[Violence rings in the air, the clashes and clangs of battle ripping through an otherwise silent moment in the world around Reverein. This tiny, strange, peaceful world once felt like a balm, but now feels more like a trap, keeping Link in like an animal in a cage.
Like a creature gnashing its teeth against a barred prison, he brandishes his sword again-- again-- again--
They are both so wounded, so lost in grief and devastation, and the catharsis of battle seems so hollow, so temporary, filling a void with sand that seeps out from every crack and crevice. There is no peace to be found here, not for either of them, nor between them. They fight as though possessed by the very spirit of their anger, all the feelings they could never, would never speak, not to one another, hardly even to themselves.
It's Sheik's knee that hits the ground first.
But Link's blade chips even before that.
Maybe one hit more before it'll break, he thinks, his chest heaving with deep breaths as he finally finds stillness. A rock nearby earns that final blow, and the blade shatters to the hilt, splintering into a handful of pieces that he just leaves on the ground.
He exhales. The sound might have been a bitter laugh or a sob, if he allowed himself to crack as much as that sword.
He feels just as brittle.
Wobbling once, then again, he slides down to the ground, sitting heavily near where Sheik has come to lie. He holds the broken hilt in dirty hands, looking down on it wordlessly for a moment.]
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Like a creature gnashing its teeth against a barred prison, he brandishes his sword again-- again-- again--
They are both so wounded, so lost in grief and devastation, and the catharsis of battle seems so hollow, so temporary, filling a void with sand that seeps out from every crack and crevice. There is no peace to be found here, not for either of them, nor between them. They fight as though possessed by the very spirit of their anger, all the feelings they could never, would never speak, not to one another, hardly even to themselves.
It's Sheik's knee that hits the ground first.
But Link's blade chips even before that.
Maybe one hit more before it'll break, he thinks, his chest heaving with deep breaths as he finally finds stillness. A rock nearby earns that final blow, and the blade shatters to the hilt, splintering into a handful of pieces that he just leaves on the ground.
He exhales. The sound might have been a bitter laugh or a sob, if he allowed himself to crack as much as that sword.
He feels just as brittle.
Wobbling once, then again, he slides down to the ground, sitting heavily near where Sheik has come to lie. He holds the broken hilt in dirty hands, looking down on it wordlessly for a moment.]
Call it a draw.
[It certainly doesn't feel like a win.]