[ Zelda feels herself swell with joy at Link's words and clasps her hands together against her chest, beaming at him. He really likes it! ]
Really? Oh, I'm so glad! I've had it in mind for quite some time now. At first, I thought to simply sew you a new one, but we were always so busy with the restoration that I couldn't find the time to spare for it. Especially because I wanted it to be a surprise, which meant I would only be able to work on it when we were at home in Hateno and only when I was certain you would not accidentally interrupt me while I was working on it.
So I thought, "Oh, I will commission Cece! It will be the perfect thing to help her out of her creative slump." And it certainly did the trick, because she had all sorts of unique- [ read: wild ] -iterations on the original design. We went back and forth for quite some time before I finally realized I actually didn't want to change the design at all. Cece even suggested a different color and I immediately nixed the idea. I am so fond of the Champions' garb, you know.
[ Oh, is she babbling? Zelda's story stumbles to a rather abrupt ending. Link probably didn't need all of this background information about his gift. But her words are proof of just how much she has thought about this gift, how special it is to her. She's happy to know that he feels the same. ]
She's babbling, and Link takes it all in anyway, absorbing every word; listening, really listening, as she goes through the whole story, as if he really can't think of anywhere else he'd rather be or anything he'd rather be listening to. Perhaps he can't. He is quite fond of her, after all.
He's terribly fond of the Champion's tunic, too, which is usually less evident but no less true. Like the Master Sword, it carried him through so much -- a companion, one lost to time, or so he thought. Being reunited with it, even here...it's more special than he will put into words. More special than he could put into words, perhaps. There is a faint hint of smile in his expression, though -- soft, subtle, but no less there.
... All at once, he stops, pulls his hand back, looks to the stairs.]
I'll be right back.
[He's been making (you know, his version of) doe eyes at this present without retrieving hers for long enough that it just feels rude. She'll hear him take the stairs by twos and then shuffling around in his room.]
[ Link's version of doe eyes does not go unnoticed by Zelda, even amidst her rambles, and the sight makes her stomach fill with butterflies. She loves that look. Especially when it's directed at her. She can get lost in it.
So it feels abrupt when he suddenly retracts his hand and announces that he'll be right back. ]
Hmm? Why--?
[ And he's already gone, leaving Zelda staring blankly at the space he just vacated.
Because it hasn't occured to her that he might have a Goddess Day present for her too.
So she goes back to the stove (oh shoot, breakfast got a little burnt while she wasn't paying attention) while she waits for him to return, listening with amusement to the thumping and shuffling noises above her. ]
[It is possible, perhaps, that he had not yet wrapped her gift before charging up the stairs.
It is possible, as well, that he had been keeping this gift for some time, tucked away under his bed. It does seem somewhat dusty.
What is nonetheless true is that he comes downstairs with a package, one that looks hastily-wrapped (and indeed there is a piece of loose tape stuck to his sleeve, which he quickly retrieves and shoves into a pocket) but still well cared for. He hands it to her.
Inside, she will find a wooden box emblazoned with a woodburned Sundelion. Inside the box is a set of gardening tools: sharp shears for propagation, a shovel for replanting, cloths for wiping leaves, an elegant spray mister, and a watering can -- each with a similar Sundelion in their wooden handles.
Four years have changed many things, but...her care to the plants that have survived their various absences has not gone unnoticed.]
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no subject
Really? Oh, I'm so glad! I've had it in mind for quite some time now. At first, I thought to simply sew you a new one, but we were always so busy with the restoration that I couldn't find the time to spare for it. Especially because I wanted it to be a surprise, which meant I would only be able to work on it when we were at home in Hateno and only when I was certain you would not accidentally interrupt me while I was working on it.
So I thought, "Oh, I will commission Cece! It will be the perfect thing to help her out of her creative slump." And it certainly did the trick, because she had all sorts of unique- [ read: wild ] -iterations on the original design. We went back and forth for quite some time before I finally realized I actually didn't want to change the design at all. Cece even suggested a different color and I immediately nixed the idea. I am so fond of the Champions' garb, you know.
[ Oh, is she babbling? Zelda's story stumbles to a rather abrupt ending. Link probably didn't need all of this background information about his gift. But her words are proof of just how much she has thought about this gift, how special it is to her. She's happy to know that he feels the same. ]
no subject
She's babbling.
She's babbling, and Link takes it all in anyway, absorbing every word; listening, really listening, as she goes through the whole story, as if he really can't think of anywhere else he'd rather be or anything he'd rather be listening to. Perhaps he can't. He is quite fond of her, after all.
He's terribly fond of the Champion's tunic, too, which is usually less evident but no less true. Like the Master Sword, it carried him through so much -- a companion, one lost to time, or so he thought. Being reunited with it, even here...it's more special than he will put into words. More special than he could put into words, perhaps. There is a faint hint of smile in his expression, though -- soft, subtle, but no less there.
... All at once, he stops, pulls his hand back, looks to the stairs.]
I'll be right back.
[He's been making (you know, his version of) doe eyes at this present without retrieving hers for long enough that it just feels rude. She'll hear him take the stairs by twos and then shuffling around in his room.]
no subject
So it feels abrupt when he suddenly retracts his hand and announces that he'll be right back. ]
Hmm? Why--?
[ And he's already gone, leaving Zelda staring blankly at the space he just vacated.
Because it hasn't occured to her that he might have a Goddess Day present for her too.
So she goes back to the stove (oh shoot, breakfast got a little burnt while she wasn't paying attention) while she waits for him to return, listening with amusement to the thumping and shuffling noises above her. ]
no subject
It is possible, as well, that he had been keeping this gift for some time, tucked away under his bed. It does seem somewhat dusty.
What is nonetheless true is that he comes downstairs with a package, one that looks hastily-wrapped (and indeed there is a piece of loose tape stuck to his sleeve, which he quickly retrieves and shoves into a pocket) but still well cared for. He hands it to her.
Inside, she will find a wooden box emblazoned with a woodburned Sundelion. Inside the box is a set of gardening tools: sharp shears for propagation, a shovel for replanting, cloths for wiping leaves, an elegant spray mister, and a watering can -- each with a similar Sundelion in their wooden handles.
Four years have changed many things, but...her care to the plants that have survived their various absences has not gone unnoticed.]