a sudden simple twist of fate

At least that part he can rationalise somewhat: if they are descendants of a dragon, then they must be similar to the Branded. Was Robin one of them? At least in distant descent? That would explain why he wasn't able to pick up on a draconic kin right away, but... he does not get that odd, uncomfortable, feeling. Was it more like his own mark then? A symbol of heritage and nothing more?

Wah. He's only furthering confusing himself by thinking too hard about it. He should just focus on the conversation instead.

Robin had asked him a question... hadn't he?

"It's fascinating, really, to learn about a place where dragons could be so vastly different than they are where I'm from." Giving Kurth a sidelong look, he says, "But in the end, we're both dragons, despite it all."

Who... in the world was Naga?

He can recognise the name as being the latter half of his, of course, but back home in Tellius, such a thing had no meaning. There was no one named Naga in Goldoa's history, at least as far as Kurth knew. His father would know, surely, but Kurth was not his father.

"... My name?" He says, with a soft chuckle, "It doesn't mean anything. I haven't the slightest idea who this Naga would be."

Were... perhaps, the dragons of Goldoa different in some way from those of other continents? Is this something that he should know?

For the third or fourth time today (he's already lost count), Robin feels as though he's put his foot in his mouth. He really is not handling this whole "snowed in together with a stranger" situation very well at all... especially not the part that requires him to interact normally and hold a regular conversation.

Oh well. He's doing his best.

"...you see, where I'm from, Naga is the name of a Divine Dragon," he says, deciding it's best to just explain rather than to keep over-complicating things. "The descendants of Naga all carry her bloodline and a special mark to show they are part of her family."

A pause; then, "...and then there's the Fell Dragon, who is sort of bound to find Naga and her descendants in any life, and that's a whole.. thing..."

So much for not over-complicating. The back of his hand itches inside his glove, now, and Robin tries not to think about it, keeping a smile plastered on his face instead.

It was a different feeling than the one he got when he was close to those of Goldoa, but it was draconic all the same. Foreign, but familiar all the same.

Of course...

"Given your name," he says, "would it be prying too much to ask if you're a descendant of Naga?"

The room was a mess in general, so perhaps sorting the area out, and categorizing it, could prove useful in determining what was left to search? She absentmindedly begins to do just that.

"Sharing..." she quietly repeats the words that the other has spoken. It's a curious thing. She's heard of stories of humans being consumed by dark spirits, a magic spell taken the turn for the worst. Experiments that leave one finding themself no longer alone...

...or, y'know. sometimes others just Exist. That's a possibility, too.

Niamh tilts her head, examining an especially sharp lance, before gently setting the weapon aside on the right side of the storage room. Still, confirming if an outside force was responsible would prove useful - especially if it paves way for other research she's looked into. And if not, well. The conversation itself will still prove interesting to her. It's a win win.

More importantly;

"...do you have a collective name, or..." she's typically Pretty bad at the formality thing, but somehow she's 180'd to actually being polite for once. "...are there others...?"

"...no," he says, and he's surprised at how truly taken aback he is by her demeanor. "There's not more. Just me and Robin."

Then his mind catches up with him and he returns to his usual attempts to seem big and intimidating. He clambers up to his feet and puffs out his chest as he says, "And I'm the strongest one," as if he is a pouting toddler instead of someone who used to be a god. Crossing his arms over his chest, he adds, "We don't have a fancy name or anything. I'm Grima. He's Robin. I'm a Fell Dragon and he's the weak little human worm I'm stuck with."

As long as he's trapped in here with her, answering her questions, he decides he might as well do something else too. So he joins her in sorting, absently, not intending to be helpful but looking for some way to pass the time.

Also... were there not beorc in this world whose appearance did not betray their age? Those who aged more gracefully than their peers.

And then he finds himself laughing through his shivers.

He smiles at the other man, the non-beorcness about him becoming that much more apparent now that Kurth really thinks hard about it.

With a nod of his head, he says, "Yes, I am. Is it that obvious?"

Robin gives a nervous little laugh. Perhaps he had been jumping to conclusions a bit too quickly, but it was at least somewhat obvious. At least to another dragon.

"...you are hiding it well," he says, "but I think I probably sensed something about you that I wasn't quite fully noticing. I'm admittedly often better at picking up on these things, but maybe it's the snow keeping me from focusing..."

He drifts off for a moment, lost in thought as he tries to figure out why he isn't quite at the top of his game today. But then he shakes his head with a smile and adds, "Anyhow, your age comment was part of it, but I think there's more, too."

"...not particularly..." She answers, despite the intense focus she places on her investigation. "I was curious, so..." Kneeling down, she lifts another one of the boxes, though only by a few inches on one side.

Still, if the person before her was searching for someone else, then perhaps he's upset that he's the one trapped in here instead of that other person? Maybe? It's something to consider.

"I'm looking anyway..." She not so subtly points out. "If you tell me what it's like, I could find it for them..." She brings herself back onto her feet, tapping her chin a few times. "What are they like? That can help sometimes....everyone has habits..."

He decides to err on the side of chaos.

"He's the other guy who shares the same body as me," he says, as if this is something everyone encounters all the time. "His name's Robin and it's his fault we're even at this stupid school in the first place. He wanted some kind of magic tome that was supposed to be in this room, so now it's his fault we're stuck in here, too."

"I'm not as young as I look, you know," Still, more often than not, he felt like a child and not the king he was supposed to be, "But I suppose I don't feel like I should be the one taking care of others. I've always been my kingdom's youngest, I wasn't expected to do this... before."

There had always been someone to look after him in his youth, someone to care for him, no matter how much he had longed to get away then. But some part of him now yearns to go back to when things were simple, when his family was whole and intact. When none of them had a care in the world, and no burdens on their hearts.

Things weren't so simple now. They never could be again.

"You definitely don't have to tell me what happened," he says, "but you're welcome to do so, if you want." Then, in an attempt to lighten things just a bit, he adds, "I'm also not as young as I look, for what it's worth."

It is only after he says it it that he realizes the two of them might have something more in common than he initially realized. Robin is well aware that the reason he looks younger than he is stems from his dragon heritage--and now he can't help but wonder if the same is true of Kurthnaga.

(After all, his name even suggests--)

The "escape room" activity everyone had been talking about sounded like a great idea when Robin first heard it. After all, he loved solving puzzles and working through problems, and he was good at it, too! So he should've been a natural at working through the room's secrets and... winning, or whatever the goal was.

But now that he's here, waiting his turn to be paired with an unknown person to help solve the room's puzzle, he's second-guessing himself. What if he gets stuck with someone who doesn't know how to handle this kind of thing? What if he's paired with someone who doesn't pay any attention to the little details, or who doesn't like his (sometimes unorthodox) methods of tackling problems?

(Not that he would be setting any ships on fire for an escape room, but still--)

When his name is called, he takes a breath and steps forward to be led into the room by the attendant. And once inside the room, he only has to wait a moment longer to see who he's been matched with for the activity.

"Oh--Lucina! What a relief!"

How to describe himself? Robin already knows… well, *a* version of him, how do you describe yourself to someone who’s seen a you that isn’t you?

“My name’s… well, Yarne, son of Panne and…”

A traitor.

A betrayer.

A dead man.

“…Someone that I don’t really remember. But, anyways, I’m the last taguel, ex-member of the Shepherds,”

…Was he still counted as one? It had been almost a year now since he was last active - and here he was, on a completely different continent…

“And… studying abroad here at Garreg Mach. For both my continued survival, and… a chance at peace, away from the fury of… some people in Ylisse.”

He had only seen some of the anti-taguel hunting parties once or twice, but they still terrified him regardless.

"I guess... I'm..."

Who is Robin as a person? He has to stop and think about it--he has never been very good at defining himself beyond his relationships to other people.

"I'm here as a professor, teaching with a specialty in Thunder magic. I don't really know what to do with myself now that there isn't a war to fight and a dragon to stop, but I'm trying to figure that out."

Don't bring up other people don't bring up other people dont--

"Mostly I just learn, read, teach, and... you know, miss Chrom."

Ah, another conversational failure. He gives a sheepish smile in an attempt to cover it up. "It's funny, but I still think of myself as a dad here too, even though my own kids are far away in other timelines and other places. ....what are you studying here?"

That was why he was here at the academy after all, to become a better king, and to learn more of the lands outside of Goldoa. To learn all that he was unable to when he had been cooped up within its borders all of his life.

"Oh, so you take care of your sister?" he asks, trying to leave the question open-ended enough that Kurthnaga can reply as much or as little as he wants to. "You seem a little bit young to be in charge of caring for someone else, but... well, I also know it's never a good idea to make assumptions about someone based on appearances."

"Well, for starters, my homeland is far from Fodlan, and isolated even with our own continent," Though it brings no actual warmth to his body, it warms his heart to think of Goldoa. He tries to smile, but it is shaky as he trembles from the cold, "And my siblings are... very dear to me. Even when they are not with me..."

And Rajaion would never be with him again. He would never see his brother's face again...

At Kurthnaga's suggestion, he perks up a bit. "Yes, that's a great idea," he says. "I'm happy to get to know you, and share a little about myself too."

With one wobbly step after another, he kept moving forward despite the pain in his leg slowly getting worse from the cold. Positive thoughts, the mage kept telling himself. Positive thoughts! Don’t think of frostbite, think of a warm fire, a nice cabin, toasty marshmallows…. He could almost feel the sweet taste on his tongue.

…that is, until another heavy gust of ice cold wind smacked the poor child right in the kisser.

The pair finally made it into the cavern, the place only marginally warmer thanks to the wind not blowing into the entrance. Still, it was enough for Ewan as his legs buckled. “Eek!” Squealing softly, surprised at his own body giving out, he fell to the ground rather unceremoniously.

“Oops..! Ahaha, D-Didn’t mean to… f-fall over there!” Arms trembling, he pushed himself up into a sitting position, before leaning against the cave wall. “S-S-Sorry about that.. I-I’m okay…!”

Still smiling, despite the cold, he pressed his arms close to his body. The mage already had a lithe stature, being amongst the smallest in the student body. But somehow, curled up and shivering as he was, he managed to look even frailer.

Once inside the cave, he was surprised to notice that Ewan had more or less kept up with him. But then Ewan toppled over with a little squeak, and that didn't surprise Grima one bit. Humans. Weak little sad humans.

"I'm fine," said Grima, scowling. It wasn't exactly true; his teeth were chattering between his words, and his hands were trembling. It was exceptionally cold and wet, and he was cold blooded enough that it was starting to get to him... but he wasn't going to admit that aloud.

She does decide to answer him, though. "I am Niamh..." she states, carefully observing the person before him. Smell was an interesting term. He has better sense of smell than sight, perhaps? It's noted none the less.

Niamh's head tilts the other direction, her stray strands of hair following in suit. "There are Those who would want to lock me in here..." though, she's not sure if it was Her doing. Her actions were usually a bit more confrontational than this. Regardless; "...I suppose we'll have to find out..."

But maybe not immediately. Eyes wander to the various goods that the storeroom holds, and she heads over, surveying the contents of some of the boxes. "...were you looking for something, too...?"

He leans back against the wall where he's still sitting and pouting. "Yeah, I was looking for something, but I don't really care if I find it." A shrug. "It wasn't for me, anyway."

Then he scowls down at a loose thread on his pant leg. He's still mad at Robin (this whole situation is his fault and so is everything else ever), and now he's frustrated that he isn't getting much of a rise out of this stranger. What's the point of being trapped if he can't bother some random human in the process?

Instead, he digs through his supplies and produces a small, thin blanket. It isn't much, especially against this kind of weather, but he hands it over to Kurthnaga anyway. "Here, wrap up in this," he says, "and then I'll throw my cloak over both of us. I'm afraid we'll have to get close to each other to share, but maybe that's okay?"

The young dragon takes the blanket, and though it is thin and not made for survival in a blizzard. But it is certainly better than nothing. He would rather have even a small bit of warmth than absolutely none at all.

(And Robin knows he shouldn't be surprised by that. He's always been protective by nature, but especially when it comes to taking care of those younger than himself, and even more so now that he knows what it's like to be a father--)

(And he misses his kids--)

It is only now that Kurthnaga realises that he really doesn't have any clothes made for harsh weather like this. Not currently on his person, or with the rest of his belongings back at Garreg Mach. He would have been doomed no matter; wouldn't he? The closest thing he had to any sort of winter gear was a ratty old cloak, with grains of sand still stuck tightly to it.

He clambers inside of the tent as soon as he can, pulling his body into a tight little ball. To see that he was unprepared for this situation was an understandment. He was more than unprepared. He was like... super unprepared!

At least they had this tent. That was good. Even if it wasn't the best in the world, it was better than nothing.

Instead, he digs through his supplies and produces a small, thin blanket. It isn't much, especially against this kind of weather, but he hands it over to Kurthnaga anyway. "Here, wrap up in this," he says, "and then I'll throw my cloak over both of us. I'm afraid we'll have to get close to each other to share, but maybe that's okay?"

He shivers, arms wrapped tightly around himself to keep any ounce of warmth that he can within his body, trying to stop his teeth from chattering. He's cold... he's so cold...

Kurthnaga perks up at the idea of shelter, any ounce of warmth that he could get.... would be greatly appreciated.

Gesturing to a nearby half-crumbled rock wall--one of the many very ancient ruins that dotted the landscape in this area--he adds, "If we set up the tent behind that, we'll at least get out of the wind a little more."

He does not wait for Kurthnaga to agree or disagree, but he does notice just how cold his current companion seems to be. Robin works as fast as he can to unpack the tent and set it up with Kurthnaga's assistance. He himself is getting colder every moment, too, but at least he has on a thick cloak to help with a little bit of the chill.