Link ("yeet it or eat it") (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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dreamcrystals2022-10-06 12:10 pm
skyglider) wrote in dreamcrystals2022-10-06 12:10 pm
Entry tags:
001 ⚘ dream recording
Sender: Link
To: Everyone
Subject: Passive dream recording (Ghosts of the Past)
Warnings: Memory loss, spooky stuff, light implications of character death
[aaaand have some background noise if you wanna make it worse]
In the darkness, a voice, hollow and indistinct, several tones and cadences laid one over the other like a collage. Few phrases stand out, but the ones that do come through clearly.
"t𝓱Ｅ 𝓬𝓱𝐢𝔩𝓭 shows much promise."
"It's a h̢̲̤͋͑̑̉u̷̗͓̼̖̬̺ͬg̡̦̬̰ͨ̈́ͭę͖̲̺͔͚͖͛ responsibility."
"... 𝐻𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒸𝓊𝓇𝒾𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒻𝓊𝓁𝓁 𝑜𝒻 𝑒𝓃𝑒𝓇𝑔𝓎, 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒶 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝓎 𝓈𝓂𝒾𝓁𝑒 ..."
[Those who stumble upon this dream will find that it has a quality of indistinct blurriness, like a photo out of focus, or perhaps a very old memory. Details are fuzzy to nonexistent, but you can see three figures outside of a house in a small, quiet village: two smaller, blonde, and one larger, broader, towering over both of them. You feel at once a particular emptiness; you are supposed to know who they are, but you can't place them. It's the feeling of forgetting something important, but being unable to place what that might be.
The smallest figure, long-haired and sporting a white dress, fiddles with a small patch of garden. The other figure might look a little familiar, to those who have met Link, though if you can believe it he's even smaller than he is now. He and the taller figure are currently engaged in some sort of practice match with wooden swords; the adult occasionally offers a note of encouragement in a deep, gregarious rumble: "Much better! Careful now-- watch your flank! Good." Clack! Clack-clack! The wooden swords crack against each other over and over as the match continues. The smallest figure chimes in again: "Don't step on the flowers, brother!" The details become even more nondescript as the practice match goes on, but eventually, both figures fall back onto the ground, breathing heavily.
As the dream carries on, you come to realize that Link himself is standing nearby, watching this just as you are. Unlike the subjects of the dream, he's sharply in focus. The smallest figure flickers, and then appears in front of the place where Link --the one watching the dream-- stands. She retains the same fuzziness even up close: her face, age, even her clothing is an indistinct blur. She looks up at Link, whose eyes widen.
"When are you coming home?"
Link seems conflicted: in moments, he seems almost shocked, as if he's seen a ghost. In others, it's as if he doesn't recognize this figure at all. He searches for words and grasps nothing. Something flickers; it's hard to tell whether it's the blurry figure or your vision, fading in and out of darkness.]
You can't help but feel as if some time has passed, as if it's been a long time since you first heard those strange voices.
"𝐻𝑒 𝓃𝑜 𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓇 𝓇𝑒𝓈𝑒𝓂𝒷𝓁𝑒𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝒽𝒾𝓁𝒹 𝐼 𝒻𝒾𝓇𝓈𝓉 𝓂𝑒𝓉. 𝐻𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒹𝓁𝓎 ṡ̯̱̾͠p̤̬̜̮̻͍ͧ͝ę̹̟̣͇͎ͪ̇̚aͪ͏̯͖̱̮̦̼k͖̰̭͚̦͖̼̘̈̽̈́́s̵̺̰̪̞͕̔̑ 𝒶𝓃𝓎𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝓂𝒾𝓁𝑒𝓈 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝓇𝒶𝓇𝑒𝓁𝓎. 𝐻𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓀𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝑜𝓊𝓁 𝐼 𝓀𝓃𝑒𝓌, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝒶𝓈 𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒𝒹 ..."
"Our ϝυƚυɾҽ is in h̀̓̒̔͏̠͖̜͔̳̻̤̠i̢̬̝̲ͧs̨̙̲̬̟͉̦̾͒ͬ ̡̼̠̫͇̭̜̘̤́͋́̊h̢̗̼ͪǎ̸͍̘̝̰͙̤̼̋͗ń̦͇̖̹̖̆͡d̹̫͕̘̦͕͐̔̚͜ͅṡ̴̗͎͇̮́͆̿ͅ ̖̝̘ͪ͒̃͝ͅn̗̦̮͖̭̋͞ow."
[Figures flicker back into existence, a dim light in the darkness. Five new figures now join the three from the first part of the dream, surrounding Link. Even the ones that are smaller than him seem to loom ominously overhead, bearing down, staring with eyes that don't seem to exist. Or perhaps they do, beneath the hazy film that masks the figures' details. They seem to expect something from him, but it's hard to say what.
Somewhere deep beneath layers of confusion, this dream begins to generate feelings of anxiety, of emptiness. Of a loss that means everything and nothing all at once.
"Have you really forgotten us?"]
"He can't f̡̤̤̩͕͋̄ͫâ̴̳̺ĭ̧͎̺̮̦̝͈̘͓ͤl̝͉̩̩ͪͩ̎ͭ͟."
"ɖɨɖ ɨ օռƈɛ have a ϝαɱιʅყ?"
"How do you m͖̞ͯ̅͠o͓̰̞͎̣͚ͣ̏͑̿͞ͅu̵̞͚̠̭̣̻͆͗͌ȑ̟̼͖͙̻̜̗̣̾͞n̜͚̙̏̔̇͛͢ someone you have ṋ̸̹͙͈͓̲̭̝̐̉͒o̡̟̯̤͎̙͆ͅͅ ͎͔̪͒ͭ͌̅́m̰͖̺̤ͬ͘ẻ̦̭̥͇̳̼̩̖̔ͩ̓͟m̯̞̩̄̕ỏͬ҉͚̙̱͍̼ͅȑ̵͈͖̭̠̫y̹̮̻̼̖̽̒̍́ͅ ̿ͯ̓͛҉̣͈ǒ̹̬͚̟͡f̢̞̲̥̊͂̀?"
"H̰͚̘̠̻̤̭̱͂̽̈́͜e̺̠̤̱̟̰ͦ͠ ̜̫̝̞ͫͪ͡m̶̗͕͙̽ṵ̷̰͍̲͈̳̍̆ŝ̵͓͙̤̜̣̙͕͌̑ͦt̊̔ͬ҉͙̠͕̲̲̪̞̺ ͖̪̟̝̑͘n̷̰̣̑̍͊͋ͅo̳̲̙̼͗͊ͣ͜ẗ͉̝̜̞̜͎̮̅ͧ̃͘ ̦͇͙̯̙̬͖̯̄́f̡̤̤̩͕͋̄ͫâ̴̳̺ĭ̧͎̺̮̦̝͈̘͓ͤl̝͉̩̩ͪͩ̎ͭ͟."
[Like an old film, the image flickers, and then fades. This is how the dream ends: slowly, gently enough to leave a residue of anxiety and regret.]
To: Everyone
Subject: Passive dream recording (Ghosts of the Past)
Warnings: Memory loss, spooky stuff, light implications of character death
[aaaand have some background noise if you wanna make it worse]
In the darkness, a voice, hollow and indistinct, several tones and cadences laid one over the other like a collage. Few phrases stand out, but the ones that do come through clearly.
"t𝓱Ｅ 𝓬𝓱𝐢𝔩𝓭 shows much promise."
"It's a h̢̲̤͋͑̑̉u̷̗͓̼̖̬̺ͬg̡̦̬̰ͨ̈́ͭę͖̲̺͔͚͖͛ responsibility."
"... 𝐻𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒸𝓊𝓇𝒾𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒻𝓊𝓁𝓁 𝑜𝒻 𝑒𝓃𝑒𝓇𝑔𝓎, 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒶 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝓎 𝓈𝓂𝒾𝓁𝑒 ..."
[Those who stumble upon this dream will find that it has a quality of indistinct blurriness, like a photo out of focus, or perhaps a very old memory. Details are fuzzy to nonexistent, but you can see three figures outside of a house in a small, quiet village: two smaller, blonde, and one larger, broader, towering over both of them. You feel at once a particular emptiness; you are supposed to know who they are, but you can't place them. It's the feeling of forgetting something important, but being unable to place what that might be.
The smallest figure, long-haired and sporting a white dress, fiddles with a small patch of garden. The other figure might look a little familiar, to those who have met Link, though if you can believe it he's even smaller than he is now. He and the taller figure are currently engaged in some sort of practice match with wooden swords; the adult occasionally offers a note of encouragement in a deep, gregarious rumble: "Much better! Careful now-- watch your flank! Good." Clack! Clack-clack! The wooden swords crack against each other over and over as the match continues. The smallest figure chimes in again: "Don't step on the flowers, brother!" The details become even more nondescript as the practice match goes on, but eventually, both figures fall back onto the ground, breathing heavily.
As the dream carries on, you come to realize that Link himself is standing nearby, watching this just as you are. Unlike the subjects of the dream, he's sharply in focus. The smallest figure flickers, and then appears in front of the place where Link --the one watching the dream-- stands. She retains the same fuzziness even up close: her face, age, even her clothing is an indistinct blur. She looks up at Link, whose eyes widen.
"When are you coming home?"
Link seems conflicted: in moments, he seems almost shocked, as if he's seen a ghost. In others, it's as if he doesn't recognize this figure at all. He searches for words and grasps nothing. Something flickers; it's hard to tell whether it's the blurry figure or your vision, fading in and out of darkness.]
You can't help but feel as if some time has passed, as if it's been a long time since you first heard those strange voices.
"𝐻𝑒 𝓃𝑜 𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓇 𝓇𝑒𝓈𝑒𝓂𝒷𝓁𝑒𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝒽𝒾𝓁𝒹 𝐼 𝒻𝒾𝓇𝓈𝓉 𝓂𝑒𝓉. 𝐻𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒹𝓁𝓎 ṡ̯̱̾͠p̤̬̜̮̻͍ͧ͝ę̹̟̣͇͎ͪ̇̚aͪ͏̯͖̱̮̦̼k͖̰̭͚̦͖̼̘̈̽̈́́s̵̺̰̪̞͕̔̑ 𝒶𝓃𝓎𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝓂𝒾𝓁𝑒𝓈 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝓇𝒶𝓇𝑒𝓁𝓎. 𝐻𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓀𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝑜𝓊𝓁 𝐼 𝓀𝓃𝑒𝓌, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝒶𝓈 𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒𝒹 ..."
"Our ϝυƚυɾҽ is in h̀̓̒̔͏̠͖̜͔̳̻̤̠i̢̬̝̲ͧs̨̙̲̬̟͉̦̾͒ͬ ̡̼̠̫͇̭̜̘̤́͋́̊h̢̗̼ͪǎ̸͍̘̝̰͙̤̼̋͗ń̦͇̖̹̖̆͡d̹̫͕̘̦͕͐̔̚͜ͅṡ̴̗͎͇̮́͆̿ͅ ̖̝̘ͪ͒̃͝ͅn̗̦̮͖̭̋͞ow."
[Figures flicker back into existence, a dim light in the darkness. Five new figures now join the three from the first part of the dream, surrounding Link. Even the ones that are smaller than him seem to loom ominously overhead, bearing down, staring with eyes that don't seem to exist. Or perhaps they do, beneath the hazy film that masks the figures' details. They seem to expect something from him, but it's hard to say what.
Somewhere deep beneath layers of confusion, this dream begins to generate feelings of anxiety, of emptiness. Of a loss that means everything and nothing all at once.
"Have you really forgotten us?"]
"He can't f̡̤̤̩͕͋̄ͫâ̴̳̺ĭ̧͎̺̮̦̝͈̘͓ͤl̝͉̩̩ͪͩ̎ͭ͟."
"ɖɨɖ ɨ օռƈɛ have a ϝαɱιʅყ?"
"How do you m͖̞ͯ̅͠o͓̰̞͎̣͚ͣ̏͑̿͞ͅu̵̞͚̠̭̣̻͆͗͌ȑ̟̼͖͙̻̜̗̣̾͞n̜͚̙̏̔̇͛͢ someone you have ṋ̸̹͙͈͓̲̭̝̐̉͒o̡̟̯̤͎̙͆ͅͅ ͎͔̪͒ͭ͌̅́m̰͖̺̤ͬ͘ẻ̦̭̥͇̳̼̩̖̔ͩ̓͟m̯̞̩̄̕ỏͬ҉͚̙̱͍̼ͅȑ̵͈͖̭̠̫y̹̮̻̼̖̽̒̍́ͅ ̿ͯ̓͛҉̣͈ǒ̹̬͚̟͡f̢̞̲̥̊͂̀?"
"H̰͚̘̠̻̤̭̱͂̽̈́͜e̺̠̤̱̟̰ͦ͠ ̜̫̝̞ͫͪ͡m̶̗͕͙̽ṵ̷̰͍̲͈̳̍̆ŝ̵͓͙̤̜̣̙͕͌̑ͦt̊̔ͬ҉͙̠͕̲̲̪̞̺ ͖̪̟̝̑͘n̷̰̣̑̍͊͋ͅo̳̲̙̼͗͊ͣ͜ẗ͉̝̜̞̜͎̮̅ͧ̃͘ ̦͇͙̯̙̬͖̯̄́f̡̤̤̩͕͋̄ͫâ̴̳̺ĭ̧͎̺̮̦̝͈̘͓ͤl̝͉̩̩ͪͩ̎ͭ͟."
[Like an old film, the image flickers, and then fades. This is how the dream ends: slowly, gently enough to leave a residue of anxiety and regret.]
no subject
The princess heaves a dramatic sigh, sucking in a deep breath and huffing it out in frustration. ] I do not regret it. Even if I had known what the Shrine would do to you... I only wish I could have paid that price in your place, somehow. You, Urbosa, Mipha, Revali, Daruk---you all paid such a terrible price for Hyrule. For me.
no subject
Thoughtfully, he picks up a stray leaf from the roof, twirls the stem between his fingers.]
When I first woke up, one of the first places I went was the Temple of Time. [He pauses, returning his mind to that moment. The striking first view of Hyrule from the Great Plateau. The ruined remains of the Temple. The light-washed statue of the Goddess Hylia.] I barely remembered anything. Who I was, how to fight...
[A faint flicker of smile as he glances in her direction. As grave as the situation was, it was not without bits of humor -- he spent no small amount of time throwing sticks at Bokoblins, after all.]
... I didn't know why, but I felt moved to gather some flowers to place at the foot of the Goddess statue. Five of them. Much later I realized that they were for the Champions-- and you.
[Maybe it's not the most straightforward way to get at what he means, but it's the only way he can think of it right now. The Champions, trapped in their divine beasts; the Princess, fighting alone to keep Calamity Ganon sealed long enough for Link to come back... Not one of them is free from the hold of the Calamity.
Sora said something to him about memories of the heart. He wonders how true that is, now -- even if he couldn't remember them, perhaps his heart was mourning for the sacrifice they had made.]
You paid a price, too. You still do.
no subject
A tear pricks at the corner of her eye, which she hastily wipes away with the back of one hand. The meaning behind Link's anecdote resonates in her heart, as clear as if he had said it plainly. It's almost funny how, despite losing his memories, his manner of speech is much like it was before the Calamity. Link's words are often few, and often chosen carefully; once Zelda stopped to listen, she started to understand what he meant with the words he said, as well as what he meant with his silence.
She leans her cheek against her knee again, her tense expression softening once more. ]
If the 'me' of the future saw that, I'm sure it gave me strength.
[ Link has mentioned before that he thought he heard Zelda's voice guiding him after he awakened in the Shrine of Resurrection. It's strange to hear about something she hasn't done yet, but also heartening, in a way. For decades, she's been calling to Link from the seal, trying to reach him within the Shrine. It sounds like, not only will she be able to rouse him eventually, but that she'll be there to guide him when he wakes. Knowing he will wake, despite how far that is in her future, makes Zelda all the more certain that she will be able to hold the seal until that time. ]
May I ask... [ She starts, then hesitates. There are many things she wants to ask, but one thing in particular is weighing heaviest on Zelda's mind. ] You said you've regained some of your memories.
Do you... remember me?
no subject
Something in his expression eases a bit, as if that's something he needed to hear. For a long time, he's felt as though he failed the Princess, the Champions, the people of Hyrule. Had he doomed them all to their trapped existences? How was it fair, then, that he remained free? Could he really do anything for them...? Perhaps those thoughts weighed more heavily on him than he realized. Perhaps he just needed to know that he was able help her, even in such a small way.]
Hm, [he begins, somewhat noncommittally, pausing before answering the question.] I remember someone trying to feed me a frog. [His eyes slide in her direction, that same faint smile returning for a moment. Yes, he does remember...or at least, there are certain things he remembers. He pauses a moment, thoughtfully.]
Recent things are more clear. The Calamity, the Champions... ["Recent" in a manner of speaking, he supposes. The Calamity happened a hundred years ago for him -- fifty, for her. But his long sleep in the shrine means that it feels like much less time has passed, now that he's recovered some of his memories.] I vaguely remember drawing the Master Sword. Things before that...
[Well. She saw the dream.]
no subject
(She never did get him to eat that frog either.)
Her gaze returns to him before long, softer now. She understands what he means by "recent." The Calamity still feels recent for her as well, as she spent her time in the seal slipping in and out of a sleep-like state. It's only thanks to her year in Songerein that the most jagged, scarring edges of that trauma have begun to smooth out. ]
If you would like, I could try to help you fill in some of the gaps. A few, at least. We... were not close before you were assigned as my knight, but I knew who you were and I saw you around the castle often enough when we were young.
no subject
The memories he's recovered have hung over him ominously for a little while; the fact that he can remember some of these things so well, but not even a scrap of his life before he drew the Master Sword...what does that say about how he thought of his family? Or himself? In a way, it's heartening to have the confirmation that that was real...it means his mind has chosen to hold onto more than just the barest essential memories. Perhaps he can recover more, over time.
For a moment, he's surprised by her offer, not because of her kindness but because he wouldn't have expected her to remember him from so long ago. He met Mipha as a child, apparently; is it possible he's known the Princess for just as long, without knowing it?]
... I would like that, [he says at last, grateful and perhaps a little relieved.] Thank you.
🎀
There's a twinge of worry in the back of her mind. Can she really fill in the gaps in Link's memories? Before he was assigned as her knight, how much did she really even know him? Back then, she barely spoke to him if she could help it. Mipha would be better suited to helping Link with his memories. Mipha knew Link for a long time, long before Zelda was even willing to give him the time of day. Maybe Mipha would have been able to heal whatever injury caused Link's amnesia in the first place. Not for the first or the last time, Zelda wishes it had been the Champions who survived the Calamity instead of her.
A yawn interrupts her melancholy and Zelda lifts a hand to cover her mouth. The lateness of the hour is catching up with her. ]
I think I will turn in. [ Zelda pushes herself to her feet. ] Goodnight, Link.