#talkative. kasjnfkasnf

[yanlei-a]

Wry laughter escapes him at the cold retort, brutal in its honesty. Zed appreciates it all the more for the cut the medic makes, precise with his words as he is in his healing. Were he to suggest otherwise, that would but have denounced his insincerity; there were other ways though, gentler or avoidant, to speak of the matter.

It is that, most of all, that makes the yánléi more open to truly heed what follows. He had long since realized his fight was not one that could be won by one man alone, regardless of how much power he gathered; it wasn't a battle he faced on his own, lonely as it felt at times. There are those who follow, not because of duty or fear, but because they share his same beliefs, those who fought beside him, who bled with him on the battlefield. They who knew what he truly stood for; they who made his cause their own as well.

Zed listens to the softspoken words in grave silence, an attempt to truly take in their meaning and accept it. A single conversation could not change his perspective entirely, and the Master of Shadows could scarcely hope to change what was his very nature (an innate eagerness to shoulder every burden, to take the stand alone, to refuse others sharing in the struggle regardless of what their choice would be). What he can do — or try — is to accept there are those who stand by him. Who would, perhaps, truly see in him someone worth mourning, should his life reach its end.

The silence lingers, filling the room in the pause before Robin speaks again. Zed knows better than to allow anyone too close, knows how costly loss can be; yet his gaze, gentler, cannot help but see in the man before him a friend. One truer than Zed had considered; for how could he doubt the earnestness behind that admission, when he had spoken with such candor of the reactions of others?

The why of it eludes him. Yes, his love for Ionia is sincere, deeply committed, a devotion that, though he had once believed common, Zed had since come to perceive as somewhat rare. His people love their land, the harmony between both parts an essential component of life in Ionia for more generations than any could remember; but too many were used to being protected rather than protecting. Is that enough, to earn that admiration? What cause would there be to miss his presence, beyond his usefulness?

Not knowing how to answer such inquiries did not change it was a nice sentiment, to know there was someone at least who would mourn the man he was, not the one he had been. Zed moves, tentatively testing his healed body; removes the helmet, then, white hair messy, and meets Robin's moonlike gaze with his own. "You may yet have to, before the war is over." It is not the gratitude or gentleness he would have liked to offer, though the yánléi is becoming well-versed in keeping his feelings on a tight leash, carefully concealed beneath the armor of who he needs to be. "And if it comes to it, know I will need nothing more than that my body is returned to the earth."

Returned to Ionia, as would be his spirit; he knows not how they dealt with their dead where Robin came from, but death is not a daunting prospect to him. The Spirit takes life, just as it gives. It is the way of things, all of them part of the cycle, and his only regret would be not doing enough for his homeland when his time came. Lips curl into a subtle half-smile, tinged with wry amusement. "You have my word I have no intention to waste your good work by throwing my life away, however."

"There is no fight without risk, much less facing these odds. Most of the others had never seen anything akin to this bloodshed before the noxians," Not him, though. He had spent too many years of his youth following the gory trail the Golden Demon left behind. He was better prepared than most (he had to make that into something useful, now that it mattered most). "They are not prepared. I have to do everything I can to ensure we have a chance."

"Mmm, and perhaps you are right, those so ignorant to what you are trying to achieve would believe it to be better, they would mock you, laugh at your burial ground and call you a fool." Despite the harsh truths he speaks, there is no venom in his voice, not a droplet of malice as he lifts his gaze upwards to stare into ruby eyes. Robin does not tear away now, he wants Zed to truly take this in - unlike how he pretends to with his own medical advice - and he wants no question behind the intention of his words. It is a vulnerable position, to observe the mask and its sharp angles, Robin almost feels as though it would reach out and bite into his neck.

"But…those who know of what is in your heart will weep for you, they will know that Ionia has lost the man who loved her above, and they will miss you as the sun misses the moon during the dawn." His usual lilt has faded away into a soft whisper, it lacks any fancy tones or pitches - demanding to be taken seriously as it falls upon Zed's ears. Robin's expression is soft as he watches his friend, unafraid before his fingers brush upon the healed injuries and he finally removes himself entirely to sit back upon his calves.

As much as his heart begs for the admittance of such affectionate emotions, Robin would never dare to speak aloud of them; he would never call him friend, family - he couldn't, not when such a thing would only bring doom upon them both. It had been made apparent throughout his life that love alongside loyalty created a combination that would only cause ruin. It had happened to him before, to countless others before. The more people with reign over ones heart the more idiotic that heart would become: acting ridiculous to keep those loved ones safe and happy --ripping open the stitches to fight another battle despite the fact that it may kill you?

No….He couldn't call himself that, he would not let Zed label him that either, what would become of the two of them if they should finally speak those gentle truths?

"And…And I will be one of those few, I would mourn you."