#simplytactics

There’s a soft sigh that escapes from her, as Shamir turns her head to give the other woman an odd look. Truthfully there was no way she ever could have ever expected to be magically summoned away from Fodlan of all things, but just because she was in a new place didn’t mean she’d abandon her basic principles. The part of her that still lived and breathed as a mercenary wouldn’t allow it.

confrontation! | accepting!

              she didn’t like it.

        being read so easily, so casually---

        she despised it so much.

        but robin was right--- she was tired of fighting, and was it steadily growing more obvious by the day with how sluggish and demotivated she was getting. why did hel and her army never cease their relentless assault--- why did líf have to consistently go for her throat at every interaction--- why did she have to be so weak that she had to push herself to the absolute brink in training--- why did everyone in the castle always have to do something to push her buttons---

        why did she keep dragging herself through all this?

        it was tiring. genuinely, truly tiring, and constantly having to uphold her aggressive guard through it all only made the weight of it all cripple her that much more. she was hoping no one would be smart enough to catch on to her growing exhaustion (or was she?), but it’s no surprise it’s robin to ask the question.

        ocean blues glance to meet with the tactician’s own eyes, lacking the usual fire within them. the silence is heavy in the air, and for once--- cypher is scared to break it. she’s scared to speak--- to answer such a dangerous question that holds such an obvious answer, and she’s scared of letting the other hear exactly what she expects.

        she’s so tired, robin, so, so tired of it all. she’d do anything for it all to stop and for her to just rest.

        but these were her secrets, and secrets behind sealed lips they shall remain.

       “---’m fine.” it’s just above a whisper, and it’s notable that cypher’s tone sounds almost forced--- she dares not allow her own voice to falter and fail her while speaking such a painful lie. gaze drifts down to look at her own heavily bandaged hand, which she’s now carefully flexing despite the stinging it causes. “honestly--- it’s nothin’ i can’t handle.”