( ever the mind for strategy... but this isn't the kind of politics that her brother excels at, and likely not the kind of freedom that he would enjoy naturally.
the thing is, it's been a long time since sunday has played a real game with her that wasn't some puzzle to be put together, or some grand mystery to be solved. it's... difficult... to think of him here. but it's not easy to think about him anywhere now, when the freedom of roaming in an unbeautiful world is fraught with unknowns. it's an empathy that robin cherishes, an anxiety spun with a golden thread: ah, she'd thought, sat within sunday's office a day or two after he'd left, listening to the birdsong in her dreams just like the faint, far-off chirping that she can hear in the room now. so this must be how you had felt, brother.
but this game isn't one that she's naturally engaged in, either, although she's... trying to adapt. the outfit was easy enough to put on; easy enough to think of it as simply show business — if maybe it was a little showier than most.
it's... a little shameful to think about what her brother might think about her in it, even if she's still staying well within his peripheral for the moment he'd turn to look at her, never shying away, not once. it isn't quite comfort that stays her. there's a prickle of distant awareness that robin is steadfastly ignoring in her bid to stay beside him, not quite content enough to stay in his shadow while he steadfastly ignores her gaze in turn. )
... you mean, in context of the game?
( or in general. she shouldn't think about her brother in this context, if he'd find it filthy, and if he'd find her filthy in turn, for considering it at all once she's exhausted all of her options. ) They... haven't really. I have been fortunate that people have been so kind... It should be expected. We're all captives here and it would be beneficial of us to work together.
But it seems so absurd of an idea... How can such a thing grant us our freedom?
birds of a feather 🙂↕
the thing is, it's been a long time since sunday has played a real game with her that wasn't some puzzle to be put together, or some grand mystery to be solved. it's... difficult... to think of him here. but it's not easy to think about him anywhere now, when the freedom of roaming in an unbeautiful world is fraught with unknowns. it's an empathy that robin cherishes, an anxiety spun with a golden thread: ah, she'd thought, sat within sunday's office a day or two after he'd left, listening to the birdsong in her dreams just like the faint, far-off chirping that she can hear in the room now. so this must be how you had felt, brother.
but this game isn't one that she's naturally engaged in, either, although she's... trying to adapt. the outfit was easy enough to put on; easy enough to think of it as simply show business — if maybe it was a little showier than most.
it's... a little shameful to think about what her brother might think about her in it, even if she's still staying well within his peripheral for the moment he'd turn to look at her, never shying away, not once. it isn't quite comfort that stays her. there's a prickle of distant awareness that robin is steadfastly ignoring in her bid to stay beside him, not quite content enough to stay in his shadow while he steadfastly ignores her gaze in turn. )
... you mean, in context of the game?
( or in general. she shouldn't think about her brother in this context, if he'd find it filthy, and if he'd find her filthy in turn, for considering it at all once she's exhausted all of her options. ) They... haven't really. I have been fortunate that people have been so kind... It should be expected. We're all captives here and it would be beneficial of us to work together.
But it seems so absurd of an idea... How can such a thing grant us our freedom?