NOR // PSL

[birdsbirdsbirds]

[Robin would like to think that his constantly being shuffled from dimension to dimension is something of a joke, a cosmic giggle at his expense. that would at least imply that there are true Gods out there somewhere, orchestrating this tangled web of timelines, and he wouldn't have to admit that something like this could be coldly, apathetically random.

it's one thought of many as he gets walked (or dragged, when Robin decides to do the whole "ha ha, I'm a pain-in-the-ass prisoner" bit and stop lifting his feet) down an extravagant hallway. extravagant for the area, anyway. he's seen fancier. and newer. context is coming to him very slowly, as is the part he thinks that he's supposed to be playing. quickly apprehended for being some sort of spy (or something?) isn't really new to him, but he's so out of his depth just trying to adjust to what looks like a Gratian city from several thousand years ago.

he supposes he can just roll with the punches. the worst that could happen is getting locked in a prison cell and experimented on, probably--and at least then, he'd get some time to think. he stays quiet while he is "escorted", pulling together the start of a fake story and trying to decide if he wants to bother trying to sell it.

world-hopping never gets any easier, man.]