[ There are more dissimilarities than Zelda can count between them. Link's eyes carry a sharpness to them, and there's a seriousness permanently affixed to his jaw: The mark of someone who doesn't smile as much as they should, laugh lines more ghosts than anything. But her Link wore laugh lines as easily as a cloud bursts with rain, with soft and round eyes. He had a kindness stitched into him, something warm and inviting and helpful, like the Spring breeze. And how couldn't he, in the end? He wasn't a hero, not then; he was a boy who fell asleep in class, and whose bullies heckled him during midday. (But she's proud of Groose for growing out of that, too.)
Maybe this one would be too, not all this smooth seriousness and a sense of unspoken curiosity, unstoked kindness with only so many places to go. Did he get a normal life, before he picked up the sword? How much time has he spent holding onto the Master Sword, so that it resonated with him like that? Every hit he struck as a powerful, life-ending blow: How did he build up strength like that, and how many weapons had crumbled to dust in his hands with that kind of destruction in his fingers?
But that doesn't matter, not in complete truth, for it's the courage and the way he looks at her that reminds her of him. Selfishly, that's what she picks out best. Link had looked at like that too, over time... As if she were someone else, another person in a familiar body. It stings, but not through any fault of Link's.
Now, she looks at him, the boy-knight, Master Sword finally starting to bubble away and into nothingness, and she smiles tightly but honestly. It's true that the sail cloth she sees is different: ruddier than the last, the symbol different but meaning probably all the same. The same story, re-written for a new audience. Neither of them, across space and time, ever hear the applause— cruelly, though, she thinks Hylia does, every single lifetime. She's terribly sorry. ]
I sewed his for him. I wove the symbol... Her symbol... into the cloth, as part of a ceremony for knighthood. He dreamed of becoming one since we were little. He'd always wanted to protect people.
[ Was that Hylia's influence? Does any reincarnation of the Hero's spirit, of his Courage, get to choose? What would he have been if he'd just been a boy, left to his own life? She starts walking again. There's got to be an end to this maze sooner than later now. (This one? Yes. The one she's trapped Link into? No.) ]
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Maybe this one would be too, not all this smooth seriousness and a sense of unspoken curiosity, unstoked kindness with only so many places to go. Did he get a normal life, before he picked up the sword? How much time has he spent holding onto the Master Sword, so that it resonated with him like that? Every hit he struck as a powerful, life-ending blow: How did he build up strength like that, and how many weapons had crumbled to dust in his hands with that kind of destruction in his fingers?
But that doesn't matter, not in complete truth, for it's the courage and the way he looks at her that reminds her of him. Selfishly, that's what she picks out best. Link had looked at like that too, over time... As if she were someone else, another person in a familiar body. It stings, but not through any fault of Link's.
Now, she looks at him, the boy-knight, Master Sword finally starting to bubble away and into nothingness, and she smiles tightly but honestly. It's true that the sail cloth she sees is different: ruddier than the last, the symbol different but meaning probably all the same. The same story, re-written for a new audience. Neither of them, across space and time, ever hear the applause— cruelly, though, she thinks Hylia does, every single lifetime. She's terribly sorry. ]
I sewed his for him. I wove the symbol... Her symbol... into the cloth, as part of a ceremony for knighthood. He dreamed of becoming one since we were little. He'd always wanted to protect people.
[ Was that Hylia's influence? Does any reincarnation of the Hero's spirit, of his Courage, get to choose? What would he have been if he'd just been a boy, left to his own life? She starts walking again. There's got to be an end to this maze sooner than later now. (This one? Yes. The one she's trapped Link into? No.) ]
You look like you want to ask me something, Link!