micromanaging and strategy, you say...

[prevail]

[Robin's been aware that he has his work cut out for him from the getgo. He just had no idea how true that really was. Once he's got books piled in a haphazard semicircle around him, complemented by charts and loose pages of notes, it's so very evident that he has quite a lot to do and not the most accurate of information to work with.

And this might not be so bad if his memory was all there, but it's...not. An accident has assured this much, so Robin has taken it upon himself to cram every bit of knowledge he can into his mind, so that he can fulfill his responsibilities as a saniwa.

One might be given to assume this means that Robin is studying all of these things for some high and important purpose. And he'd argue that it is. As time crawls by he thumbs his way through various historical texts from a slew of authors, jotting down information as he comes across it - whether it agrees or conflicts. Just as he has in days previous, this is the way he spends his downtime.

And as with the days which preceded this, he eventually falls asleep in his pile of books and notes.

What is he studying with such determinations? Why, the swords he's got to work with, of course. Nobody can have a winning strategy without first understanding what one has at one's disposal. Strengths and weaknesses, assets and flaws, it's all right there scrawled on the papers littered around him. The sole exception being the sheet of paper pressed to one side of his face, ink smeared against his cheek]


[ooc: In Robin's original canon he had a tendency to somehow find out or notice all kinds of things about his allies. And he'd write them down in a roster. Some of these things were so deeply embarrassing or private that people were willing to risk their lives to get that roster back when it was stolen in a DLC episode. Gentleswords, he now has a roster with entries about you]

Comments

[crayne]

[ and in true five-year-old form, the white-clad sword spirit makes no move to help robin with his tidying up, even though he's the one to cause such a mess in the first place. a flutter of white sleeves follow as he hops onto robin's recently vacated chair and he perches there on the balls of his feet, every bit like his namesake, watching his master closely but with mischief in his eyes.

at robin's comment about his drawings, he draws himself up a little, evidently pleased. ]

Oh, so you like them! I'd hoped you'd like them as much as I had fun drawing them, my dear Sage. [ 'temporary' however-- doesn't that imply he's going to transfer these onto somewhere else? perhaps an even fatter book of notes. the quirk of his lips turn a bit exasperated. ] But really, aren't you working a bit too hard?

[ a subtle cant of his head, blinking owlishly: ] I realize that a strategist ought to know his charges well, but ought a strategist not also know his own limits? You're going to work yourself to an early grave, dear man, and that would be trouble for all of us.

[ not to mention a little heart-breaking, really, seeing someone overwork themselves for a ragtag bunch like them, but his personal feelings on the matter honestly has never meant much. ]

[prevail]

[It doesn't take Robin long to amass those scattered notes into a cohesive stack, patting the edges into order. At least it's less of a haphazard mess now, though his books still form an array around his desk that one could call anything but tidy. He knows precisely where everything is, and for the moment he considers that fine enough.

With at least some tidying attended to, Robin spares the page on top of the stack a lingering glance for a beat. Another drawing, and though stylized, he knows precisely who it's supposed to be. He's no artist, but he can appreciate the details]

On the contrary, I've often thought I don't do nearly enough.

[Having said this he looks back up from the notes, squaring his shoulders and standing as tall as he might. Strategy is one area in which Robin can really do something, and he considers it his responsibility, above all else. If he falls short there, he'd be letting others down.

And he cares about them, all other factors aside. Losses because of his lack of commitment are something he can't accept]

It's not as though I'm bearing any hardship. [But in the face of that concern, he supposes he can admit one thing] Though I might do well to pace myself a bit better.

[Just a little]

[crayne]

[ "a bit better" haaah. ]

My, my, you workaholics. [ said with the exasperation of an old, old sword who's seen too many of such workaholics. tsurumaru props his chin on the back of his hands. ] We don't need a second Yamato no Kami around these parts. Just one makes the rest of us look like slackers enough.

[ and a terror in the dojo to boot, and he's drawn that cute caricature of a puppy-yamato barking angrily on one such page somewhere in that recently cleaned-up mess in robin's hands. still, there's always something about watching someone be so hopelessly diligent that brings out the old man in tsurumaru, even though he makes it a policy to act no older than six whenever he can help it.

therefore, he slips a hand into his sleeves, and draws out another page. this one, however, differs from all the rest in robin's hand by the pure fact that not a single inch of it contains robin's own handwriting. this one is new. he brandishes it in the sage's face with a proud 'aha'! ]

Which! Is why I am starting a saniwa-memo, the subject of which being you. [ yes, he really did start a page on robin. he's a shit. ] And since you've admitted yourself that you need to work on your pacing, I consider that something I should add to the note so that I can hold you to it when you mistake your desk for a bed again.

[ nabbing the pen from behind his ears again, he spins it within his fingers. golden eyes trained on robin as though looking for his reaction, a most pleased drawl: ] Well? Isn't this a good idea?

[prevail]

[Well, that...is a thing. And it obviously captures Robin's attention if the owlish staring is anything to go by. Notes about him? He's hardly sure what value those would actually hold, in the scheme of things. The notes he takes on Tsurumaru and the others are ones he considers purposeful.

But of what use are notes on Robin himself?

He recovers quickly enough, schooling his expression into something far less like open gawking. At the same time he tries and fails to mask a faint note of amusement because he understands perfectly well that turnabout is fair play]

If you consider it relevant I'd say nothing is stopping you. But I'd be of no help regarding my own history, despite it being much shorter than yours.

[Whereas even from the briefest perusal Robin can see that Tsurumaru has clarified some historical details he was having trouble with. It's not something Robin could honestly help with]

[crayne]

[ oho, now there's an expression that tsurumaru practically lives for. quietly, he adds another point to his tally. after all, the number of surprised faces he's seen on their self-possessed saniwa can literally be counted on one hand. he should cherish this. the faint note of amusement, too-- another point in his favour. really, just pulling little surprises like these makes tsurumaru feel that despite the cloud of misfortune that seems to follow him wherever he went, he's done some good today.

well, as expected of their sage: the man picks himself up quickly enough. in truth, tsurumaru's heard something to this effect. that their sage had as much recollection of his past as honebami did. which really, from tsurumaru's point of view, isn't all that sad. the past is only good for making people miserable. since when has history ever been kind? no, it's better not to remember sometimes, and let the ignorance take the sting away.

still, that's his opinion on the matter, and it occurs that he doesn't know the sage's opinion on it. he hums, contemplatively. another cant of his head, white sleeves ruffling as he leans forward against the back of robin's chair, his body language irreverent but his eyes thoughtful. ]

Say, does it bother you? Not remembering anything.

[prevail]

[Robin takes a moment to reflect on that. Does it bother him, not remembering his past? Sometimes he wonders about it - how could he not, after all? There's just a blank canvas where so many things ought to be, leaving him to wonder what manner of man he was beforehand, and whether he was any different at all.

He also doesn't know if there are people he's forgotten. Important people he may have loved, or who loved him. His life and his memory are doubtless ill-matched, and in his mind his recollection might just be a sheet of paper with very little written on it. More each day, to be sure, but far less than someone his age ought to have.

For all that, though, he still shakes his head after brief consideration]

No, not particularly.

[He can say as much with a small smile, perhaps because of the sentiment behind it]

It seems to me that my life is quite full as it is. So what could I be missing?

[For Robin, it's enough that he's surrounded by those he counts as friends and allies. Swords they may be, but they're no less people in his eyes than anyone he might've once known]

[crayne]

[ their saniwa, he thinks, is a namazuo, not a honebami. actually, tsurumaru has always wondered why swords were summoned with their memories intact. it seemed to him that it would be a lot more practical if they were summoned like blank slates, with nothing but the thought of destroying the retrograding army playing in their minds. certainly, it'd make things easier. less opportunities for regret, for wishing things were otherwise, for thinking maybe it'd be worth it to go back in time themselves to settle one, little, bitter thing.

(it's a thought that has kept him awake at night, most nights -- would he have been happier if he had never been stolen from the shrine? dug out from his grave? if his master lived to forty rather than fourteen? memories are such bitter, bitter things)

it's with that thought that he chuckles, and lies through his teeth. ]

Well, well, I'm surprised. And here I was afraid we'd disagree, but it looks like we'd get along after all. [ he holds up his pen, however, twirls it in his fingers, and then points it at robin dramatically. ] But! You're hardly old enough to sound like you've already seen all there is to see.

[ aka don't sound so zen, you make him sound like a shit in comparison (spoilers: he's just a shit). cheekily: ]

Dear Sage, I assure you, you're still missing out on quite a lot, perhaps not in the past but certainly in the now.

[prevail]

[Perhaps his choice of words wasn't the best, Robin thinks. Speaking with someone who's got a much longer history than he does, and has surely seen far more than him, he knows that there's no comparison. And he doesn't hold any illusions about the difference there.

His life is transient, relatively speaking. But all the same, he still thinks that he can say he doesn't mind the fact that he can't remember his past]

I wouldn't presume to think I know all that much, with respect to present company.

[They've all been around so much longer, and will surely be there long after he's gone. It's something that he doesn't forget, no matter how human they all seem to him]

Whatever remains to be seen or experienced, I don't feel that I've lost anything. That's more what I mean.