[ oh, he is good. charismatic, with a great voice and a desire to create the stage. there is a question in the back of her mind: why? for what reason does this dedication persist? but it matters not; there is zelda, nearby, hands clasping together slowly as he speaks. her eyes are mystified, glued to edgin rapturously. in her mind, zelda imagines that link would have no problem righting this wrong, and would do as much with a smile.
she might be level ten, maybe. if they're lucky. at the bare minimum, she is trained...?
the fire below the bubbling cauldron snaps, crackles. it pops. spits embers, and little tufts of fur— zelda doesn't notice. ]
A frostmaiden? And the village lived through her, to tell the tale?
spooky stories.
she might be level ten, maybe. if they're lucky. at the bare minimum, she is trained...?
the fire below the bubbling cauldron snaps, crackles. it pops. spits embers, and little tufts of fur— zelda doesn't notice. ]
A frostmaiden? And the village lived through her, to tell the tale?
[ she does love triumph. ]