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.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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.]