Who: Robin and Marian What: Feels? Missing their friends and probably being generally precious When: Backdated slightly to Sunday night, after this. Where: Marian's apartment Warnings: TBD
Marian should have been used to losing people. She'd been very young when her mother had died, and it hadn't stopped there. People in the village who she'd known and cared for died often, thanks to disease and fighting and hunger. She'd lost Robin to the war, even if he'd come back to her eventually. And, most recently, her father. But it never got easier. And she knew the same had to be true for Robin. He lost people so often. It wasn't fair, nor was it right. The position he'd been put in so many times over, it was cruel.
And one day, it would be her he lost. No, that wasn't lost on her. Just something she chose to keep very well buried.
Now three more people who were important to him were gone as well. One who meant a great deal to her, too. She'd always liked Oliver. He understood the love of the bow better than most in this century. They'd grown closer at camp and she considered him a true friend. Now? Now he was gone. And it was cruel and she hated it and what she really needed was to find that safe place in Robin's arms and remind herself that he was still there.
She'd put the kettle on for tea, finding herself taking comfort in the actions of putting the drink together. Everyone she'd spoken with had been right. The drink itself was comforting, the act of drinking it was, as well, and even making it had something to be said for it. She found herself in a sort of reverie before she heard the knock at the door. Wiping her hands on the skirt she wore, she hurried to the door. Even if they decided against living together, she should at least see that he had a key. He deserved one.