[ There is a problem in this conversation, a wholly unpredictable thread that needs to be mended at some point but cannot be. Not while the two of them put up wall after wall, holing themselves away from the other. Zelda doesn't want to hurt him, but not once has she been given the implication he knows who she is.
And how do you tell a stranger the truth of your existence? She remembers holiness pulsing through her veins in place of red blood, and she remembers being her father's daughter in the same breath. She remembers her name is Zelda, but she remembers her name is Hylia just as well. Sheik, for all the kindness he has shown her today, deserves the freedom of simply thinking she is a Zelda from a time before documentation, before Hyrule was Hyrule.
So Zelda smiles at him, and steps back to loop her arms around his again, eyes wet with a promise— that one day, he might not hate her. ]
It's nothing you have to worry about. It's something between us Zeldas, that's all.
[ And there is the hanging thread, unsewn, unfixed. ]
no subject
And how do you tell a stranger the truth of your existence? She remembers holiness pulsing through her veins in place of red blood, and she remembers being her father's daughter in the same breath. She remembers her name is Zelda, but she remembers her name is Hylia just as well. Sheik, for all the kindness he has shown her today, deserves the freedom of simply thinking she is a Zelda from a time before documentation, before Hyrule was Hyrule.
So Zelda smiles at him, and steps back to loop her arms around his again, eyes wet with a promise— that one day, he might not hate her. ]
It's nothing you have to worry about. It's something between us Zeldas, that's all.
[ And there is the hanging thread, unsewn, unfixed. ]