[ It's late in the morning on the first day of September when Zelda awakes in her bed, much later than she normally wakes up. She's usually the moment the sun hits her bedroom window. How did she manage to oversleep so long? Zelda grumbles under her breath as she gets out of bed and pulls on her housecoat. At this rate, she's probably missed breakfast too. Link's breakfasts are always so much better than anything Zelda can cook. Time to make sub-optimal eggs or something.
It's with this frustration that Zelda trudges downstairs to the kitchen, only thinking that she's overslept by a few hours—not by almost two weeks. ]
i forgot i never set this up and fixed it as soon as i saw this LOL
[Little has changed, Link has found, by the turn of a page on the calendar. August creeps into September quietly enough that, at first, he doesn't notice at all. The day dawns as any other: early, with the thin light of dawn trickling through the windows of the treehouse. Far too quiet, Link has found, even for him, while the Princess continues her mysterious sleep. He lingers for a moment outside of the Princess's door before going downstairs, listening for a hint of stirring...but he hears nothing, and determines to check on her later, just as he has every day since she first refused to wake.
Apparently this is normal, here. Or at least, it happens sometimes. Nothing about it feels normal at all.
He maintains a level of quiet anxiousness all this time, a pot of tomato stew warming on the hearth as he fusses with things in the treehouse: halfheartedly dusting stacks of books (he wouldn't dare think to move her books or research; he made that mistake only once, long ago, and thoroughly learned his lesson.) and cleaning dishes that only ever get half-dirty, when you're cooking only for yourself. He opens his journal, taps thoughtfully on a page, and closes it again. This continues throughout the morning almost as a ritual: a knight with no one to protect and no battles to fight, looking desperately for something to do within a home where everything is already done. Later in the day, he'll go out, run errands, maybe take on a few odd jobs or see people, but for now he's in the kitchen, organizing a few monster parts and miscellaneous ingredients he was thinking about trying to make elixirs from. Trying to find a space for them that's clearly separate from food storage, since those two don't mix--
This is when he registers footsteps, and a familiar presence, and nearly drops the jar of monster fangs he was holding, awkwardly catching and juggling it for a moment before placing it on the counter with a clatter.]
You're awake.
[He's stating the obvious, of course, but he looks startled as he does, as if he doesn't quite believe it.]
[ Zelda is still foggy with sleep as she enters the kitchen. but the sudden clatter of jars on the countertop abruptly fixes that. She winces involuntarily. The sight that greets her in the kitchen feels akin to catching a cat in the middle of doing something they're not supposed to be doing—Link, with a collection of jars, staring agape at the princess as though he never would have expected to see her up and about in her own home.
All right then.
Zelda decides not to ask, instead moving to the hearth to start a kettle of water to boil. ]
I am. [ She grumbles. ] Rather later than I wanted to be. I had hoped to make an early start of my studies today, but apparently that was too much to ask.
[ How dare her body need a few hours of extra sleep, or so she thinks. ]
[Rather later indeed. Link is quiet, unsure how to respond. Where to begin. She speaks as if hardly any time has passed at all...doesn't she know?
Then he realizes -- no. She probably doesn't.
The first thing he does is tuck the materials back into the corner of the counter where they've been taking up space. He can deal with them properly later. Then he puts the pot of tomato stew back on the hearth, grateful to finally not worry about the leftovers again. Now he can begin to approach the topic.]
It's been longer than you know. [Out comes a bowl and spoon. He cracks an egg into the pot.] Two weeks, at least.
[Now that he says it, it doesn't feel as long. Not with the strange things that happened while she slept.]
[ On the eve of the 21st, Link will find a black box tied with a blue ribbon addressed to him. The following letter followed, written in gold ink: ]
Knight of Hyrule,
Tidings on this winter solstice. May you stay resilient in performing your duty.
Somnus Lucis Caelum
[ Within the box, Link will find these pair of earrings, fashioned from gold into a classical, ancient pattern-- likely dated to Somnus' own era.
Link will also find a blunt, short dagger. With a hilt decorated with gold, the blade itself is a mix of two metals swirling together. Attached to this gift is another note detailing its purpose:
◉ It is a healing item, capable of closing and curing mild-to-moderate wounds when needed. For more grievous wounds, it will be able to somewhat stem the damage, but not completely heal it. ◉ It comes with a small black belt and clip, either of which he can use to attach to her person for convenience. ◉ When used, a soft glow of blue, crystalline light will accompany the path of the blade's edge over the wound. ◉ It cannot restore the magic of others or cure ailments like poison, petrification, etc. ◉ It has up to 4 uses in a 24-hour period, after which it must recharge for 12 hrs. ◉ Being one of the first of its kind, it is rather fragile.
It's likely he's given him this because of his association to Zelda. ]
[ On Christmas morning, Link will find a neatly wrapped gift waiting for him on the kitchen table. A letter is attached, written in Zelda's pristine cursive handwriting.
Wouldn't it make more sense to give it to him in person? Zelda agonized over this decision all week. ]
Dear Link,
Do you think it strange to celebrate Goddess Day here, even though no one else does? I suppose there is Christmas, but it isn't quite the same. Last year, I gave gifts to my friends here in Reverein in honor of the Goddess. Perhaps it was silly of me, but it didn't feel right not to.
I hope you enjoy this gift. I'm sure you were looking forward to another Goddess devotional candle. So sorry to disappoint.
May the Goddess smile upon you, Zelda
[ Inside the box is, thankfully, not another of the same Goddess devotional candle that Zelda has given Link out of obligation on previous Goddess Days. It's actually a recipe book! The pages are filled with recipes shared by other dreamwalkers, most of which have been transcribed by Zelda in her familiar neat penmanship (although more than a few are written in Alastor's hand). The complexity (and, frankly, overall quality) of the recipes differ throughout the book. It doesn't seem like Zelda vetted the edibility of some of these recipes... If nothing else, it's an adventurous collection of recipes. There are also plenty of blank pages in the back for more recipes to be added later. ]
They're alright. I've only really climbed trees...and part of a mountain, but there wasn't much of a view due to all the smoke.
[Because it's totally normal to just climb an actively erupting volcano. Though it's the Goron's fault, ultimately, for living on an active volcano. But they also eat rocks, so lava might just be akin to a really hot bath to them.]
[He says it lightly, a bit like a joke. To each their own, really; not everyone likes heights, or so he's heard. But there's something quite special about climbing a mountain.
[It is alright with him, something he shows with a nod. And so the music begins -- step, two, three, repeat. Some of the dancers waltz together, swaying romantically, floating into the air. Others move with an airier step, dancing lightly across the room. Link hasn't observed the other dancers as much as his partner has, so he sticks with what he knows. In some ways, the Hyrulean waltz is a little more formal, but it's easy enough to lead or to follow that it's meant to be a backdrop. The Royal Guard's dancing instructors had called it...what had they said? "An easy dance for conversation."
That's the part he's always had trouble with, anyway.
The anonymity granted by the mask makes this a good time to...work on things like that, perhaps. Or, at least, not to feel as burdened by them. He takes his time with his words nonetheless, thinking them through. Overthinking, some might say.]
So, [he begins, a little stiffly,] How have you been finding all of this?
[He can't gesture at the party, but he nods toward the larger part of the ballroom: the dancers, the food, the activities.]
[ At first, Naminé's focus is on the dance - for the sake of her partner's feet, if for no other reason. Conscientiously she follows along, learning the steps as they move, and to her pleasant surprise, it's easier than she'd expected. (Perhaps her anticipation was too great in light of her typical experiences; Alastor's style always has been more creatively energetic than this neater, more regulated fashion.)
Presently, without knowing it to be intended, she finds she has quite a lot of room left over in her mind for conversation. It's about that time that her eyes finally lift to find Link's, and from there her focus lingers. Resumed is that analytical consideration of hers as she meets his gaze with open curiosity, hardly aware at all of doing so.
And abruptly she realizes - with the benefit of a far greater sensitivity to those same social cues - that he's perhaps as hesitant as she is, only in a different tone. Sympathy, therefore, softens her expression, where before she might have remained as stiff as he is. ]
It's... all very exciting, [ she admits, sounding thoughtful; the 'but' is implied in her tone before she actually continues. ] And a little strange.
[ Step, two, three - it's easy enough, so Naminé sets her mind to how best to connect with her companion instead. Not because they're obligated to, or because it's what's expected, but-- because she wants to ease that caution between them, that uncertainty fundamental in interacting with a stranger. Ironically, she confesses more about herself than she might so easily were she aware they knew each other prior in her, ]
Most of my life, I've been alone, so I always hoped I'd see something like this someday. But now that I'm here-- [ A beat passes as she considers how to phrase the sentiment. A little quieter, ] I guess I wasn't expecting them to make a game out of it.
[The movement helps, as Link has found; it's hard to be self-conscious about conversation or dancing when you're forced to focus on both at the same time. It may not be the most interesting style of dance --there are plenty of "country dances" in regions of Hyrule that are far more spirited-- but it's meant to be simple. In a way, Link is grateful for that...dancing has never been something for which he had a particular affinity. Maybe when he was young, but certainly not since being chosen by the Master Sword.
His partner's eyes on him call forth a feeling of knowing that he finds a little surprising. In his travels, Link has become used to a measure of anonymity not granted in his life before the Calamity...a measure he was truly grateful to have, as he struggled to find his identity amidst his lack of memories. The masks serve a similar purpose, and here, now, her gaze seems to cut through it, as if she can see who he really is beneath it. As though she knows how he is, if not who he is. It's not unnerving, exactly, but it is surprising, and for a moment, he has to focus much more intently on the dance to avoid a misstep. It's strange, really, the things that can trip you up if you aren't expecting them.
Nonetheless, he finds her words somewhat relatable. Exciting and strange...he can understand that, and nods in agreement, smiling faintly.
Here, too, he thinks cautiously about his words...and when she continues, he becomes even more glad that he held his thoughts. He has the impression that she's trusting him with something, perhaps a memory that is seldom shared. After a beat, he responds,]
... Alone?
[That is something he can understand, in ways; his time in the wild has been spent alone, for the most part, and while it can be nice to have the quiet...well, it does make for long, lonely nights. If she wants to speak more about it, he'd like to listen, but he keeps his tone gentle, in case she's not so eager to share.]
[A drop of blood falls from the curling point of a blade, the steadily growing pool rippling beneath it as it stains the polished stone floors of the throne room.
The King of Hyrule is dead.
There's screaming, distantly. Panicked courtiers and officials blur together into indistinct, watercolor crowds as they make for the doors, and the silver glint of the royal guard's halberds smear across the edges of the scene like flashes of lightning to match the rolling thunder rattling the stained glass windows above. Their cries are urgent, but muffled, drowned out and wordless as though submerged in some great body of water.
Three figures stand in sharp contrast to the hazy, unfocused chaos that surrounds them. The first is a woman - not quite as tall as Urbosa but just as imposing - a ferocity in her scarlet gaze that would make lesser men wither simply at the sight of it. Her hands grasp the small shoulders of the second figure: a girl, no older than ten years of age, bedecked in the finery and symbols of the Royal Family. The child stares, pale and motionless as a statue, at the broken body of the king, her blue eyes wide, unblinking.
Then, finally, there is the third. The one who holds the bloodied blade, standing above the king's corpse with a wicked and triumphant grin, who towers head and shoulders above everything else as though larger than life.
This is a dream. More than that, this is not Link's dream. This place, these people... he has seen none of them before. And yet, despite his appearance not matching the one he witnessed through his princess' far flung memories, Link will find that the malice that radiates off this man to be all too familiar.
[This is a dream. Link cannot pinpoint exactly what makes him realize it is a dream -- he just seems to know, instinctively, the same way he knows that the Master Sword will let him draw it from its pedestal, waking it from its long rest.
He stands before the castle for only an instant, dwarfed by it, a child decked in green and brown. The Master Sword feels heavy and huge against his small back, the strap holding it digs uncomfortably into his shoulder. This, too, is not real, and has not been real for some time. Still, he finds himself beholden to those mannerisms of his younger self, swallowing a nameless lump in his throat and moving through the dream, clutching onto the strap on his chest in an almost nervous fidgety way.
The sight within the castle is grisly and chaotic, more horrible and horrifying than anything his young eyes have laid eyes on. He sees this from the shadows of a nearby corridor: a dead body, a gray-haired woman, a sinister grin...and a young girl -- younger than he by far, no more than nine or ten.
The first time Link ever fought a monster, he was ten. They weren't nearly so common, then, but a blue Chuchu --towering over his small stature-- had ambushed his sister while she was gardening. What no one tells you about bravery is how scary it is. He remembers his heart pounding, his throat burning. He remembers the feel of his little wooden sword as it sliced clean through the gelatinous creature. How fast it all was...and how terrifying it felt. As he got older, it began to feel a little less frightening with each moment of practice, but the fear never really leaves you -- not completely. Even now, he fears a well-timed blow, a fatal mistake. Perhaps because, as an adult, he knows just how much he has to lose...
Link cannot pinpoint the moment when things change; when he moves from child to adult, from past to present, from vague dreaminess to real memories. His eyes linger on the girl for a long, long time, watching her unblinking stare, his heart wrenching in sympathy and in a nameless urge to reach out, to protect her. But he knows that man -- the look on his face, the grin. He's seen it in his dreams. It's haunted his steps, his thoughts, his every move...
At last he emerges from the shadows, clad now in the Champion's leathers that have been his most trusted companion armor for years. Impossible as it is, he draws the Master Sword, feeling the familiar hum of recognition in its hilt.
And then he steps between the Demon King and the child.]
[Link steps forward, his footfalls echoing impossibly loudly through the ancient hall, an intruder within this scene that destiny has staged. It breaks the girl of her traumatizing trace, though her eyes are no less wide as she looks up to the young man placing himself between her and almost certain death. Her gasp is a high, squeaking thing, the broken shards of her voice struggling to scrape their way out of her throat.]
You... You're not--
[--supposed to be here. A statement that is true in more than one respect, and the dream strains around the edges to account for this apparent contradiction. The walls of the throne room flicker between standing tall and lying in ruins, sometimes replaced by large glass windows and consumed by pitch black clouds at others. In one moment, the Demon King's hair is cut short, and in the next it is a blazing mane, billowing behind him alongside a blood-red cape. Even Link himself is not entirely immune to the dream's attempts to make sense of past, present, and future descending all at once, the Royal blue of his tunic briefly blending into forest green and back again, a tiny ball of light hovering about his head before vanishing into the ether once more.
Of course, the Master Sword's shine remains steadfast, eternal, regardless of the scenery surrounding it.
... As does the woman, who claps her hand over her charge's mouth, quieting her as she assesses this change in the situation, slowly and silently pulling the child back and away from the two men as Ganondorf's attention turns to Link.]
... Heh. You've got guts, kid.
[Ganondorf smirks, amused, as he flicks the blood from his blade, his confident stride as he steps over the king's corpse that of a man who has never truly experienced the kind of fear that courage is born from. He looks down at Link and his sword as one might view a toy some troublesome child left out somewhere-- a tripping hazard, perhaps, but not a true danger in any sense of the word.
Beyond his condescension, however, Link will see a mad ambition burning in his eyes, a greed so great as to be insatiable, but will be indulged in nonetheless.]
But this is not your fight. Step aside, while I'm still feeling generous.
[ On Christmas morning, Link will find Zelda already awake, dressed, and cooking breakfast in the kitchen. She was up before dawn to deliver her Goddess Day gifts and has only one left.
On the kitchen table is a sizeable parcel, wrapped in parchment and sealed in crimson wax bearing the royal crest of Hyrule. Inside, Link will find the Champion's Leathers. ]
I had an entire surprise in store for you when we finished our investigation beneath the castle. I was so certain I had come up with a trick even you would never think of.
[ She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear self-consciously. After everything that has happened, she feels a little silly about the game she had in store for Link. ]
[Something tightens in his chest at the sight of the tunic within the box, and he finds himself staring at it for perhaps a few moments too long, awed and speechless. He knew about this, of course, he had pored over every trace of her left behind after she vanished, discovering her secret journal, the carefully-preserved hair tie, the note about this very item of clothing...
It had filled him at first with the determination to find her, to rescue her from whatever prison she had been locked in so she could be there with him. After his discovery of what happened to her...it became a quest of determination, one left unfinished by his sudden reentry into Reverein.
He touches a hand delicately to the leather. Another old friend lost to him through the events that brought on the Uprising.]
I... [He hesitates. She'll probably be angry at him for snooping, but he doesn't want to hide things from her.] I found your journal, after you disappeared. But I didn't...
[... he trails off there. He never found them, himself.]
[ Zelda has to clasp her hands behind her back to keep herself from fidgeting with them as she watches Link open her gift. But she still seems to vibrate with restless energy, struggling to suppress a smile. Back in Hyrule, she waited months for this commission to be completed, having to send it back several times for alterations until she was certain it was completely perfect. Even with everything that has happened since then, her excitement is just as fresh as it was back then.
But when he doesn't immediately react at the sight of the tunic, Zelda's excitement falters. Then a little more, and a little more, with each second that ticks by as he stares at it with his inscrutable expression. Uncertainty bubbles up to fill the space left behind by deflating excitement. He hates it. Doesn't he? He must. This is the same way he used to look at all those traditional votive candles she gave him out of obligation every Goddess Day when they were kids. Oh Goddess, why did she think he would like an exact replica of the same tunic he's been wearing for years? She should've gone with the green one Cece designed---
Link's voice interrupts the train wreck that is Zelda's thoughts and she snaps back to the present. ]
You... [ A block of ice drops in the pit of her stomach. ] You found my journal?
[ Not her reconstruction journal. Her private one. The one she keeps in her secret spot, which Link is under strict orders never to enter. The one that is a diary of her innermost thoughts.
Zelda stares back at Link, wild panic suddenly overtaking her features.
OhGoddesshedidn'tfindthehairtiedidhe? If he opened the chest by her desk and found his ratty old hair tie tucked safely inside it, then she just might die right here on the spot. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
action! [backdated 9/1] (this placeholder won't stop me from giving you a surprise tag)
It's with this frustration that Zelda trudges downstairs to the kitchen, only thinking that she's overslept by a few hours—not by almost two weeks. ]
i forgot i never set this up and fixed it as soon as i saw this LOL
Apparently this is normal, here. Or at least, it happens sometimes. Nothing about it feels normal at all.
He maintains a level of quiet anxiousness all this time, a pot of tomato stew warming on the hearth as he fusses with things in the treehouse: halfheartedly dusting stacks of books (he wouldn't dare think to move her books or research; he made that mistake only once, long ago, and thoroughly learned his lesson.) and cleaning dishes that only ever get half-dirty, when you're cooking only for yourself. He opens his journal, taps thoughtfully on a page, and closes it again. This continues throughout the morning almost as a ritual: a knight with no one to protect and no battles to fight, looking desperately for something to do within a home where everything is already done. Later in the day, he'll go out, run errands, maybe take on a few odd jobs or see people, but for now he's in the kitchen, organizing a few monster parts and miscellaneous ingredients he was thinking about trying to make elixirs from. Trying to find a space for them that's clearly separate from food storage, since those two don't mix--
This is when he registers footsteps, and a familiar presence, and nearly drops the jar of monster fangs he was holding, awkwardly catching and juggling it for a moment before placing it on the counter with a clatter.]
You're awake.
[He's stating the obvious, of course, but he looks startled as he does, as if he doesn't quite believe it.]
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All right then.
Zelda decides not to ask, instead moving to the hearth to start a kettle of water to boil. ]
I am. [ She grumbles. ] Rather later than I wanted to be. I had hoped to make an early start of my studies today, but apparently that was too much to ask.
[ How dare her body need a few hours of extra sleep, or so she thinks. ]
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Then he realizes -- no. She probably doesn't.
The first thing he does is tuck the materials back into the corner of the counter where they've been taking up space. He can deal with them properly later. Then he puts the pot of tomato stew back on the hearth, grateful to finally not worry about the leftovers again. Now he can begin to approach the topic.]
It's been longer than you know. [Out comes a bowl and spoon. He cracks an egg into the pot.] Two weeks, at least.
[Now that he says it, it doesn't feel as long. Not with the strange things that happened while she slept.]
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🎀
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Knight of Hyrule,
Tidings on this winter solstice. May you stay resilient in performing your duty.
Somnus Lucis Caelum
[ Within the box, Link will find these pair of earrings, fashioned from gold into a classical, ancient pattern-- likely dated to Somnus' own era.
Link will also find a blunt, short dagger. With a hilt decorated with gold, the blade itself is a mix of two metals swirling together. Attached to this gift is another note detailing its purpose:
◉ It is a healing item, capable of closing and curing mild-to-moderate wounds when needed. For more grievous wounds, it will be able to somewhat stem the damage, but not completely heal it.
◉ It comes with a small black belt and clip, either of which he can use to attach to her person for convenience.
◉ When used, a soft glow of blue, crystalline light will accompany the path of the blade's edge over the wound.
◉ It cannot restore the magic of others or cure ailments like poison, petrification, etc.
◉ It has up to 4 uses in a 24-hour period, after which it must recharge for 12 hrs.
◉ Being one of the first of its kind, it is rather fragile.
It's likely he's given him this because of his association to Zelda. ]
belated christmas present
Wouldn't it make more sense to give it to him in person? Zelda agonized over this decision all week. ]
[ Inside the box is, thankfully, not another of the same Goddess devotional candle that Zelda has given Link out of obligation on previous Goddess Days. It's actually a recipe book! The pages are filled with recipes shared by other dreamwalkers, most of which have been transcribed by Zelda in her familiar neat penmanship (although more than a few are written in Alastor's hand). The complexity (and, frankly, overall quality) of the recipes differ throughout the book. It doesn't seem like Zelda vetted the edibility of some of these recipes... If nothing else, it's an adventurous collection of recipes. There are also plenty of blank pages in the back for more recipes to be added later. ]
MASQUERADE OVERFLOW
LINK @timesensitive
Link shakes his head at the question, leaning forward a bit to look down at the festivities.]
Not specifically. But I like heights. What about you?
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They're alright. I've only really climbed trees...and part of a mountain, but there wasn't much of a view due to all the smoke.
[Because it's totally normal to just climb an actively erupting volcano. Though it's the Goron's fault, ultimately, for living on an active volcano. But they also eat rocks, so lava might just be akin to a really hot bath to them.]
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[He says it lightly, a bit like a joke. To each their own, really; not everyone likes heights, or so he's heard. But there's something quite special about climbing a mountain.
A beat. Wait, what?] ... Smoke?
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NAMINÉ @lethechained
That's the part he's always had trouble with, anyway.
The anonymity granted by the mask makes this a good time to...work on things like that, perhaps. Or, at least, not to feel as burdened by them. He takes his time with his words nonetheless, thinking them through. Overthinking, some might say.]
So, [he begins, a little stiffly,] How have you been finding all of this?
[He can't gesture at the party, but he nods toward the larger part of the ballroom: the dancers, the food, the activities.]
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Presently, without knowing it to be intended, she finds she has quite a lot of room left over in her mind for conversation. It's about that time that her eyes finally lift to find Link's, and from there her focus lingers. Resumed is that analytical consideration of hers as she meets his gaze with open curiosity, hardly aware at all of doing so.
And abruptly she realizes - with the benefit of a far greater sensitivity to those same social cues - that he's perhaps as hesitant as she is, only in a different tone. Sympathy, therefore, softens her expression, where before she might have remained as stiff as he is. ]
It's... all very exciting, [ she admits, sounding thoughtful; the 'but' is implied in her tone before she actually continues. ] And a little strange.
[ Step, two, three - it's easy enough, so Naminé sets her mind to how best to connect with her companion instead. Not because they're obligated to, or because it's what's expected, but-- because she wants to ease that caution between them, that uncertainty fundamental in interacting with a stranger. Ironically, she confesses more about herself than she might so easily were she aware they knew each other prior in her, ]
Most of my life, I've been alone, so I always hoped I'd see something like this someday. But now that I'm here-- [ A beat passes as she considers how to phrase the sentiment. A little quieter, ] I guess I wasn't expecting them to make a game out of it.
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His partner's eyes on him call forth a feeling of knowing that he finds a little surprising. In his travels, Link has become used to a measure of anonymity not granted in his life before the Calamity...a measure he was truly grateful to have, as he struggled to find his identity amidst his lack of memories. The masks serve a similar purpose, and here, now, her gaze seems to cut through it, as if she can see who he really is beneath it. As though she knows how he is, if not who he is. It's not unnerving, exactly, but it is surprising, and for a moment, he has to focus much more intently on the dance to avoid a misstep. It's strange, really, the things that can trip you up if you aren't expecting them.
Nonetheless, he finds her words somewhat relatable. Exciting and strange...he can understand that, and nods in agreement, smiling faintly.
Here, too, he thinks cautiously about his words...and when she continues, he becomes even more glad that he held his thoughts. He has the impression that she's trusting him with something, perhaps a memory that is seldom shared. After a beat, he responds,]
... Alone?
[That is something he can understand, in ways; his time in the wild has been spent alone, for the most part, and while it can be nice to have the quiet...well, it does make for long, lonely nights. If she wants to speak more about it, he'd like to listen, but he keeps his tone gentle, in case she's not so eager to share.]
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accidental dreamshare; double the demon king double the fun
The King of Hyrule is dead.
There's screaming, distantly. Panicked courtiers and officials blur together into indistinct, watercolor crowds as they make for the doors, and the silver glint of the royal guard's halberds smear across the edges of the scene like flashes of lightning to match the rolling thunder rattling the stained glass windows above. Their cries are urgent, but muffled, drowned out and wordless as though submerged in some great body of water.
Three figures stand in sharp contrast to the hazy, unfocused chaos that surrounds them. The first is a woman - not quite as tall as Urbosa but just as imposing - a ferocity in her scarlet gaze that would make lesser men wither simply at the sight of it. Her hands grasp the small shoulders of the second figure: a girl, no older than ten years of age, bedecked in the finery and symbols of the Royal Family. The child stares, pale and motionless as a statue, at the broken body of the king, her blue eyes wide, unblinking.
Then, finally, there is the third. The one who holds the bloodied blade, standing above the king's corpse with a wicked and triumphant grin, who towers head and shoulders above everything else as though larger than life.
This is a dream. More than that, this is not Link's dream. This place, these people... he has seen none of them before. And yet, despite his appearance not matching the one he witnessed through his princess' far flung memories, Link will find that the malice that radiates off this man to be all too familiar.
He is Ganondorf Dragmire. The Demon King.
And his gaze is turning to the girl.]
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He stands before the castle for only an instant, dwarfed by it, a child decked in green and brown. The Master Sword feels heavy and huge against his small back, the strap holding it digs uncomfortably into his shoulder. This, too, is not real, and has not been real for some time. Still, he finds himself beholden to those mannerisms of his younger self, swallowing a nameless lump in his throat and moving through the dream, clutching onto the strap on his chest in an almost nervous fidgety way.
The sight within the castle is grisly and chaotic, more horrible and horrifying than anything his young eyes have laid eyes on. He sees this from the shadows of a nearby corridor: a dead body, a gray-haired woman, a sinister grin...and a young girl -- younger than he by far, no more than nine or ten.
The first time Link ever fought a monster, he was ten. They weren't nearly so common, then, but a blue Chuchu --towering over his small stature-- had ambushed his sister while she was gardening. What no one tells you about bravery is how scary it is. He remembers his heart pounding, his throat burning. He remembers the feel of his little wooden sword as it sliced clean through the gelatinous creature. How fast it all was...and how terrifying it felt. As he got older, it began to feel a little less frightening with each moment of practice, but the fear never really leaves you -- not completely. Even now, he fears a well-timed blow, a fatal mistake. Perhaps because, as an adult, he knows just how much he has to lose...
Link cannot pinpoint the moment when things change; when he moves from child to adult, from past to present, from vague dreaminess to real memories. His eyes linger on the girl for a long, long time, watching her unblinking stare, his heart wrenching in sympathy and in a nameless urge to reach out, to protect her. But he knows that man -- the look on his face, the grin. He's seen it in his dreams. It's haunted his steps, his thoughts, his every move...
At last he emerges from the shadows, clad now in the Champion's leathers that have been his most trusted companion armor for years. Impossible as it is, he draws the Master Sword, feeling the familiar hum of recognition in its hilt.
And then he steps between the Demon King and the child.]
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You... You're not--
[--supposed to be here. A statement that is true in more than one respect, and the dream strains around the edges to account for this apparent contradiction. The walls of the throne room flicker between standing tall and lying in ruins, sometimes replaced by large glass windows and consumed by pitch black clouds at others. In one moment, the Demon King's hair is cut short, and in the next it is a blazing mane, billowing behind him alongside a blood-red cape. Even Link himself is not entirely immune to the dream's attempts to make sense of past, present, and future descending all at once, the Royal blue of his tunic briefly blending into forest green and back again, a tiny ball of light hovering about his head before vanishing into the ether once more.
Of course, the Master Sword's shine remains steadfast, eternal, regardless of the scenery surrounding it.
... As does the woman, who claps her hand over her charge's mouth, quieting her as she assesses this change in the situation, slowly and silently pulling the child back and away from the two men as Ganondorf's attention turns to Link.]
... Heh. You've got guts, kid.
[Ganondorf smirks, amused, as he flicks the blood from his blade, his confident stride as he steps over the king's corpse that of a man who has never truly experienced the kind of fear that courage is born from. He looks down at Link and his sword as one might view a toy some troublesome child left out somewhere-- a tripping hazard, perhaps, but not a true danger in any sense of the word.
Beyond his condescension, however, Link will see a mad ambition burning in his eyes, a greed so great as to be insatiable, but will be indulged in nonetheless.]
But this is not your fight. Step aside, while I'm still feeling generous.
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action
On the kitchen table is a sizeable parcel, wrapped in parchment and sealed in crimson wax bearing the royal crest of Hyrule. Inside, Link will find the Champion's Leathers. ]
I had an entire surprise in store for you when we finished our investigation beneath the castle. I was so certain I had come up with a trick even you would never think of.
[ She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear self-consciously. After everything that has happened, she feels a little silly about the game she had in store for Link. ]
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It had filled him at first with the determination to find her, to rescue her from whatever prison she had been locked in so she could be there with him. After his discovery of what happened to her...it became a quest of determination, one left unfinished by his sudden reentry into Reverein.
He touches a hand delicately to the leather. Another old friend lost to him through the events that brought on the Uprising.]
I... [He hesitates. She'll probably be angry at him for snooping, but he doesn't want to hide things from her.] I found your journal, after you disappeared. But I didn't...
[... he trails off there. He never found them, himself.]
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But when he doesn't immediately react at the sight of the tunic, Zelda's excitement falters. Then a little more, and a little more, with each second that ticks by as he stares at it with his inscrutable expression. Uncertainty bubbles up to fill the space left behind by deflating excitement. He hates it. Doesn't he? He must. This is the same way he used to look at all those traditional votive candles she gave him out of obligation every Goddess Day when they were kids. Oh Goddess, why did she think he would like an exact replica of the same tunic he's been wearing for years? She should've gone with the green one Cece designed---
Link's voice interrupts the train wreck that is Zelda's thoughts and she snaps back to the present. ]
You... [ A block of ice drops in the pit of her stomach. ] You found my journal?
[ Not her reconstruction journal. Her private one. The one she keeps in her secret spot, which Link is under strict orders never to enter. The one that is a diary of her innermost thoughts.
Zelda stares back at Link, wild panic suddenly overtaking her features.
OhGoddesshedidn'tfindthehairtiedidhe? If he opened the chest by her desk and found his ratty old hair tie tucked safely inside it, then she just might die right here on the spot. ]
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and they mutually decided to never speak of the hair tie
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rly important plot heavy txt from zelda2
I'M DEAD
Who?
Gorons...??
[That's the only thing that makes sense, right? Who else would party with rocks??]
Zelda. Are you alright?
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[ Surely this is helpful? ]
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sender: beat | backdated to 02/03
oh boy this is gonna get so dumb
sure will be!
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