challenger.

There was a part of him that believed looking wouldn't do any good. He probably wasn't going to be lucky enough to find his family here, and if he did, what were the odds they would even remember him? What chance did he have of really reuniting with the right people, from the right timeline and the right universe?

(And then there was the matter of Grima, who had been uncharacteristically quiet lately, and who knows what havoc he was waiting to cause.)

Robin had not been here long, but he had already resigned himself to the situation as well as he could. At the very least, there were new people to befriend and allies to meet.

And so he wasn't considering the possibility of actually finding his loved ones as he went about his new daily routine. Taking his afternoon lunch break and strolling through some of the gardens outside, he didn't really expect to run into anyone at all... until he heard a voice.

And gods, he knew that voice.

He turned quickly, nearly tripping himself over his robes in his hurry to confirm that yes, Chrom was here, standing right behind him.

Chrom did not know if he believed in such a superstition but there were times when he felt like he was backtracking. Or walking circles. He knew there was another version of him that had not made it, that was not alive. But he was not that version. He was the one who had boldly defied that.

Maybe the dead don't walk backwards then. But they do walk behind the living. He was so happy to see Robin but he could not put the idea from his mind. Robin one step in front him. Chrom keeping pace. Chrom who had died and who had lived. Robin who had lived and who had died.

And who had come back. There was no reason to pick one worthy cause over another but one of Chrom's causes would always always always be Robin. He couldn't exist without that idea. He'd had people around him all his life. Sometimes they helped him. Sometimes he helped them. That is what Shepherds do. Find someone who needs it and see what they can do.

Robin was that. The helped and then the helper. This is what had made Chrom so quickly drawn toward him. So easily.

It is what drew him to him now.

Not that it softens the blow-- or shock, rather, which jolts up her spine and sends her bad rod-straight-- that comes at the sound of his voice on the familiar syllables of her name. It's the same moment that always happens when they talk, when, for just a single second, she hears her father's voice and thinks perhaps it was all truly a dream.

Eyes fall on the man himself, bringing that moment to the same end it always finds. He's too young, too real. Her father, yes, by a technicality, but still someone else's. The corners of Lucina's lips are reminded to curl into a smile.

And she's glad to see him, really. Kind of. At least a little bit. It's good to see that he is well, that the world has not yet fall apart in the time since she has let its weight fall from her shoulders, but it's hard in equal measure. Something that, she reminds herself, is too selfish a notion to play into.

He notices weight lifting off of her and cannot help but be (somewhat selfishly) pleased to see it. He wants to be able to make her feel safe and to ease her burdens. He will not force such a thing upon her though. She who came from faraway with burdens all her own, that he could never alleviate.

But he still smiles at her, for how could he not? And she worries for the kingdom, which he feels a pang of guilt for. It is not her burden to bear.

"Everything is well, the kingdom is in good hands." He would never leave it without ensuring that that was so. Everything well in order. That's important.

Chrom made things simple sometimes. To look was—it was important and so he had done it.

And nothing had turned up. It was as if Robin was simply gone without a trace. This is what made things so complicated. Others would have given up, maybe. But he could be stubborn when he wanted to be.

With a slight frown he squinted at the figure before him. Of all the places to meet him again....

It would be one of the ones he was not actively looking it, wouldn't it? That was how he had found Robin in the first place. It wasn't like he was looking...right?

He smiled wide and warm.

"Robin....? Is it really you?"

Chrom has never heard of Deathgoyles before. Gargoyles either really but at least he understands their function for drainage and decoration. The idea of them running (or flying as it were) around freely was kind of scary he wasn't going to lie.

Not that he didn't think he could take them! Nothing like that. But he was anxious about them hurting others. And he really didn't like the look of them. Not just for the danger but for the sense of...wrongness. Was that the right word? He didn't know and didn't much care to think about it further.

His companion was apparently knowledgeable about these things. He hadn't said much yet but Chrom was glad to have an expert (if experts on these things existed) around. Was he an expert or did he just say he'd fought them? Doesn't matter. Helpful anyway.

The folk they're helping with this task want these animals for some reason or another but don't want them hurt. That's good probably. Chrom doesn't want to hurt them.

Even if they're creepy.

A monster doesn't deserve to die just for being a monster.

He turns toward his ally in this endeavor. "So...how to we keep them...placid?"

She is glad that he does not mind helping. Her smile is pleased.

"Don't be surprised by that... I've noticed a lack of volunteering among many people..." Trailing off, trying not to sound agitated. It is not just something that affects this place or these people or something as small and meaningless as a ball. If it were so, she would not be so annoyed.

No, though she knows many people who are happy to help others she has also known too many who would turn away.

This topic is no longer about cleanup, of course. But seeing the willingness with which he offers to help puts her mind somewhat at ease. Just as there are people who will not help, always are there people who will. She is grateful for that.

"Maybe the other students didn't hear or maybe they have clubs or other activities.

It is not about cleaning up but it also is about cleaning up. Chrom thinks of a younger version of himself, of one who would have avoided such a chore for the ways that it bored him even as he would have known it was the right thing to do.

At her question he comes over to her. The table is long and would be difficult for her to move even with help so he puts his strength to use.

It's almost no effort. He moves to the opposing side pushes it down a ways before getting to work on the spilled food back there.

Listen! He doesn't want to be overbearing! There are a lot of things he wants to say but now that they're safe they'll have nothing but time!

He doesn't know where to start. How to talk to the daughter that another version of him once failed so completely. How to say I missed you and are you enjoying your travels and is this place worth staying in and I hope you're happy, are you happy, please tell me you're happy.

Lucina is his entire world. It doesn't get any simpler nor more complex than that.

"Hey! Lucina!" he finally calls. Nothing lost from really showing how he feels. One never knows how much time one has left after all. "Over here!"

HAND comes up to tap rest upon chin. "You weren't even at the ball, were you? Unless you spent the entire time masked I would remember having seen someone with your good cheer."

The young professor who volunteered to assist with cleanup certainly has a presence about him. Something similar to that of Prince Ephraim if she isn't mistaken but if that's due to him being of a similar position or merely in how he carries himself she can't say & isn't going to ask. Instead she leans over to clean a particularly messy spot on the floor of piled-up decorations & spilled drinks.

She is glad to know that she did not volunteer alone though and will take any assistance.

"You're kind to help clean up a mess you didn't even make."

Or maybe it was an extremely crowded event and the student he's helping is just a really observant person, able to notice things and people others miss.

Wouldn't that be a useful skill? Chrom didn't think he was bad at observation but his prowess in it often left a lot to be desired.

"I don't mind helping out. Really."

She has an air about her that he finds comforting. The kind of air Emmeryn sometimes had, a natural healing aura. He wondered if this young woman was a healer herself or if she just reminded him of that kind of person. A calming essence.