Nico Robin (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thetruehistorian) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
high_seas2015-07-22 06:24 pm
thetruehistorian) wrote in high_seas2015-07-22 06:24 pm
Entry tags:
She's a black magic woman
Who: Robin and Marco
Where: Million Merrily
When: after this thread
What: Sacrifice. Science?
Warnings: Blood, dark magic, possession
Style: Whatever
Status: Closed, incomplete
Robin wasn't prone to pacing. She wasn't prone to many classic tells, especially ones that showed any type of fear, anxiety, or frustration. Weakness. She'd banished such a thing from her mannerisms long ago. She did not pace, she did not fidget, she did not allow her eyes to dart back and forth.
But now she did all three, the war in her mind coming to a head, the roar of voices whispering the truths she'd sought.
They were liars.
She promised Keimi there'd be another way. But there wasn't. Or so she thought. Could she really be sure? The voices whispered yes. Other voices whispered no. Their whispers as loud as shouting and sometimes she couldn't hear her own nakama over the din.
Marco was always so confident about everything that wasn't his relationship with her, and even then he was confident about the way he felt. He was just so terrified of messing it up. But the point still stood- he would know. He'd be confident. Robin needed that now. Sure, Luffy was always confident too, but this was something complex. It required careful consideration. Luffy just knew things and entrusted what he didn't know to others. Like this, to her. She'd failed him all this time. Why? Was she afraid? Blood already stained her many hands. No, she wasn't afraid to kill.
Then why?
It all came down to making a decision. This was the only way, or it wasn't.
It was a proven method.
She didn't have time to waste.
Robin folded her arms beneath her chest, rubbing cold fingers over gooseflesh, as she paced determinedly in front of the Nav, extra hands and arms gesticulating wildly as her silent conversation continued, her eyes darting from the Nav to the places where she knew her nakama would be, to the shut and locked shower room, where warm water ran into the bath, just in case he healed too fast. Her knife sat on the counter next to her remaining shard, cool metal blade beading with condensation.
Maybe Marco wouldn't come. Maybe he'd realize she was insane.
She could only hope.
Where: Million Merrily
When: after this thread
What: Sacrifice. Science?
Warnings: Blood, dark magic, possession
Style: Whatever
Status: Closed, incomplete
Robin wasn't prone to pacing. She wasn't prone to many classic tells, especially ones that showed any type of fear, anxiety, or frustration. Weakness. She'd banished such a thing from her mannerisms long ago. She did not pace, she did not fidget, she did not allow her eyes to dart back and forth.
But now she did all three, the war in her mind coming to a head, the roar of voices whispering the truths she'd sought.
They were liars.
She promised Keimi there'd be another way. But there wasn't. Or so she thought. Could she really be sure? The voices whispered yes. Other voices whispered no. Their whispers as loud as shouting and sometimes she couldn't hear her own nakama over the din.
Marco was always so confident about everything that wasn't his relationship with her, and even then he was confident about the way he felt. He was just so terrified of messing it up. But the point still stood- he would know. He'd be confident. Robin needed that now. Sure, Luffy was always confident too, but this was something complex. It required careful consideration. Luffy just knew things and entrusted what he didn't know to others. Like this, to her. She'd failed him all this time. Why? Was she afraid? Blood already stained her many hands. No, she wasn't afraid to kill.
Then why?
It all came down to making a decision. This was the only way, or it wasn't.
It was a proven method.
She didn't have time to waste.
Robin folded her arms beneath her chest, rubbing cold fingers over gooseflesh, as she paced determinedly in front of the Nav, extra hands and arms gesticulating wildly as her silent conversation continued, her eyes darting from the Nav to the places where she knew her nakama would be, to the shut and locked shower room, where warm water ran into the bath, just in case he healed too fast. Her knife sat on the counter next to her remaining shard, cool metal blade beading with condensation.
Maybe Marco wouldn't come. Maybe he'd realize she was insane.
She could only hope.
no subject
Marco quietly whistled the song from his father that he'd already taught Robin for when they were on Leanne's island, and for once, surprisingly, wore a hat this time as he stepped through the Nav, completely unfazed about really any of this. He suspected Robin underestimated his pain tolerance, but then, that wouldn't be new, she seemed to underestimate everything about him except his competency. Well, that was something at least. He hadn't let her down yet, after all.
"Yo," he waved a full arm to her to say hello, but he couldn't help himself. Deadpan composure or not, he found himself grinning in spite of all pretenses, closing the distance between them and wrapping a blue flamed wing around her shoulders to keep her warm. She was nervous. More nervous than he'd ever seen before. Cute. But he tried to keep his focus. "Hey," he whispered quietly in her ear. "Trust me, eh?" Well, that was the hard part for her, wasn't it? Or was it trusting herself this time. He couldn't tell if she was on edge for her own safety or something else. Well, playing against Davy Jones was bound to have wide repercussions, so it wasn't unwarranted. He gently kissed her forehead, and took a hand in his own, warmly smoothing his thumb over the top.
"I won't let anything bad happen."
To either of them really. He'd promised too many people. In order to protect Robin, he had to look after himself too. Ikki was gone, but the promise still mattered. In order to protect Thatch, he couldn't do anything too dangerous, otherwise Thatch would be just a memory, and Marco wouldn't let it happen. Couldn't. Wouldn't.
Of course, 'anything bad' was all in the eyes of the beholder. Destroying the universe was just part of the plan at this point, so what could go wrong worse than that was a more narrow scope than most people would expect.