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It has to be the obvious stresses that come with war. You thought under the canvas tent that you shared with your partner as you flipped through your tome. You already had your sword repaired and the tome appeared suitable enough. As active as you were in battles and the miles traveled, how could it be anything else? The normally loose fitting robe now closer toward appropriately fitting. Having gained a bit of weight was hardly a priority at the time, let alone for your team to have noticed in the ongoing war with Plegia. If anyone else would be able to notice it would be Henry. Henry- a dark mage, the “Twisted Mind” and a cuddle fiend.
He managed to remain hard enough to read even or perhaps in spite of how jovial his demeanor always was. He somehow appears to be an ultimate example of living in the moment, perhaps you should borrow that hopefully much less blood soaked, hexed to shreds page from his collection. With that you were able to push these thoughts aside and tucked the tome under your arm. It was time to discuss strategies for an upcoming skirmish with Chrom and the others.
Now that the minor battle was won and all the tasks that followed accomplished, you dismissed yourself for the evening. Your tent appeared empty at the moment. As if detecting this, the macabre enthusiast in question strolled in. “Hey Robin. That was fun, not the most fun, but still pretty fun. Well, until ya had to go and get your head bonked. Did you think that could cure your amnesia?” He fell silent for a beat and leaned closer in, “Did it cure your amnesia?” Your knee-jerk reaction was that of distance and as if to deflect this reflex you followed with a blurted response, “No, unfortunately it doesn’t seem to work that way. Thank you for finishing off that Risen.”
His perpetual smile shifted to one of pure pride and with a twirl of his index finger complete with a dark purple magic garnish, “Nya ha. Did you notice my curse was a little different? It’s like nothing hit the ground after I blasted that meat bag! Kinda have to feel bad for the crows though. I guess I just can’t use it all the time.”
A slight chuckle rumbled through your throat, any less crow friends seemed far from likely. There was probably at least one perched outside nearby.
“I’m beat.” He exclaimed as he thumped down on the doubled up cots suited to you both and followed with an undercurrent of a whine, “You’re not going to go drool into books again, are you?” Your extended hands within the trunk of books and maps froze as did the rest of you. “I won’t be too long this time. I promise.” Your words were met with pure silence.
The unease seemed to become far from alone at this point. Henry strained, “Did I do something wrong, Robin?” The cot creaked as he shifted to sitting on the edge and his pace of speech spiked. “You only stay around me when we’re fighting the bad guys. Don’t get me wrong, I love fighting with you! It’s just-”
You slammed the trunk lid with unnecessary force, “You did nothing wrong, Henry.” After a deep breath, “There’s just somethings on my mind and you did nothing to cause that. You’ve put a lot of effort into the things I asked you and I deeply appreciate every one of them.” Brief memories of the earlier days together sprung to mind. It felt like a lifetime ago you had to correct his amorality on discontinuing that innocent lives are acceptable within crossfire.
You gingerly sat alongside him on the pragmatic bedding. “I’m sorry I made you think that it was you.” Your hand partially hovered over his own tentatively and was swiftly met with intertwined acceptance. He gripped your hand tighter, “Whew. I wracked my brains more than worms will later on over everything. Why didn’t say anything sooner? Dark magics solves a lot. It isn’t all blood and guts, ya know?” His trademark grin edged in.
A chill radiated through your spine at the thought of experimental magic of any variety, let alone the one palette that carried centuries of sheer madness. “As kind as the offer is- doesn’t it typically come with a price?”
“Well, yeah. That’s half the fun!” He followed with a more subdued, “I could test it out on those Risen. You can’t go far without being knee deep in ‘em after all. The real problem now is what your problem is.”
This seemed like the perfect time despite any actual investment to this proposed solution, yet it remained equal parts embarrassing and minuscule with the current events our entire group drove deeper into every passing day. You mused for what felt multiple eternities. “I’ve been gaining weight and I have no idea how or why.” You blurted out wrapped tightly in mumbles in tandem with your free hand clasping against your sleek sweat-stained forehead. He turned to study you or at least from what you assumed from the limited view of downcast eyes.
“Nope, you’re not cursed at least. I’d see that miles away. I’ll start testing on the deadies tomorrow.” Henry deftly scooted to his half of the mattress as he tugged your shoulder. “You’re worn. I’m worn. Let’s conk out.” A thinly veiled yelp arose as you fell into place where he coiled his arms over your torso. “That’s it?” You eventually inquired. “Huh? Was there more problems taking up all that skull space?” His words muffled into your shoulder.
“I guess not.”
“Good.”
“Please don’t experiment on the Risen, Henry.”
“Yeah. Thought so.”