother...

“Now that things have died down a bit... It would probably be the best time to talk this out for once and for all. Unless, of course, you don’t want to-- In which case whenever you’re ready. But... Personally I feel like there's no better time than the present. You’ll... Hear me out, right?”

[fellbranded-blog]

royal-botanist replied to your post: royal-botanist replied to your post: ...

“Apparently so if almost everyone thought it was you who committed the murder.”

“Says he who ended up second highest on the decisive poll even after discounting the spite vote.”

[fellbranded-blog]

royal-botanist replied to your post: royal-botanist replied to your post: ...

“Well that would just be cruel.”

“Apparently I am a cruel, heartless man, so it fits.”

[fellbranded-blog]

royal-botanist replied to your post: “Prince Leo, it might not be my place to comment–...

“Tell me exactly where I asked for your advice, Reflet.”

“Are you sure you want to sass the one of us who’s awake right now and capable of kicking you out on the spot?”

[fellbranded-blog]

“Prince Leo, it might not be my place to comment-- Especially if these bouts are frequent enough --but if you got into an argument, you should probably apologize at least this once.”

[fellbranded-blog]

Out.

So would now be a good time to announce this blog is being archived after the scramble, or--

It has nothing to do with any of you or the murder mystery; this is something i have been planning since before the scramble started.

It does have to do with personal reasons- the reasons i've been so uncomfortable to get on robin in the first place! and i'd like to think of it as a clean slate. I will be keeping certain relationships, but otherwise... Almost everything will be fresh. Thanks for giving this blog such a fun send off, guys!

I'll definitely post the link to the new one goes live!

[fellbranded-blog]

out.

aaaand now i really need to go, i’ve been sitting here replying to things quickly and OOPS I’LL BE LATE IF I DON’T LEAVE NOW

[fellbranded-blog]

murdermage replied to your post: “That was more difficult than I thought it would...

“ now that that’s over, you owe me a bazaar date! since we didn’t actually get to go on one. ”

“Of course! I’ll buy you whatever you like, alright? Anything.”

[fellbranded-blog]

i-nsubordination replied to your post: “That was more difficult than I thought it would...

“//disapproving mother look as she waits to have her existence acknowledged properly”

“I am so sorry I didn’t let you in on the secret, Mother. I really wanted to. Can... Can we talk? Not just about... Things... But there’s something I need to talk to you about, anyways.”

[fellbranded-blog]

“That was more difficult than I thought it would be... I was THIS close to breaking character several times.”