"Mm..." He agrees, mumbling past the top of their head. "...I understand. I didn't mean to... upset things."
Lots of things. All strung together, tied to each other, but for what reason? To his credit, Robin got his answer--but he's almost come out of it with more questions than he had going in. A shell, a mob of ghosts, impossible magic, yet... Nothing about them seems innately angry or tortured, now that he's not intruding on their territory.
And that's the strangest thing: what are so many spirits doing in one shell, if no one is twisting them into fuel for a spell or a curse? Are they really just acting on their own, together, to make this person... Whoever they are?
He doesn't know. But if he's going to ask, he thinks that, perhaps, he aught to do a little to earn back their trust again--if that sort of thing is pertinent to a swirling mass of lingering energy.
"...I'm Robin," he finally mentions, "Like the bird."
And then, after a hesitating pause, he says something he hasn't told anyone in a very, very long time.
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Lots of things. All strung together, tied to each other, but for what reason? To his credit, Robin got his answer--but he's almost come out of it with more questions than he had going in. A shell, a mob of ghosts, impossible magic, yet... Nothing about them seems innately angry or tortured, now that he's not intruding on their territory.
And that's the strangest thing: what are so many spirits doing in one shell, if no one is twisting them into fuel for a spell or a curse? Are they really just acting on their own, together, to make this person... Whoever they are?
He doesn't know. But if he's going to ask, he thinks that, perhaps, he aught to do a little to earn back their trust again--if that sort of thing is pertinent to a swirling mass of lingering energy.
"...I'm Robin," he finally mentions, "Like the bird."
And then, after a hesitating pause, he says something he hasn't told anyone in a very, very long time.
"I've got a lot too. Just... Not as many as you."