#fragmentedlegends

[fiiirsthero]

@fragmentedlegends replied to your post “@goddessofliiight replied to your post “"Hylia and...”:

Demise doesn't want the house or the bank accounts. He just wants to kill that Annoying Fucking Twink. "Hylia Honey Sweetheart Baby Darling—PLEASE for the love of ME let me end him."

​"Nuh-uh. I'm classified as a pet and I'm pretty sure she paid my adoption fee, so I think that means I'm hers."

[sanguinesorcery]

The mourner was back.

Fariah could not see the faerie. Faeries were incapable of entering the Imperial Palace Complex, owing to the concentric circles of iron placed in the foundations of the buildings all around it. But she could hear it, so it had to be sitting just out of sight beyond the walls.

She hated to say it, but the faer creature was a comfort in the past several years. Despite only crying when someone was about to die, the wilted ruin of thirteen islands beyond the windows told her that death would be a mercy to all it descended on. Turyl was not adept enough to make the dead suffer as well.

A crackle echoed around the audience hall and caused her to startle a little at it. It was an unusual sound here, though in her mind and memory, she heard the hidden door beneath the statue of Katya at the back of the hall open. She half-expected to see the shadow darkening the dais as she turned to face it, pulling instinctively into herself to lessen the coming blow for being so near the windows again.

The corpse-eater was shifting. Sensory memories of the sight and sound of him had panicked her into ignoring the unfamiliar tug of being bonded to the sibilant plant, living rapidly by her hand in the final dangerous gambit of her own coup. The one that would set things right, as it was supposed to be. She had taken the throne back, she thought.

But the curse hadn't lifted yet. Everything was still in ruin, seedlings from other territories in the expanded Empire died immediately on being planted in the soil of The Three and Ten. The Oracles had said the throne was still his a week ago when they came to install the enchanted glass around the voracious vine and its unwilling captive. She had bound him to her father's throne, the ancestral throne that had sat on the dais beneath the wrathful gaze of Katya's imagery for nearly twenty generations. That had to be it, something so simple as a piece of furniture. Oracle curses could be literal, and she would not have put it passed her mother to make it so...

The vine twisted as it felt ripples of distress wafting off of her, the flowers opened to stare. Corpse-eaters were not normally so active, called such in part to their benign composting nature and in part to the little skull-shaped centers in their vivid red blooms. A slow-growing and moving plant, they did not act like this. Was it because she had forced it to life with blood? Or was it tampered with beforehand? It was given from her mother's sister who had also been born cloud-eyed, so perhaps it was given a little extra something for her own revenge.

For a moment, she focused on the way the vines shifted and moved, kept from poking the glass by a circle she herself had written to give it a buffer between barriers. Down to the grotesque way Turyl's corpse was beginning to digest in the thing's sinister grasp. The way the shifting tendrils caused his head to cant curiously to the side with a sickening squelch of decomposing muscles and although the eyes were among the first soft organs to feed the corpse-eater, the empty sockets seemed scornful.

She backed further down the rug running the center of the main chamber, diverting her gaze from him and turning toward the doors to the main corridor. The leaves on the vine rattled, she could hear him shift, move. His breath on the back of her neck, the way his fingers like claws gripped her shoulders where he had left bruises in the past before she could start running. You thought you were rid of me? I'm almost hurt.

The mourner was still weeping.

She did not remember if she cried out, only that Ildra was there. Stout sturdy Ildra, having come through the doors to banish the ghost and hold her Imperial close.

">>Oh hush, you confounded beast<<!"

Fariah could not recall any time the stately attendant had been so loud and harsh and although it made her jump a little, the faerie outside the walls making a discontented noise at being told to be quiet, it wound down into silence. Ildra turned her attention back to her charge, still clung to her clothing as though she were a terrified child. A wipe of her fingertips over her cheekbones, a light purse of her lips at the sight of the healing bruise just beneath the left eye.

">>...You really should not be flailing about, Your Imperial Grace.<<" she scolded, clearly trying to divert attention away from what had upset the younger woman. ">>You will open the sacrificial wound and bleed out doing that, and we really cannot afford to lose our Imperial now.<<"

">>...I'm not feeling very 'Imperial', right now...<<" Fariah muttered, her ears pinning closer to her head, though her hand went to the bandaging around her neck. It didn't feel sticky or loose, at least, so that was a point off her mind.

">>...I'm not going to hide it from you, you probably will not feel right for some time. But know Eyrol and I are still here for you, regardless. A small cabinet we may be, but we are a cabinet to ease you in such challenging transitions nonetheless.<<" Ildra pulled her to stand carefully, paying mind to how she reacted to being tugged and shuffled as she straightened the dress she wore. ">>...Now. I need you to act like nothing is wrong. We have a guest from the mainland, of all places.<<"

It took a second to process the news. ">>What do you mean 'a guest'.<<"

">>Exactly as it sounds.<<" Ildra continued, pulling her carefully toward the dais. ">>The mainland ferries are running once more. We have not had foreign visitors since your father's reign...<<"

">>But ... Ildra, we are not ready to receive guests!<<" Fariah protested, trying to ignore the way her body froze as she pushed herself where Ildra wanted her to stand, pulling the Aeroglaive from its hidden pocket on her skirt to grip it as though it would help relieve her growing stress. It was a small comfort that Ildra herself stood between her and the glass prison.

">>Which is why you need to be prepared now. Chin up, look proud. Despite everything, you need to be a monolith. Imperial Sidhe does not bow, or bend, or break. And be wary.<<" The older Sidhe woman added on with sufficient pause to draw attention to the incoming warning, ">>The capital is in disarray. There are vultures circling.<<"

@fragmentedlegends for Astor || Plotted Starter

[ikarosxflight]

"Ya know-icus, the prettiest women have their name ending in A-icus."

Palutena, Urbosa, Zelda, Mipha, Hylia, Megara, Aqua- He can go on; let him simp here for a moment and adore these lovely ladies and their uniqueness.

[gloryseized]

@fragmentedlegends || [ cont. ]

Link's hands pull back slightly from where he tapped at the noble's robs, cowed briefly by the haughty stare and overall appearance. He's not fully sure what made him reach out, considering he very rarely approached anyone at court besides the other knight trainees and his knight-trainers, but perhaps curiosity got the better of him.

He fingerspelled the man's name. Right palm leveled out at his eyeline, left pointer and middle fingers splitting into a 'V' to pass underneath the hand. Then both hands shape out either side of his own torso. << Astor. The Prophet. >> he clarifies.

[dullweapons]

❝ goddesses , can those two gays just kiss already . watchin' 'em bitching at each other like its foreplay is ann⸻❞

" In front of Lord GANON?! "

.... don't mind ray he's just watching now . maybe it is foreplay for them .

[flameleadsarc]

@regnantlight / @fragmentedlegends replied to this post: Zelda, already on her horse and looking at him a bit confused and hurt: You aren’t coming..? Rhoam: Ho ho! Of course he is! Come along now, Fuhrer Mustang.

"No no, I'm going to stay here. I... I did not sleep well last night, Your Highness. I should get some rest." Already, he took a couple of steps back. "Please carry on without me."

[strifeshe]

@fragmentedlegends (Demise)

❝ silence. have you forgotten who i am? ❞

𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐒. Oh, if the air could freeze, it does, actually. The chill is so quick that it snaps and pops hale into existence; malformed and twisted. "Have I forgotten who you are?" Disbelief takes a backseat to mockery in her tone. "Clearly, you've forgotten what you are." The mist of her form twists into a writhing mass of snakes and they hiss. "A daemon, a brute. A little man. A little gnat." Her fingers graze over the demon king's chin, down to the chest, and quickly rise up as a blade that nicks the jaw.

"Do not make me remind you."

[hyruleanlegends]

@fragmentedlegends

How many years had it been? Ten, twenty-- thousand?

It must have been. This Hyrule, this place, was not the same as the one that Sheik had been forced asleep in. Everything was different, and the slow realization that he was now in a world completely foreign to himself was an uneasy yet steady lick of anxiety slowly worming its way through his core.

How was he supposed to perform his duty if he was just as blind and hopeless as the Hero he was meant to guide?

It was a concern, a worry, that Sheik could deal with later. He might have been in an alien land, but at least he still had his memories - something that he could not say about his companion. And, as if to drive this point home, red eyes shifted over to look at the other man.

"Do you truly not remember anything prior to your sleep?"

[sapientiiae]

@fragmentedlegends Ganondorf: Marigold, Narcissus, Snapdragon

send zelda flowers! Marigold: i am crueler than you can possibly know Narcissus: i cannot and will not apologize for my ego Snapdragon: you are being deceived; i wish to show you the truth @fragmentedlegends

It had been a long day, and her muscles ached, protesting against each step she took until she was at least able to duck into her tent. Soldiers were still scurrying about the campsite, some finally crawling into bed (just as she intended to), some swapping out with their comrades to take the next round of patrol duty, while others were at last given a moment to eat and replenish their energy.

After the battle at the Temple of Souls, their forces were still working to restock supplies and finish tending to the wounded. A small faction of the troops were assigned to scout the border of the Gerudo Desert after hearing whispers of creatures stirring in the region, and it was those warriors that found themselves ambushed by a horde of monsters.

Luckily, Zelda and Impa had been nearby with their own band of soldiers, having gone to assist at the rendezvous point for the latest supply run.

That ability to rush over and join the battle had exhausted enormous amounts of energy on the Princess of Hyrule’s part, but it had likely saved the lives of most of the members of that smaller faction. For that reason, it had been worth it; it would always be worth it, so long as there were lives that were saved.

Despite the cot that beckoned to her — exhaust weighing heavy on her limbs — Zelda forced herself over to the desk where a map of Hyrule was still laid out. She may have yearned for sleep, but she knew she needed to at least draft a report on the day’s events before she even thought to let her head hit the pillow that was becoming more and more alluring with the passing of each second.

A weary sigh pushed from chapped lips as the Supreme Leader of the Hyrulean Army collapsed into the chair, muscles seeming to silently groan as she reached out to grab the journal she’d used to record the events of each day, regardless of how small or insignificant something might seem. Flipping through the parchment, blurred lines of ink flashed before her eyes as Zelda searched for the next empty page, waiting to have her observations recorded. 

So one might imagine her distress when her thumbing revealed an arrangement of pressed flowers between the otherwise empty pages she’d sought. Despite their flattened and already drying state, the princess felt fairly confident in her assessment of which flowers had been left behind for her to find. Marigolds represented unfathomable cruelty, Narcissus symbolized an unwavering ego (and being unapologetic for it), and Snapdragons implied deception and an offer to guide someone towards enlightenment. The meanings and very clear message were a mockery to the brilliant arrangement of colors that should have been as radiant and welcoming as the sun.

This message provided no warmth; her blood ran cold in her veins as she took notice of the neat penmanship beneath the array of pressed flowers — that was Ganondorf’s signature.

Zelda bolted to her feet, nearly toppling over the chair with her quick movement as she stared down in horror at the open pages. How had Ganondorf gotten her notebook? Had he been here? In her tent? 

Her heart lurched, hammering at a wild beat against her ribs as she spun on the ball of her foot, rushing from her tent. She needed to warn the sentinels and have every inch of their encampment searched. She needed to ensure the grounds were secure and there would be no additional surprises waiting for them tonight.

[dutifulsilence]

@fragmentedlegends sent: Astor “Nervous? Whatever for, Hero?” (I read your tags and Astor immediately said, “Oh good, let’s fuck with them.” 🤣)

« Nervous about pasty hooded figures speaking to me from the shadows. » It's signed with all wide, fluid motions to denote his sarcasm, but truthfully, there is a hint of truth to it. Link doesn't trust the man at all, with good reason - their first meeting in the Lost Woods was enough to judge him by.

« Shouldn't you be prostrating in front of some relic of the Calamity about now? »

[serandipity]

@fragmentedlegends hit the like on the starter call for Hylia

There were few things from other realms that crossed into her domain, and none ever escaped her noticed sans one. Hylia had been chasing something else only to find she'd drawn her blade upon Demise, "Lord Demise...?! When did you cross into my realm? Moreover, that presence I felt earlier-- was that you?"

[fiiirsthero]

@fragmentedlegends replied to your post “"Hylia and Demise sittin' in a tree-"”:

K-I-L-L-I-N-G I mean what

​He nods sagely.

"That's how she shows she loves you."

[sanguinesorcery]

@fragmentedlegends (Link)

”There’s a storm coming.”

Semi-prompted Prompts || Always Accepting

Hearing the words coming from the Hylian made Markesh's ears twitch. It wasn't that he wasn't paying attention to the other's presence amid the setting of the border line, or that he couldn't hear him above the sounds of the stabilizing stakes being driven into the ground with hammers larger than most peoples' heads. The shouts of the individual crews, trained specifically on the guns in question by number, as they pulled pieces of barrels free and slid them into place. The sounds of setting pins being hammered into place once the rifling on the inside of the bigger, more menacing howitzers were lined up to a degree of centimeters.

He was simply watching the proceedings from further away, out of the activity to give his Imperial pacing the lines a second pair of eyes at a different angle and vantage. Simply put, he was doing part of his job, of which the tasks were many.

A moment was given to make sure the line of the smaller repeaters were in proper alignment between the bigger cannons before he allowed himself to be properly distracted. His head turned to regard his foreign companion. Or maybe Markesh was the foreign one here. It was hard to tell with the political climate of the mainland right that moment, or the current lack thereof.

Dark eyes finally fell on the other and a weird crooked smirk wended its way over the Regent's face. Ears shifted visibly to point toward him, focusing his attention on the other. He would never get used to the shorter stature of Hylians, he determined, drawing his gaze further down than he thought he should be looking.

Much further down, as it turned out, but such a move didn't show the surprise of it on his face. Save that the smile widened a little more.

"Oh?" he posited, wobbling his head a little and letting his pricked ears finally relax a little to make him look less alert. A little more friendly. "Is it the sort where we should cover the guns? Or perhaps it is one where they are necessary."

There was perhaps a little bit more emphasis on the latter choice, a spark of hopeful recognition in his dark eyes at it. The mainland was still a new territory to them all, so he would defer to a native soldier to tell him which one it was.

@fragmentedlegends

[ikarosxflight]

@fragmentedlegends (Astor)

"Wouldn't you like your outcome preferred?"

EPIC: The Musical

Pit despised Astor intensely, feeling a sensation as unpleasant as a serpent's hiss. The mere presence of the dark prophet always ignited a violent fire in his heart, wishing nothing but the most diabolic hell upon the other and even more so to deliver that hell with his own two hands. Astor should thank his maker that the only thing between him and the edge of Pit's blade was Palutena's orders and a common goal Pit would not acknowledge.

"Persistent pest like the talking shadow I didn't ask for."

Despite his arrogant demeanor, Pit couldn't shake the feeling that Astor, with his piercing gaze and predatory aura, had the instincts of an apex predator. It seemed as if Astor was meticulously biding his time, observing Pit's every move, and patiently waiting for the opportune moment to strike. Pit couldn't help but wonder if Astor was keenly aware of his growing panic and sense of helplessness. With time slipping away, the weight of the impending failure loomed over Pit. What would be the consequences if the plan failed? What would Hylia, the Goddess of this realm, do? And what wrath would Palutena, his divine Goddess, unleash upon him? The mere thought of facing their disappointment and anger made Pit's throat tighten with fear.

"The day I come crawling to you for help is the day pigs fly. Get out of my sight."

Little did Pit realize that day was coming sooner than he had expected.

[gloryseized]

@fragmentedlegends is getting a random starter! (for Astor )

Link's teeth were on edge, a muscle working in his jaw to the point that he could begin to feel a dull aching begin to form--either muscle fatigue or a headache, he couldn't tell. He hated this. Hated what this man had made him do, made him promise, and what had to do since that all happened.

It involved much more minding his manners than he would have thought of himself in such a position, if he ever imagined himself in such a position before. But along with the threat to the village, and the sorceror's promise to keep it safe, meant that Link needed to behave himself rather than try to escape or cause some other mischief. He didn't want to risk becoming the reason for someone else's suffering.

But that meant cleaning up after a particularly rowdy night of Yiga partying--banana peels strew all over the floor. Link wasn't exactly sure what they were celebrating, but it didn't matter. He had the job to do. And after being told 'cleanliness is next to Calamity-ness,' he was set to work with a mop and pail, scrubbing the wooden floors of the Yiga hideout clean.

Lifting his head at the noise across the room, he blinked in surprise as the sorceror himself made to glide across the space, Link's expression darkening into a scowl. Pointing at the man, he both hands curled into fists next to his eyes, flicking away from his cheeks. Then his left middle finger stroked the back of his right hand, other left fingers flared slightly. << You're up early. >> he observed.

[dullweapons]

❝ robbing the crypt ? you all look like babies to me . ❞ says the oldest crypt & serial cradle robber but hey its not his fault with the only thing that matches him in age is concepts .