psychoshenanigans | GRATIA // PSL

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GRATIA // PSL

So, here's what Irahl knows.

He's alone in a dark, cold cave. He has most, if not all, of his gear. No one is guarding his location. As he heads away from the spot where he came to consciousness, no one tries to stop him, and no one gets in his way. The few people he finds down there seem human, and not about to approach the nearly-seven-foot man that comes stalking out of the lower tunnels. Honestly, everyone here seems a surprised and a little astonished about his... Entire scene.

There is a way up. It's a maze of twisting corridors and confusing passageways, half of which feel too small for him. It's bigger and bigger groups of people, some of which scatter like schools of fish, and some of which have to be pushed through to get anywhere. It's climbing up into streets lit with dingy lights, graffiti-covered hallways, warehouses, weird holes in stone walls that may or may not be windows. It's alarm bells, it's people yelling at each other down the street. It's just an absurd number of stairs. A couple of people make an attempt to stop him somewhere, and it goes poorly for them.

Elsewhere, events are being set in motion where Irahl cannot see. But he's on his way out.

Eventually, more people try to stop him. At the end of another long stretch of Underground city, a group of official-looking folks are putting a real effort into blocking off the obvious exit, and some of them have weapons.

Down a side alley, into another tunnel, and then the space opens up into a... Plaza, of some sort? The floor is made of stone. The buildings surrounding it are made of stone and are hard to distinguish from one another. At at least the ceiling (also made of stone) is a lot higher than before. Cavernous. There's some kind of sculpture in the middle of it, some impressive feat of geometric stonework that gives the illusion of defying gravity despite weighing literal tons.

This is where someone finally catches him. Sounds have been echoing unhelpfully down every passageway, making it hard to tell if people are coming or going - but this series of quick footsteps comes from an upward direction before someone hits the ground about five feet in front of Irahl.

His clothes are different. His hair is better-kept. Maybe if the situation wasn't quite so tense, there'd be time to see the ways in which his face is different, the way his eyes don't have quite as vicious and sharp a gleam as they used to. But whatever Irahl can take in of him, there is Robin, having hopped down from a rooftop to put himself between him and the exit again.

"...Holy shit."

Kind of weird that he looks absolutely shocked to see the person in front of him, though.

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As much as Vincent would be thrilled if Irahl decided settle on his couch, none of them are really in a sitting mood. Vincent continues to lean against the back of his couch. Robin stands by the kitchen table, also deciding not to have a seat on any of the mismatched seats surrounding it.

"This is..." The demigod has to stop and sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation. "I've got a couple things to explain."

"Please," says Vincent dryly, turning his face to show he's paying attention to Robin.

Robin pauses again, knowing he's going to sound absolutely crazy as he starts to dig into this... Quagmire of a situation he's found himself in, but digging in is probably the only way he'll eventually dig back out again.

"...So we've all been to the Drift Fleet. You know this," he gestures to Vincent, then to Irahl, "But you don't. About... Four years ago, I was suddenly taken away from the place you know me from and brought to the Marsiva, probably the same way you guys were. And about... I don't know, a year ago? I was suddenly brought back here, to Skeleton City."

This is a truncated version of events. There were places before that, and places in-between, but the plot is already so convoluted that he doesn't want to muddy the water more than he has to.

"...That long?" Vincent mutters, frowning deeply. Confused and concerned for a number of reasons. Robin doesn't answer this directly, continuing to address Irahl instead. He looks serious about this one.

"So I promise you, it's been..." He sighs again. It's been years. That used to be mean nothing to him, but the last decade has really made up for it. "You're the last person I was expecting to see down here."

There's a lot there. Irahl doesn't hurry through his absorption of it all. Arms folded, gaze dark, still all geared up where he leans lightly against the wall--he is a grim and silent figure that is feeling somehow even more out of place in this little apartment as the moments go by.

"Doesn't make sense." He crosses his arms more tightly. "Saw you earlier this year."

He at least doesn't sound terribly accusing, as if he's catching Robin in a lie. Just skeptical. Presenting the first of many things that don't line up to see if Robin has a way to explain around it.

Robin isn't really surprised that Irahl doesn't immediately buy it. Robin had a hard time buying it when it first happened to him. Frankly, after his cold reception earlier, it's a wonder that Irahl is even bothering to voice his skepticism at all. And he's confirmed that it's been a much shorter length of time for him, which makes the aforementioned reception a little more understandable.

As he's looking at this familiar face from years ago, he feels a small pang of... Something. Relief, maybe? Vincent's already gotten to experience his relief and delight over the sniper showing up on their doorstep, but Robin's been too wound-up to feel much of anything remotely good. Maybe in the relative quiet of Vincent's familiar living room, something small has room to finally come through.

He turns his gaze elsewhere. He'll pretend it's so he can talk at both of them, but it's just to keep that feeling from getting worse.

"I know, it sounds crazy." Robin admits, "But time seems to work differently in places like that."

"That's what you were sayin'..." Vincent adds, starting to idly rub at one of his closed eyes, "What I didn't say earlier is that when I got back three months ago, I woke up here, but it was the same day as when I would've left. Like I hadn't been up in space-jail for months."

Robin's eyebrow quirks up at the mention of 'space-jail'... But he thinks he gets it.

"I don't like it," Vincent continues, frowning, "But I don't got a better way to explain it..."

Good. They'll just both conveniently look elsewhere, then. Irahl has a good reason to glance over at Vincent in that moment anyway.

"...You did, huh?"

Irahl pauses to double-check a couple estimations while he scratches the back of his head through his braid, which is much more of a fidgety gesture than he tends to indulge in. The stress is showing.

"Don't know what day I got back, but it sure wasn't the same one I left. Wasn't the same place either."

Which, he thinks about it for a second, and realizes he should probably clarify a little, since it sounds like space-jail sometimes drops people off in way different places from where they'd started. His wasn't quite that dramatic.

"Same city, just a different part of it."

So, he didn't wake up as a prisoner still trapped in a dragon-filled pit.

"Ah," Robin says, finally getting the last piece of the puzzle that he needs, "That makes sense."

"What makes sense?" Asks Vincent, who doesn't follow Robin's leap of logic.

There's a slight hesitation as Robin thinks very carefully about his answer. He'd impulsively hoped to express that he finally understands exactly why Irahl seemed so unhappy to see him, but doing so... May have actually fucked him, because he forgot for a second that that wasn't what the rest of the room had been talking about. He looks very pointedly at the couch in front of Vincent.

"Just... How Irahl here wasn't too happy to see me. We weren't... On the best terms, before I went to the Fleet. It's been longer for me than it has for him."

Vincent scoffs at Robin before he can even finish his last sentence, "The fuck does that mean?"

...Well. If this is the way things are gonna go. Guess he'll stop tactfully holding all of these cards so close to the chest. Hope Robin appreciates that he'd held off this long.

"Hey, Vincent. You know your shitty roommate? ...Turns out we had the same roommate."

He'll just leave that match burning there and see what catches.

Vincent, who was already fixing Robin with some pretty skeptical attention, is momentarily unreadable. Impossible to tell if he's thinking, annoyed, uncomprehending--but he doesn't move for a good handful of long, uncomfortable seconds.

And then he gets up and starts walking calmly towards Robin.

There was a part of Robin, however small, that was kind of hoping this would come up nice and early in their conversations. Now they can get it out of the way, it won't be looming over his head, it won't become exponentially worse the longer no one talks about it... Honestly, this is the best way it could have gone!

But the rest of Robin thinks this is bullshit and starts to scramble.

"Hey, Vince-- Vince, it's not--"

Vincent looks like he's turning to Irahl at the last second, but it's just so that he can shoot his arm out to the side and grab a fistful of Robin's shirt. He lifts the demigod about a foot off the ground and shoves him into the wall as if he weighed next to nothing.

Robin kicks a little and grips at Vincent's tightly-clenched fist, mostly out of surprise, which makes Vincent look terrifyingly still by comparison.

"What the actual fuck is wrong with you," Vincent says more than he asks, nearly a threat.

Vincent has been the only person in recent history to get angry on Irahl's behalf, and while the few instances of that occurring in space had been as uncomfortable as they had been touching, in this moment, Irahl is finding something about it deeply satisfying. Maybe it's because Irahl has also been irritated to discover that Robin had been his friend's shitty roommate all along. Maybe it's because he knows that Robin will ultimately survive whatever consequences he might suffer here.

Either way, Irahl hardly blinks as Robin is hung up against the wall, suddenly feeling considerably more settled than he had a minute ago. For now, he is more than content to watch this play out.

And what a show. They're actually both being very civil, for this being something Vincent probably has full rights to murder Robin over. Vincent didn't go right for the neck. While Robin could probably wrench out of Vincent's grip or do some bullshit with his blood, he's mostly putting up an ineffectual struggle and trying to keep Vincent from cracking a clavicle with his giant fist.

"I know," he wheezes, "I know, it's bad--"

Vincent's first response is to pull his arm back just enough to punch Robin back into the wall. Something cracks, though who knows if it's Robin's chest or the back of Robin's skull. Around Robin's pained noises, Vincent keeps talking.

"Damn right it's bad," He starts to sound angry--not yelling, but certainly making it clear that he's not even remotely joking. "Heard an' awful lot about what a fun time you were havin' with my buddy here."

Robin more or less knew this was coming, but he still winces as it's confirmed Vincent probably knows all the really obviously bad parts about what happened. Vincent doesn't let Robin squirm around on that thought for too long.

"If I hear you up to any of that shit here? I'll fuckin' kill you. Understand?"

"Y-Yeah," Robin readily agrees, sounding half-strangled, "That's fair. More than fair."

Vincent lets that one sit for a few seconds longer before he continues. At first it sounds like he's winding down, but it turns out he's got one more demand.

"Now, we're all gonna have a nice, civil conversation about what the fuck we're doin' here. And after that, you're gonna tell me everything you've been hidin' about the shit you were up to while you were gone. An' you're gonna do it willingly, and you're gonna do it where this guy doesn't have to listen to your fuckin' excuses. You got that?"

And that isn't what Robin was expecting to hear. This is kind of a curve ball from Vincent, who normally lets him off easy, even when he's really pissed. Robin thought he was going to have to apologize, or maybe get off lucky with the 'and don't do it again', but... Irahl gets to witness a rare moment of very real, actual dread as the demigod realizes Vincent is making him choose between two things he desperately doesn't want to do.

Vincent isn't actually feeling that patient, though, so he smashes Robin into the wall again when he takes too long to answer. After the second blow, Robin's tune changes pretty quickly.

"All right, all right! I'll..." He swallows, hard to tell if it's his pride or part of his lung, "I'll explain everything, okay?"

There's a pause as Vincent considers whether or not he believes him, and then, "...Okay."

And then Vincent just lets go of him. Robin lands half-crumpled back on the floor, coughing painfully. Vincent straightens up, sighs, brushes off the front of his shirt. Then he jabs his thumb in Robin's direction, finally addressing Irahl.

"You okay with this guy bein' here?" Listen to that, back to casual, normal Vincent. "'Cause I'll kick him out if you want."

There is a surreal moment there where Irahl isn't expecting to have a vivid flashback, suddenly recalling one of the last times that someone had lashed out at someone else because of him. However, this time he isn't actually as trapped in a small space as he feels. No doors are being ripped off their hinges. He's only being talked around for as long as necessary before being brought back into the discussion--probably because his thoughts are actually being taken into account, instead of him being treated like a possession to fight over. It's a refreshing take on an old theme.

Also, he has never seen Robin react like that toward anyone, and that's pretty good too.

It all adds up to an odd moment where he doesn't answer as quickly as he would have liked. He isn't expecting to need a moment to think, so there's a pause too noticeable for him to play off.

He hasn't had time to decide what he thinks about Robin--and that includes the interim months that he has spent apart from him. It's a point that he finds himself going back and forth on, and that doesn't get any clearer in the seconds that it's taking him to respond.

On one hand, he's discovering the odd thought ("odd" because him having any revelation about himself is a strange occurrence,) that having Robin leave would lower his anxiety. On the other hand, they probably still need his input, and Irahl doesn't have it in him to tell Robin to leave for a little while on his own behalf. So, that's the thought that ultimately wins the tug-of-war.

"...It's fine."

Vincent interprets the long pause (fairly accurately) as Irahl weighing the pros and cons of Robin's presence. Robin, who is rubbing his chest and wincing, has no idea what to think of the pause, and he isn't about to look over at Irahl to get a read on him.

"Aight," Vincent shrugs, heading back in the direction of his kitchen. "But if you change your mind, lemme know."

Vincent's going to his fridge to fish out some of those leftovers he mentioned. Robin clears his throat a little sheepishly.

"So... Uh, Vince, why'd you say you were looking for Irahl at the Capitol?"

Now Irahl feels like he can go take a seat on the couch. It has become the part of the space with the least people around it, and something has settled with Robin having been put in his place (and almost through a wall). Though, to that point, he does give the ceiling one more glance to make sure that the cracks haven't grown since Vincent punched a man into something that may have been load-bearing.

Since it looks like they really are all going to stick around here for a few hours and Vincent is putting that part of their plan into motion by digging around for food, Irahl can at least pretend to relax. He finally slings his rifle off and props it against the nearest wall, shucks off his cloak onto the back of the couch, and drops the shoulder bag of other gear. Coat, armor, and the rest of his weapons stay on for now.

Then, he finally takes a seat, and immediately makes a mental note to congratulate his friend on his very good couch as soon as they're not all trying to figure out his fate.

It's a good couch!

Vincent has already got a bite of something in his mouth when he answers from just beyond the kitchen counter, "'Cause that's where he lives."

Robin pauses. He's still standing by the door, slowly straightening out his disheveled outfit while whatever injuries he sustained begin to stitch themselves up. This is easier to think about than what just happened to him, so he latches onto it.

And he'd been worried, for a second, that the Capitol had some... World-hopping magic he didn't know about, or an open portal to the Other Place he didn't know about... But maybe Vincent is just confused?

"No, he's from Nor. The big city in Nor."

Robin does glance at Irahl again, finally, to see if Irahl looks like he knows what Vincent is talking about.

"...Yeah, the big city." Vincent doesn't know what 'Nor' is, but it's not like Robin doesn't have a tendency to refer to places by weird, archaic names they had a thousand years ago or whatever. Vincent also 'looks' over at Irahl, "Only one big city I know of. Right?"

While he still has the couch to himself, Irahl spreads out. He's all the way over to the right arm of it, but he sprawls out a bit now that he's not bogged down by his cloak, a bag of gear, and a gun the size of a man. He stretches his legs out a little, drapes one arm along the back of the couch.

He shrugs the shoulder attached to the arm on the back of the couch when two sets of eyes look over in his direction. He shrugs because it is an archaic name. Most people born within the last century would have gotten confused over it being called anything but 'the world,' the same way they would have only known their home as 'the city.'

"Was hoping it was the same city, but there's no way nobody would be talking about all this down here."

"Oh, yeah..." Vincent didn't realize Irahl thought Skeleton City was much closer to Aboveground civilization, "The Capitol's really far from here."

Robin glances between the both of them in growing disbelief. These two idiots think they're from... The same place... How did they get to be this chummy and not figure out that they're from completely separate worlds!?

Something about Irahl's getting comfortable on the couch is especially annoying on top of that, and Robin starts to say something... But stops barely a syllable in. He's already had his mental capacity snapped in half two-and-a-half-too-many times today, he can't handle the thought of these two chucklefucks arguing him on this. They barely accepted anything else he's said.

So he... Gods, with a long-suffering sigh, he tries just one more thing.

"The Capitol... The city that's famously in the desert."

He'll just... Put that out there.

"...Yeah?" Says Vincent, still not getting it.

Edited (stick get your worldbuilding under control) 2024-07-20 03:48 (UTC)

"Desert?" Miraculously, something has gotten through. Irahl's eyebrows actually rise. "It's in a desert?"

Yeah, no, that's not right at all. Irahl's brow furrows again after that as he starts wracking his meager understanding of the world to try and figure where a desert could be.

He's expending real mental energy trying to remember the various things he'd heard over the years from his parents and others who were old and worldly enough to know what else is out there. He remembers tales of the ocean, other cities and settlements, legends and histories... but where a desert might be isn't coming immediately to mind.

To Vincent specifically, "Remember the forest I was talking about? That's what's all around the city."

"...Oh," Vincent realizes. Irahl can hear the telltale pause of his mental image getting a serious update. "Damn, seriously?"

Vincent takes a bite of food to think through the implications. He is realizing, slowly, that Irahl isn't actually from where he thought he was from...

"Well shit, explains why we couldn't track you down at the Capitol... Ain't a forest city anywhere that I know of."

Robin is relieved to hear Vincent going in the right direction. At the very least, now they won't run off to the Capitol only for Irahl to be disappointed it's not his home city. He can live with this. They can think whatever dumb shit they want about where they're from and Robin can try to broach the subject again on some other day.

"Man," Vincent continues to speculate, "You gotta be... On the other side of the mountains, or somethin'..."

This doesn't mean Robin can't still be deeply disappointed by their idiocy. He slowly lowers his face into his hands to keep from screaming.

Whatever Robin's reasons for letting them temporarily live in ignorance are, it is probably kinder to let them have this. As it is, Irahl is already having a 'how were we so stupid' moment, wondering how Vincent hadn't caught on to the fact that his city was surrounded by forest when all they had talked about was forest, and he hadn't thought to make it more clear just in case.

Irahl is also not seeming to deal very well with news that their homes are even further apart than expected. In his subtle way, he radiates disappointment. He sinks further back on the couch, his gaze drifts and lowers off to the side as he thinks. He sighs.

"Guess so."

A couple different thoughts are pulling him down as they wander through his mind. It wouldn't have mattered how hard he'd looked for Vincent; he never would have found him. Getting back home is seeming more and more daunting. Finding his way here again if he does find himself returning home seems impossible.

Vincent isn't exactly feeling like a genius either... But when your whole world is basically only a couple of landmarks, there are just some things that seem like they'd be a given. He eats some more food. It helps him think.

Robin, meanwhile, decides that if this is the level of intelligence they're going to be working at, he might as well have a seat. He pulls over one what's basically a bar stool from around the kitchen table and finally plants himself somewhere.

"Okay... That's mostly why I was hoping to get a few minutes to talk this out." He props a chin on one of his hands, elbow propped on his knee, slouching under the day he's already had. "I'll just... Lay out the situation so we're all on the same page."

He does glance over at Vincent, but ultimately decides this explanation is getting directed towards a point near the middle of the couch.

"People here do not take kindly to anyone with inhuman features. And unfortunately, even if you cover up, you're going to attract a lot of attention for being Vincent-sized."

"Ugh," contributes Vincent.

Robin continues, "And for carrying a bunch of unsanctioned equipment, as far as the authorities here are concerned. In the short-term, I know a way up to the surface that bypasses all the security on the top levels. It'll spit us straight into the forest. I can probably keep the forest from getting on Vincent's case."

He pauses before getting to the other reason he really wanted Irahl to understand his home isn't within easy reach.

"We can probably even set you up so you could stay out there for a few days, but... For longer than that, we need to figure out what to do. You can't exactly walk home," he'll put it tactfully, for now, "And if you want to come back here... You can probably sneak back down through the way you came out, but we're going to need to get you some kind of a cover story if you want to walk around anywhere with a tall ceiling."

Vincent sounds like he's thinking. A thoughtful noise followed by contemplative chewing. But there is a lull in the conversation where Irahl can voice his thoughts and feelings on the subject, should he have any.

Agitation shows in the way that Irahl's knee bounces for a few irritated seconds. The way that he glowers a hole through the opposite wall is pretty standard, however.

"Cover story."

It's probably supposed to be a question. It is said more as a skeptical statement expressing his doubt over something like that working, wondering if Robin has any brilliant ideas about it, and making it known via his tone alone how much he dislikes a plan that relies on him lying well.

"And what about my equipment?" Let's address that point first, because if someone tries to take his stuff, he's going to freak out.

Irahl's skepticism does get Robin to second-guess his plan. He's been patching together a scheme (around everything else) for the last hour, but he hadn't quite remembered that Irahl has a very particular set of skills that aren't really focused around talking or lying.

He'll leave the cover story alone for now, addressing the second concern first.

"The equipment's not bad, I can dig up some licenses and have them doctored in a few days. You just need some papers to show the Priesthood in case they decide to get nosy."

"Nah, Irahl's right," Vincent pipes up, "Too complicated."

"Okay," Robin frowns, his eyes darting back up towards Vincent, "Then what's simpler?"

It's a good question. Vincent wanders out of the kitchen, still holding his container of food. As he passes Robin, he pats him once on the arm. Maybe he was just reaching over to check where he was so that he didn't bump into him. Maybe it was for another reason--but it has the effect of pulling Robin's attention, which simultaneously pulls him away from an irritation he'd been sinking into.

Robin watches quietly as Vincent plops down on the left side of the couch, putting himself between the two of them. He turns to make it clear he's addressing Irahl.

"So... I know shit's crazy, an' you just got here. So you don't gotta decide nothin' right away." Vincent also holds out the container of food to Irahl, which is filled about a third of the way with breaded pieces of fish. Hopefully Irahl remembers that he's under no obligation to take any. "But my brother's in town. Maybe you should meet him. He's a big Capitol guy, an' he'd be... He'd get your situation, I think. Might be able to set you up so you don't gotta lie about nothin', technically."

And just like that, Vincent gets two high-strung creatures to both redirect and calm down. He makes a good buffer. He moves Robin's attention over, and hands Irahl a distraction that keeps him rooted right here in the room.

Irahl automatically takes the container of food when it's held out to him, regardless of whether he's planning on sampling it or not. He's at least curious enough and in need of a focal point that he peers inside the container as Vincent explains.

He remembers enough about Vincent's brother for it to matter. And for many of the same reasons that he'd obeyed the shackles of uncomfortable laws and rules for so long back home, he likes the idea of doing things legitimately as possible here.

Leave it to Vincent to invite optimism back to the party.

"...Yeah? How so?"

Edited (no leasing. irahl don't pay rent!) 2024-07-21 03:13 (UTC)

Robin watches this unfold with open fascination. The way Vincent is able to redirect someone's energy so easily, instead of just feeding into it... Even the way that he thinks to solve problems, it's so different from the way Robin operates that he's always been amazed to see it happen.

He's going to feel sullen and mopey about having to explain all the nasty shit he's been up to for the last seven years, but he knows he made the right call. He would rather rake himself over the coals (wouldn't be the first time) than not get to be friends with Vincent. And he has to admit, as jealous as he is, that it's no wonder Irahl likes him. Anyone would like Vincent. He's just a good person to be around.

And Vincent must like Irahl an awful lot. If defending the guy hadn't made it obvious, the fact that Vincent is willing to reach out to his brother over this is not insignificant.

"M'not a hundred percent sure," explains Vincent, "But he's pretty high up in some army an' government stuff, so maybe he can commission you to kill a couple monsters down here or somethin'."

Irahl knows that Vincent's brother is also not-entirely-human just like Vincent is, so the implication is that he would likely overlook Irahl's own less-than-human features where other places wouldn't.

"That's not... a terrible idea..." Robin adds, surprised he can't think of any immediate pitfalls. Maybe this will even get Irahl out to the Capitol, which would severely decrease the chances of him and Tek somehow bumping into each other. "Saying you're on Capitol business can get you past a lot of obstacles."

And if people start assuming he's from the Capitol, it won't be so strange that Irahl doesn't know anything about Skeleton City, and that he just kind of showed up one day out of nowhere. It's still a cover story, but with very little actual lying.

"He's a real pain in the ass, but I mean..." Vincent shrugs against the couch. "He gets shit done and he ain't a narc. I figure the worst that'll happen is he says no and tells us to stop fuckin' botherin' him."

Irahl listens, thinks, and tilts the container slowly back and forth to watch the pieces of fish and breading listlessly shift with gravity. He's considering, though it has nothing to do with the food he's looking at.

"He doesn't sound worse than my current bosses." And if he's Vincent's brother, there's a good chance that he's considerably better than those guys. Though, now that he's on the topic, something occurs to him... "Good chance I'm no longer employed, anyway."

And that's a topic that he suddenly doesn't want to think about, so he quickly moves on before he can get too hung up on it. He hands the container back to Vincent as if he's passing the topic off along with it.

"What would I say about why I'm here? Or where I'm from?"

He doesn't specify, but he means the question in reference to either Vincent's brother or anyone else who asks. It's the biggest question hanging over him right now, in all respects. He can deflect and ignore his way around most topics, (Robin probably still clearly remembers,) but he doesn't know where to begin with this one.

Vincent can't help but frown when he hears that about Irahl's job. As unfair as his employment situation had been, Vincent also knows there were some pretty big reasons he stayed instead of just fucking off into the woods or something. He takes the container back when he hears its contents being rolled towards him in the carton.

He decides not to touch on the topic and follows Irahl's diversion, but the follow-up questions aren't exactly easy to answer. Vincent begins to think while across the room, Robin lets out another small sigh and speaks.

"Well, you can't say you just woke up here. Right now, my leading theory is that there was some kind of dramatic magical event that caused you to appear here, but folks in this city are about as freaked out by magic as they are by monsters."

Robin looks a little annoyed by this fact, now that he's been places where magic won't get you killed. This conveniently hides that he's also annoyed that he doesn't know how Irahl got here, or why people from Nor seem to be showing up in Skeleton City in general. But he continues on.

"Honestly... If we can get you those papers, you can probably just say you're from another city in the forest, far away from here. You may not be believed all the time, but if they think you've got ties to the Capitol... The Capitol has their own skyport, so who knows what other cities they've been in contact with. You know?"

It's not exactly airtight, but again, Robin's banking on the average person filling in the story themselves, and anyone more thorough being put at-ease by some official documentation.

Vincent then speaks a little out of nowhere, kind of jumping off of Robin's thoughts but also kind of skipping back to Irahl's first question.

"My brother knows about what happened. He was helpin' me look for you." He gestures a little with his box, "So I dunno about other people, but he'll at least get that shit's weird an' hard to explain."

"...You told him about the Fleet?" Robin asks, surprised. This is apparently new information to him.

"Yeah, well... Couldn't not." Vincent shrugs.

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