#((returns after more than a month with a longass reply. hey))

[hopetune]

His words unearth some mysterious feeling inside her, a small ease that starts at the knot of her stomach and travels upward to her throat. Like a resonating frequency that brings dissonant chords together, letting the vibrations quiver and quiver until they formed a oneness: a Harmony. 

Robin has a myriad of questions. None have settled since the beginning of this conversation. Each gathers like storm clouds and blocks out the light. But she slowly realizes that, of all the Questions, there was only One that mattered.

She trusts the birds, she trusts their wings, but does she trust her brother?

A Moment passes—lasting for a breath or maybe for an eternity. But she soon meanders into her conclusion.

The Answer is Yes. It had always been Yes. It was Yes even when Robin left the Planet of Festivities— it was Yes even when he had flown to near-Aeonic heights— it was Yes even as he began falling. Whatever Path he would go on would no doubt be difficult, but she felt this unyielding Faith in his ability to overcome it. He is strong. Stronger than even she could Hope to be. He burdened himself with the World but managed to keep his shoulders straight. He is strong. He does not need her to catch him—just as she does not need Him to catch her, either. Even if she had wanted to be the one to protect him, it would only cage him in the end.

The Answers to her other questions will never come to her. The question of that train, of that falling bird, of that failure—not even the most Erudite scholar could hope to exhaust them. But she has Answered the most important one, and her wonderings can soon cease. She will not be there to see her brother take to the sky again. She wouldn't get to see the smoke coming off the engine as the train moves further away from the station. But she doesn't have to. Tragic as it is: Birds are meant for the sky but they do not always end up flying together. You don't always get to wave the train passengers goodbye. But what matters is that they would all end up in the same destination: that stretch of Endless Blue, where they could watch the same Stars glitter against the backdrop of a waning sun.

Robin's coat begins to disappear. Her wings begin to spread out, and her halo crowns her head once more. No longer would witnesses of this Dream see two strangers, but rather, a Robin and a Hound, standing at the precipice of their grief and accepting what they cannot see over the edge of it.

"...I understand it now." Robin finally says, her voice feather-soft and similarly fragile, as though threatening to break beneath the weight of her realizations, "I think I have the answer. Or rather… I don't." she shakes her head lightly, "No, I don't have any answers to the questions I've been asking you or myself. But I see why it doesn't have to matter."

Breaking away from the railing, Robin turns around and looks at the Golden Theater glittering in the distance. She holds her gaze towards it as she speaks, as though addressing it directly.

"Because I trust my brother, despite everything. I know he has the same heart as he had all those years ago. People who know him now wouldn't believe it—I don't think he does either, but this belief is all I can leave him with. I can no longer protect him… but he is more than capable of protecting himself. I should have seen that."

She wonders how he feels, in this Moment. Would he believe in himself? Would he believe in her, too? But Robin wastes no more time seeking Answers. No, she'll simply trust that he will find his own, eventually. 

"You've given me a lot, Mr. Gallagher. Your words…" she laughs quietly, recalling the fondness that lay hidden beneath his gruff tones and name-calling. A fool, a friend— whatever the case, he must have cherished him deeply, "I can sense they come from a place of great love. It must have taken you quite a long time to reach your conclusion."

A Quietness distilled

˚ʚ [robin & gallagher] ɞ˚