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.]
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.