#he looks like he has a perpetual rain cloud hanging over his head everywhere he goes

[condohavenoking]

@bravely-first 's reaction to my James Sunderland obsession is FOUL

[fuckit-hero-of-trains]

Alone Together Ch 3

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22311754/chapters/54522319

Chapter summary:

“The Eyes…” Hyrule’s voice whispers from between clasped arms.

Suddenly, Hyrule throws his head up and away from his knees, eyes large and faraway. His eyes flick left right left right, somewhere or some when else. He reaches out a hand to no one but the rain. Then, slowly, far too slowly to be natural, he turns too bright eyes first to Legend and then Four.

“The Eyes of Ganon are everywhere.”

Somehow, the rain gets colder.

Or: A series of fics focused on Four and his interactions, inside and out.

Four usually enjoys the rain.

Most would probably assume he wouldn't. Rain meant high humidity, which often meant having to crank his fires even higher in order to fight off the cursed moisture that affects the melting point of metals. Rain also meant less people wandering the dirt roads beyond Hyrule Town, ergo, less people coming in to buy or commission weapons.

Some might also assume he hated rain due to his– uhhhm– reduced stature and its apparent susceptibility to the cold.

But the people who assumed that would be wrong.  Every single part of Four finds joy in the rain.

Part of him loves it for its practicality; the way he can easily open a window in the forge to let out the hot air, making it easier to breath. A breath of fresh air to cool his lungs from the smoldering heat.

Another loves it on principle, an excuse to get out of the forge and spruce up around the house while they have less people bursting in and messing everything up holy Hylia why are customers the worst? why can't they put shit back? it's all organized by species! they KNOW this sword doesnt go here! why the FUCK would they put it here???

A third likes its soft presence, a gentle staccato heard peripherally as he reads. The way it patters unobtrusively yet universally throughout the house as they go about their separate work. Something unifying even while apart.

The last loves the results; warm, creamy tea by the fire with the others maybe followed by a run through the puddles outside if he’s good enough at guilt tripping them with puppy dog eyes.

All of him loves its smell and the cool, refreshing feeling it leaves in the air, battling away the overly warm winds common to his Hyrule.

So yes, Four usually enjoys the rain.

But not right now.

Right now it sucks.

It is absolutely pouring and has been since they had set off from their cave that morning.

They’re in Hyrule’s Hyrule– Goddesses, that sounds stupid C’mon thats not nice– headed toward what the traveling hero had called a nearby town.

A nearby town that is apparently more than a three hour walk away.

To be fair, he did say ‘relatively nearby.’  Stated plainly. Flat but at least diplomatic.

A fat lot of good that does us now. Sniped back, pissed for the sake of being pissed at this point.

Four sighs, making sure not to let his annoyance pull his face into a scowl. He knows it's no use getting angry at anyone. It was either walk through the rain, or stay in the cave until the inclement weather let up.

One entailed a cold but ultimately painless three hour walk. The other, being in an enclosed space with 8 other versions of himself for an unknown period of time.

He knows which one he would choose any day. No one needs a bored Wind and Wild with access to unlimited bombs. Or Warriors and Legend forced to share close quarters with no end in sight. Or Twilight and Time animatedly discussing farming techniques for hours with no escape.

Not even the Triforce of Courage would make him brave enough to face that.

Doesn't mean I have to like it… Agitated but calmer, the ocean’s surface settling after a storm.

Now if only this storm would let up.

Four swipes a hand across his face for what feels like the millionth time that day, brushing away the droplets of water threatening to drip into his eyes from the ridge of his eyebrows. Pin pricks of not-quite-pain flare across his cheeks as more freezing rain whips against his already cold skin.

There is a dull ache in his head courtesy of the ponytail he has pulled his hair into. It sits at the back of his head, soggy and drooping, pulling at his scalp. However, the smithy makes no move to remove it from its tie. He had gotten tired of tucking away the sopping wet curtains of hair at around the one hour mark of their walk.

He’ll take the slight headache over wet hair perpetually in his eyes and mouth, thank you very much.

He, unfortunately, can't do anything about his tunic. The patchwork cloth hangs sodden and heavy from his frame, slapping against his forearms and thighs as he trudges behind the others. His boots are likewise sopping wet, water squishing up between his toes with each step. It feels like he's walking barefoot through a freezing swamp. Uncomfortable and vaguely disgusting.

To put it shortly– Oh, fuck off– he’s having a terrible time.

But at least he’s not alone in that department.

From his vantage point near the back, Four can see Hyrule as he leads the group, normally fluffy brunette hair slicked back and stuck to his skull as he treads onward determinedly. Even from behind, Four can tell that his arms are crossed tightly over his chest. Whether it’s from concern, habit, or to ward off the cold, he can’t tell.

Legend and Sky walk behind the traveling hero, almost shoulder to shoulder with one another as they plod onwards. An unusual pair to be sure. Well, at least it would be, if Sky hadn’t divulged to Four earlier that morning that he was taking it upon himself to keep Legend in line for the day. The already snappish Link could blow his gasket at the drop of a hat on a good day, let alone their current circumstances.

But even Legend would think twice about losing his cool with Sky, and the chosen hero knew it. Not enough people give Sky credit for his machinations, the short hero muses as he watches Sky throw a disarming smile and an unheard comment to the pink haired hero, who looks like he's grinding his teeth to stumps with the effort of keeping his snark in check.

Weaponized kindness is not something to be underestimated. Four should know; part of him wields it just as effectively against the others– a hot knife through butter.

Come on guys, I’m not that bad. The words themselves indignant, but undercut with a warm tinge of self-satisfaction.

Easy for you to say. You’ve never been on the receiving end of one of your disappointed looks. Breezes back, flashes of the exact face blinking into existence behind Four’s eyes. Warm amber eyes clouded over and brows furrowed. Freckled cheeks drawn in and lips pouted.

Four feels himself shutter and not from the cold. Yeesh, just the thought of it makes him feel bad.

I just don't like hearing him cry is all. Words grumbled.

Oh, you don’t have to convince us. Tone that of pointed indifference. A verbal nudge in the ribs.

For once in your life, shut up! Voice rising quickly like the tide. More embarrassed than actually annoyed.

Softy. Comes the definitive response, three different tones shaping the thought.

Four shakes his head, a slight smile finding its way onto his face despite the circumstances. Sometimes it paid to have four distinctive thought processes running at once, if only to derive enjoyment from three of them ripping the fourth to shreds.

A wet slapping noise draws Four’s attention away from the teasing massacre currently occupying his mind.

Next to him, Four can see Warriors trudging with a weary expression on his face. His normally majestic scarf hangs heavily from his neck, sopping wet. With each step, the cloth smacks into the back of his legs, the source of the noise that had alerted the smithy.

Warriors seems to have had enough of it, because he takes ahold of the part of the scarf wrapped around his neck and swings the cloth around to secure it more tightly against his throat. In his annoyance, Four can see that the older hero has used more force than he had probably intended.

Oh no It’s his own fault There’s no time to warn him This is gonna be good.

Four watches with mounting– excitement? apprehension?–  anticipation as the water logged cloth sweeps around and around Warriors’ neck before the end of the fabric reaches the Captain’s unsuspecting face, slapping him with a resounding wet clap.

The older hero freezes in shock, the sodden scarf remaining stuck in place for a moment before slowly sloughing off his face, leaving an absolutely shocked and sputtering expression in its wake.

The Pretty Boy glances around to make sure no one saw that and catches Four’s gaze locked on him. Blue eyes widen into a pleading look.

Four lets the corners of his lips raise minutely.

Oh yes. He did, in fact, see that.

The captain lets out a quiet groan and speeds up his steps, head ducking lower as the tips of his ears turn a faint pink.

Four forces down the laughter threatening to escape his lips. Better to let the Captain stew in embarrassment for the moment and bring it up later, when he’s not expecting it. Preferably with Legend present.

Karma for all the ‘kiddo’ jabs and short jokes.

What goes around, comes around.

Like a wet scarf? Four’s left eye twitches, a wink almost slipping from his brain into real life.

I hate that I’m associated with you.

You aren’t just associated with me. You are m– Shit!

Though his toes are numb from the cold, Four can feel as his left foot slips too far forward, gliding across the rain slicked grass like it’s ice. His right foot sweeps forward automatically, trying to stabilize him, but only succeeding in sliding forward as well.

A jolt of sick anticipation wells up in his stomach.

So much for having dirt on Warriors.

But before gravity has its way with him , a warm hand reaches out and pushes between his shoulder blades. After a moment, Four’s boots finally find purchase back on the ground, stabilizing the short hero before he falls flat on his ass and slides down the small hill they are on.

“Careful,” Time says as he steps past the now steadied smith, words flat with an odd mix of weariness, irony, and humor. “It’s slippery.”

Before Four can thank the older hero for the save, there is a shout of “wait!” and two blue blurs of movement rush past Four’s other side, close enough for him to feel the splatter of water and displaced air brush against him as they do.

A trail of boisterous laughter follows behind the blurs. As the two descend down the hill, the shapes resolve themselves into Wild and Wind, one standing upright on a shield while the other rides sitting down on his like a sled.

“Yeah, Four!” Wind’s voice shouts, giggly and growing fainter as he speeds away. “It’s slippery!”

Wind and Wild’s laughs mingle and fade as they reach the foot of the hill, both boys splashing into more runoff waiting for them at the bottom. Sky and Legend, standing too close, jump back a shade too late and end up with water sprayed up onto their pants.

Well, pants and bare legs respectively.

Thats what he gets for not fucking wearing pants.

Four watches as the pink haired hero lets out a hiss, furiously (and futilely) wiping at his legs while Sky simply leans down and helps Wind up from the puddle with a fondly exasperated shake of his head.

With a roll of his eyes and a grumble, Legend steps up to Wild with a hand outstretched to ostensibly help him up as well. But, as the scarred teen reaches out to take it, Legend’s face scrunches, a smile with too many teeth splitting his face and he stomps down, throwing water into the younger hero’s face.

For a second, the smithy thinks Wild will lash out with a splash in retaliation, but the scarred teen simply wipes a hand down his face and then grins up at Legend.  

Quick as a whip, Wild grabs the veteran hero’s hand with two of his own and yanks.

Legend lets out a squawk and goes face first into the water.

Wild scrambles out of the puddle and out of the danger zone of Legend’s flailing arms, laughing as he does. Wind greets him with a high five while Sky watches on with a small smile.

Hyrule steps forward to help his predecessor out while trying to quell the smile on his lips as he does. No need to piss off the pink haired hero more.

As Four watches this all unfold, Twilight finally comes to stand next to him. The man sighs and Four glances at him as they begin to trudge down the hill together. The farmhand’s shoulders slump under the weight of his sodden pelt. He looks exhausted. And he smells like wet dog.

His face is tired but as he looks at the others– Warriors, Wind, and Wild laughing, Legend glaring from over Hyrule’s shoulder, Sky and Time looking on, not offering to help in the slightest– as he looks at them, something about the elder seems to soften and  the bags under his eyes seem to lighten, if only a little.

“I swear,” he says, voice airy with an exhale as he shakes his head. “Those kids are going to kill me.”

“Ah, youth,” Four agrees with a sage nod.

Twilight glances down, giving Four a dry look despite the wet hair hanging in front of his eyes.

“Don’t push it.”

…

It only takes a few moments for Four and Twilight to reach where the rest of the group waits for them.

Now that Four is paying more attention to his surroundings instead of keeping his head bowed against the rain, he can see that they are walking down into a small valley between two hill ranges.

What Four had thought was just a large puddle that Wind and Wild (and Legend) had fallen into is actually a small stream that cuts in and out around the mounds of dirt. It babbles lightly, slightly swollen with the newly added run off from the surrounding hills.

Twilight clears it in a single stride.

Show off.

Four follows, but needs a small hop to avoid the water.

Hyrule smiles as they finally draw near.

“We’re close now!” the traveling hero says. He points over the crest of the hill they stand at the foot of. “It’s just at the bottom of that hill.”

“Finally,” Legend spits, futilely wringing out his hat. He slaps the wet cloth over the back of his head with a scowl directed at Wild. The teen smiles back.

Time nods in approval. “Good. That should give us enough time to find a place to stay and gather supplies.” A single eye flicks back to Hyrule. “You said there was a hotel of some kind?”

“Yeah,” An emphatic nod from Hyrule. “There’s an abandoned house at the edge of town. The shopkeeper rents it out to travelers. There should be enough room for all of us.”

“Then let’s get a move on,” Time says, getting a nod from in response.

With the thought of a warm and dry place to stay so close, the group sets off up the hill in brighter spirits. Hyrule in particular, Four notes, strides forward with quickened steps, taking up the lead once again as he practically jogs up the hill.

Before long, they crest the hill top, giving the group the chance to finally see the town that had necessitated four hours of walking in misery.

Thats it What did you expect So small Well you heard how he talked about his Hyrule

… Town was probably too generous a word for it.

Sitting down in a nest of hills at the base of a mountain in the distance, sits fifteen or twenty buildings. They are divided by a thin river, a single arched bridge stitching the two sides of the village back together.

Surrounding the hamlet is a short and crumbling wall, mossy and coming apart at the seams. More for show than actual protection. A semblance of control, a dream of safety.

Running beside the river are small plots of land, measured out and carved into neat rows. Farms. Important for survival, but apparently not worth building houses next to. Better to stay behind the shattered cobblestone than out in the open. Safety in numbers. Not worth dying over a potato.

It’s quiet, no movement of people running to get into shelter from the rain. No children jumping in puddles or parents calling them back in from the cold.

No.

Rather, only a few lanterns are lit at all. Everything else is dark and silent.

Hyrule steps forward, a sheepish, self-deprecating smile on his face. His eyes are downcast. Embarrassed. He sweeps a hand out to the buildings, ducking low as if trying to sink out of their eye line.

“Welcome to Saria Town,” he says. His eyes flick up for a moment before returning to the ground. His painted smile drips a little in the rain. “I know it’s not much… but it’s safe.”

Next to him, out of the corner of his eye, Four can see Time tense, though at what, he can not say. Then the Old Man steps forward.  “It looks perfect.”

Hyrule’s head snaps up, hazel eyes wide first in shock, before he relaxes into a grin. Time gives him a nod.

“Lead the way.”

The traveling hero nods, stepping down the hill, head held a little higher as he does. Time follows closely with Legend, Warriors, and Sky not far behind.

Four is about to join them when a voice from behind stops him.

“Don’t,” Twilight groans. Four turns back in confusion, only to see that the exasperated word wasn't directed at him but rather, the two blondes just behind him.

Four glances at the two boys, and instantly sees why.

The two are gazing intently down the hill, sizing it up. They apparently like what they see because the two grin widely at each other. The blue clad heroes hold out their shields to one another, tapping them together in a mock ‘shield high-five’.

“Race you there?” Wind asks, eyes fire bright and face pulled into a grin of challenge

“You even need to ask, Sailor?” Wild replies cockily, already tossing his shield to the ground.

“On the count of three…” Wind says. Wild steps one foot on his shield– not his Hylian shield, Four notes with some relief, but rather a long, steel gray one– and braces the other behind him, ready to throw himself forward.

“One,” Wild says. Wind places his hands on his shield, ready to jump.

“Two.” They tense.

“Don’t,” Twilight interrupts again swiping wet hair from his face as he gives them a hard look. “Someone could get–”

“THREE!”

Wild pushes off. Wind vaults forward. The two fly , twin whoops echoing through the quiet air as they descend. For a second, the two boys are lost in the joy of the moment, voices caught in that youthful inbetween of yell and laughter.

And then that second ends.

The two sober, all business.  Wild leans forward on his shield, tucking his arms in to become more aerodynamic. Wind catches on to the others plot and quickly mirrors the older hero, hunkering down and shifting his weight forward to match Wild.  

They’re neck and neck.

And then–

“Shit!”

The harsh crack of snapping leather echoes clear and brutal through the air. Wild’s front foot slides forward on the wet metal, no longer anchored down by the arm strap. The scarred teen throws his weight backward, trying to keep himself from falling forward while simultaneously  slowing down his now out of control descent.

The metal wobbles precariously beneath Wild’s feet and then jerks sharply to the left, throwing it’s rider. With a cut off shout, he slams into the side of an helpless Wind, knocking the other boy from his shield as well. Tangled together, the two careen down the water slicked hill at a break-neck pace, headed straight for…

“Look out!” Bursts its way past Four’s lips without him even knowing.

Sky and Warriors jolt out of the way, their reaction times impeccable as always. Legend and Time reach out to grab the person in front of them…

Too late.

The two blondes slam into Hyrule’s unsuspecting back, the traveling hero only able to get out a shocked gasp before his legs are swiped out from beneath him and the three tumble in a mass of limbs, wet tunics, and pained shouts the rest of the way down the hill.

Four doesn't even need to consult his disparate thought processes. They’re already in agreement.

His feet carry him down the hill almost at a dead sprint, only the barest of thoughts spared to worry about slipping himself.

Vaguely, he can hear Twilight’s steps pounding behind him. In front of him, he can see the others sprint downward as well, Warrior’s feet even sliding beneath him before he rights himself and continues.

By the time Four slides to a stop, the others are already helping the three groaning boys.

Warriors sits up a groaning Wind. At just a glance, Four can see that the teen looks scratched, bruised, and grass stained but overall fine. Sky hands the boy a red potion that the sailor sips at, unwilling to drink more than he needs.

Wild looks much the same, though, the smithy notes that the champion is clutching at a rapidly purpling ankle. He looks more embarrassed than hurt though, his other hand rubbing at the back of his neck as Twilight chews him out and Time examines his leg.

Hyrule though…

As Legend helps the traveling hero up, Four’s eyes are immediately drawn to the thin scarlet line streaming from the brunette’s temple, the blood mixing and thinning with the rain, snaking across his cheek before dripping down his chin. A cruel mirror of the rain.

“Is he okay?” Four asks as he kneels down, unable to help himself. He reaches a hand out, the need to help and comfort slightly overwhelming, but with no clear outlet, his arm simply hovers without use.

Legend shoots Four a poisonous look that screams ‘What a dumb fucking question’ but otherwise ignores him in favor of brushing a few strands of Hyrule’s hair back so he can examine the wound closer.

Hyrule’s eyes flutter open at the gentle touch.

“M’ fine, I’m fine,” he says dizzily, swatting weakly at Legend’s prodding hand.  

The veteran hero huffs out a breath, taking Hyrule’s hand and carefully pulling it out of the way as he leans in for a closer look. “Stop moving. I think you hit your head on a rock. You’re bleeding.”

Hyrule’s eyes snap open, the haziness in his hazel depths igniting with a fever bright glow. Now that his eyes are wide open, Four can see that the teen’s pupils are dilated, one a pinprick while the other gapes wide, a dark hole in a green field.

Well that can’t be good Concussion maybe even a severe one We have to help him He needs a potion now

Four takes ahold of Hyrule’s shoulder to steady the other teen and then turns to dig through his satchel for a potion.

Hyrule, apparently, has other plans.

The traveling hero jerks up and away, throwing Four’s hand off him and almost headbutting Legend in his haste to sit up more fully. He slams a hand up to his forehead, swiping directly over the wound. Pain doesn't even register on his rapidly paling face. He pulls his hand back and inspects it, mismatched pupils tracing the blood that drips from the tips of his fingers.

He stares at the red for a moment.

And then Hyrule collapses in on himself.

Both arms reach other the top of his head, wrists crossing over the back of his skull. His hands run between wet curls once gently before gripping and pulling. Knees snap upward, allowing Hyrule to curl up fully, hiding himself from their gazes.

“No, no, no no no no nonononono!” he whispers, voice and shoulders shaking.

Four’s heart breaks.

“Calm down,” Legend cuts in, voice hard as stone but eyes as soft as the dark clouds hanging over them. His hand hovers over Hyrule’s back, like he’s afraid that a single touch would shatter the boy to pieces.  “It’s just a scratch,” he insists.

“No!” the traveler cries, arms dropping from their position above his head. Instead of clutching desperately at his hair, Hyrule’s hands fist into the fabric of his wet undershirt sleeves, using them to frantically scrub at the skin of his face.

With one more vicious wipe, Hyrule pulls his sleeves from his face.

Four sighs sadly at the sight.

Rather than cleaning his skin, the frantic hero has only succeeded in spreading the diluted blood all over his face. The only part of his face that could be considered ‘cleaner’ would be the tear tracks slowly drawing clear lines beneath his eyes.

The injured teen seems satisfied for a moment. But then he looks down at his now bloodied sleeves. With another distressed noise, he tucks his arms under his armpits and throws his head back against his knees, once again curling back up.

Four feels his heart pulled in so many directions. He feels warm, hot, too hot  concern churn his stomach. Cool, cold, too cold anger shoves icicles into his lungs. Wind and Wild’s fault. Rain’s fault. His fault. No where to put the anger and so it grows, piercing. The need for action whistles in his mind, a whirlwind of frantic thoughts. A mountain of unfamiliar uncertainty lodges in his heart, dividing it further.

He wants to pull Hyrule into him and crush him with a hug but knows it will only frighten the boy more. He wants to clean the other’s face and hand him a potion and punch his shoulder for freaking him out and laugh about something stupid and not be here right now in the rain with a desperately injured friend feeling so fucking usless We have to do something Please Please Please We have to help!

No, what we need to do is calm down.

calmdowncalmdown Calm down Calm down, Calm down.

Calm down.

Beside him, Four can hear Legend curse under his breath and begin to shuffle through his bag, though what exactly he is looking for, the smithy isn't sure. His hands become more and more hurried as he searches, fingers flicking through his pockets aggressively.

“Calm down.”

Legend’s eyes flick up, hands stilling as he seems to see Four for the first time since this whole debacle started.

“What?” he hisses, keeping his voice low so as not to cause Hyrule more distress with his angry tone.

“Calm down,” Four says simply. “I know you want to help him. So do I. But right now he’s scared and confused. Getting upset will only make things worse.”

The veteran hero glares at Four, and Four stares right back, not challenging but not exactly sympathetic either. He knows what he’s talking about, even if it pisses off the pink haired hero. Right now, there is no room for negative emotion. Only action.

They hold eye contact for only a moment more before Legend looks away, deflating.The veteran takes a deep breath. In… out. Something, the fight, goes out of him, leaving Legend looking to all the world like a tired young man, soaked to the bone, cold, and worried.

“Hey ‘Rule,” Legend begins, voice low as he inches closer to the curled up boy. Four follows his lead,  slowly shuffling his way to the injured teen’s other side. Hyrule doesn't react. A good sign.

Or a really really bad sign.

Legend carefully places his arm around the traveling hero’s shoulders. “Hyrule, can I see your head? I need to-”

But the teen shakes his head and tenses up further, looking more akin to a Goron getting ready to roll.

“The Eyes…” Hyrule’s voice whispers from between clasped arms.

Suddenly, Hyrule throws his head up and away from his knees, eyes large and faraway. His eyes flick left right left right, somewhere or some when else. He reaches out a hand to no one but the rain. Then, slowly, far too slowly to be natural, he turns too bright eyes first to Legend and then Four.

“The Eyes of Ganon are everywhere.”

Somehow, the rain gets colder.  

“It’s okay,” Legend says, voice the most comforting Four thinks he’s ever heard it. The pink haired man places an open bottle of red potion into the other’s outstretched hand and then helps the injured teen to curl his fingers around the glass. Legend guides Hyrule’s hand up until the bottle reaches his lips, all the while, blank hazel eyes stare forward, unshifting.

Hyrule drinks from the bottle reflexively.

Four feels the other boy’s muscles uncoil little by little as his throat bobs to swallow. Wide eyes blink once, twice, three times and then finally refocus, dizziness replaced with slightly pained confusion.

The cut on his forehead scabs over and before he can stop himself, Four reaches up and brushes the blood from the side of Hyrule’s face with his own sleeve.

“Better?” Legend asks.

“Yeah. Better,” Hyrule replies. And then, with a wince, “Sorry.”

“Don’t,” Legend cuts him off. “Not your fault.”

“Still,” Hyrule says. His eyebrows furrow, confusion easily written on his face. “I… I don't know what came over me.”

“You were injured and confused,” Four says diplomatically, giving his friend a reassuring pat on the shoulder. Part of him still wants to hug the other hero. He valiantly holds himself back. But only just. “It could have happened to any of us.”

“But it was more than that! I felt… It felt like…” Hyrule sighs, shaking his head and then stops, closing his eyes at the surge of pain that comes with the movement. “I guess it doesn't matter anymore.”

The traveling hero gingerly runs a finger along the edge of his scab, displeasure pulling at his lips.

“Do we have any bandages? Or something to cover this up?”

“Sorry, we just used the last of them to wrap Wild's ankle.”

The three heroes start and look up, surprised to see Twilight approaching them. As he walks closer, Four notices that the others are looking at them as well, and though concerned, none of them make any moves to get closer.

Good. The last thing Hyrule needs right now is a crowd.

Four had honestly forgotten that they had an audience. Albeit a captive audience but an audience all the same.

Judging by the slightly embarrassed tint to Legend’s face, so did he.

“It doesn't look like it's bleeding anymore,” Twilight continues, leaning down to get a better look at the now mostly closed wound. “You should be fine without anything, I think.”

“I know. I just don’t like going into town injured is all.”

That seems counterintuitive. Drops like a stone in water in the back of his mind, stirring up a few responses.

Maybe he just doesn't like freaking out the locals. Suggests one.

Based on this place, they’ve probably seen worse. Mutters a second.

Oh hey, guys, I think I’ve got something! Says the last, brightly.

An image flashes in Four’s mind. He nods.

Four reaches back and pulls at one of the loose ends of his makeshift hair tie. Sopping wet curtains of hair fall back around his face, the headband that he usually wears now sitting limp in his hand.

He takes both ends of the green ribbon and pulls it taut. Then he turns and lays it flat against Hyrule’s forehead. Leaning forward a bit more, he ties it gently but securely around the other’s head, mindful of the pain the other must be in.  

When he sits back on his heels to examine his work, he realises that the others had fallen silent. Legend and Twilight stare at him while Hyrule sits, a small, shell shocked expression on his face.  Four’s eyes jump back and forth between the three. Eventually he settles on a shrug and a neutral face.

“What? He needs it more than me.”

While sweet, I do believe that is wildly unsanitary.

Oh no! I’m sorry!

Don't worry about it! We all agreed.

A spike of annoyance.

Well, most of us agreed and the fourth didn't put up a fight.  We’re not that far out of town anyway. We can get him clean bandages there.

Way to ruin the moment, asshole.

Despite the conversation in his head, outside it remains quiet. After another beat, Hyrule slowly runs a finger across the wet cloth now ties to his forehead.

When he brings his hand back to eye level, his fingertips come back wet but clean. No blood.

A small smile lights up Hyrule’s face, some color finally returning to his face.

“Thank you.”

…

After making sure everyone is okay, the group of heroes finally, finally makes it into town.

As they stumble through the gates, Four muses that if anyone were outside to witness them, they would be getting quite a few looks. Because… Well...

We look like shit.

Leading the group is Time, probably looking the least worn for wear when compared to the rest of them. However, Four notes that even the Old Man didnt get out of their absolutely joy filled trek unscathed.

As he strides further into town, head on a swivel for the store Hyrule had described to him, the Hero of Time walks with an odd gait, shifting his hips slightly to the left as he steps forward. Water must have penetrated the underlayer of his armor Four thinks with a wince. Poor Old Man must be chafing like there is no tomorrow under there.

Behind Time stumbles the procession of the wounded.

Or something like that.

Wind and Warriors walk together, the older hero keeping an eye on the younger as they enter the heart of the seemingly deserted town. The sailor keeps tugging on his makeshift sling: Warriors’ scarf looped twice around the young boy’s neck cradling his arm. Though not broken, Warriors had not accepted anything less than making sure it was wrapped and immoble, something that had Wind groaning and whining about being babied.

Twilight and Wild shuffle behind them, the champion’s left arm thrown over Twilight’s shoulders so the farmhand can help keep weight off the younger boy’s ankle. Though no longer swelling after a potion, the joint was still sore. Wild had assured them that after a good meal and some sleep he’d be fine, but Twilight insisted on helping him walk until they found a place to rest.

(“So you can't trip and drown yourself in the river,” Twilight had said derisively as he helped the teen stand up earlier. Said teen stuck his tongue out in response, but Four could see the affectionate smile tugging at the champion’s lips.)

Bringing up the rear is the triad of Sky, Legend, and Hyrule. The latter is not supported between the other two, but both older heroes damn near frog march the poor kid between them, each with a guiding hand on his upper arm.

The still slightly dazed teen walks slowly. He is wearing one of Wild’s hoods– the teen had felt so sorry about the whole incident, he jumped at the chance to make the traveling hero more comfortable, even if only for a moment– making it difficult to tell where exactly he was looking, but he turned his head slowly, searching.

“There!” he said, pointing to a building on the left.

Four follows his arm. The building in question is one of the few with a lantern out front. On a whole, the place looks worn down, like too stiff of a breeze would knock it down. It has a small overhang, probably for shade in the summer. From the rafters of the awning, hangs an old wooden sign suspended on rusted chains. A simple bottle design is painted on the molding planks in what was probably white paint at some point, but now looks chipped and faded into a shade Four would call ‘dirty snow.’

Light streams from the singular window out front, advertising warmth within.

“Do all of the houses have these?” Time asks, finger pointed up at the overhang. Hyrule nods in response.

“Okay.” The Old Man falls silent for just a moment. “Okay, here’s the plan. Hyrule, I want you to lead everyone to the house we will be staying in for the night. We don't want to alarm anyone with our wounded and I’m assuming there won't be enough room in the storefront for everyone.” He directs his last statement to Hyrule, who nods.

“Four, Wind,” Four feels his head tilt to the side at the mention of his name and thinks he sees the sailor do the same on the other side. “You’ll be with me. Everyone else, try to stay warm under the awning if at all possible.”

“Why do the brats get to go inside?” Legend asks sourly, causing Four’s metaphorical hackles to rise. Wind opens his mouth to spit something probably filled with expletives, at the other hero, but Time beats him to it.

“What kind of father would I be if I left my poor, injured sons outside in the rain?” He says, with what Four would call a mischievous smile on his face. If his bad eye wasn’t perpetually closed, Four would assume the Old Man would be winking at them too.

Maybe he is winking and we just can’t see it.

How does that work?

Aww, he called us his son!

Wait a minute…

“Now, hold on,” Four says, drowned out by six distinct laughs.

“I did NOT agree to be used as a prop!” Wind hisses above the din in agreement with Four’s sentiment, eyebrows pulled low and a glower plastered over his face. Yeesh, Four forgot how expressive Wind’s face was. Kid looks pissed.

Time raises his hands in surrender, his smile turning from mischief to frank in a second.

"Look, these people are scared. It’s a harsh world out there. If you were a shopkeep in a small town and nine heavily armed people entered demanding a place to stay, wouldn't that frighten you a little?” He doesn't wait for a response before continuing. “A father with his sons and a small band of injured travelers is a much easier story to swallow.”

“If you want to play the father, why don’t you take Twilight then?” Four asks, his voice somehow coming out both huffy and genuinely questioning. “You two at least look like you have a little bit of family resemblance.”

Time and Twilight share a look.

The oldest hero throws a hand behind his head, rubbing at his neck. Eyebrows up, smile sheepish. “Bringing in a soaking wet, pissed off farmhand wont make for quite as sympathetic a image.”

“You’re a manipulative bastard, you know that, right?” Legend says flatly.

“What? What do you mean?” Wind asks.

“He wants to bring the two of you in because you,” he points at Four, “look like a drowned rat. And you,” he turns to Wind, “look like a drowned rat with a broken arm.”

"Why don’t I break your arm? Then we’ll match!” Wind spits, marching over to Legend, who sports an unimpressed look on his face. Warriors grabs the back of the smaller hero’s sling, holding him back.

Four blows out a breath from between his lips, pinching at the bridge of his nose.

They, unfortunately, have a point.

You would be okay with lying.

If it’s to help everyone else, then yes, I am.

It’s demeaning!

It’s useful.

Four pinches harder. His head pounds.

Guys. Stop.

Please!

A blessed moment of internal silence.

Four can vaguely hear Wind telling Warriors to let him go. Wild eggs the younger boy on while Twilight threatens to drop the teen if he continues. Legend merely huffs, probably daring the kid to make good on his words. Time sternly tells them to keep it down, probably thinking of the townsfolk or Hyrule’s delicate head.

They ignores it all.

They take stock of how they feel. Angry. Loved. Embarrassed. Annoyed. Regretful. Tired. Hungry. Cold. Bruises on their knee, grass stains on their leggings. A friend’s blood on their sleeve. A splitting headache, but thankfully not a Splitting headache.

They’re not in a good place. Fighting will only make it worse.

Fine… I see your point…

Four’s hand pulls at the leather strap securing his sword to his back, pulling it over his head and off his shoulder. He wraps the worn leather around and around the sword, making sure the strap doesn't come loose and then he holds the blade out to a now silent and very confused looking Wild.

“Uhhhhh,” the champions says, “What are you doing?”

“If we are going to pretend to be normal kids, I figured we probably shouldn’t be armed.”

Four holds out the sword more insistently. Wild takes it gingerly, like it will bite him if he handles it too roughly. Or like it’ll break if he looks at it wrong. With his track record, that could actually be an issue.

“If you break it, I’ll break you,” Four hears pour out of his mouth with a hiss, and he wonders if his eyes are flashing cobalt at the moment.

Based on the way Wild’s eyes widen, Four guesses they are. Whatever. If it keeps the champion’s mitts off his sword, it's worth the weirdness. He knows the other teen can’t actually break the Four Sword– he’s too good a smith to make the magic sword that defined his era anything less than perfect– but he sure as hell doesn't want the teen touching it more than necessary either.

What a nightmare that would be.

Wind huffs, seeming to calm a bit. Warriors lets the teen go and the sailor strides up next to Four, roughly unstrapping his own sword and shoving it at Wild as well. It disappears with Four’s own, into the slate.

There is something about seeing his sword disappear, the ever present option suddenly taken away, that makes Four’s skin feel too tight. It’s like when you never realise you’re thirsty until suddenly you're out and about with nothing to drink. He feels itchy and too small. He wants to scratch at his head. No, the seams of his brain.

He stays his hand.

Legend rolls his eyes and turns away from the group, apparently done with the scene they’re making. He places a gentle hand back on Hyrule’s shoulder. The pressure seems to jolt the other hero, who until that moment had been spacing out.

“Lead the way. The sooner we can get everyone out of the rain the better.”

Hyrule nods. Sky takes up his old position at the traveler’s other side, and together the three start heading toward the bridge.

Wild throws his arm back over Twilights shoulder.

“I’ll take care of your stuff,” he says sincerely and then the two turn to follow the others at a slightly slower pace.

“Watch out for them?” Time asks Warriors as the other man turns to leave.

“Will do!” The captain shoots back with a smile and a salute then he’s gone, around the corner and out of sight.

With the others taken care of, Time turns back to look at them. Four keeps his face as stony as possible. Next to him, Wind scowls, tapping one foot on the ground repeatedly, a soft splat splat splat in the mud.

Time moves past them until he stands just in front of the door before he throws a look over his shoulder and beckons them forward.

“Oh, he so owes us,” Wind mutters as he and Four come to stand at the oldest hero’s side. Four nods in agreement.

“I’ll do most of the talking,” Time says. He glances down at Four. “You’re much too mature sounding for your own good.”

Before Four can ask what, exactly, that’s supposed to mean, Time has moved on to Wind. “And you keep your hands–hmm– hand to yourself. I know you have sticky fingers, little pirate.”

With that, the man pushes the door open and walks in.

“Don’t throw out your back opening the door, Dad,” Wind grumbles, sarcasm dripping from the final word.

“You’ll have to speak up, dear brother of mine. You know our father’s hearing is going.” Four mutters back.

They share a sour look for a moment, before small smiles break over their faces. Then quickly, before the door closes, they follow Time inside.

Inside, it is warm. While Four isn't exactly thrilled with the part he is playing, the warmth of the room is definitely an upside to the deal. Inside, it is also cramped. Like Time had predicted, the front room is small, with little room between the door and the counter, very much unlike his own shop.

Behind the counter, a woman’s humming is suddenly cut short at the sound of the door opening and closing. A head of mousy brown hair perks up and glances over the desk. There is a soft gasp and a smack as she drops what she was doing behind the desk and straightens up with wide and curious, amber eyes.

Interesting color.

Please, like we’re one to talk.

“Hello!” She greets cheerfully, though Four thinks he sees her eyeing Time’s sword. Huh. Though he misses it like a phantom limb, maybe it was for the best he left the Four Sword with Wild.

“I haven’t seen you all around here before. What can I do you for?”

Time smiles, charming but not too charming. Less flirty, more the rustic hospitality of a rancher. A real man of the people and all that nonsense.

“We’re just passing through. My sons and I were traveling with a group of merchants when we got caught in the storm. We ran into some problems,” Time says, gesturing to Wind and his slinged arm, “and now we’re just hoping to find somewhere to get us out of the rain.”

The woman gasps, a hand coming up to cup around her mouth.

“Oh you poor dears!” The woman exclaims. She leans over the desk–practically falling over it– to get a better look at Wind, who leans backward in response. “What happened?”

“I, uhhhhh, slipped and fell down a hill,” Wind says, taking a small step back.

The woman’s head snaps toward Four next, and suddenly, the smithy understands the other’s reaction. Her amber eyes are intense, burning with something unidentifiable. Maternal instinct? Maybe? Four wouldn’t know. Never really knew his mother.

“And what about you, dear?”

Four’s eyebrows furrow. He didn't think he looked all that bad. Definitely not visibly injured like the others. He glances down at himself to make sure nothing is out of place and– oh. The blood on his sleeve. Hyrule’s blood. Right.

“I cut myself on a bush,” Four lies smoothly.

“Hmmm, you have a couple of clumsy boys then,” the shopkeep says, eyes still locked on Four.

Okay, she’s freaky, right? Oh yeah Maybe she’s just bad at first impressions I wouldn't say we’re the best judge of normal anyway

Time laughs. Four thinks the Old Man is trying to sound agreeable, but it sounds more nervous. No. That’s not quite right. Uneasy. Ready to be done with the interaction and back with the others.

“They get it from me, unfortunately,” he says, making an aborted motion toward his face, his eye.

There is a beat of silence.

“So,” Time continues, “A place to stay…?”

The woman blinks, finally tearing her gaze from Four and leaning back onto her side of the counter. A kind smile slides its way back onto her face, like it’s her default expression.

“Yes. Yes of course. Just a moment.” She turns away, shifting through a drawer on the back counter. While she’s not looking, Wind shoots Four a look, face scrunched in question and good hand drawing small circles next to the side of his head.

Four shrugs in response.

Time smacks both of them on the back of their heads as the woman turns back around.

“Here we are,” the woman holds out a key, old and rusty. Time reaches into his wallet but the shopkeep shakes her head. “No, no. This one’s on the house. For your troubles.”

“We couldn’t possibly-”

“It’s no trouble at all,” She insists. “Old place could use some life in it after so long.”

“Well, if you’re sure…” Time says uncertainly. “Can I at least buy a few of those in thanks?” he asks gesturing to the shelf of red potions.

The woman smiles. “Seems fair to me.”

Time finally pulls out some rupees, exchanging them for five bottles filled with scarlet, viscous liquid and the key.

With their business seemingly concluded, Wind and Four turn to see themselves out, but Time grabs them, holding them in place.

Four restrains a groan. Though he had enjoyed the warmth when they had first entered, now it felt heavy and oppressive in a way that even the heat of the forge never did. There was something about this place that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end and his head feel fuzzy. Like he was being watched; watched by something other than the shopkeeper’s piercing amber gaze.

He wants to leave. Now.

“One more question if you wouldn’t mind,” the Old Man starts to Four’s chagrin. “While we plan to stay a few days to rest, we will be heading out at some point. We heard that there were increased monster sightings.”

The shopkeeper's head tilts at this, as though this is news to her.

“We were wondering if there was anyone we could talk to who might have some more information. Locations of sightings and the like so we can avoid those areas.”

She brings a hand to her chin and her eyes angle up and to the left in thought.

“Hmmm, well, you could go ask old Norman. He runs the bar in town. Gets lots of travelers through there. He might have heard of something.”

A smile suddenly stretches her lips. “Though he doesn't often talk for free. He might loosen up if you have a few drinks with him.”

Time nods at the information, sending her a smile in return.

“Thank you for all the help.”

The woman waves him off.

“My pleasure.”

They turn to leave and Four feels some tension leave his shoulders as Time grabs the doorknob and turns it, opening the door wide. Cold air rushes in and the smithy feels like he can breathe again.

“And kid.”

Both Four and Wind tense, look at each other and then turn. Her eyes are pinned firmly on the shortest hero’s sleeve; right over the dark stain of slowly blackening crimson. That odd, default smile still on her lips.

“Bandage that up soon, deary.”

Four nods his head rapidly and then quickly walks out the door to follow Time with Wind hot on his heels.

Though out of the room, Four still feels eyes on his back. He doesn't dare look around. Instead the smithy walks faster until he draws side by side with the older hero. Wind soon catches up, walking on Time’s other side.  

As soon as they are far enough from the shop, Wind opens his mouth.

“Soooo, she was freaky right?” Time shoots him a look. “Nice, but like, in a freaky kinda way?”

Four nods, wordlessly.

“She was kind to us. That’s all that matters,” Time says sternly. “Now, let's find the others and get inside.”

…

Thankfully, it is not difficult to find the others. It is, afterall, a very small town.

After a quick debate over who gets the old, musty beds and who gets the floor– all of the injured heroes get beds and sips of Red Potion along with their dinner of Hearty Mushroom and Pumpkin Stew– the heroes quickly turn in for the night, tired from their long day.

By the time Four wakes up, light is streaming through the windows. Huh. It must have stopped raining sometime during the night. Based on the color of the rays, it’s past sunrise. Way past sunrise if their warm, yellow glow is anything to go by.

The smithy sits up from his bed roll, blanket pooling around his waist as he looks around.

Beside him, Sky sleeps peacefully, under his blanket but with limbs sprawled out. His mouth is open and he snores softly, deep, even breaths murmuring through the air.

In the small kitchen, Time, Legend, Twilight, and Warriors sit at the table, mugs of something warm and steaming in their hands as they talk. Their conversation doesn’t appear to be serious or even really a conversation at all. One hero will contribute something every so often, but as Four watches them, more often than not, the older heroes seem content to lapse in companionable silence.

Four disentangles himself from Sky. He's glad he doesn have to worry about waking the elder– the chosen hero sleeps like the dead– so he separates himself quickly and then pads quietly over to the kitchen.

“You let us sleep in,” he says in lieu of a greeting, taking the final seat at the table. Legend pours him a mug of the drink, which he discovers to be tea, and passes it into Four’s hands. Four takes a sip.

Ah perfect Too bitter Needs some milk Maybe a little honey

He breathes in the steam, letting it fill his lungs with herbal smelling air as warmth seeps into his stomach.

“The only thing on the schedule for today is going down to the bar and that won’t open until sometime after noon,” Time replies. “Besides, I thought everyone could use a rest after yesterday.”

“Hear hear,” Warriors agrees with a raised mug. Everyone takes a sip.

After that, the group falls back into a relaxed silence that Four has no trouble maintaining. Instead he sits and sips his tea, drinking in the rare moment of peace he finds himself experiencing.

Eventually, slowly but surely, the other trickle in: first Wild, then Hyrule, and then ending with a yawning Wind who trips over and wakes the still sleeping Sky.

After a quick breakfast, Time sets them loose for a bit of leisure time.

Warriors quickly demands a rematch in BS from Legend, who acquiesces with an easy, confident grin. The two rope in Twilight and Wind and sit around the now empty kitchen table with Legend quickly distributing cards. Looking at the makeup of the group, Four would say that Warriors has approximately a 5% chance of winning. Maybe 6% if he’s lucky.

Time and Wild take opposite corners of the living room, with the Old Man sitting down to polish his armor while the champion taps away at his slate, reorganizing his inventory.

(Wild had told him the night before that taking his and Wind’s swords had made the older hero realise how unorganized everything was. Pumpkins with shields, fish with monster parts…. Four really hadn't been listening, too preoccupied with the familiar, comforting weight being returned to his back)

Sky leans against the back wall whittling… something. Four wasn't sure what it was yet but based on what he saw of the chosen hero’s talent with a carving knife, he was sure it would be great by the end.

Four curls up next to the fire, book in hand to read.He opens the book and leafs through the pages to his desired chapter, settling in. After a few moments and a few pages, a green ribbon flutters and settles itself inside the crease of the book. His headband. The smithy looks up just in time to catch Hyrule as the other hero sits next to him, needle, thread and a tunic in hand to do some mending.

"You kept tucking your hair behind your ear," he says in lieu of an explanation. "You need it more than me."

"Besides," the traveler continues, with a smile. "Now it doesn't have my blood on it anymore!"

Four smiles back, tying the cloth around his forehead, his hair finally tamed once more.

"Thank you."

"No problem."

The small hero leans back over his book. Hyrule holds the needle up to his eye, trying to thread it.

They sit together, chatting every so often but mostly just sitting in each other's company, warmed by the fire.

It's nice. The room is quiet but full of murmuring, laughter from the card table, and the rhythmic sound of scrubbing.

To Four, it seems all too soon that Time calls them back around the table to discuss their plan.

And their plan, unfortunately, is complete bullshit.

“This is complete bullshit!” Wind hisses, voicing Four’s thoughts perfectly. Well, at least one of his thoughts.

“Wind,” Time says, voice that of a tired man who already knows his patience is going to be tried at least twelve more times over the course of this conversation. “You’re thirteen. They’re not going to let you into the bar anyway.”

“That just means I can’t be caught!  I can still go on the mission!” he replies vehemently, pounding a fist on the table.

Time rubs at a spot between his eyebrows, just underneath the blue tattoo on his forehead. “First of all, what you are describing is breaking and entering. Secondly, this isn't a mission. We’re just going to get some information.”

“Oh, and I suppose you need four people to gather information?” Wild cuts in, face just as sour as Wind’s.

“Well, we sure as Hylia don't need nine,” Warriors replies in a similar state of exasperation as Time.

“Look, the four of us,” and here Time gestures to himself, Warriors, Twilight, and Sky, “Are the only ones who can get in without any questions asked.”

Wild and Legend let even heavier glowers darken their faces.

“We want to draw as little attention to ourselves as possible,” Time continues, ignoring the dirty looks being thrown his way. “Coming in with a big group or trying to argue with anyone will not help our case.”

“If it makes you feel better, I don't plan on drinking anything,” Sky puts in with a genuine expression of concern. Twilight slaps a hand to his tattoo, shaking his head.

“That’s not the point!” Wind huffs.

Time and Warriors share a look, which is then passed over to Twilight. The farmhand just shakes his head and the other two sigh.

“You were fine with splitting up before,” Warriors tries. “If this was just a run to the shop you wouldn’t fight so hard to come. What’s going on?”

“I’m tired of being treated like a kid. You all laughed at me and Four earlier!” The sailor says, chest puffed out. Four isn't sure if he should feel touched or offended that the younger hero feels the need to stick up for him. Whatever. He’ll figure it out later.

“And! And...” Wind looks lost for a second, like the air just went out of his sails. “I… Something just feels off. I don’t know.”

“I feel it too,” Four puts in, remembering the feeling of eyes on his back and prickling at his neck. Watching. Waiting. “I would feel better if we accompanied you as well.”

“And how do you suppose you do that?” Time asks, not exactly unkindly but with little sympathy in his words.

Well, the smallest hero can think of a way he could sneak in unnoticed. He had felt the presence of a portal near the center of town when they walked in. The others…

Silence reigns over the kitchen for a moment.

“Then that’s settled then,” Time says with finality. No room for argument.

Wind slumps a little, eyes going to the floor.

Without anything more to say, Time and Twilight head toward the door. As he passes by the sailor, Warriors gives the teen a soft punch on the shoulder and a quick smile.

“We’ll be back soon.”

“I’ll tell you all about it when we get back,” Sky reassures.

And then, with a swing of the door, they’re gone.

It is quiet for a moment, Wind staring at the now closed door.

Then he turns to face them, the disappointment dropping off his face like water off the back of a Zora. All business.

“So we’re going after them, right?” He asks.

Four feels a slow smile grow on his face and sees it mirrored by the others. Legend nods approvingly.

“Took the words right out of my mouth, kid.”

…

They wait a few minutes inside the house to let the others reach their destination before they sneak out. Hyrule, still feeling sensitive to the light– though Four also senses that the teen is probably feeling a small flare for the dramatic– leads them with Wild’s hood pulled over his head.

Once they cross the bridge into the other side of town where the bar is, the traveling hero pulls them behind one of the houses where there is a large break in the cobblestone wall protecting the town.

One by one, they slip through the crack. It leads them to a small, thin walkway in the space between the edge of a cliff leading up to Death mountain and the cobblestone. They have to sidle, backs against the crumbling stone, to move at all. It’s a little slowgoing, and more than a little uncomfortable, but it lets them move through town unseen.

Eventually, they come to another break and they shove their way through, coming out behind two buildings.

“How did you even know about this way?” Legend asks with a gasp as he squeezes through the gap in the stone.

“Oh you know,” Hyrule says, his smile peeking out from the shade of Wild’s hood, “When you get lost easily, sometimes you gotta find your own way.”

Legend shakes his head and rolls his eyes at the younger’s antics but doesn't comment.

The highest compliment he can give.  Dry like the desert and so correct that Four almost nods at the comment.

“Okay, what exactly is the plan here?” Wild asks.

“Wow. I never thought I’d see the day you actually think before you act,” Legend replies with a single raised eyebrow.

Aaaaand he’s back.

Before Wild can grumble out a response, Legend continues. “I’m assuming the plan is sneak in, keep an eye out, and then get out in time to beat them back to the house.”

“Now,” Legend says, sweeping a critical eye over all of them. “How are you all getting in?”

“What about you?” Four asks, picking up on Legend’s odd word choice.

“Me?” he says in response, a cocky smirk on his face. “Well, I’ve got this.”

The veteran hero places his left hand on the wall of the building. Suddenly the golden bracelet on his wrist flares to life, the purple eye engraved on the band flashing brightly. Swirls of green and yellow magic twine around Legend’s body, gently shifting his red tunic. On the wall, green lines draw themselves into what looks like a painting frame.

The vines of magic tighten themselves around Legend pulling him closer, closer, into the wall and in a flash of light, Legend is gone.

Behind where he was standing, on the wall, sits a bold lined, chalk-like drawing of the hero.

The drawing’s oval shaped eyes snap open and a single line cuts across the bottom half of its face, curling up at its edges. A smile.

In a flash of purple, Legend exits the wall. He leans back against it, smug grin still in place as he observes their shocked expressions.

“So back to my question: how are you all getting in?”

Four’s eyes glance around their small group. Hyrule seems to be looking away, hood pointed downward toward the ground. Wild pulls out his slate and holds it up in front of his eyes, head sweeping back and forth, up and down as he searches for something. Wind meanwhile, scans around, eyes squinted.

The sailor’s eyes widen at the same time Wild makes a small noise of excitement.

“There!” They exclaim, both pointing at a spot higher up on the wall.

Sure enough, when Four follows their hands, he can see a metal grate cover what looks to be a small air vent. He has a few built into the back of his own house to help release steam and smoke from the forge without it entering the rest of the home, but can't help wondering what exactly its utility is here.

The two teens share a quick high five and then Wild begins swiping away at the screen. In the blink of an eye, the champion’s sky blue tunic and tan pants are replaced with navy blue leggings and a tight and lightly armored shirt with a red eye in the middle. A slim, white scarf wraps itself around the teens neck, leading up to his face which is partially covered with another piece of navy blue fabric clinging over the champion’s nose and mouth.

Wind, meanwhile, rummages around inside his Spoils Bag for a moment– with an alarming amount of dangerous sounding clanging, Four notices with some worry– before pulling out a grappling hook.

Using one hand to hold onto the slack and the other to spin the metal end, Wind winds up and with a final definitive swing, releases the hook end, launching it upward toward the roof. The hook skitters across the wooden shingles of the roof, a few of the more rotten tiles coming loose before the metal catches and holds.

Wind tests it a few times, pulling on the rope hard before he is satisfied.

“Okay,” Legend says as Wild finishes pulling the metal grate from the wall with his Magnesis Rune. “Three down. Two to go.”

Four glances at Hyrule who stares right back at him, as though waiting for the smithy to make the next move. Though the hood is obscuring part of his face, Four swears the other looks… nervous.

Maybe we aren’t the only one with something to hide.

Either way, this isn’t going to work.

Hey! We’re losing time here people!

You might be onto something there...

Four sighs. “Look, we’re already losing time. You three go in, Hyrule and I will figure it out.”

Legend looks like he wants to argue but with a flash of hazel from underneath a hood, he drops it.

“Fine. If we need to leave, I’ll give this signal,” The veteran says as he holds up two fingers and then flicks them downward twice.

“And if we have to fight?” Wind asks, face serious once more.

“You’ll know that signal when you see it,” Legend says.

With a final nod, the pink haired hero sinks into the wall, becoming a drawing once more. Large, circular eyes, flick over the group one more time before he’s off, walking along the wall until he disappears through a crack between the backdoor and its frame.

Using the rope, the two blond teens quickly make their way up to the vent. Wind delves inside first, crawling easily through the opening in the wall. Wild follows closely behind, throwing a hand out to give a wave to Four and Hyrule before he too disappears from sight.

“So, I’m going to just, uh,” Hyrule starts once everyone is out of sight, pointing to the left of the building.

Four cuts him off. “No need to explain. I’ll meet you in there.”

Hyrule flashes him a thankful smile and then jogs around the corner of the building and away from Four’s eyeline.

“Oh yeah,” Four’s voice says to no one in particular as he turns around the opposite corner of the bar. “Definitely hiding something.”

“Pot meet kettle,” His voice replies in the darkness of the alley way.

…

Four isn't sure whether he should feel grateful or concerned about the fact that the bar seems to have a rat problem.

On the one hand, he muses as he pulls himself up onto a ledge containing a few decorative pots, it had made it very easy to get into the building; simply enter the rat hole and follow the tunnel to an opening out into the main room.

On the other hand, his friends are patrons of said establishment. And even though Four knows rats are relatively hygienic– And cute!– he can't help but shutter as he watches Warriors eat a piece of  bread.

Regardless, it had been very easy to enter the bar once he was the size of a minish.

Easy to enter, easy to find his friends.

From his vantage point on a relatively high shelf situated near the front of the room, Four can see almost the entire layout of the bar.

Quietly playing cards near the door are two older men, regulars Four would guess by their relaxed nature and easy smiles. Near the left corner in a small alcove sits an ancient looking woman, slumped over and nursing a half-full bottle of something red.

The people that Four is actually interested in, however, seem to have split themselves up. To cover more metaphorical ground or to appear less intimidating, Four would assume.

Sky and Warriors have taken a small table for themselves, a loaf of bread and some butter between them. There is a half full tankard in Warriors’ hand and a completely full one in Sky’s, with the former jeering on the latter to drink. The chosen hero gives a sheepish smile and takes a sip, foam sticking to his upper lip causing Warriors to break out in laughter.

Though jovial and loud, Four can see that the captain’s eyes are clear and bright. Not buzzed, then, simply acting. Making himself seem like an easy target. Someone to underestimate. Smart.

Twilight and Time, meanwhile, sit at the bar talking. Four can see that they too seem to have drinks in their hands, but neither man appears to have had any yet. Polite purchases then.

From his position on the front wall, Four can also make out the exit of the vent that Wind and Wild were using. Though dark, the smithy thinks he might see some movement behind the grate, but other than that, the two don't give themselves away.

Legend is being similarly sneaky.

While Four had been too late to see the other move into position, after quite a bit of searching, he can just make out a singular outlined eye peeking from behind a stack of crates in the other corner of the bar.

Figures. Four should have known that Legend would be good at this sort of thing.

A soft scuffling sound in the rafters draw’s Four’s eyes upward. At first, the smithy wonders if perhaps there were some Minish up there that he had somehow missed on his first pass through the building. But then, a ball of pink light flashes from between the wooden support beams, moving frantically up, down, and around the rafters.

A fairy huh How did one get lost in here Oh poor thing must be so confused

Eventually, however, the fairy seems to settle down, the pink light landing on one of the beams and simply resting there.

Four leaves it be.

Besides, he has more important things to worry about instead of a wayward magical entity. Notably, Hyrule’s absence.

He should be here by now, right? Crashes into his brain like an errant wave.

Maybe he’s already here and we just can't see him? Flares back, the statement tilting upward into a concerned question by the end

He is the most magically adept. Who knows what he has up his sleeve. A steady breeze. Comforting.

“What? Not good enough for you?” A gruff voice breaks through Four’s  mind, bringing him back to the present.

He follows the voice until his eyes land back at the bar. There, the bartender is eyeing Time and Twilight, top lip pulled up in a distasteful snarl. The man is middle aged, pot-bellied and balding, with a thin semi-circle of salt and pepper hair at the crown of his head. Bushy brows are aimed downward as he levels a purposeful look to their still filled cups.

Twilight takes a big sip and then nods his head approvingly. Time merely smiles at the man.

“Sorry, we got a bit caught up in our conversation.”

The bartender grunts in response, and then turns to begin organising the multicolored bottles lined against the back wall. Twilight shoots Time a look and shrugs. The older hero sighs and nods.

Then, the two heroes clink their cups together and throw their heads back while chugging, both polishing off their drinks in a matter of seconds. Twilight's nose wrinkles at the taste and Time’s good eye twitches minutely.

Four winces in sympathy. His grandfather had let him steal sips of beer before. He knows what it tastes like.

Seriously. The things they do to protect Hyrule.

Time knocks lightly but politely on the bar. The man turns back, with first a surprised and then a considering look on his face as he sees the now empty cups.

“Another round, please,” Time says.

“And one here too, if you would!” Warriors calls out, slapping Sky on the back for a job well done. Two empty cups sit at their small table.

The bartender nods, his lips minutely twitching upward as he sets about gathering their cups and refilling them. As the man passes out from behind the bar to grab the mugs from the other two’s table, Time sends the captain a look, which is returned with a wink.

Four settles in against one of the pots, the cool ceramic sinking through his tunic and cooling his back.

This is gonna get interesting.

…

And interesting it was. After the second round of drinks, Sky taps out. Well, he taps out in so much as he slumps over the table, face down and breathing deeply.

After his drinking buddy conks out, Warriors moves to the bar, taking the stool on Twilight’s other side, sandwiching the farmhand in the middle of the two oldest heroes.

It is after the three finish their third round that the bartender seems to warm up to them. Well, at least Four thinks the bartender has warmed up to them. He had gone from outright glaring at the heroes to only offering the occasional huff of irritation combined with polite if stilted conversation.

It’s progress. Kind of.

“So, you four are from out of town then?” he asks, nodding toward the sleeping Sky to indicate him in the group as well.

Time nods, taking another sip from his cup. “My sons and I were traveling the roads when we came across their merchant group.” He says as he shoves an elbow lightly into Twilight’s side, causing the foaming head of the younger man’s drink to spill over onto the pelted hero’s fingers.

Twilight simply glares at the old man, but the action leaves Four staring at the group intently. Only three drinks in and already losing spatial awareness…?

“We thought it would be safer to travel together, what with all the monster sightings,” Warriors picks up, sending a quick look to Time.

“Wise,” the man says with a nod. Then his face darkens and he all but slams the cup he had been cleaning back onto the bar. “Especially now that that damn brat of a hero up and vanished,” he says with a hiss, eye bright and lips pulled back in distaste. “Fucking coward.”

Four feels his blood go cold at the comment. Anger rises in him, an unstoppable tide of emotion roiling in his chest and begging to slam upward and out of his throat with a nasty comment. He beats down the instinct, pressing himself more fully against the pot behind him. Grounding.

Time’s face goes hard and cold. Twilight’s hand tightens minutely on the handle of his cup. The jovial light leaves Warriors eyes for a moment, before the captain plasters an understanding smile back on his face.

Above him, Four notices that the scuffling from the fairy has resumed but the smithy doesn't pay it any mind. Instead, the small Link takes another quick glance around the bar. Same men in front. Same lady in the alcove. Same Sky dozing peacefully at the table. Still no sign of Hyrule.

Maybe it’s better that way.

“He probably has a lot to do, taking care of the other villages and such. I’m sure he’s trying his best,” Warriors grits out with a smile, trying to strike the delicate balance between defending their friend and trying not to appear too contradictory to the man they were trying to get information out of.

The man just rolls his eyes and grunts back.

“Anyway,” Time cuts in, obviously trying to get the conversation back on track , “Have you heard much about these monster sightings? We wanted to make sure to avoid anywhere too dangerous on our way out.”

“Leaving so soon?” The bartender asks.

“Unfortunately yes. My sons and I were hoping to get home as soon as possible.”

“And we were hoping to be headed to our destination tomorrow, providing the weather holds,” Twilight says.

Four watches as a smile pulls at the bartender’s lips. It looks more like a grimace and Four wonders if the man even knows how to express any form of emotion other than irritation.

“Well then,” he says, gathering up the heroes’ cups. He turns to the back wall and pulls out the small barrel he had been using to fill their drinks and pours, filling the cups back up to the brim.

“We really shouldn’t–” Time tries to get out, but the man ignores him, instead sliding the glasses back in front of the three. Then, he quickly turns back to the bottles on the back wall and selects one for himself, pouring the red liquid into a cup and holding it out.

“To safe travels,” he announces.

“To safe travels,” the three heroes chorus back, with less enthusiasm, holding up their own glasses.

And then the four drink.

And as they drink, Four watches as the bartender’s eyes remain locked on the heroes, watching to see them finish their drinks.

Four feels his blood go as cold as the pot behind him.

Shit.

Time and Twilight almost throw the cups from their lips, disgusted expressions on their faces as they do.

Warriors, having stood up to take the biggest swig of the three, slams his glass down and coughs. As he tries to get a handle on his breathing his knees begin to shake. The captain sits back heavily onto his stool, a dizzy expression pulling at his handsome features.

“That one…” Warriors starts before his tongue seems to get tied. His eyebrows furrow and he blinks his eyes a few times, trying to clear them. “That one tasted different,” he finishes, sounding like he was speaking through numb lips.

“Oh it would,” the bartender admits easily, turning his back on the heroes to push the barrel back into place. “A higher dosage will do that to a drink.”

Time and Twilight slam themselves away from the bar, mirroring each other as they clumsily pull their swords from their scabbards. Warriors trips over his stool as he follows them, but instead of pulling out his own weapon, stumbles toward a table. His old table.

“S-Sky!” he slurs urgently, shoving at the chosen heroes shoulder. “Wake up!”

Sky’s face doesn't even twitch. His breathing remains deep and even. Unnaturally so.

In the front of the bar, the two men playing cards have stopped their game, once relaxed smiles going sharp and wide. They stand, cards forgotten as they slowly approach the heroes, hands turning to claws as they close in.

The woman from the alcove straightens and for the first time Four can clearly see her face. Her nose is large and flat against her face, nostrils flared. Her eyes are wide apart and yellow, without pupils. Where her mouth should be is instead a muzzle, full of sharp teeth and dripping the red substance she had been drinking earlier.

Blood. One part of his mind supplies helpfully.

Her once hylian looking ears grow and grow and grow until they are massive, pointing upward and ridged on the inside. She stands on thin, spindly limbs and two wings pull themselves from her back, the membrane between the– fingers? They appear to be keese people so technically wouldn’t those be fingers? But they're on her back? I don't think that's important right now!– the membrane between the ridges of her wings are thin and clearly veined in the firelight of the bar.

The man behind the bar turns back to the heroes, having undergone a similar transformation, a gleeful smile showing off fangs.

Warriors, unable to rouse Sky, instead pulls the young man from the stool and drags his body to Twilight and Time’s side. That accomplished, the captain tries to pull himself to his feet, but his knees fail him, leaving him slumped on the floor with his back against the bar and an unconscious Sky next to him. He grabs the Master Sword from Sky’s back and holds it in front of himself defensively.

Time and Twilight flank themselves on either side of the incapacitated heroes, though Four notes with mounting horror that they are not uneffected by the drink either. Twilight keeps shaking his head,trying to clear his vision and Time’s grip on his sword looks weak, like the blade is too heavy for his arm.

We have to get in there! A tsunami of anger and fear sending his heart jumping from his chest to his brain to his stomach to his ribs.

We need a plan first! Blisters back, a whirlwind of thoughts tearing at Four’s brain as he tries to run through options. He needs a portal. Now.

He focuses on the old magic he knows so well, letting the bubbling feeling of its energy settle in his chest. It crackles under his ribs, a fire sparking at fresh wood, filling him with warmth. Slowly, the sparks pull inward, filling his lungs with popping energy. He breathes out, the sparks flying up and out and leading him forward. And… there!

Down in the alcove the old keese-woman had been occupying, a lone blue and white pot sits, tipped on its side.

Go Go Go Go Gogogogogogogo!

Wait! Screeches a third, a bolt of lightning splitting a tree, the thought spreading through his mind like a forest fire. The others! What about the signal?

Four’s eyes flash down toward the corner Legend was occupying.

The hero turned drawing has pulled himself out from behind the boxes, now his entire head and one arm visible. His hand moves frantically, palm facing out. He cycles through four positions over and over and over again, hand shaking slightly back and forth, as though making sure he catches only the attention of those who might be looking at him.

He holds up three fingers. Then he curls his hand into a fist, thumb resting outside the fist against the pointer finger. His pinky then sticks out, the thumb coming to rest over his other three fingers. Finally, his hand clenches back into a fist, thumb tucked under the pointer finger, it’s tip sticking out from the knuckles of his hand.

W-A-I-T  

Screw that! We need to help them now!

No, Legend is right. If we jump in now, we could compromise the situation. Make them angrier. More likely to fight. If they think they have the upper hand, they may let something slip.

And if we wait for the signal, at least we know one other person is jumping in with us. A more coordinated assault.

Four’s hand twitches over the pommel of the Four Sword, a finger tracing the gem there. He draws the blade but just holds it at the ready. A compromise.

“What did you put in our drinks?” demands Time as he levels the Biggoron sword at the bartender. The man? Keese? laughs with a squeaky voice, the sound grating on Four’s ears.

“Just something to help you relax,” he says, amber eyes alight with satisfaction. “It seemed to have worked just fine on your friend there, but you three needed a larger dose. I’m honestly impressed.”

Using two clawed fingers, he pushes the sword away from his face, grin widening as Time’s grip on the pommel falters.

“Stop playing with your food and cut to the chase,” hisses a new voice impatiently.

Across from him, the grate over Wind and Wild’s hiding place rattles. Four clamps a hand over his mouth to stop himself from shouting out.

I knew it Just as I suspected Well shit But she seemed so nice!

And low and behold, the woman from the shop emerges from the back room, nose flat and flared, massive ears back in anger and amber eyes lacking pupils.

“You.” Time says, words coming from between gritted teeth. He brings his other hand up, now  using both arms to hold up the sword. Beside him, Twilight’s blinks are getting longer and slower as he faces down the three monsters approaching them from the back.

The Master Sword clatters to the ground as Warriors slumps over completely, practically laying on top of Sky.

The shopkeep narrows her eyes at Time.

“Where is the hero?” She demands, flexing a hand to display her claws.

“I don't know what you mean.” Time replies coldy.

The woman hisses, air slicing between her fangs. “Don’t bother lying! That kid of yours had his blood on his sleeve. I could smell it!”

Our fault...

Without pausing, the woman fishes around in the pocket of her dress for a second before she pulls out another key, the bronze flashing in the dim light of the bar.

“I went to the house,” Four’s stomach drops to his feet. “Your brats weren't there. Are they in on it? Where are you hiding him?”

Time’s eyes widen at her words, the drugs probably muddling his head enough to make it difficult for the man to try to hide any of his feelings.

She tilts her head at his expression and then sneers at him.

“You thought they were still there,” she says voice disbelieving and flat. A sardonic laugh pushes it’s way past thin lips. “Man, you must be a real shit father if you can’t keep track of two injured kids.”

The shopkeep stalks forward, closer to Time. Meanwhile, the bartender loops around the otherside, closing in on the old man’s blind side. The three others staring down Twilight move forward, snarling.

Despite everything telling him to watch his friends, Four keeps his eyes glued to Legend.

Wait. C’mon, c’mon! Stay calm! Ughhh!

“They smell like him,” The bartender says conversationally. “And not just that they’ve been around him. Something about them smells… familiar.”

“If we can’t find the brat, maybe we could just use their blood instead,” Pipes up one of the card playing men as he eyes Twilight, not daring to step any closer with a blade still held pointed at his chest.

“No!” the shopkeeper spits, amber eyes ablaze and lips pulled into a snarl. “It has to be him! For the power he stole from our master! For stealing this world from us!  A drop of blood for every monster he ever killed.”

Wait for it…

“I want to see the light leave his fucking eyes as the world comes down around him.”

An eruption of purple and an arm pulling itself from the wall sets several things in motion at once.

A sharp slam echos through the room as a metal grate strikes stone. The skittering from above resolves into a heavy clunk as something heavier drops from the rafters. Four takes a running leap and dives off the shelf, Roc’s cape billowing behind him as he slices through the air, a tiny arrow aimed straight toward the pot.

He slams into the back of the ceramic, and the bubbling, popping, geyser of magic erupts inside him. It jumps from his chest, condensing into blue runes that jump and jive and dance around his head, circling circling circling. The energy still in his chest breathes in, breathes out, and then expands, pushing at his bones, pushing at his skin. Four feels the magic push past his physical boundaries, and the smithy throws himself out of the pot as he grows.

Four brandishes the Four Sword in front of him.

Across from him, Legend stands in the fading purple light of his own magic, flame rod in one hand and a shield in the other. He looks angry. Angrier than Four thinks he’s ever seen the veteran hero look, canines bared in the cruelest smile the smithy has ever witnessed.

Wind stands triumphant in front of the unconscious Warriors and Sky, Phantom Sword held out in challenge for anyone to get near.

Wild, meanwhile, kneels on the bar, strightbacked as he aims his bow at the three monsters who had been approaching Twilight. Three electrical arrows sit knocked against the champion’s string, barely restrained by his knuckles.

And behind those surprised monsters, stands Hyrule.

For the barest of seconds, hazel eyes cloud over with regret. Guilt. But then that second ends. A pink, golden glow seems to blossom in Hyrule’s eyes, a beautiful dahlia growing in his pupils. The smell of ozone fills the air. Sparks of electricity hiss and sputter between the brunets fingers, dancing to an unseen beat.

The traveling hero extends his hand to the shopkeeper.

“You want me? Come and get me.”

And then everything explodes.

The shopkeeper lets out a scream of fury, her wings flapping thunderously to propel her toward Hyrule. Four lunges forward, slashing into the keese person closest to him; the old woman. She lets out a hiss as the blade bites into her shoulder and then a scream as her body seizes up. Her wings twitch and convulse unnaturally, arcs of greenish, yellow energy crawling over her skin.

Wild must have released his barrage, Four thinks, if the two matching screams are anything to go by.

Time dives forward, stabbing one of the card players while Twilight takes a large step forward, letting the momentum of the movement throw him into a spin attack, his sword scoring deep lacerations into the monsters’ stomachs.

Almost makes this too easy. Part of him thinks viciously as Four takes the moment of vulnerability to drive the Four Sword through the hag’s chest. Her scream cuts off as the pain causes her lungs to freeze in their tracks. A claw rakes across the smithy’s arm but he ignores it, pressing the blade in deeper.

She coughs, and blood– her own or perhaps others– splatters into Four’s face and hair. The glow behind her yellow eyes fades and then in a plume of noxious black smoke, she is gone.

A blast of heated air pushes into Four’s face, almost causing him to close his eyes against the warmth. In front of him, a tower of swirling flame erupts from the wooden floor, engulfing the bartender. His screams rise, too high to be human as the smell of burnt hair and skin clogs the air. The light of the flames dances in Legend’s eyes as the screeches slowly fade away, no sympathy in poisonous blue eyes.

Seeing the last two monsters staggered from Twilight’s hit and frozen with fear from Legend’s display, Four rolls to the floor behind them, dragging his sword across the back of their knees as he moves past.

One falls forward with a cry, soon silenced as Wind slashes into his neck with the Phantom Sword.  The other falls backward, another arrow sticking from his eye courtesy of Wild.

Legend strides through their fading smoke, fire rod glowing and held at the ready to help Hyrule.

The traveling hero thrusts his shield forward, blocking a wide arching slash from the woman’s claws. The nails hit the metal with a clang. She changes tactics, gripping the sides of the sheild with both hands, pulling Hyrule closer to her gnashing teeth.

While she goes for the face, Hyrule aims low, slashing into her legs with his sword. With a cry, she lets go of the shield and turns quickly, slamming one of her wings into the unsuspecting hero, knocking him back a few steps.

Legend takes advantage of the brief moment of separation, swinging his fire rod in a downward arc. A wall of fire flares between the two combatants, separating the snarling woman from the panting hero.

By the time the flames die down, Hyrule is flanked by both Legend and Four, weapons and shields raised. To the side, Wild raises his bow once more and Wind readies a boomerang.

“Last words?” Legend asks.

The woman doesn't even look at the veteran, amber eyes locked on Hyrule. Her eyes trace a single bead of blood that rolls from the teens bottom lip where the skin has split from the force of her wing attack.

“We’ll never stop, hero,” she says, spitting the last word with all the venom in the world. “You will never know a moment of peace! Not until that cowardly little heart of yours beats its last.”

Her face suddenly lights up with glee, eyes flicking between Hyrule and Legend and then back to all the others, landing on each one of them in turn.

“They don’t know, do they?” She asks, voice squeaky with her giggles, fear mingling with the laughs, making them sound desperate and breathy. Her amber eyes sweep over them. “If you knew what power lies in his blood, you’d be tripping over yourselves to kill him too.”

A sharp, bark of laughter cuts through the air. Legend steps more fully in front of the woman, shoving the fire rod in her face as he cuts off her line of sight from Hyrule.

“Okay, listen here you overgrown piece of guano, ‘cause I’m feeling generous. I’m not gonna repeat myself,” he says.

“Ever heard of the Hero of Legend?” Her flat nose scrunches and her ears flick in confusion. At her tentative nod, the veteran hero pulls at one end of his tunic, as he gives a small mocking curtsey. “A pleasure, I’m sure,” he says with a nasty smile.

"So if you’ve heard of me, then you know what I did?” he asks, staring at her intently.

“You supposedly killed Ganon,” she says, eyes wide. Legend clicks his tongue and shakes his head.

“Partially right.”

The spherical red orb on the end of the fire rod glows brighter and Four sees the air around it grow shimmery, heat radiating off it as Legend holds it closer to the keese woman. She shrinks away from it, her back hitting the wall.

“See, I’ve killed Ganon three times.” He presses the fire rod closer, the outer edge of the orb now licked with small flames. Blue eyes are locked with amber, an ocean pulling the sun into its depths at the end of the day, drowning it. “I’ve traveled through time, fixing the past to change the future. I’ve changed the seasons with the flick of a wand. I’ve walked through the cracks of the universe and came out fine on the other end.”

“I’ve woken sleeping gods,” he grits out. Legend finally seems to come back to himself pulls and himself back away from the monstrous woman. Four watches as she relaxes minutely as the hero steps away, standing at Hyrule’s side once more.

“I’ve seen enough power. Not interested.” With a small circle of the rod, embers erupt around the woman, a tight circle of small fires pinning her in place. She lets out a sharp gasp as the flames slink in closer and grow like terrifying bright poppies.

“I don’t know where you all go where you die but tell your friend this: if I find even a hair out of place on his head, he won't be the one who has to worry about being hunted, got it?”

Before she can get out a response, the fires converge, twining together first into a cage and then a singular pillar. It flares up up up toward the ceiling, the heat so great that Four finds himself stumbling backward from it, wishing he had his protective gear and goggles on.

And then, just as fast as it had flashed upward, the fire extinguishes itself, only a blackened spot on the ground and a swirl of purple smoke a sign that it had ever existed.

“Good.”

SIlence reigns over the now empty bar, all eyes locked on Legend.

Holy shit.  Rises like a bubble to the surface of Four’s mind.

“Holy shit,” says Wind. Four nods at the sentiment. Because really, there isn’t anything else to say.

…

Getting everyone back to the house is a production.

Wind, using his power bracelets, bridal carries the unconscious Warriors the whole way back, a smug smile on the sailor’s face as the captain’s scarf drags behind him in the mud. Legend takes up a similar job, but instead carries the still snoring Sky slumped over on his back in a very awkward looking piggyback ride.

Wild supports a dizzy looking Twilight, in an ironic reversion of the day before. Time, whose legs seem to have failed him completely, is hunched over Hyrule and Four’s own shoulders as the two younger heroes all but drag the older man through the streets of Saria Town.

Once again, Four has to thank the goddesses for making sure not too many citizens witness their procession. Not for the first time since they’ve arrived here, the smithy is glad that this isnt his Hyrule. He won't have to be the one to explain this.

Thankfully, they’re able to get back to the house without incident.

“They’ll be fine,” Hyrule says with a weary smile as he and Legend leave the room they had designated as the infirmary. Four lets a breath of air out through his lips. Beside him, Wild and Wind visibly relax as well.

“They’ll just have some pretty nasty hangovers tomorrow,” Legend puts in, with an exasperated roll of his eyes.

“So, you’re saying I can’t scream ‘Told you so’ as soon as they wake up?” Wind asks, head tilted and face innocent. 

Legend shrugs his shoulders. “It would be a real dick move. But we deserve payback so, go nuts, kid.”

“On the topic of what just happened,” Hyrule cuts in, eyes cast down to the floor, “I wanted to apologize to everyone.”

The traveling hero clutches at his chest, hand fisted in his green tunic.

“I told you all it was safe here. And I-I was wrong about that,” the teen’s voice catches in his throat. He swallows thickly a few times and then finally raises his head, looking at each of them in turn with sorrowful hazel eyes. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Wild shakes his head vigorously. “There was no way you could have known this was going to happen.” Hyrule opens his mouth to argue, but the champion barrels forward, voice powerful. “It’s never your fault that people want to kill you for being you. That's not something you can control and definitely not something to apologise about,” he says. Empathy burns in the champion’s eyes, and for a second, Four wonders if Wild is reciting someone else’s words.

Words that he has heard himself a million times and internalized. Words that are etched into his brain.

Hyrule looks like he wants to argue further, but Legend places a hand on the younger hero’s shoulder, capturing his attention. He shakes his head once, eyes intent. The traveling hero slumps under the other’s gaze.

“Thanks,” he manages, a weak smile pointed at them

WIld brightens. “No problem. Now,” he says, changing the subject and trying to lighten the mood.  “Dinner.”

Wind immediately perks up. “Soup! Soup! Soup!” He chants, following behind Wild as the older heads toward the kitchen.

“We had soup last night.”

“Not seafood soup! That’ll make everyone better in no time!”

Their voices fade as they turn out of the hallway and into the living room.

Hyrule and Legend make no move to follow them. Neither does Four.

The tentative smile that had fallen onto Hyrule’s face crumbles, leaving him somber. Resigned. There are bags under his eyes, Four notes suddenly with a hint of worry. He wonders how much magic the other hero had just used to make sure their friends were stable. He wonders how tired the other must be.

“I’m assuming you want answers,” Hyrule says, looking more exhausted and sad with each word. “What she said about me–”

“I don't care about that,” Four says, causing Hyrule’s head to pop up and eyes widen in slight surprise. “It wasn’t her secret to tell.”

All of the events from the past two days: The injuries, the anger, fear, regret, all of it adds fuel to the fire burning through Four’s chest and searing into his brain. The fire that tells him to comfort and protect.

We can hug him now, right? The fire asks, bright and hopeful and maybe just a little bit desperate for physical affection.

Yes. Comes a reply, easy as a summer breeze.

Ughhh do we have to? Ever the rain cloud on a sunny day.

Don’t play coy. Says the last.

Four’s arms slowly encircle Hyrule’s middle, allowing the other time to pull away if he wanted to. When he doesn't, the smithy leans into the embrace and squeezes. The traveling hero doesn't respond at first, muscle tensed and breath caught in his throat. However, slowly but surely, warm arms fold themselves around Four’s back and Hyrule’s chin comes to rest on the top of the smithy’s head.

“What information you choose to share with us is yours to decide,” Four says against the other’s chest, the words almost sounding too formal for the situation at hand, but heartfelt nonetheless. “I won’t think any less of you if you want to keep this to yourself.”

Four feels Hyrule nod, the older’s chin leaving the top of his head for only the barest of moments.

They stand like this for a moment. Eventually, Hyrule’s grip on him lessens, indicating to Four that he should let go. Part of him doesn't want to. Hell, actually, all of him doesn't want to. He does anyway.

Legend lets out an awkward cough, that almost has Four rolling his eyes as he and Hyrule fully pull apart.

Really, the vetreran hero had the emotional range of a Deku Scrub. No, less than that. A Leever.

“Maybe a smaller secret would be easier to start with?” Legend suggests, with a raised eyebrow and and a smile. “Namely, how the holy Hylia both of you got into the bar? Both of you seemed to appear out of thin air when I gave the signal.”

Four and Hyrule look at each other and then back at Legend.

“Trade secret.” Four says with a smile as he walks past the older hero and into the living room. Behind him, Hyrule lets out a sharp snort of laughter while Legend makes a mock offended noise at being brushed off so easily.

There was a sound from the rafters and then Hyrule appeared, right?

Hmmmm

Four lets a laugh bubble up from his throat.

Yes. A smaller secret indeed.

[anne-lister-adventures]

Sunday, 12 April 1840

6 10/’’

10 5/’’

Ground covered with snow – But Reaumur 10º on the table close to my sofa bed at 6 1/4 – All ready and breakfast at 7 20/’’ to 8 – Did not sleep – Stomach very cold – Got up – Relighted candle – Took a teaspoonful of brandy about before one and afterwards slept till 6 having wrapt China crepe shall and shalloon cloak round my stomach – 

1/2 hour’s pother in paying our Persian Maître de Poste – At last counted all out separately in Silver – Pragoni i.e. pay for the horses, for the borrowed wheel one S.[Silver] R.[Ruble] and for greasing 40 S.[Silver] K.[Kopek] till even the Courier said it was too much and the man then returned the 15 S.[Silver] K.[Kopek] and took 25 S.[Silver] K.[Kopek] as paid before – He then saw that, as I had told him, he lost 46 1/2 Kopek cuivre by his pother and making me pay in Silver – Both George and the Courier laughed and the man himself laughed and asked for a pour boire – No! said I – But you will know me better another time and I will give you something then – Not now – I am glad you have paid for all this pother – Then gave an additional 10 S.[Silver] K.[Kopek] to the soldier of the house making 60 S.[Silver] K.[Kopek] instead of the 50 I should otherwise have given – This seemed to give great satisfaction as turning the laugh doubly against our Persian – The about 1 good English gill of milk we had last night gone sourish this morning = 15 S.[Silver] K.[Kopek] – Ccarce and dear here – 

Off from Dushet (pronounced Dōōshĭt) at 8 50/’’ – Clouds hanging over the mountains – But fine back view upon the largeish good looking Town and its large squary castle-like fortress, and the portico of its long earth covered flat roofed Gastinoi Dvor, and little white Gurien church and old ruined square Tower at some little distance on the hill side above – The brick church not quite finished but that will be handsome is Armenian – And close to the church are some goodish houses building à la Russe – One finished with gallery round au 1er[premier] looks neat and comfortable – 

A street or 2 in progress – And the underground curious old Gurien cottages will a few years hence be replaced by neat Russian cottages and houses – Went into one last night – Descended into the sunk porch (inclined plain no steps) then a sort of kitchen – Then a middle room to put things away in, then the 3d.[3rd] and sleeping room – 3 breadths of carpet on the floor and a fire place – Thick gravelled road over all these cottages that carts go over – One could not imagine houses beneath – No light but from the sunk porch, and from one little round hole in the top of the sleeping room opposite the porch – 

In the kitchen was the oven at the end on the right (on entering) like an English 40 gallon iron brewing pan sunk up to its brim – They make wood a fire in this and cover it over – Then take out the fire when the sides are red hot – Put in the cakes ant they are baked in 10 minutes – But inquire more about this at Tiflis – 

Smoking Semovars in the Gastinoi Dvor and soldiers drinking hot mead looking tea without milk in the shops (Gastinoi Dvor) much natural rock salt in large pieces of greyish spar-like rock – Eggs – Mutton fat (Tallow) much small bacon – Persian dried large prunes and cherries and salts and the bean (small kidney, reddish) one has seen everywhere from Astracan here – Onion tops, and rice (not real rice said George groom here) – Cotton printed handkerchiefs and narrow white cloths linen or cotton – But the most striking are the wine shops – The bullock hides, en outre, apparently hair left on inside full of red wine sold at -/20 Kopek en cuivre per about an English pint – One shop quite Élégante had a bottle of Donskoi champagne-wise and ditto ditto Tiflis wine at 1/40 the bottle assignats or 40 S.[Silver] K.[Kopek] or 2 Georgian abash –

Off from Duchet at 8 50/’’ – The handsome square fort, a round tower at corner, at a little distance left as we ascended the down-like hill – The handsome looking white monastery at a considerable on the hill behind us to the right – Duchet stands well and picturesquely on the side of the hill in the largeish fine open valley – The Town on one side the valley the fortress on the other – 

The castle at Dusheti, which is probably what Anne calls a “castle”.

Our road a sort of field-road up and over the hill top a high plateau of good land between wooded hills near left – Considerable distance right – descend (but keep high up along the right side) into nice high valley and at 9 40/’’ – Picturesque old round Tower and 2d.[2nd] village and reed thatched village (probably there are under ground cottages not seen?) and stream with rather broadish bouldery bed – Capital land on the high plateau and all along – They might grow anything but barley the chief corn at Duchet and all round about – Saw some in winnowing last night it looked pretty fair – Tolerably plump grained and very clean – Thrown up in a shovel, and the wind winnowed it in falling – 

At 9 40/’’ our 2d.[2nd] village on knoll at head of this charming little valley – The 1st poor or less was at the verge of the high plateau – 1st vines at this our 2d.[2nd] village in the bottom – High sticks or rice props and some transomed supports as at Astracan –

But soon after here the bottom full of wood – Pollard oaks or willows or what and brush and tangle and bouldery stream – Soon after 2d.[2nd] village gather yellow St. John’s wort like flowers (5 petals and many stamina) and little pink hepaticas and smell less violets and cowslips – And at 10 Descend into main valley the fine valley of our Aragna (which we had left after Ananoor, and see again now 1st time) – 

On each side beautifully sillonné rounded wooded hill – Broad bouldery streamy river – Wind along with the river close left on its high perpendicular conglomerate gravel bank and at 10 35/’’ make an elbow to the right into the now still wider valley of our Aragna – A fine broad bouldery streamy river occasionally in one good stream – 

At 10 40/’’ pass a little rather Russian like wood cottage or farm right, and at 11 7/’’ little village of huts in basin-like opening out of valley and neat white plastered little Government Station House – Little drizzling rain now and for the last 1/2 hour – 2 feet deep of capital warp soil shewn over the high conglomerate bank of river – All the trees all along our valleys lopped higher or lower – Our great valley (Val d’Aragna) a mile broad? 

No horses at Tortiskar – Our wheel to send back and to our own 3 ‘il faut mettre des bracelets’! – Till now 12 3/4 have just written all but the 1st 3 lines of today – Coolish air and clouds darkish – Threatening rain? Great many of the queer elephantic camel-gaited cattle hereabouts they hold their heads poking forward and walk very much in the camel-style – Got out of the Kibitka to look about me – A few drops of light rain which however soon blew off – Government House – One might sleep here very well – A good room front one on each side the door for travellers – And the back rooms for the family – 

Longish job of paying – 2 S.[Silver] R.[Rubles] for repairing the wheel pour mettre les bracelets 2 or 3 thin shreds of lead-like iron that were worth very little and the Maître de P.[Poste] would have 2 S.[Silver] R.[Rubles] for the loan of his wheel (which he would not sell for 20 S.[Silver] R.[Rubles] tho’ it hardly lasted us to Tiflis) – Necessary – Nothing to be said – 

Off at 1 31/’’ – Magnificent – (vide + and ≠ above) The opening out is another wider valley from East to West that traverses our Valley d’Aragna something like the diagram as I do it from memory now Monday 13 April 6 p.m. at Tiflis the little o meant to represent the Station House on a knoll in the neck of the transversal valley and to reach which we crossed over little wood bridge and stream just below the house and amid Georgian (Gurien) ground-huts –

How many always difficult to tell and they are so like the ground itself – Soon after leaving the basin-like opening our road a deepish cut thro’ indurated sand, and then thro’ hard sand rock – Like my Bairstow quarry sandstone and at 1 50/’’ pass under the old ruined castle Prēajnēa Krepost, (Prēēajnēēa Krēēăpost) close left, and at 1 55/’’ Georgian church (Byzantine) very pretty and picturesque near right, and walled monastery at a little distance left, and wood bridge over the broad shallow bouldery river and on high point of ridge of hill just above very picturesque old castle – Valley here little more than road and river – 200 yards broad? – 

Alight at the monastery at 2 to 2 55/’’ – They call it Nānt-Shĕt – Vide p.[page] 113. Mtsketha line 9 from the bottom –

‘The fortress remains’ – The old walls are with an old remain of Tower or 2 are very picturesque from without, but as to fortress all is ruin within, as was till lately the fine old Cathedral; but now it is all under repair, the exterior finished, and the interior will be this summer – Except on close examination, and seeing the few morsels of ancient sculpture carefully spared, it is like a handsome new church in the old Byzantine style standing amid a mass of ruins – 

In some of the old building within and up against the old fortress walls are several Gurien families of peasants and labourers, living in comparative darkness as usual – They were shovelling very decent brown wheat (rather long and thin in the grain) down a round hole not more than 18 to 22 in.[inches] in diameter into a granary in the ground – So near full of corn I could not judge of the depth – No entrance – No way of getting the corn out again but by the round hole – How this savours of remote antiquity! If one is perpetually reminded of ancient usages in the Pyrenees, much more is one reminded of them here – The houses, ovens sunk in their house-floors, dress (the bourka) – Cattle-skin outres of wine let out at one of the legs, boats scooped out of the trunks of large trees – Are surely sheeps fleece without and felt within, impenetrable to rain, is surely the very same one sees on ancient medals thrown over all the heroes of old who used to wear it as they do here with its opening turned from the storm be it in front at the back or on either shoulder – 

Among the old sculpture of the Cathedral St. George and the Dragon – Over the Great East window a Greek eagle – A Tiger – 

Eagle and tiger detail from the Svetitskhoveli Cathedral. (Image source).

And below 2 horse-heads – Several mouldings of cornices and of window frames and doors &c. of very well done tracery cruciform flowers and lilies – Angels – 

More details from the Svetitskhoveli Cathedral. (Image source).

2 birds eating (something like, in the style of, the diagram? but well done – I had no time to make any sketch on the spot) –

There always among the flowers the sun flower or what we call marigold? – One large window in the East end and on each side of it a deep empty niche nearly the whole heighth[height] up to the square of the roof – The first instance I have seen of this – Effect very striking and good – 

No entrance but at the West end with porch – They said the doors could not be opened – Went up to one of the 2 priests standing by – Took him by the arm – Held out my purse – The door opened – 

A nave and 2 narrow aisles a curious little old stone shrine-like little place in the South aisle where the relics are kept –

The whole of the interior has been painted in fresco on the South side opposite the dome is an old Zodiac with a boat instead of the Sign Pisces – The whole of the painting is to be renewed the new to be an exact copy of the old – 

The zodiac fresco, after restoration. Photo by Diego Delso, delso.photo, License CC-BY-SA. (Image Source)

Over the East end – Over the Sanctum Sanctorum is a chapel as also over the West end a small ditto a 1/2 length figure of one covers the whole East end included in the chapel which seems to take up 1/2 the whole height of the building – This gigantic painting is very striking, and the effect is good – It is the first instance of the kind I ever saw – 

The gigantic fresco Anne mentions. (Image Source)

The church is dimly but sufficiently lighted principally from the dome, a 16 sided Tower? with a long lancet window in each side – Effect very good dehors – Did not sufficiently notice it within – Must go again? 

55 minutes there – Long for post horses to wait – In the cottage we went into the people dining – Some sort of greens (onion sprouts? they are sold in all the shops) and the large dried Persian cherries and some sort of bit of meat? 2 strong tree post supported the heavy beams that carried the straw spars that carried the earth covered roof and left a hole in the centre of the room over the bit of fire for the smoke to escape – A pair of large stags horns nailed to each post and on the antlers narrow boards laid across for shelves think of this at Shibden – Gamba says there are 200 houses here – Probably – It is a large Gurien city – 

Off from the cathedral at 2 55/’’ – Walked down the steep pitch, along the rock-girt Kur which here at right angles pours it deeper narrower stream into the Aragna and runs in its course and drowns its name in that of Kur – ‘Tis here just above the junction that one crosses the Aragna by the long good wooden bridge that certainly shews no trace of Pompey (vide p.[page] 113) – 

The remains of Pompey’s Bridge, Mtsketha. (Image Source)

Wine shop and one of the large outres lying on its back the 4 legs sticking up, and from one a glass of red wine pouring out – Then tied up again – George says the hair is left on inside and this covered with pitch or the skin would not hold – A bloated red dead cow or ox was lying in the Kur – George declared the skin would be made into an outre – Was it merely the skin lying macerating in the water by way of preparat? 

On the strand of the Kur at its junction with the A-[Aragna] lay 3 of the river boats – Cut out of the trunks of immense oak trees (I think) 2 of them pitched inside and outside the other merely hollowed adzed out, and not yet pitched – I think they 4 or 5 yards long and the narrowest 2 ft.[feet] wide of hollow at the top – The largest 2ft.[feet] 6 in.[inches] or more? – 

Off from the bridge at 3 – At 3 1/4 valley sand rocky and bare and 9 Troglodite houses in the sand rock right, and right bank of Kur, not far from us, and at some distance ahead (left) a sort of little alum bay (Isle of Wight) different coloured strata of sand but not quite so perpendicular -

Crowned with low building which afterwards seemed to be a low ruined square tower – Kur like Calder between Salterhebble and Elland as to breadth white greenish muddy stream close right deepish here at 3 1/4 between its highish rock banks – But soon after widens into broad bouldery stream between low banks of sand at 3 1/2 our bracelets des roues coming off – 

Stopped a minute or 2 to hammer up, and tie on with rope! – As we have done before – And at 3 40/’’ at old ruined square castle and village 12 v.[versts] from Tiflis – Probably Mtsketha is about 6 v.[versts] from Tortiskar and ∴[therefore] about 21 v.[versts] from Tiflis – And Tiflis in sight at 4 35/’’ – Descend – 

At 5 5/’’ shew podorojna – At 5 13/60 cross the river – Somehow our drivers take us one way and George driven him another, and before he could come to us our stupid fellows had had us all but on the ground a parcel of men in the street prevented and heaved us up again, and then tried to turn instead of backing – Broke the fore axle main bolt – That the near fore wheel under the carriage the shaft horse down and we had a terrible to do during which George came – He walked with us and the servants Kibitka followed to the Inn (came in at 5 40/’’) we took our rooms one large and 3 smaller one at 2 1/2 Silver Rubles a day, and he then went back to Nikolai – We went out in 3 or 4 minutes just as they had got our Kibitka to the door and thrown it over and broke off the door – Left with George -/70 for his driver – Would give ours nothing – They had done too much mischief sauntered about to the little fountain and peeped in at the gate of a nice large garden near the fountain – Curious – interesting – To us novel Eastern-like Town – 

A view of Tiflis in the 19th century. (Image Source).

Came in at 6 20/’’ – Tea at 7 25/’’ to 8 50/’’ – Had Domna – All the skin will come off her face in consequence of passing the mountains to Kaishaur (Kāsh-ă-ŏŏr), and her head is rather swollen, and she complains of much headache – Sat reading Dubois till 9 3/4 – 

Finish day for the drizzling rain did not last long and the few drops at 4 p.m. blew off – Whistling wind tonight, and oddish smell of damp? in our large cold, 6 windowed (single windows very far from air-tight) room – Something with the stove flue – Could not have a fire till tomorrow – Reaumur 7 1/2º on my table where I sat writing at 9 3/4 p.m. ∴[therefore] did not venture to undress, but taking of gown and shoes thick over stockings slept flannel jacket and in my Chelat as usual when we cannot regularly undress, and as we have done from Astracan to Kislar[Kizlyar] and from K-[Kizlyar] to Vladicavkas and from V-[Vladicavkas] to here – still cold enough –

[symbols in the margin of the page:]         +          ≠          +

[in the margin of the page:]            Dushet

[in the margin of the page:]            Cottage

[in the margin of the page:]            oven

[in the margin of the page:]            Mead, i.e., hot water and honey

[in the margin of the page:]            1 Abash = 20 Silver Kopek

[in the margin of the page:]            Mtsketha

[in the margin of the page:]            vide p.[page] 113.

[in the margin of the page:]            Mtsketha cathedral

[in the margin of the page:]            Granary

[in the margin of the page:]            All savours of antiquity

[in the margin of the page:]            Bourka

[in the margin of the page:]            Gigantic painting of Xst[Christ]

[in the margin of the page:]            16 sided dome?

[in the margin of the page:]            Shelves on the antlers of stag’s horns for Shibden

[in the margin of the page:]            vide p.[page] 113

[in the margin of the page:]            Outre

[in the margin of the page:]            Boats

 Page References: SH:7/ML/E/24/0082 and SH:7/ML/E/24/0083 and SH:7/ML/E/24/0084

[recilarotten]

Title: Insatiable (working title, will be changed) Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn In short: Inspired by @cheshiresense​ ‘s Hungerverse. Flames are everywhere, in everyone; weak, flickering things to be cared for as any other part of their health. For Skies, however, things are a little different. A little more dangerous. Word Count: 4000

Tsuna is seven when he finds out what his Flame is. It’s not a surprise, exactly, when his body explodes in an orange so bright and warm it’s almost an actual fire, but it’s startling enough that he yells and Mama peeks her head into her room.

It’s a lot more of a surprise when she waves blue Flames over him, shot through by gold, and pushes Tsuna’s Flames back in. Mama sighs in relief as the orange disappears, tells him she loves him, and reaches for her phone with shaking hands. When it’s pushed into Tsuna’s little hands, awkward and heavy, Mama tells him listen, okay Tsu-kun? This is important.

Sky, Papa says, in the same way he’s told Tsuna that he won’t be coming home today, or tomorrow, or in another year. Frank and sad. You’re a Sky, Tsuna, do you know what that is?

All Tsuna knows is Skies are home, because that’s all he’s ever heard of it. Papa laughs, agrees, but – that’s not all it is, that is not all you are, Tsuna.

Tsuna is four when he finds out about Guardians, and bonds, and what happens to Skies. Papa can’t come home to help, not yet – next week, he promises, I’ll be back then. Okay? – but one more phone call and a meeting later in the day with an orange corona still flickering around Tsuna. The brunet is led to a new doctor, is told he’s a thermatician and works with Flames (stabilizing, mitigating, improving, he’s here to help), and in moments a freezing band is curled over his wrist. Tsuna can’t bring himself to do much more than simply pick at it, even as the chill seeps into all of him.

“It’ll keep you safe until we figure out something more long term,” the thermatician says. It sounds like he’s speaking to Tsuna, but his eyes are on Mama. “I’m sure you can feel it, Tsuna-kun? That cold is just the bracelet keeping your Flames down. It will eventually fall off, and when it does, you’ll need to put another one on. Here; take these. Don’t put them on now! Keep them with you, okay? I’ll give some more to your Mama. When one starts to fray, then you can wear another. Never take them off unless you have to, okay?”

Tsuna doesn’t know how to explain the way his insides curdle at the idea anyway. He can’t see orange flickering over his skin, which is almost as bad, but what Papa said – that makes him even more scared than the emptiness. So this is okay.

Anything is better than that, right?

The thermatician looks at Tsuna at last, and smiles. “Don’t worry. I know you probably want to show off your Flames, but this is just temporary. Sky Flames are a wonderful thing to have.”

“… Papa said Skies get eaten,” Tsuna mumbles. The thermatician locks up like he’s the one freezing. “I don’t want to get eaten. What if my classmates notice anyway?”

“I’m not sure what your Papa said, exactly, but they won’t be eating you.” The doctor hums for a moment, before standing to pick out a note book. He flips through most of it before landing on a blank page, and a pen the thermatician wasn’t holding before – with multi-colored tabs on the end – is suddenly in hand. “Okay. So, there are seven elements, right? Sky, Sun, Mist, Cloud, Rain, Storm, Lightning. And they all have their own abilities.” The doctor draws out the elements, clicking on tabs to color them in appropriately – in the center of the other six is Sky. “Most elements are… Limited. While every element is capable of fueling themselves, the outer six, here, struggle with it; they can only spare so much energy gotten by eating and sleeping. So, they don’t have enough Flames to feel – to be healthy, even if they’re otherwise doing very well.”

The thermatician draws in little flames in the middle of the circles, then pauses, looking at Tsuna expectantly. The brunet blinks. He nods.

“Skies don’t have this deficit – this lacking. In fact, even when they’re going hungry, or staying up much, much longer than most people even can, they’re doing just fine! They produce plenty of Flames, which helps keep the Sky energized and healthy no matter what – sometimes meaning they can do amazing things, if they’re trained! – and this energy can be spread to other Flames, to make up for what those elements don’t have.” He punctuates this with a large flame around the Sky circle, then draws arrows out to the other elements.

Tsuna nods again, slowly. He… thinks he gets it. “So Skies share their Flames?”

“Yes! That is part of a Sky’s natural ability, Harmony. As Skies share with an element, it helps to stabilize – to calm – that element’s Flames, as well as allow them to interact freely. Both Flames adjust to suit the other, and Skies are capable of adjusting to many Flames at once, giving Sky Flames to fill up other elements so they have enough of their own Flames, and Harmonizing with them naturally.”

“Then why do they eat Skies?”

The thermatician sighs. “You see, elements, when they find a Sky, tend to get… excited. Elements that don’t already have a Sky are – it’s a bit like starving, forever. They aren’t really hurt for it, and they can live their lives without ever gaining more. The only thing that would be a real problem, would be a perpetual want. Putting a Sky in front of a lot of elements – especially elements that are just becoming active – is like placing a very large meal in front of a starving person, and you just happen to be in their way. They don’t want to eat you; they want to eat your Flames. Since Flames are capable of manifesting, and Sky Flames in particularly are permanently exposed unless interfered with – such as by those bracelets. Faced with that, those more desperate or unused to their Flames would…” He hesitates, running a hand over his head again. “Well, they would take those manifested Flames from you, and physically eat them, just like you’d eat anything else. If they’re hungry enough, they won’t stop either; not until they’re removed, they’re full, or… there’s no more Flames for them to eat.”

Tsuna stares. He stares, and stares, and then: “So they would eat me. Papa was right.”

The doctor nods.

Mama ends the meeting not long after; with a few more warnings about the bracelets, and keeping in contact, they’re going back home and Mama’s talking about school tomorrow.

Tsuna can’t bring himself to say, or think, or do much of anything for the rest of the day; but tomorrow, when none of his Flame-active classmates notice, and his teachers don’t acknowledge his Sky Flames, the worries whisk away. Tsuna’s okay; that’s what’s important.

—  —  —  —  —

Tsuna finds out a week later that Sky Flames are rare, but not the reason. The churning in his tummy begs him not to find out.

Tsuna also finds out that even now, his Papa is a liar. He won’t be coming this week; he won’t be coming the next week, or month. Papa has no idea when he can come by, no matter how much Mama tells Tsuna that he’ll be coming ‘soon.’ He’s been saying ‘soon’ since Mama told Papa about the bracelets, and Tsuna wonders if ‘soon’ means ‘never.’

—  —  —  —  — 

Three months and seven bracelets later, Tsuna’s class briefly falls apart.

(All seven bracelets that Tsuna is still wearing. The first is hanging on by a single thread and the other six are so ratty that it’s nearly impossible to tell what they were in the first place. They still chill his skin where they touch, though, so he leaves them on. He’s got two new ones on besides, because just one leaves him with Flames that even Mama looks at, sometimes.

His classmates too, are becoming Flame-active; most have a colorful halo, and everyone is alive with new energy. Tsuna’s favorite is still Misty Rain Flames, who have blue with darker bursts of indigo, because those are Mama’s Flames and he’ll always love those – but there are many, some mixed, and Tsuna thinks they’re all so pretty. He wants to touch. His bracelets remind him not to.)

It was a normal morning for a little while; Tsuna’s trying not to nap because he’s so cold and so sleepy from the bracelets. It’s hard for him to remember lessons, too. He’s teased as being no-good because of how often he slips up, and it’s almost in good fun. Even now, Tsuna’s deskmate is grinning and prodding him, whispering “Da~me-Tsu~na! Wake up!”

It doesn’t make Tsuna any less tired, but the poking and teasing keeps him from falling asleep. Tsuna nudges back with an elbow, sticking out his tongue as the teacher isn’t looking. His classmate sparks – something Tsuna recognizes, knows to jerk away from because someone else in class had activated and their deskmates had been burned. She sparks again, chest flickering white, then explodes into color. Muddled, a mess, then a deep nearly-brown orange, racing to cover all of her. Tsuna blinks once, twice – the classroom is silent.

Sky, he realizes. Orange is Sky.

His hand is in his bag, digging, but it’s too late already. Someone shoves Tsuna out of the way and that’s all the warning he gets before his classmates – a rainbow of colors and bodies and warmth – crowd around her, into her, hands digging and scraping what little Tsuna can even see anymore. He hears yelling and sees dark orange fire cupped and dripping like magma between so many hands, swallowed whole before they reach again and Tsuna’s classmates block his view entirely – he’s seen enough. Enough to fight, try to scramble away from the mess and drag his bag with him (are his bracelets in place? Some have ripped off, but he can’t see any orange, there isn’t any Flame, not his—) too panicked to cry or shriek and his deskmate was doing enough of that on her own anyway. He breaks out of the pile to find the teacher prying students away, grabbing them by whatever she can and all but tossing them aside, golden-green Sun Flames boiling as she fights through the kids. Tsuna sees his deskmate in the teacher’s arms after a moment, clothes and hair ruffled and torn, covered in scrapes and red marks as she sobs.

Tsuna realizes that her Flames are little more than sparks now, and still– still the teacher is hefting her up above grasping hands with orange palms and red nails

Papa was right, Tsuna thinks. His stomach churns. His hands find his bracelets, which feel very, very thin suddenly. Still, his classmates fight after the teacher until she leaves – escapes – the room. Things get very quiet after that.

Orange stains lips and cheeks. The majority of the class lingers, blinking, like they don’t know what they’ve done. At the door, their hands, each other. Tsuna, and every Flame-inactive in their class – three students total – stare. I don’t want to be here, he doesn’t say. I shouldn’t be here.

Tsuna instead reaches into his backpack and pulls another bracelet on. Ice rushes up his arm and settles around his core. It feels safer, though. A little less like his classmates are glancing at him, like they know, they see it, and just want his bracelets off before they go for him instead.

I don’t have Flames, Tsuna tells himself. If he says it enough, maybe it’ll come true. Maybe he’ll never have to worry about this again. I don’t have Flames.

A moment later, another teacher comes in – he’s less ruffled but his voice shakes as he says “we’ll be calling parents; your class is over, for today. Pack up.”

No one is steady enough to celebrate – maybe no one wants to. Tsuna certainly doesn’t, not when he thinks about being swarmed, yelling and punching and getting eaten. That train of thought sends his eyes watering, and while Tsuna is the first to start crying, he’s not the only one. By the time parents start coming in, all worry and reassurance, most of his classmates are in tears too, shaking and clutching at their parents and sobbing. When Mama comes in, Tsuna’s right among them, and she holds onto him like she thought Tsuna got eaten.

Tsuna tightens his hold on her skirt and buries his face in her. His bracelets are heavy.

—  —  —  —  — 

“You need to come home,” Mama says into the phone, that same night. She isn’t yelling (Tsuna doesn’t think she’s able to), but her voice is sharp and desperate. Tsuna’s quiet and holds his bracelets tight. He hasn’t stopped since leaving school. “There was an accident in Tsu-kun’s class– no, it wasn’t him but… Please, come back. He needs you. We need you.”

—  —  —  —  — 

Papa is home in two days to arrive on a Sunday. He sweeps up Mama and Tsuna and holds them tight, but that doesn’t last long – it never does. For the rest of the week, he teaches Tsuna how to take his Flames and tuck them away. He shows Tsuna, the way Flames can be twined into bone and blood instead of dancing on his skin. When that doesn’t work, because there’s so much, and Tsuna is so small, he teaches Tsuna something else.

He teaches Tsuna how to take his orange Flames, bright and burning, and so warm they fill the whole room, and break them into something else. How to pry off a piece and swallow it and find the regrown parts to smear over the rest of his Flames. Hide them all under an ugly non-Flame and say that is me.

Tsuna gags on it every time, feels the brownish, oil-slick Flame dig in like thorns (reversed Sky Flames, Papa calls them. He doesn’t explain further, and Tsuna doesn’t want him to). Still, it works. Tsuna can take off two of his bracelets and feel closer to warm than he has since getting them in the first place, and Mama can look at Tsuna and not his Flames. She can hold him without her own Flames trying to snap up Tsuna’s, and the brunet takes every second of cuddling he can get. Papa stays just long enough to make sure Tsuna can keep his Flames hidden, and then he’s gone again.

Going back to his school – because the whole school was out for that week, to make sure families knew what happened and recovered, the teachers knew to keep an eye because some kids were still inactive, and those white sparks were just moments of warning. – the first thing those newly informed teachers did was say, she’s alright, and she is not a Sky. There was an inactive Sky in the room, she latched onto that.

The teacher looks at him, at Tsuna, too pointedly to be accidental. Tsuna fiddles with his three bracelets, the other seven finally gone after that week, too frayed or torn or simply worn to stay on. Later, after announcement and class has started, she circles to his desk and says, quietly, “stay after during recess. I want to talk to you about your Flames. You’re not in trouble; I just need to make sure you’re safe, okay? I’ll be meeting with your parents afterward, too. Don’t worry, Tsuna-kun.”

Tsuna nods jerkily, clutching his pencil. The teacher hums quietly, then walks off again. If possible, he feels less safe. He drops the pencil to hold his bracelets again, reassuring himself – they are still here, and so is he. His Flames are gone, ice clinking along his veins instead of blood. I should eat some later, Tsuna thinks. Orange flickers in his mind’s eye – not on him, no, no, no, but bright enough that he imagines it. What it would look like, if he let it.

The idea sends nausea burbling up his throat, tears pricking his eyes. He’d glow in lovely orange and then there would be– hands over his throat, his clothes, and now matter how he shrieked all of them, all of them would pile on top of him, until his teacher broke apart the mob and—

Tsuna swallows, clutches his bracelets, and bunkers down.

He can’t tell if the eyes on him, that have been on him ever since the teacher silently pointed out he was a Sky, are real or imagined.

—  —  —  —  — 

“Tsuna-kun–”

Tsuna flinches away from the hand before it lands on his shoulder, curls into himself. His teacher hesitates. Steps away.

“I know what happened last week was scary. That’s why we’re having this talk now. Your deskmate, Hinari-chan… She was a Rain. But because you were right next to her when her Flames became active, she picked up on your element. That happens sometimes; it happened to me when I was little, and she’s doing just fine now. Tsuna, I haven’t noticed any active Flames from you at all, but if they weren’t active, she shouldn’t have picked them up. I need you to answer me honestly. Are you a Flame-active Sky?”

Helplessly, he tugs and pulls at his bracelets. “Yes,” and as he sees his teacher start to sigh, Tsuna barrels onwards. “B-but! Mama took me to a doctor to keep them hidden! My- my bracelets, that I wear, they hide it.” Tsuna lifted his arm, showing off the colorful bands. “I have spares, so if they start to fall off, I can put on another one and it’ll be okay. And, Papa – he was here, and he taught me how to… He’s a Sky Flame too, and Papa taught me how to hide my Sky Flames, so I’m not – I don’t get eaten. I can – I can show you!” Tsuna drops his arm now, hand holding so tight over his bracelets he thinks he’s going to bruise. No, he knows he’ll bruise, but Tsuna can’t bring himself to let go. The cold spreads over his hand too, and that feels good – feels reassuring.

“… Alright. Are you sure? I’m sure we can figure something else out.”

Tsuna shakes his head violently. Carefully – so carefully – Tsuna pulls his bracelets off. The first is fraying, he notes. Dread curdles in his tummy, thick and sour. The second looks fine, as does the third. With the bracelets gone, Tsuna sighs softly. Warmth pulses gently in his ribs. Soft and small and relieved. Then it grows. He explodes in orange flames, shuddering as his body turns to static in shock. Tsuna grabs a desk as feeling returns to him, tries not to sob in relief because this is what being warm feels like? His teacher sits heavily on a desk, blinking.

“You are Flame-active,” she says, numbly. Tsuna doesn’t like the blank expression on her face. It takes several moments before she looks normal again. Tsuna, though, doesn’t feel normal; he feels like dropping to the ground or  crying or running until his legs fall off. He’s so warm. “Tsuna-kun, you said your Papa taught you how to hide your Sky Flames?”

He nods – everything is tinted orange, and Tsuna can feel his teacher’s Sun Flames, light and scattering like sparks, recoiling from his own inbetween moments where they reach and try to dig and grab and steal. Tsuna doesn’t see it, but he feels his teacher grip the desk. Hard.

Tsuna shakes off the giddiness, remembers his feet are on the ground and his body is wreathed in Flame. He coats his hand in the orange fire, feels it sing from his ribs to his hands through his veins. It coalesces there, coiling into and through itself to form a sphere that flickers and coils around his fingers. Harmless.

It feels so much– so much like his insides are being pulled, his lungs and heart dragged inside-out and strangled by his intestines, bones digging in to pry his body apart– still, still, his Flames taste like Mama’s cooking, warm and wonderful and so much like home. Thoughtlessly, agonized – it feels like comfort as he swallows and Tsuna drags out more, body (is that just him?) shuddering in sobs as he eats, and eats, and eats, until something sticky and icy gutters through his chest. It seeps out with every exhale and swallows up orange Sky Flames. Painless, yes, but covering his skin in a way that’s almost worse than the bracelet’s icy cold. Hideous Flames – are they still Flames? – oil-slicked and sickly, drift off his body in fumes. Inside, safely locked under the fake Flames, his Sky Flames flicker and roil. If he was warm earlier, Tsuna feels like his insides might be boiling now – but is that so bad? He slides on a bracelet, just one – that boiling fades to an unfamiliar, soothing warmth, and nothing else.

His teacher shifts.

Tusna flinches, coils into himself, and waits.

“… I can’t sense them at all,” she says eventually. Her voice is trembling. When Tsuna dares to look, she’s gone pale. “You eat your Flames?”

“That’s how it works,” Tsuna whispers. “Skies get eaten no matter what. Papa says it’s better to eat my own Flames than let anyone I don’t want to do it, and… and it’s not too bad.”

His teacher lurches; she swallows hard enough to be seen – to be heard – then stands upright again. “Alright. I… I’ll still have to talk to your Mama, but this is – this will work. You’re free to go.”

Tsuna sighs in relief, only to immediately wince as the bell signaling the end of recess chimes. He retreats to his desk, hand already fiddling with his bracelet. The brunet feels sick with the fake Flames and his real Flames, like his bones and blood will light up and Tsuna won’t be anything but ashes. The first classmates to come in, nudging and laughing and pushing each other don’t notice him – but it doesn’t last. That kind of thing never lasts. Someone glances over, and that’s the end of it. He nudges a friend, and soon the class is looking – staring – eyes tracing over Flames like factory smoke, black and roiling and heavy.

It’s not Tsuna that breaks the silence – no matter how much he wants to throw himself under his desk and cry. He still hurts. The stares are worse. It’s not the teacher either, who still looks pale and sick and unsure, no matter how she tries to hide it.

“What’s wrong with your Flames?!” Someone demands, and the room explodes into noise. Tsuna can’t pick out any one phrase, hears Flames and “wrong” and “strange” and “he really is no-good-” and no matter how the teacher calls over the class, they won’t settle. They start pressing in, curious and worried and unsettled, hands coming to press and brush through his Flames—

Tsuna bolts, pushing through bodies as his Flames begin to roil in his insides, as the reverse Flames start dripping up and down, flooding the air with a stench that chokes Tsuna and follows him out the door, to the bathroom as he locks himself in a stall and gasps for air through tears and choking. The tile floor is cool, seeps into his skin when Tsuna drops to the ground to hold himself, to cry.

With only his sobs echoing back, it’s easier to calm down – when he’s not being swarmed, when there isn’t noise pressing in at every angle. He breathes deep, ignores the smell of rot, sighs his fear out and leaves hollow spaces instead. Even when that gripping fear lets go, Tsuna doesn’t leave. Brown-black fire, dregs of something gentler, coat his skin in a mockery of comfort. Of Flames.

To hate them because he had to eat his own fire to make them– because they hurt, that was one thing. His classmates staring and whispering and yelling, reaching to touch in fearful interest that—

Tsuna buries his head in his arms and shivers.

[adilynia-kiden]

Extreme Character Sheet: Pixie Edition

Character’s full name: Adilynia Eonaris Silverfall Reason or meaning of name: Her middle name is homage to the Titan Eonar; Protector of Life Character’s nickname:  The Pixie Reason for nickname:  Given by her sister due to Addie’s diminutive size, and the fact that when she was little, she used to train with her shield wearing fake wings.   Birth date: December 20

Physical appearance

Age:  153 ( 26ish human) How old does he/she appear: 24-26

Weight: 120ish

Height: 5’5

Body build: Thin framed, with well toned musculature.

Shape of face: Square

Eye color: Teal (Soon to be gold!)

Glasses or contacts: None

Skin tone: Pale

Distinguishing marks: Seven freckles form under her right eye that looks like a constellation. Hair color: Black Type of hair: Thick strands that form in half curls. Tends to be unruly. Hairstyle: When fighting, always up. Everywhere else it tends to be let down, but the top portion is almost always braided to keep most of the strands from her eyes.   Voice:  Quiet, barely above a whisper most of the time. Overall attractiveness: 6/10 (Compared with the rest of Thalassian elves) Physical disabilities: None Usual fashion of dress: has a fondness for lace and soft fabrics when not in armor. Favorite outfit: Armor, or a sundress of some sort. Jewelry or accessories: Gold chain with a glass feather charm that hangs from her waist. Ear cuff that looks like Eonar’s vines, in silver and set with tiny colored gemstones.

Personality

Good personality traits: Loyal, Polite, Willing to listen, her empathy

Bad personality traits: Closes herself off, doesn’t talk about her feelings, unhealthy coping mechanisms

Mood character is most often in: Anxious 

Sense of humor:  Good

Character’s greatest joy in life:. Her family, her colors and her duty.

Character’s greatest fear:. Icecrown

Why? Addie’s sister died there, and simply being there drags up way too many feelings.

What single event would most throw this character’s life into complete turmoil? Already happened. Vynalia’s death. Now? Failing in her promise to @ly-canthos

Character is most at ease when: Alone and falling

Most ill at ease when: Around people

Enraged when: someone she loves gets hurt

Depressed or sad when: someone leaves

Priorities: Her oath, family and currently, her orders.

Life philosophy: “My father had taught me to be nice first, because you can always be mean later, but once you've been mean to someone, they won't believe the nice anymore. So be nice, be nice, until it's time to stop being nice, then destroy them.”

If granted one wish, it would be: An end to the faction wars on Azeroth. Why? Addie will always feel like the combined forces of Azeroth are greater than divisive factions.  Character’s soft spot: Too many to count, but especially the love she has for her father.  Is this soft spot obvious to others? Currently? Ehhh, she’s not happy with him, but usually? Oh yeah.  Greatest strength: Loyalty Greatest vulnerability or weakness: Loyalty, it can make her very blind. Biggest regret:  That she blamed Raelin for Vinnie’s death. Minor regret: That last box of caramels… Biggest accomplishment: Earning her colors and becoming a Knight of the Silver Hand  Minor accomplishment: Not turning red for a full hour in Lycan’s company. Past failures he/she would be embarrassed to have people know about:  Sooooo many. The worst probably being the time she blew up a kitchen trying to make cookies. Why?  Because everything personal tends to embarrass her. Character’s darkest secret: How truly bad her PTSD is regarding Vinnie’s death, and also her mothers. Does anyone else know? Her father, Raelin… most of her knights have suspicions.

Goals

Drives and motivations: To be a worthy servant of the Light’s graces and serve with honor and dignity. Immediate goals: Keeping Teren safe. Not letting Lycan down. Not letting her father down. Not letting Raelin down. Each one of those things includes a dozen goals in and of themselves, so… its a lot at the moment. Long term goals: Continue serving the Silver Hand, and working to create a lasting unification between the Horde and Alliance. How the character plans to accomplish these goals: NO IDEA. She does know she has to leave her comfort zone, and that is a process she’s working on. Slowly. How other characters will be affected:  Maladir will relish the chance to see his daughter step from Vinnie’s shadow, and he’ll be proud no matter what. Much the same with Raelin, and though he’d never admit it, he’ll miss having her around. As for Kidenland? Well…we shall see.  

Past

Hometown: Silvermoon Type of childhood: Set in the upper echelons of Thalassian society, Addie had a very comfortable childhood that some would call idyllic. A good education, caring parents and a healthy family dynamic led to a wonderful upbringing overall. Pets: ‘Pets’ is a vague term for the fact that Addie keeps company with a whelpling named Neris, and a netherdrake called Vash.

First memory: Winter’s Veil, when Maladir made Addie her first tiny little shield to use.

Most important childhood memory: The day she won a spar against Vinnie, legitimately. Why? It took decades of getting knocked down by her older sister before Addie could honestly say she had won a duel against her. Vinnie would sometime let her win, but when she did it all on her own…it reminded her that even dragons can be beaten Childhood hero:��Vynalia Silverfall Dream job: -named- Silver Hand hero Education: Classical education with a focus on Titan and Dragon studies. Countless tutors in weapons, tactics, war history and survival training. Religion: Devout follower of the Light Finances:  Well off

Present

Current location: Nishan Marche

Currently living with:  @teren-k @ly-canthos @daughterofkiden and whoever else makes an appearance! Pets: Neris and Vash (not pets...sentient dragons arent ‘pets’) Religion: Devout Follow of the Light Occupation:  Silver Hand Envoy/ Protection Detail Finances: Well off

Family

Mother: Candaris Silverfall (Featherstorm) Relationship with her:  Their shared love of Titans bonded Addie and her mother early on. Long conversations over cups of coffee was the norm. While Candaris insisted on a court life for Addie, she knew it would serve her well in a world full of liars and cheats. Instead of letting her youngest daughter keep her head in the clouds when it came to the gilded ballrooms of Silvermoon, she put her in the middle of it to prove that not all that glitters is gold.   Father:  Maladir Silverfall Relationship with him: Warm, caring and wonderful. Next to Vinnie, Addie’s father is the standard by which all things good are measured. Siblings: Vynalia Silverfall (deceased) Relationship with them: Attached at the hip, Addie’s adoration for her older sister could easily be classified as hero worship. No matter how brutal, callus and cold Vinnie could be on a field, she could never do any wrong when together with her sister. For Vinnie, the Pixie was everything good and pure in the world, and needed protecting at all costs. They were almost a decade apart, but the Silverfall sisters were twins in spirit. Spouse: None Relationship with him/her: N/A Children: None Relationship with them: N/A Other important family members: Raelin Dawnsorrow aka The Ironfist. Once engaged to the elder Silverfall sister, he had spent almost his whole life in their company due to living at the property adjacent to theirs. Early on, he came under Maladir’s command for his prowess on a battlefield and his ability to keep Vinnie’s battle rage tempered with mercy. Over the years, Raelin’s become the brother Addie never had. Their brief falling out over her sister’s death led to very dark times, but it was he who dragged Addie, kicking and screaming (literally) back into the Light.

Favorites

Color: Silver Hand blue

Least favorite color: Orange Music: Tastes range from the Tauren Chieftans to comedy songs. Currently remembering how much she enjoys the sound of a piano. Food:  Yes. All of it. Just give her all the food. Literature: Historical accounts of battles, Titan mythology, journals of soldiers. Form of entertainment:  Free-form mountain climbing, running, sparring, glass work. Expressions: Usually, carefully neutral save the copious amount of blushing. Mode of transportation: Clockwork panther, Vash the netherdrake or horses from the Silver Hand stables Most prized possession: Her shield

Habits

Hobbies:  Glass blowing/work making stained glass windows Plays a musical instrument?: She can tinker out small songs on a piano, and carry a tune, but nothing extraordinary Plays a sport? Jousting? How he/she would spend a rainy day:  Training. Just cause the weather is bad, doesn’t mean you can slack. Working. Or that is how she would have spent a day, given shes a resident of the Marche currently… she’d probably find a book, go curl up in the sunroom and fall asleep. Go sit in the rain.. just because. Spending habits: She’s not a lavish person, but certain things won’t be compromised on. Good food, good coffee, and good bed sheets. Smokes: Nope Drinks: Coffee Other drugs: Do dreamless sleep potions count?  What does he/she do too much of?:  Worry. What does he/she do too little of?:  Self care Extremely skilled at:  Holding the line, defensive tactics, sword play Extremely unskilled at: Do not ever give Addie a bow. Ever. Or make her cook  Nervous tics: nail and lip biting, looking at the ground etc. etc. etc. Usual body posture: When standing still, she always looks like she is perpetually stuck in prayer. Head bowed, hands clasped together with a straight back. Mannerisms: Polite and demure. Peculiarities: The color of her eyes is an oddity in that they are teal. She’s rather short for a Thalassian elf.

Traits

Optimist or pessimist? Optimist Introvert or extrovert? Introvert until she knows a person. Daredevil or cautious? Daredevil on and off a battlefield in terms of her climbing, cautious in everything else. Logical or emotional? Logical, but her emotions always get the better of her. Disorderly and messy or methodical and neat? Methodical and neat

Prefers working or relaxing? Working Confident or unsure of himself/herself?: Always unsure and always second guessing. Animal lover?: Yup! Except spiders.

Self-perception

How he/she feels about himself/herself: “I know my worth on a field, and that my last dying breath will be in defense of those that I love. Beyond that, all I can say is…I am trying.” One word the character would use to describe self: “Inhibited.” One paragraph description of how the character would describe self: “Well, the parameters for such a description are lacking. Are we talking in terms of height and weight? If that is the case, I’m vertically challenged for one born of elven heritage, and stronger than I appear. Odd in the dark color of my hair for a paladin. I try and be worthy of the continued graces the Light bestows upon me, but I often feel as if I am one step away from falling into shadows. I don’t know as I will ever be comfortable in my own skin, unless I am behind my shield. I struggle with my emotions on a near hourly basis, but in the end, everything is the Light’s judgment, seeking to find if I am still worthy.”

What does the character consider his/her best personality trait? “My compassion. Though it was a hard learned lesson, as I struggle with emotional connections, I have learned to be at peace with offering it to another. The same can not be said when it is offered in turn.” What does the character consider his/her worst personality trait? “My tenacity… stubbornness as some might call it. It’s the reason I hold a line…but it doesn’t translate well when it comes to personal interactions.” What does the character consider his/her best physical characteristic? “I would say my hands, as I know what they are capable of. However…the general consensus in the training yard is that I have a….well, that’s so say I spar a great deal and much of my training comes from fencing, which lends to lunges. I… think you may take from that what you will in regards to what my knights reference.” What does the character consider his/her worst physical characteristic? “My height.” How does the character think others perceive him/her: “I would like to think that I am considered kind and pleasant enough to warrant continued company. However, I also know that my self imposed solitude often makes people stay at an arms distance for fear of interrupting me…which makes little sense, as I would much prefer conversation to my own thoughts.” What would the character most like to change about himself/herself: “How closed off I tend to be. It’s become… paramount that this changes, but it not such an easy thing to change, especially where the ticking of a clock is always right in my ear.”

Relationships with others

Opinion of other people in general: “I enjoy watching people. Their stories play out like beautiful books… and most do not even realize it. They lead such beautiful lives, even in their pain…I see humanity for its best when the focus shifts from a field of battle and a fight for their very lives, to simply living for a moment. They offer insight when I am honored with any sort of company. They give me purpose behind my shield…if I can save just one from experiencing the pain of loss, the fight will have been worth it.” Does the character hide his/her true opinions and emotions from others? Always. Addie almost always has a careful mask of neutrality in place, though close attention will see it break… often. Person character most hates: Putress Best friend(s):  Raelin Dawnsorrow Love interest(s): @teren-k @ly-canthos (Yeah, I updated it:P) Person character goes to for advice: Maladir or Raelin Person character feels responsible for or takes care of:. Teren Kiden, Lycan Maddox, Maladir Silverfall, Raelin Dawnsorrow, Annest Kiden. Every single person that draws breath. Person character feels shy or awkward around:  Everyone? Person character openly admires: Turaylon, Uther, Tirion, Maladir, Vinnie, Raelin Person character secretly admires: Lady Liadrin Most important person in character’s life before story starts: Vynalia Silverfall

After story starts: Herself.

Tagged by: @jasper-quinn (OMG this took forever! <3) Updated Tag: @belillinafireseeker  THANK YOU!

Tagging: Whoever the heck wants to do this beast!

[yourstateofdreaming]

Don’t Hang Around With Boys Like You Mini Series: Part 2. Papa always warned me

Series Masterlist | Previous | Next 

Summary: Y/N has a hard time dealing with some issues and finds comfort in one super-soldier’s company.

Word Count: 1790

Warnings: I guess it’s a little Angsty, low levels of fluff near the end.

You pushed yourself up once again, Steve was always in charge of training and although you did not enjoy sweating, you were happy to stay in Midgard while Thor was back in Asgard.

Having a handsome and friendly face to look at every now and again helped too…

Since that little trip around the city with Bucky, you found out that there was a lot more about the man with the metal arm than the rest of the team thought. He simply needed someone to talk to, and you realized in the past couple of months that while Steve wanted to help him, Bucky would not allow himself to worry his friend.

Your arms brought you up and down effortlessly while Wanda counted. Her face was completely red from her set of push-ups, but even after an entire hour working out, you were now just starting to sweat.

“Y/N?” Wanda attracted your attention, “you should be careful.” She warned.

You sighed, Wanda had read your thoughts while you were working out, of course. If there was something on your mind right now was the sight of Bucky doing pull-ups in the bar right across from you.

From her seat on the ground next to you, Wanda kept pressing the small button to keep counting until you reached a hundred.

“Maybe don’t read my mind.” You pointed out through gritted teeth, finally sitting down to rest.

Growing up with Loki as your brother prepared you to be able to handle someone playing tricks or even blatantly annoying you, but the sheer intrusion on your most private of things, your mind, was something that you couldn’t help but be livid about.

Even when you try your best to remind yourself that these Midgardians know no better, you feel the sting of superiority, which you hate to recognize in your own person.

“You know he is…”

Wanda intended on giving you the same lecture everyone liked giving you; in response, you snapped at her and gave her a charming smile like the one you learned from Loki. So wicked and sour, yet how enticing…

“I don’t need to read your mind to know that you have been sneaking out with Vision.” You comment with a slight shrug and watch her eyes open wide and brows shoot up.

Your smile turned into a grin and your eyes narrowed for her to feel the warning laced with your words as you spoke through gritted teeth.

“Don’t try me, Maximoff.”

You stood up all of a sudden, and went to Steve, he was in the corner, having a conversation with Sam.

The Captain is smiling, relaxed as he coaches the whole team. Sam is holding a towel in his hand and as he watched you approach he pursed his lips into a tight smile, bowing his head the slightest. As a reply, you bow the same way and watched him throw the white towel on his shoulder.

“Rogers,” you started, “I’m done.”

Steve frowned, moving his feet slowly he turns around looking for Wanda. He shakes his head and points an accusing finger at your face.

“Finish another round.” He instructed.

“No.” You said with confidence. “I am done.”

You place your hands on your hips over the tight pair of black pants you wore at the gym. Steve goes to speak but you shake your head and turn back around. It was as if everywhere you went people had a say on what you could, should, or would do; leaving Asgard changed nothing about it.

Odin was mad, telling you about your duties and then going on about how you were not ready to fulfil your destiny as princess of Asgard. If only you had been born a boy…he would have given you more…love. But you had your father’s - the All Father’s cordiality. You never had a chance to sit on the throne, mostly because you were a girl and secondly because you were born third after Loki.

So you were still getting lectured, still being prohibited from the things that mattered most to you, the people you needed most.

“Y/N.”

Steve called when you walked into the gym to leave. Knowing that he might give you some sort of punishment, you decided on taking him down in the fairest way; you found the weapons on the rack next to the wall and threw a shield his way, grabbing a sword for yourself.

“This is not part of the training,” Rogers called out.

“I know.”

You showed him a smile and ignored the rest of the team as they stopped what they were doing and watched.

“If you win I’ll stay if you lose you let me go.”

Steve sighed, usually, you were easy to work with; whenever you started getting difficult Thor would step in and put you in your place. Right now your brother was gone, so Steve could only do some sparring with you, although he was sure it would not matter who won, you were going out of the gym once this was over.

He was still relaxed when you launched yourself at him, your sword hit the shield and Steve had to put one of his feet back to stand his ground. You hit the shield a few times and tried to stick your sword on whatever little holes you could spot in his defence.

Since Steve was keeping you busy, you guessed he wanted to tire you, so you changed strategies and threw the sword to the side, jumping and landing a kick to the side of the shield, sending it flying across the room.

“That’s pretty unfair!” Someone yelled.

“I don’t mind.”

Rogers smiled and threw his punches at you in a second. With swift waist moves you dodged his fists, catching his foot in the middle of a kick, you twisted and pushed forward, sending him stumbling to the ground in a matter of seconds.

“I think I’ll leave now,” you yelled as you ran to the door, “before Cap gets up!”

When you ran out of the gym you aimed to go outside and try to catch some fresh air to calm you down. Your temper was your biggest flaw, but sometimes you wondered if anyone cared at all about you. Not about the Goddess, or the princess. You wanted to be your own self, to have your own decisions. To simply be Y/N. And all you got were always orders disguised as advice or requests, some shamelessly thrown at you, some hidden by manipulation.

The air hit your face, feeling cold and sharp with the smell of pines. The woods around you seemed to open up to let you see the road to a clearing. You looked up and asked Heimdall to keep the secret for you while you sat down on the dirt and stared at the clouds, counting the birds that flew by to distract you from the turmoil in your head.

You had been seeing him in secret. In the start, you have wanted to hear more of his story, Bucky seemed to have a lot on his plate and you were there to listen when he was scared of talking to anyone else. Sometimes he would know something was wrong with you, he would hold your hand and call you some endearing Midgardian way. “It’ll be fine, doll” was your favourite as he repeated it a lot.

The clouds gathered in the sky and turned it a perfect chaotic blue colour that caught your breath. Thor. You thought, but he was being you the rain, he was aware of you right now or at least that’s what you felt this was. A soft rain spilt over the trees and you smiled as you let it wash over you with your arms extended over the green leaves and bright grass. Rolling on your side you spotted a little rabbit hopping around a larger one, you reached out and your fingertips grazed over the smallest animal’s brown fur before a single tear left your eye as you admired the beauty Midgard was blessed with. The bunny hopped away with its mother and you gasped at the sudden move.

Once the rain stopped it took a while before you got back to the compound and locked yourself in your room to avoid everyone. You took a shower and cleared your head, preparing to go to bed and skipping dinner.

After tossing and turning for a couple of hours you left you sat up and rubbed your face, looking around your room you went outside and tiptoed the familiar way to Bucky’s room.

The door was perpetually locked, so you sheepishly made the choice of knocking, rubbing your hands together as you tried to listen to any noise he made while he stepped out of bed and came to open the door.

You had visited his room in various occasion, just never past midnight, Bucky was -as you learned from human media- old-fashioned. As was Steve.

The humans were fun, you wore comfortable clothes all the time, for instance, you wore a thing they called “pyjamas”. Usually, you would prefer to simply sleep naked, but seeing as everybody else walked around the kitchen in their pyjamas after long missions, you decided on going to Nat for a pair of light blue shorts and a white shirt. Pyjamas!

“What is it?”

Bucky opened the door with his eyes almost closed; the moment he realized he was looking at you, his brow furrowed and he stuck his head out to have a quick look around to make sure there was nobody else with you before tilting his hips to the side and lean his forearm on the door.

“What’re you doing here, doll?” He wondered in a low raspy voice, to which you blushed.

“I couldn’t sleep…” You whispered, “I just…”

You realized how stupid the whole thing was and closed your eyes, breathing through your mouth, saying you were sorry for waking him.

“I’m so sorry, I’m…shouldn’t have come here, I’m sorry!” You repeated with a whispered worry evident in your eyes.

Bucky chuckled and straightened up, opening the door and reaching out to grab your hand as you tried to cover your face with it, he pulled you towards the room and said it was okay.

“You can stay.” He closed the door behind you and you finally took a good look at him.

He was wearing only a pair light grey pants, his muscular body on full display. Bucky went back to his bed, walking barefoot. Reaching the right side he pulled the covers away and snuck in, sighing when he rested his head on the pillow.

[thesylvalining]

Time to trade Lisa’s mountain bike for… Lisa! And when she’s back from tour, it always means one thing:

So first, the girls shared aperitivo with their buddy Loic on the church steps in Faenza, with cheese from the Modena hills and wine from Loic’s latest tour in France. I enjoy this photo because somehow Lisa made Loic look like a swimsuit model with too many clothes and me look like a CCR (Creedence Clearwater Revival) groupie. Meanwhile, Lisa looks lovely and excited to to see her eclectic subjects come together so well.

Next stop(s), obviously, is/are our favorite bar/restaurant/beach/nightclub/obsession on in Marina Romea: Boca Barranca! Lisa’s amazing longtime friend Nico is along as well. There are refreshing dunks in the ocean, Spritz, the mouth-watering fried seafood plate we’ve eaten our weight in and the equally mouth-watering bartender… everything turns out to be just as good as we remembered :). 

This time, the journeys perpetuate the watery theme. I take to calling us sorrellas (sisters) from other fellas because — per usual — we’re hooked at the hip.  Like thirsty camels, the sorrellas swap heat for aqueous dips at every opportunity. At this juncture, it seems fitting for me to be so near tenacious water. I appreciate water’s fluidity, its propensity to literally go with the flow, to be at home everywhere in the world.

We soon find ourselves drawn, like a water droplet from a sponge, out of the penetrative heat in Faenza. We arrive in Crespino del Lamone via the train up the Lamone river valley (which, after cresting the Apenninni dumps out in Firenze). From there, it’s a blissful cruise down to our dipping spot of choice. The first is overrun by what New Girl‘s Schmidt would call “youths” (pronounced ewe-thz), predominantly the testosterone-fueled variety. The second, while still afloat in testosterone, boasts a couple of families and several tiered pools in which to disseminate the youths.

In the swelter of Italian summer, I have discovered innumerous ways to whittle away a sweaty afternoon. The time spent dipping, napping, journaling and watching the youths cannonball off an abandoned building while the occasional train grumbled by overhead was precious. Precious because it was spent with Lisa, precious because it was a beautiful day and a fantastic time to be alive. Precious because both of us were fully present and wholly content doing a lot of nothing in particular.

Being present is another gift from the Universe, stashed in my increasingly bountiful cornucopia of Neat New Tricks. It is not that I have ceased to feel angry or sad about how everything between Tyler and I turned out. No — I feel difficult emotions but I am unafraid to let them wash over me like the often murky, refreshing waters of the Adriatic. It absolutely acceptable to feel strongly because we are human — I am human. But I have learned better, more enriching ways to be, partially because I consciously live in the present moment, without (too much) lingering in the past or hoping for the future.

I’m realizing, it’s all about a comprehensive view of life — like Benjamin Hoff explains in The Tao of Pooh. I swear, every time I pick it up, there’s a little jewel of wisdom waiting for me to ponder its shiny facets. Hoff explains best what I’m getting at: our favorite moments in life often occur before a much-anticipated event. Like finally opening birthday presents, going on vacation or seeing someone especially cool after not seeing them for a couple of weeks… 😉 The moments between and before are the crusts of bread if you can’t wait to eat the soft inside — but without them, there’s not actually bread.

My Italian buddy Igor and I were discussing life and such things at his house near Bagnacavallo whilst hanging laundry and nibbling bread and chocolate. It was before a particularly quirky and wonderful concert by Devendra Banhart on Monday night (I’ll wax lyrical upon this later). I said: I feel like I’m in my 20s again. Once again, I bask in the same natural spontaneity and joyousness — but with the brain, experience and self-awareness I have now. I feel lucky but it is far beyond luck. I’ve ceased to search for happiness, but it found me anyway as I suspect it does when life flows easily.

Waterfalls are happy places.

The tan lines of a cyclist!

Let us return to the Lamone river where the The Tao of Pooh was again eerily appropriate. As the water rushed by, I pulled my tarnished bookmark and read:

“Say, Pooh, why aren’t you busy?” I asked.

“Because it’s a nice day,” said Pooh.

“Yes, but –”

“Why ruin it?” he said.

“But you could be doing something Important,” I said.

“I am,” said Pooh.

“Oh? Doing what?”

“Listening,” he said.

“Listening to what?”

“To the birds. And that squirrel over there.”

“What are they saying?” I asked.

“That it’s a nice day,” said Pooh.

“But you know that already,” I said.

“Yes, but it’s always good to hear that somebody else thinks so, too,” he replied.

I closed the book with a laugh, read the passage to Lisa (contemplating her second nap on the pale ledge above me) and we both turned back to our important nothings, listening to the birds, the squirrels and the youths now cannonballing off the waterfall.

And on the way back? Gelato! Duh!

Back in Faenza, Palio season was in full effect. For those of you who’ve dipped a toe in Italy, the word Palio may hasten forth images of titillating horse races in the medieval heart of Siena. Faenza holds its own version throughout July, a fully and ornately costumed affair between the different rioni (neighborhoods), each with their own colors and meeting places (which are boisterous and serve good, inexpensive food all month).

The Palio starts with youth (ewe-th) flag tossing and horse races (which keep Sylva up into the wee hours of the night) and culminates at month’s end with the same song and dance for adults. Lisa and I popped out to watch with the parade to the final race with the rest of Faenza… And let me just say, anyone who knew me in my awkward years knows to say I was obsessed with medieval stuff (Nini? Kelly?) is putting it mildly. So I rather enjoyed the entire affair!

Freaking knights in freaking armor, everybody!

Each rione has a competition for prettiest wench, I mean lady.

And each rione has its own spirited band.

A day later, we marched ourselves and our bicycles up to the ridge of San Mamante, beloved by cyclists for its hilly spine and idyllic views. Also beloved by watery wenches such as ourselves, because ExperiencePlus! organized us all a lovely poolside aperitivo…

After Lisa trudged off somewhat reluctantly to lead another tour with the infamous Enrico 🙂 I was left largely to my own devices. Nature put in its liquid two cents, too, cooling down scorching Faenza with much-needed rain:

Even with my sorella gone, I live a far cry from a solitary life — I have aperitivi, multiple dates in one week with my bike and actual humans (even with a guy I met on the train — you guessed it, more later). Or I travel solo, which I truly savor. Or I also linger about the castle like a friendly spirit, diligently working on my book (almost finished and ready to be sent off), this blog and corrections for the article (now finalized!) for the Italian magazine, Ossigeno.

And I have oh-so-much time to ponder. I can process how much my life has changed and absorb this delectable sense of freedom and adventure into my very bones, which were created, I believe, to absorb such things. And to celebrate them!

You guessed it: The Tao of Pooh has something to say on this matter. Hoff unearthed a quote that’s so beautifully apt I’m going to quote Hoff quoting Lu Yu.

The clouds above us join and separate,

The breeze in the courtyard leaves and returns.

Life is like that, so why not relax?

Who can stop us from celebrating?

And what more says celebrate than when your morning Nutella on wholegrain tigella (imported from the recent mountain bike trip) suddenly looks exactly like the country you’re so very happy to be celebrating in!??!

So, to celebrate the celebration, I combed my fresh-out-of-bed hair and adventured. Sylvas adore a good adventure — even, and often especially, da sola (alone). I hopped aboard the same train Lisa and I rode for our river dip trip –surprisingly almost clean, not entirely packed — to Marradi. Marradi? Yes, the same spot the sorellas began their multi-day hike in the colder, windier, rainier days of late April. This time around, it was hotter than Beyonce’s sister Solange.

The hike became an all day affair, especially after I missed the nonexistent train between 1440 and 1859. Unfortunately this meant missing hamburgerata (a bi-annual hamburger cook off with their friends) with the downstairs neighbors, the same whose lovely daughter (and friend) I teach English to several times weekly. But it meant more time in the wide, wonderful outdoors where I always feel at home.

I found the forest, even in crowded Italy, largely devoid of other humans. I could hear them on distant dirt bikes and cars and early on, passed a group watching their buddy hang glide off an open, hilltop. And evidence of humanity presented sporadically with a fence, a rickety shelter or scared sheep bolting down the path ahead of me, the bells around their necks ringing a frantic tune. Otherwise, it was just me, the birds, the squirrels, the breeze…

… the trees and the ivy…

… the old cobblestones on the road to Eremo di Gamogna (the hermitage of Gamogna)…

… and quite possibly the best lunch spot around!

By the time I arrived back in Faenza it was after 1930 and of course, I was ravenous, but tired and very sated after a long sojourn in The Nature.

The beauty’s in the messy details…

Heading out of Marradi.

Lunch spot views.

Sylva = very scary.

Almost to the lunch spot!

A walk in the woods, anyone?

Heading back down.

There’s an Italian saying: Chi dorme non piglia pesci, or those who sleep don’t catch any fish. I may not have been in the business of catching fish (although some people might be able to argue that point… Lisa? 🙂 ) but recently I definitely was in the business of not sleeping… case in point why this clock…

… says 0400 (4 a.m.). Yep — more on that next time. Ciao for now!

Aqueous Transmissions Time to trade Lisa's mountain bike for... Lisa! And when she's back from tour, it always means one thing:

[noodles-and-fluff]

New Dawn

1/4, because I will write a story for each of the new Champions. GOALS. Also not all of them will have a pairing, just saying. Alternate suggestions for titles are very welcome as well. If these go over well, I might start putting up more writings.

Teba is trying to adjust to life with his new partner in Rito Village when the unexpected happens. 

(it’s an AU where Teba and Kass are not married, M/M pairing ahead, SFW)

The week starts gray and overcast and gross. Rito Village is known for good weather: sunny skies, fluffy clouds, only occasional snow. It’s a big reason the fliers settled here in the first place, perpetually positive flying conditions.

Except for today, of course.

Teba is grouchy today, the clouds make flying cold and miserable, no sun makes the targets at the Flight Range harder to see, and Kass is leaving for the Faron region today. The blue Rito collects his sheet music, leafing through it to find the pieces he wants to take with him. Teba glances around his house to try and take his mind off his bad mood. Kass only moved in with him a few days ago, so there are only a few small signs that someone else besides Teba lives here. A few stacks of neatly organized sheet music line a shelf that Teba used to keep arrows on, and a small side table sits empty, the new resting place for Kass’ accordion when it’s not strapped to the other’s back or in his hands.

Motion draws his attention back to the other Rito, and Kass gives him a smile as he finishes securing his accordion onto his back. Teba gruffly shifts his weight from one leg to the other.

“You be careful out there. I’ve heard about Faron. It’s a mess. Monsters everywhere.”

“I will.” Kass looks thoughtful for a moment. “To be honest, I can probably count the number of times I’ve gotten in trouble with monsters on one wing. They aren’t usually aggressive to anyone who’s not a Hylian.” That doesn’t really make Teba feel better, and Kass can sense it. “I promise to be careful. I should be back by the end of the week.” Teba nods, that thought finally making him feel better. Kass would disappear from the village for weeks at a time on his quests, back when he didn’t have anything tying him down in the village. He’d show up for a few days to rest and restock, then he’d be gone again without another thought. Teba knew he wasn’t the only reason why. Kass was getting help with his songs: the Hylian Champion was investigating shrines as well, and whenever they met out in the field, Link would puzzle over the riddles in Kass’ lyrics to get them to the shrine in the song. The blue Rito kept a map of Hyrule with each shrine he found checked off. He had four so far, and four left, if his old teacher’s music was correct. “I should go. I want to get to Riverside Stable before it gets dark.”

“Right.” Teba internally kicks himself for being so curt with him, but Kass hasn’t seemed to notice. He pulls the bard into a hug, his heart fluttering when Kass nuzzles their beaks together. He walks his partner down to Revali’s Landing, and Kass nods to him.

“I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

“You’d better be.” Kass smiles again.

“You know I will.” He shifts the strap around his accordion. “Goodbye, Teba.”

“Goodbye, Kass.” Teba wants to add on how much he loves the other, but Kass is suddenly taking off, and he can only wave as his partner soars down to the mountains below. Teba watches him until he can’t see those bright blue feathers anymore, then turns to go back home. He’s caught in darkness, and glances up at the massive figure of Medoh, perched on the overhang above the village, target set on Hyrule Castle. He stares at it for a moment, then shakes his head. He’s going to have to find something to keep his mind occupied for the rest of the week.

 The second day that Kass is gone, determination sets in, and Teba gets to work. He pulls down his hammock bed from the ceiling, hammers in a couple more mounts for stability, then heads to the tailor to find more fabric. She gets him a massive piece of the softest fabric he’s had in a while, and puts hooks in it so he can hang it up, which he does when he gets home. The fabric is emerald green, and shimmers in the bright sunlight. He fills the hammock with pillows and throws himself into it. Far too big for one Rito. Perfect. The two of them had been sleeping on the floor in alternating arrangements, at Kass’ insisting. Teba was glad to let him have his bed, but Kass had protested, so they had alternated for the few days before he’d left. Teba was used to sleeping on the ground at the Flight Range, and Kass was used to camping out on the ground, but Rito Village was home for them, and home meant a comfortable bed.

 The next few days, Teba spends his time crafting a new bow for Kass to take with him on his travels. It’s always made Teba nervous how Kass leaves without so much as a shield to protect himself with, so he makes sure the other won’t have any complaints with this bow. It’s light, but durable, crafted out of wood so it won’t weigh him down. It’s not as strong as Teba’s bow is, but Kass doesn’t need something that deluxe. He leans the bow against the table with Kass’ music, adding one of his own quivers next to it and filling it with arrows.

 The end of the week comes and goes with no Kass. Another day, and another, until Teba can’t take it anymore and finally goes down to the Flight Range to fill his targets with arrows. He wants to be waiting at home for the moment Kass flies back into the village, but seeing the sheet music and the map is driving him crazy. What if something happened? Was Kass all right? Was he even coming back? He’s anxious, and the anxiety is infuriating him. The fear he feels inside is infuriating him.

He’s sitting on the deck to the range, sorting out his arrows, when he hears footsteps up the ladder. Teba turns to see Link come in, his cheeks pink from the cold.

“Link! What… what are you doing here? I thought you were headed to Goron City?” Link goes in his bag, searching for a moment, then comes up with an envelope, which he holds out to Teba. The white Rito takes it, confused, then opens it up. Ice runs through him as he sees a piece of sheet music folded up inside. Kass. He tears the message out, trying not to rip the page as he unfolds it.

“My Dear Teba,” He tries not to let Link see how hard he’s flushing at that, “I am so sorry for not being back when I promised you I would. Faron has been nothing but rain and thunderstorms, and I had to spend days in the stable waiting for the lightning to stop. Link has helped me find the shrine in my music, graciously, and I’m almost done here. I should be back in Rito Village in a couple days. I promise I am not leaving you, I am not hurt, I am not dead. Please don’t worry too much about me. I love you. ~Kass” Teba remembers to take a breath, and he glances up at Link.

“He’s telling the truth? He’s not hurt?” Link shakes his head, mimicking Kass playing his accordion. Teba nods, relief blooming in his chest to know that Kass is safe and coming home soon. “Thanks, Link, for bringing this to me, it really means a lot.” Link nods, then motions at his leg, rubbing his own thigh. “Hmm? Oh, yeah, I’ve healed completely.” Teba turns to show the back of his leg, the burns from their battle with Medoh gone. Link nods again, resolutely, then gives him a wave and heads back down the ladder. Teba lets out another breath, feeling the stress bleeding out of his muscles. He’s not angry anymore, just exhausted and relieved.

 Teba is returning home after a flight around Medoh when something by the bridges catches his eye. A flash of bright blue, coming closer. He dashes down to Revali’s Landing just in time to meet Kass as he lands, pulling the blue Rito close before Kass can even say hello.

“You jerk, I was worried about you!” Kass chuckles, although he already sounds defeated.

“I told you I would be careful, you old crow. I figured that you’d be more upset if I came home with my feathers burned off from being struck by lightning.” Teba can’t argue with that, and he leads Kass back up to their home. “Teba, this is so beautiful!” He can’t help but swell a little as Kass marvels over the new hammock, studying it and reaching up to touch the fabric. He helps the taller Rito take off his accordion and the rest of his gear, then Kass collapses in the hammock and doesn’t move again. Teba smiles to himself as he carefully rests the accordion on its table, placing the sheets of music next to the others. Kass is home now, and all is right with the world.

 Kass sleeps for a day and a half, Teba curling up with him whenever he gets the chance. It’s early in the morning when Teba feels it, sitting up and glancing around. The ground is rumbling, the motion steadily growing stronger. He gets up, and heads outside just as the shaking turns to a quaking. Grabbing onto the landing outside the door, he glances up just in time to see Medoh fire a massive blue beam from the beak that had been targeting the castle for the last couple weeks. The sound is deafening, and it feels like it lasts hours, even though it’s only a few seconds. The silence afterwards is eerie and unsettling, and he hates it. Something is wrong. Teba turns to hurry back inside, grabbing his bow and quiver from his workbench.

“T-Teba, what’s going on?” Kass is sitting up, glancing down at him, the blast loud enough to rouse him.

“I don’t know. I’m going to go make sure everything is okay. You stay here.” Kass reaches down to touch him, and Teba leans into his feathers.

“Please be careful.”

“I will.” Outside, their neighbors are awake as well, mothers calming crying children and the other warriors looking to him for guidance. He turns to Harth, who’s come up to him. “You go check Medoh. Be careful not to get too close to it.” Harth nods, and motions to two of the warriors to come with him. Teba now looks at the other two. “Mazli, Gesane, that blast was aimed at Hyrule Castle. We’re going to make sure there’s not a mass of monsters headed here.” The two Rito nod, and follow him to the cliffs just behind the stable, where they can actually see the castle.

All three of them bristle to see the black clouds swirling around Hyrule Castle, bigger and more ominous than they’ve ever seen. Flashes of pink and orange are nearly blinding even at this distance.

“Is this the Calamity coming back?”

“Teba, what should we do?” Teba stares into the black mass for a moment.

“Mazli, go tell the Elder what’s going on. Make sure everyone is prepared to evacuate. I don’t know what’s happening at the castle, but I’m not going to let the village be destroyed again if the Calamity does come back.” The deep red Rito nods, and takes off. Gesane watches him go, then glances at Teba again. “Gesane, you stand guard at the entrance to the village. Keep an eye out for monsters.” The other guard nods to him, and flies away. Teba turns back to the scene unfolding in front of him, sitting on the ground and crossing his legs. If it starts to spread, he wants to be the first to know about it.

 Hours pass. The tension in the air hasn’t eased. The swirling black clouds swell higher into the sky, but they don’t spread out farther than the castle grounds, strangely. Teba sits, motionless, hyper-aware of everything around him. The sound of flapping wings catches his attention, and he turns to see Kass landing behind him.

“What are you doing here? I thought I told you to stay inside!” Teba is furious, but Kass doesn’t back down.

“Mazli is saying we need to be prepared to leave, that this could be the Calamity again. Teba, you’ve been here for hours, I was worried about you.” Kass’ tone is even, but his voice is shaking. Teba regrets yelling at him, and motions his partner closer. Kass sits next to him, pressing himself into Teba’s side. Teba points to the castle.

“I’m not sure what’s going on. It’s been like that for hours.” He slips an arm around Kass’ waist, keeping him close. The blue Rito is silent for a moment, then begins to hum a familiar melody.

“The hero with the sealing sword struck the final blow/ And the holy power of the princess sealed Ganon so.” Teba glances over at his partner.

“You think that’s Link in there, fighting Ganon?” Kass nods, hesitantly.

“It makes sense.” The two of them sit in the terse, quiet air, staring at the castle. The ground starts to shake again, and Teba pulls Kass closer, heat swelling in his chest as the other Rito clings to him. The swirling vortex of clouds looks like it’s about to explode, and there’s suddenly a bright flash of light. Kass is the first to recover from being blinded, and gasps as he sees the scene in front of them. Teba curses under his beak, rubbing at his eyes, and struggles to clear his vision. The spots popping in front of his eyes finally go away, and he’s greeted with the sight of a massive monster on the grounds in front of the castle. A giant pig-demon-thing, it spouts pink flames across its back. They can hear it roaring from here.

“That-it’s-“

“Ganon!” Kass is shaking, and Teba can feel himself shivering as well, but he swallows his fear and clenches his beak tightly. Flashes of golden light sparkle around the beast, and everything gets brighter, forcing both Rito to shield their eyes with their wings. Another roar erupts from the beast, and Teba pulls Kass close as the golden light turns blinding.

And then it’s over. Silence. Both of them feel ringing in their ears, but the beast is gone. The black clouds, pink flames, golden light, it’s all gone. Hyrule Castle stands tall against the backdrop of Death Mountain as the two Rito unfurl their wings from around each other. They exchange a glance, and Kass nods, somehow knowingly.

“It’s…it’s over. Link did it.”

 The world seems to be in a state of baited breath for the next few days. A few Rito leave the village to find out what happened, but no travelers come through. The Calamity is all they’ve ever known, so to see Hyrule Castle without the miasma around it is unsettling. Teba is seriously considering leaving to fly to the castle to see if Link is still alive, when the Hylian Champion shows up in the village one day, Princess Zelda with him. A crowd forms around Revali’s Landing as the Elder welcomes them.

“Princess Zelda, Link, we have all been awaiting news from the castle for days.” Zelda nods, her green eyes bright.

“Ganon has been defeated and sealed away. Our century-long struggle with him is finally over.” Cheers go up from all the Rito, and Teba smiles as Kass lets out a relieved sigh. The crowd settles, and Zelda speaks again. “We do have the matter of the Divine Beasts, however.” Murmurs go through the crowd. None of the Rito are very fond of Medoh after how long they spent living in fear of being shot down by its cannons. “I know that the past hundred years have not been easy. All of the beasts and the guardians were under Ganon’s control after the Champions perished.” Teba nods, remembering everything the elder has told them about Revali. “We have now gotten all of them back under our control, and all that’s left to do is appoint new Champions to preside over them.” The thought of having a new Rito champion to pilot Medoh sends shivers down Teba’s spine, and Kass touches his wing, gently. Zelda smiles. “Link, in his quest to defeat Ganon, has already cast his votes for who they should be, and I am in agreement with him.” The Elder looks intrigued.

“I can’t guarantee that the Rito you have chosen will be willing, but do inform us of your choice.”

“For his bravery and strength, we have chosen Teba.” Teba blanches when he realizes that Link is staring at him, a confident, encouraging smile on his face. Kass touches his wing again, and he glances at his partner to see him nod, his eyes bright. Teba steps forward, and Zelda turns to him, smiling serenely. “Link has told me everything you did in the fight. He mentioned how headstrong you are as well, a quality that must have been passed down from Revali.” The Elder is nodding, and Teba hates him for a moment. “You are free to decline the role if you wish. It is your choice. We will give you time to think it over.”

 The wind whips through Teba’s feathers, and the sky has never looked so blue before. Accordion music carries on the air, and he smiles at the sight of Kass playing his instrument, standing next to Medoh’s control panel. The blue scarf around his neck flaps behind him gracefully as he walks over to the blue Rito, relieved to be home.

The past week had been a blur. He’d accepted the honor of Rito Champion, begrudgingly at first, then he had been whisked away to Hyrule Castle to await the ceremony to crown the new Champions. He’d met each of his new comrades: Yunobo, a nervous but upbeat Goron who had helped Link bring down Vah Rudania on Death Mountain; Sidon, the eager prince of the Zoras who had helped Link stop Vah Ruta from flooding the land; and Riju, the thoughtful leader of the Gerudo, who had helped Link calm Vah Naboris’ thunder. The celebrations had lasted days, and he was glad to be back home with Kass again.

Kass notices him and smiles, stopping his song.

“Have you decided what to do with Medoh yet?” He’d been grappling with it the entire trip back, whether he should leave Medoh perched over the village or try to get it back in the air. But now, Teba nods.

“Someday I will get it in the air again, so the entire kingdom can see it flying again.” Kass brightens. “For now, I just want to savor the peace. With you.”