[Each of them is speaking through the other, lost and lonely souls seeking out familiar reflections in fractured mirrors. The girl recognizes this, at least in part; for all that their melodies repeat in an endless refrain, those words of ardent devotion are sung in a different key from her own. Still, that does not mean they aren't beautiful. She's soothed by them, just the same, tension gradually fading even as he holds onto her with such fervent desperation.
She sniffles a bit, still, but she loosens her grip on his tunic to wrap her little arms about his shoulders to return his embrace.]
Mmm. If that's what you want, then... I know you can.
[She's not the one those words were meant for, but if it's for the sake of returning a bit of the comfort she's taken from them, she can pretend, just a little. Because all of them make the same plea, because all of them believe the same thing.]
I'll always have faith in you. [Finally, a smile, girlish and true.] You can do anything!
[He touches a hand to her cheek; it's so much smaller than he expected, even through his memories. Was his sister this young, or older? Is there a world where he returned to find her safe and sound? The pain is brief and dull, an old wound aching before a rainstorm. He weathers the feeling as he always does, but one calloused thumb brushes away the tears beneath her eye.
He is not the one those words are meant for, he thinks; some other Zelda waiting for some other Link, some other peril, some other triumph waiting for them...
And yet they are the same. Interlocking destinies.
Something about the childlike honesty of her words twists in his chest, a knife between the ribs, and she doesn't mean it at all, but her faith in him seems oddly misplaced, for a moment. It feels disingenuous to accept it.]
I'm sorry. I failed. [--failed her. failed you. His voice is small, and there's a gentleness to the sad tenor of his words. It's not depreciation or admonishment if it's true, and he is nothing if not blunt with his honesty in his moment. Because this is what happened, and despite their unusual relationship with time, he-- he cannot change it.
... He wonders, for a moment, if other Links throughout time have had this same relationship with failure. If they, too, have had to lose everything just for the chance to fight for it.
The dream begins to thin, just a bit, in a way that he can only recognize because he has seen so many of them by now. The light is just a little paler, their voices just a little more hollow. And at the same time, countless voices crowd his mind, other heroes, other farmboys and children and knights with a heavy burden upon their shoulders. Tied together by their destiny. Wait for me. I'm coming. I'm going to--]
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She sniffles a bit, still, but she loosens her grip on his tunic to wrap her little arms about his shoulders to return his embrace.]
Mmm. If that's what you want, then... I know you can.
[She's not the one those words were meant for, but if it's for the sake of returning a bit of the comfort she's taken from them, she can pretend, just a little. Because all of them make the same plea, because all of them believe the same thing.]
I'll always have faith in you. [Finally, a smile, girlish and true.] You can do anything!
no subject
He is not the one those words are meant for, he thinks; some other Zelda waiting for some other Link, some other peril, some other triumph waiting for them...
And yet they are the same. Interlocking destinies.
Something about the childlike honesty of her words twists in his chest, a knife between the ribs, and she doesn't mean it at all, but her faith in him seems oddly misplaced, for a moment. It feels disingenuous to accept it.]
I'm sorry. I failed. [--failed her. failed you. His voice is small, and there's a gentleness to the sad tenor of his words. It's not depreciation or admonishment if it's true, and he is nothing if not blunt with his honesty in his moment. Because this is what happened, and despite their unusual relationship with time, he-- he cannot change it.
... He wonders, for a moment, if other Links throughout time have had this same relationship with failure. If they, too, have had to lose everything just for the chance to fight for it.
The dream begins to thin, just a bit, in a way that he can only recognize because he has seen so many of them by now. The light is just a little paler, their voices just a little more hollow. And at the same time, countless voices crowd his mind, other heroes, other farmboys and children and knights with a heavy burden upon their shoulders. Tied together by their destiny. Wait for me. I'm coming. I'm going to--]
I'm going to make it right.