Link ("yeet it or eat it") (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
skyglider) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
dreamcrystals2024-04-05 02:34 pm
skyglider) wrote in dreamcrystals2024-04-05 02:34 pm
Entry tags:
004 ⚘ dream recording
Sender: Link
To: everyone
Subject: passive dream recording
Warnings: TOTK spoilers
Home.
This is the place where your mind goes, inevitably, as you think of that one word, so small—four letters—and yet so encompassing. It nestles warmly in your chest like a hearty broth, and you think—yes, you could make a life like this. Here, with your arms solidly around her, your face buried in the golden curls of her hair, in the house—the home—you have both made, fortified by the losses you have overcome together.
You listen to her breath, slow and even, clearly sleeping soundly in your arms, and it's dizzying, the way you feel about it. About her. About all of this. There is another word for it, too, something warm and comfortable and terrifying all at once. That small, four-letter word that means you're forever bound, dedicated, that the mark she has left on you is one of permanence.
You have said the word before, but not like this, whispered into her shoulder like a prayer.
"Forever" is the part that sticks with you, in the thin moonlight filtering through the window. It means forever. Somehow that thought is calming, as you close your eyes.
—when you open them again, the word forever feels like a death sentence. It is the blade on the guillotine shining in the morning light. It is the last word uttered before the world dies. It is a weight heavy on your heart, and you think, if you could just protect her from this, if only you could hold her like this through the end of the world—
Your eyes adjust. Something has changed; the light of morning is too bright, the wind on your face is too strong—
Wind.
It's as if your heart tumbles out of your chest and shatters on the ground below, miles and miles below, and all at once, you realize where you are. The house in Hateno is little more than an inkblot on a page, so far down from where you sit.
The enormous dragon upon whose back you sit doesn't seem to care that you're there—or perhaps she doesn't notice. You are so small. The feeling that wells within you, on the other hand, is so big, so entirely all-encompassing, that there are no words or thoughts that could possibly contain it all. This hollow feeling within you, this devastating use of the word forever, it rocks you to your very core, and maybe if you weren't so wrung-out and reeling from the shock of it, you would have a tear left to shed. A shred of misery to spare for this moment.
You have none left. They've all been spent.
That same four-letter feeling twists in your chest, even now, and you wonder if it will hurt forever, if the word love will forever be synonymous with the heartache of loss. Because you still do, of course—you love her like this even as you mourn the loss of her, the version of her that still knew you and, you like to think, loved you too.
Cursing the star-crossed inevitability of fate, you bury your face in her hair once more, as she snakes mercilessly across the sky.
[fanart inspo for this post]
---
[action] for those who will
[Link has been asleep for one full month, and the first thing he feels when he finally wakes is the sting of unshed tears.
He knows before he fully wakes that his private thoughts and late-night misery have been broadcast. Something about the vividness of the dream, about the hollow feeling left in his chest when it's finished… It's hard to say, but he feels, bitterly, the stinging shame of exposure—not just for himself, but for Zelda, as well.
It's still dark; on shaky legs, he slips out of the treehouse and onto the roof, using the glider to take him as far from home as it can in one go. He finds himself at the plaza, sitting at the edge of the fountain, idly dropping rocks into its still surface and watching the ripples pulse outward from the point of impact.]
To: everyone
Subject: passive dream recording
Warnings: TOTK spoilers
Home.
This is the place where your mind goes, inevitably, as you think of that one word, so small—four letters—and yet so encompassing. It nestles warmly in your chest like a hearty broth, and you think—yes, you could make a life like this. Here, with your arms solidly around her, your face buried in the golden curls of her hair, in the house—the home—you have both made, fortified by the losses you have overcome together.
You listen to her breath, slow and even, clearly sleeping soundly in your arms, and it's dizzying, the way you feel about it. About her. About all of this. There is another word for it, too, something warm and comfortable and terrifying all at once. That small, four-letter word that means you're forever bound, dedicated, that the mark she has left on you is one of permanence.
You have said the word before, but not like this, whispered into her shoulder like a prayer.
"Forever" is the part that sticks with you, in the thin moonlight filtering through the window. It means forever. Somehow that thought is calming, as you close your eyes.
—when you open them again, the word forever feels like a death sentence. It is the blade on the guillotine shining in the morning light. It is the last word uttered before the world dies. It is a weight heavy on your heart, and you think, if you could just protect her from this, if only you could hold her like this through the end of the world—
Your eyes adjust. Something has changed; the light of morning is too bright, the wind on your face is too strong—
Wind.
It's as if your heart tumbles out of your chest and shatters on the ground below, miles and miles below, and all at once, you realize where you are. The house in Hateno is little more than an inkblot on a page, so far down from where you sit.
The enormous dragon upon whose back you sit doesn't seem to care that you're there—or perhaps she doesn't notice. You are so small. The feeling that wells within you, on the other hand, is so big, so entirely all-encompassing, that there are no words or thoughts that could possibly contain it all. This hollow feeling within you, this devastating use of the word forever, it rocks you to your very core, and maybe if you weren't so wrung-out and reeling from the shock of it, you would have a tear left to shed. A shred of misery to spare for this moment.
You have none left. They've all been spent.
That same four-letter feeling twists in your chest, even now, and you wonder if it will hurt forever, if the word love will forever be synonymous with the heartache of loss. Because you still do, of course—you love her like this even as you mourn the loss of her, the version of her that still knew you and, you like to think, loved you too.
Cursing the star-crossed inevitability of fate, you bury your face in her hair once more, as she snakes mercilessly across the sky.
[fanart inspo for this post]
---
[action] for those who will
[Link has been asleep for one full month, and the first thing he feels when he finally wakes is the sting of unshed tears.
He knows before he fully wakes that his private thoughts and late-night misery have been broadcast. Something about the vividness of the dream, about the hollow feeling left in his chest when it's finished… It's hard to say, but he feels, bitterly, the stinging shame of exposure—not just for himself, but for Zelda, as well.
It's still dark; on shaky legs, he slips out of the treehouse and onto the roof, using the glider to take him as far from home as it can in one go. He finds himself at the plaza, sitting at the edge of the fountain, idly dropping rocks into its still surface and watching the ripples pulse outward from the point of impact.]
girlfriend wildcard
It's not like she doesn't know what's happened to him. She's seen this before, dreamwalkers falling asleep for days, weeks, or even months on end. They always wake up eventually, none the worse for their overlong naps. But this is Link, Zelda's... boyfriend-partner-suitor-person-she-likes-to-kiss. How is she supposed to just wait patiently for him to wake up? What if he never does? What if he wakes up, but to Hyrule rather than Songerein?
Needless to say, Zelda did not stray far from their treehouse last month. She was always close by-- sometimes at Link's bedside, other times in her own room just down the hall. But never far. Never out of earshot.
When she does sleep (and she hasn't been doing much of that lately), Zelda's dreams are fitful. Nightmares about Hyrule, nightmares about the Light Dragon, nightmares about finding Link's bed empty. But tonight's nightmare is different. Tonight's nightmare is at home, with Link--- except it's not Link in her arms, but... herself? And then, as ever, the Light Dragon-- and with it, the ache of adoration and heartbreak intermingling just like she felt them when she dreamwalked with Link to see the dragon for the first time.
Zelda shoots bolt upright in bed, heart gripped with panic. She stumbles out of bed and heads toward her door, barely awake enough to even realize what she's doing. But she knows it's Link, something to do with Link. Go, right now, check on him, quickly quickly quickly.
Link will be able to hear the muffled thumping of her footsteps as she rushes down the hallway and then throws open his bedroom door without even knocking. Good morning, Link. ]
no subject
...
He doesn't want to finish the thought.
Open your eyes. Each syllable drums in his head, thump thump thump, but he realizes after a moment that it's not just the beating of his heart or the steady drum of those words in his mind. He bolts upright almost at the same time that the realization clicks: footsteps. The treehouse in Reverein. The dream, does that mean--]
Zelda.
[His voice is hoarse from disuse, but it is filled with awe, his jaw slack as he takes in the sight of her, as if it's hard to believe she's really there. As if he hasn't seen her in weeks.
(He hasn't, in truth; he's been dreaming of home, dreaming through the whole of his journey so far.)
Link moves unsteadily as he swings his feet over the side of the bed. He doesn't need the dull ache in his muscles to know he hasn't moved in a while, but it certainly does drive the point home. He looks her up and down, trying to gauge any changes he might have missed during what he assumes must be a long sleep.]
no subject
She hears him before she sees him move, a gravely voice calling her name. ]
Link...
[ He's awake. He's here. He's awake here, in Songerein, somehow, by some stroke of divine favor or sheer dumb luck. After so many dreamers woke, so many dear friends, Zelda was all but certain Link would be next.
But he's here. He's still here.
Link has just enough time to sit up while Zelda is still processing this realization before she bolts from the doorway and throws herself at him. ]
You're awake!
[ She throws her arms around Link and pulls him into a tight hug, half-standing, half-kneeling on his mattress, burying her face in the crook of his neck. It doesn't occur to her for a moment that she should probably be more gentle with him. The only thing on her mind is holding him as tightly as possible. ]
Thank the Goddess.. [ Her voice comes out muffled. ] I was starting to think you'd never wake.
no subject
He must have been asleep a long time.]
I'm sorry.
[For a moment, his thoughts return to their very first meeting here in this dream world, her frustration and overwhelm as she shouted at him, You're late!
He had been asleep too long then. And now again--]
I must've overslept.
[He speaks the words into her hair, his face buried against her, unwilling to let go.]
no subject
Just a bit.
[ He holds her tight and she lets him-- not just lets him, but welcomes him, her arms equally tight around him, nuzzling down into his neck and taking in the feel of him, the warmth of him, the smell of him. Home, he feels like home. ]
A month, approximately. [ Her voice may be muffled by his body, but he can probably feel the vibrations of her words against his neck. ] Not your worst, by any means- [ Not a century this time. ] But still far too long.
[ Far too long when their time left together might be far too short. But no amount of time would be enough. Even if she had the rest of her lifetime with Link, she would selfishly want another one. ]
no subject
He does not often feel it, in Reverein. That loss of time. Perhaps it should weigh on him more.]
Agreed, [he whispers against her, soft and thoughtful. A full month. It is far too long, indeed. It will always be far too long. So many days lost, so much time wasted away... No amount of time is enough, to be honest. Months and years could go by and still it would not be long enough, because nothing will ever be enough. Not with the future that awaits them. And yet, to take that time with the future hanging over their heads...
That, too, is exhausting.
Goddess help him, the thoughts in his head churn mercilessly, returning again and again to a truth he does not want to acknowledge. Link does not let go of her. In a way, this is almost poetic, that he refuses to be the one to let go. He has been described generously as tenacious, but he prefers to think of it as stubbornness: the unwillingness to let the future be set in stone. To let evil win. To say goodbye.
He tries to redirect his thoughts, to focus on anything other than where his own mind is going.] What did I miss?
[A question with a second meaning beneath the words: is she alright?]
no subject
Instead, she disentangles her arms and slides onto the bed beside him, folding her legs to the side and leaning in against Link with her full weight. Her nearest arm, she slips behind him, bracing herself with her hand against the mattress. ]
Much. [ And the hesitation in that single word answers his second question: I don't know.
Zelda takes a steadying breath. ] A number of dreamers woke while you were asleep.
Revali was among them. [ And that's where she leaves that explanation, because she knows Link knows what that means. ]
no subject
They had lost so much. Now they lose him again -- it may hurt less, by fractions, but it still hurts, and he wonders -- will there ever be a time when their lives are not marked by loss?]
I was glad to give him closure.
[They might have had even more than that, in another place and time. Could they have ever become friends, he and the Rito warrior? Whatever the case, he...he really was grateful to be able to look him in the eye and tell him the task was done. Their spirits could rest easily. Whatever the case, he was able to express, he hopes, that his victory was in part due to Revali's actions and his sacrifice.
Zelda puts her weight against him, and he feels her, her warmth, her solid presence. But she, too, is lost to him, and even if he did not think of it all the time --he does-- his dream served only as a reminder of that reality. Here only in dreams...
He wraps an arm around her, pulls her in close enough to plant a small kiss at her temple.]
no subject
It does hurt marginally less, losing Revali this time, but not by much. Knowing that waking from this dream means that his life ends makes her heart ache something fierce. She's glad that they were able to tell him how they defeated Calamity Ganon. She's glad she could tell him how Rito Village is flourishing, how Teba's son is someday going to shatter all of Revali's records. What Zelda wouldn't give to share such things with Mipha, Daruk, and Urbosa.
She makes a noise of affirmation against Link, but doesn't lift her head. Her thoughts aren't only of Revali. Somnus is gone as well, as is Trahearne, and the ends of their lives here also mean their deaths. It hurts, and Zelda has lost several nights since then sitting at the foot of Link's bed crying into a pillow, because at least his sleeping form is better than complete solitude.
And then, on the night she does finally manage to get some sleep, she dreams of Link's solitude --total, absolute, and utterly heartwrenching. His pain is so fresh on the surface of her mind that she feels like she's a hairtrigger away from being overwhelmed by it.
Zelda shifts her position in such a way that she is close enough to hear the steady thump of Link's heartbeat. The rhythm is soothing. ]
Have you been dreaming about it all this time? [ "It" being the Light Dragon.
Zelda has been trying, really, to find some measure of peace with the creature she will become. It was easier to chase when it was just a goal, nebulous, a means to an end. Seeing it, seeing it hurt and others hurt by it... Even though she is trying so hard to just live in the here and now, with whatever time she and Link have left, the dragon is always there, looming in the dark corners of her mind. Waiting, because eventually, the here and now will run into the future. And a future of solitude, now that she knows love with Link, is steadily becoming too unbearable to imagine. ]
no subject
It's thanks to Zelda, in part, that he was able to move past that.
The cycle becomes a reality. An opportunity; a means by which to know the incredible woman that Zelda has become. Strong, brave, kind -- the smartest person he has ever known. The one person in the world --in any world, he must acknowledge-- that he would lay down everything for. That he would live for.
A heavy weight settles on his heart, the understanding stoked like a small fire growing larger, becoming more real with each passing breath and moment. Her warmth seeps into him where their bodies meet and he knows, he understands, that the very thing he asked of her so many months ago is no longer enough. That he must let go in order to move forward. ...that he must move forward.]
I have, [is his response, whispered softly against her hair, but spoken with a sense of weight and finality that belies more -- belies the decision solidifying in his mind.
It's not a sudden decision so much as an inevitability, and while she may guess at what that decision is from his tone, he still owes it to her to speak it out loud.]
Zelda...
[It is just so very hard to know how to begin.]
no subject
But this time, it makes her stomach sour, settling in her gut like a stone. ]
What is it?
[ Her words come out small and hesitant, in a voice that says she knows that he's about to tell her something she does not want to hear.
(He is the one person in the world, in any world, that she would lay down everything for. That she would die for.
But it's easy to die for someone. It's so much harder to live for them after they're gone.) ]
sender: riku
but the ache he feels from them and the way that it's something he's terrified of happening kind of gets to him. that someone could be unreachable forever.
it would eat him alive. so he writes in to check on Link...]
Are you okay?
no subject
[The words slip onto the paper a while later, after he's finally worked up the nerve to look back at the journals. It's not like Link to be so honest -- he'd much rather give a glib response, something like "oh yeah all good over here," maybe. But he's so shaken by the whole thing that he can't stop it from coming out. And so, he has no choice but to follow up with that same honesty.]
It seems I have not made peace with some things I thought I had.
no subject
sometimes our version of "peace" means that we push it away and pretend we're fine. but it always has a way of rearing its ugly head again.
you'll have to confront it.
no subject
That is how he had always been. Since the day he retrieved the Master Sword and was told of the heavy responsibility that came with it.]
You're right.
Easier to confront monsters, sometimes.
no subject
[it takes him a long time to say anything else. he'd already kicked his own ass about all of this before...]
if you want to smack something around, let me know. i'm not so good at conversations like this.
[but he feels like he could be decent at taking Link's mind off of things, too.]
no subject
That's alright. It's just who he is.
Anyway.]
Neither am I.
I believe there are monsters in the Wildlands.
[He fought them with Alphen, in the past. Goddess, but that was so long ago, now. After a moment, thinking once more to a past years gone by, he adds,]
Unless you happen to have a remaining sparring dummy.
action bc of course;
He knew about the Light Dragon already, of course. Link is aware of this, at least in some vague, undefined way, else he surely wouldn't have been so deeply affected by the Princess' temporary disappearance several months ago. But no matter how much detail Zelda might have gone into while recounting her plan, it is another thing entirely to see the results of it himself - to feel them, even by proxy, the waves of coarse golden hair glimmering between his fingers, the cold wind of the boundless sky biting against his skin - and when Sheik wakes it is all he can do to simply breathe and not allow the nausea that seems to rise from his very soul to overtake him.
To say nothing of the bone-deep ache he continues to feel echoes of within his heart long after his mind is fully his own once more.
Some time later, when he's composed himself, he heads out in search of the future's Champion. He's been asleep for weeks now, he knows, and yet... somehow Sheik doesn't expect him to be in his "home." When he does finally come across him, Sheik is only surprised that he came to the plaza, the center of town, and not to some isolated stretch of the wildlands far from prying eyes. But then, Link seems better at the whole "connecting with others" thing than Sheik is, anyway.]
You've awakened.
[Sheik announces himself, perched upon the banister of a balcony overlooking the plaza, because of course he didn't walk here, either. Surface streets are for chumps.]
no subject
So, too, can he.
No matter how much it hurts.
Somehow, Sheik's voice isn't a surprise, and isn't nearly as unwelcome as Link assumed company might be. Perhaps because of their shared history, their shared feelings. He tilts his head a bit toward the balcony, but cannot bring himself to lift his eyes to meet the Sheikah's.
Zelda's plight is, in part, due to his own failings. In dreams, he has watched again and again as her hand slips through his fingers, her wide eyes as she reaches for him, disappearing into the darkness--
In weaker moments, he wonders if he has a right to bear the pain he feels. If it isn't only the consequences of his own failure.]
Long time no see.
[There is a hint of irony to his voice. He's only vaguely aware that it's been a month -- it felt both longer and shorter to him, in turns.]
no subject
[Sheik retorts with an equally dry tone, head canting to the side as he watches Link. No, it doesn't seem as though it has been that long for him; Sheik doesn't imagine he'd be so outwardly calm if another four years had somehow passed in his sleep. The wounds are still fresh, then. Bandaged, perhaps, by the Princess' presence within this dream realm, but still tender and weeping.
He feels his lips purse beneath his cowl. What is he doing here, in that case?
With a swing of his legs, he drops from the balcony to land lightly upon the cobblestone street below. He does not force himself into Link's line of sight as he approaches, instead keeping a companionable distance from both him and the plaza fountain. Whatever Link is seeing in the glassy surface of the water illuminated by the twin moons, it's not something he can share, most likely, and Sheik remains somewhat wary of reflective surfaces even if the business regarding the mirror world largely seems over and done with. He doesn't expect Link will mind.]
So. [He begins, purposefully. The memory of a much taller Sheikah sternly looking upon her charge draws his arms up to cross over his chest, scarlet eyes bright in the shadowed plaza.] What are you going to do?
[Hopefully not wallow here forever. He'd rather not have to apologize to Zelda for needing to kick her sweetheart's ass if that's the case.]
no subject
Isn't that the question.
Link does not want to answer. That is the truth of it: he feels once more like he did so many years ago, stepping into the wider world with no memories and empty hands. Lost, alone, helpless in the face of a challenge far larger and heavier than anyone should have to face alone. And yet he did it. Because that is what Link does: he pushes forward. He takes one step at a time, each in service of a greater goal.
He does what needs to be done. Always.
... So, while Link wishes with every scrap of feeling left in his shattered heart that he could say he doesn't know, that he can't see the path from here, he knows, he knows, that the only path is forward. Upward. Out.
And he knows what he wants.]
I'm going to do the impossible, [he says, after a long, measured pause. His voice is hoarse with some emotion he refuses to name: a mix of grief and desire, resolve and regret. This is a task that requires him to give up on the life here that he may never see again. It's the heaviest thing he can possibly do.]
I'm going to bring her home.
no subject
Destiny may have brought them together, but their bond, their love, is something they made all on their own. In the eyes of the world, in the eyes of the Goddesses, the results would be the same regardless, but Sheik knows (because he knows), that it makes all the difference.]
... You are wrong on one account.
[His footfalls are light as he steps forward, propelled by the edges of regret surrounding the desperate hope in Link's words. He sees himself reflected in the reservoir as he looks over the fountain's edge, and thinks, briefly, that perhaps just this once he might have wanted to see someone else there instead. The clear water that is meant to reflect growth...
Sheik's gaze returns to Link.]
Four years ago, you believed transforming into a dragon to be impossible. One hundred years ago, you might have thought the same of coming back from the dead. And throughout time, countless Heroes have faced what they considered to be impossible and made surmounting them into legend.
Nothing is impossible for you. And the bonds you've made... will most certainly become the power you need to return everything to the way it should be.
[He draws a hand up, resting it over the Champion blue of the tabard the Princess made for him, feeling it beat within his chest. It aches terribly, yet it betrays none of the resolute faith infused in every one of his words.]
... That is what I believe.
no subject
Four years ago.
One hundred years ago.
In this one way, Sheik's words are misguided: that long century ago, at the rise of the Calamity, Link believed loss to be impossible. He believed there was no way, no chance, that they could fail, because they must not fail.
In his hubris, he believed he could not fall.
Now-- fall, he must. Indeed, in some sense he must embrace it. This is something different altogether, and the Sheikah is correct in thinking that the bonds he's forged will carry him through. He feels them, the Sages, his dearest friends; their power, their dedication, their love. So, too, does he feel the strength of Zelda's will, her belief that he will succeed no matter what. He feels the strength of her resolve. I will know you, she had said, and he-- he believes it.
With all his heart and against all odds, he believes it.
So when that measured moment is over, he moves forward, clasps the Sheikah's shoulder with a gentle hand. It's uncharacteristic, but he realizes, to some extent, that he's never going to have another chance. That he may never unravel the warrior's secrets, and under the weight of the revelation that Revali has disappeared...
No more. He takes no more chances -- takes nothing for granted.]
Sheik... [He searches for eye contact, his expression set in its habitual severity, even and dedicated. He doesn't have to say take care of her or look after her. He knows the Sheikah will do so anyway, and beyond that, Zelda is strong and smart and capable. He saves his words for things that may not be as easy to discern:] I'm glad to have known you.
[Glad, and grateful -- for everything.]
action.
and though this might not have been his own dream, the familiarity of emotions ends up enough to force him to go out and clear his head. as it so happens, this stroll evenly leads him to happen upon the owner of that dream. given that the other person had been zelda, it means the owner could logically only be one person: link.
he stops briefly while taking in the scene. the boy looks disheveled and out of it. rightfully so.
there's a short debate of whether or not to approach. after a moment, the latter choice wins out and kratos walks over. his soft tone of voice matches the softness of his expression as he speaks.]
I also find counting stars rather soothing and a good way to clear my head.
[ripples are nice but stars are innumerable and pass time better. this also feels a better way to start a chat than outright asking about the dream.]
no subject
How can things remain the same when he has changed so much?
His eyes slide in the direction of the man when he speaks, and as he tilts his head, a soft, thoughtful frown tugs at his features.]
It's the same for me, at home. Here...
[He looks skyward, and the breath he exhales is a shudder, sharp and shaky. The islands in the sky, rubble and remnants of a past age, the light of a dragon cutting through the darkness-- ...It takes a moment before he can even begin to articulate a feeling, and when he does--]
The sky feels too empty.
[It's clumsy and simple. Funny, that it matches how he feels.]
action
She's not at the fountain when she sees Link's glider go past, but she had been outside in her garden, visiting with the flowers under the starlight, enjoying their quiet and patient company. She catches a glimpse of the glider out of the corner of her eye, tracking its movement across the night sky, and she can't help but note its trajectory— the fountain isn't far from here, and it's become a favorite place of hers since her arrival several months back, even if one of her more recent visits had been unsettling.
It's none of your business, she tries to tell herself, but she's never been good about minding her own, and both curiosity and concern win out in the end. She pulls her jacket closed and buttons it to ward off the evening chill, and begins to make her way towards the fountain plaza, leaving her garden behind.
When she arrives, she recognizes the young man sitting at the fountain's edge. They've only ever seen one another in passing, but she knows they've spoken through the journals— Link, she's pretty sure his name is. She clears her throat softly, just enough to keep herself from accidentally sneaking up on him.]
A little late for gliding, isn't it?
no subject
And yet, she has a way of making the air feel a little lighter.
The smile that briefly touches his expression is mirthless, a little wry. It's an attempt, but not a very good one.]
Rules aren't my specialty.
[So, too, does the levity in his tone feel forced. He isn't given to pretending, usually -- not at home, at least. But he doesn't know anyone so well at home as he does here, and it's a vulnerable feeling.]
Can't sleep?
Action
He considers putting pen to paper first and has the journal open for what seems like several minutes before realizing he doesn't really know what to say. 'Sorry' doesn't seem appropriate and every question seems silly and he can't bring himself to put more than a dot of ink on the page.
So he goes outside instead.
Link came to him after his broadcast dream so it seems fairest for him to do the same. He knows where the treehouse is, but something tells him it's a better idea to take a longer path.
It's a good idea, because that path takes him by the fountain and therefore his mark.]
Oh...hi! I didn't think you'd be all the way out here....
[Not that it's not weird for he himself to be out at night, that's irrelevant.]
no subject
He has been glad for that presence, to tell the truth. Flesh and blood to bring humanity to the hero, to bring him out of legends and into the present. Link can only hope that people will cast him in the same light, in some far future he will never see. Will he defeat the Demon King and restore Hyrule?
His heart is heavy, so heavy, and yet the other Hylian's presence brings a smile to his face, small and faint, a ghost of gratitude for his being here.]
Thought I'd surprise you.
[It's meant to be a joke, because of course there was no way he could know he would have company. But he doesn't object to it. He gestures at the seating space on the fountain, in case Link would like to join him.]
no subject
Much less so here, though.]
You did.
[He'll take that offer to sit; after all, he's found what he meandered out here to find and didn't get turned away.]
I saw your dream. [And felt it. And still isn't sure what a 'good' response to it is.] Thought I'd see if you wanted some company.
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The words feel heavy, a weight in his chest, a vice-grip on his heart. He knew, somehow, that that had been the case. To hear the words spoken aloud, to hear that suspicion spoken into confirmation... It somehow seems to bring the future into stark relief, pulling it closer to the present. The inevitability he knew he faced, presented here and now as the future, confirmed.
He does not want to face it. More than anything, he wishes that could be the dream, and not this world.
But Hylia is not a granter of wishes, and so, his shoulders sag at the words.]
I appreciate that, [said softly, little more than a whisper, and there is sincerity in his tone as he says it. Company is not always his choice, but right now, solitude reminds him so much of the life he left behind: lonely nights and a heavy destiny. The weight of understanding.]
It's good to see you.
[There is truth in that, as well. They share more than a name, these two, and never more than when his destiny feels so heavy does he appreciate the reminder that he is not alone.]