[He made a promise not to give up on her, and in so doing, himself as well. He promised not to mourn but to live, to find a way back, to save Hyrule and free her. And in the meantime, to be patient. To live without sorrow.
It's the hardest vow that Link has ever had to carry.
He sees the ghost of her everywhere, a flash of golden hair, a far-off star in the night sky. Following those phantoms is a constant temptation, but he knows what a foolish thought that is. He could chase visions and spirits for the rest of his life and never find her again, and then what kind of a life would that be? What sort of man would he be, to renege upon his own vow like that? So he doesn't. He tries his damndest to move on, to take things one moment at a time. It hurts, it aches, but that ache becomes duller over time. Less pronounced.
And yet...
It's a flash of blonde he sees at first, the shade familiar enough to catch his eye. But-- no, he's certain he's just seeing things. Finding familiarity he wants in the silhouette of a stranger.
But he follows anyway.
Whomever she is --for he is certain it's not Zelda, at least not his Zelda-- she is nearly swallowed by the crowd at the plaza. Nearly, but not completely, and while he keeps a respectful distance, his eyes keep track of her anyway. He knows this is a dangerous practice, at least for his own heart, but for some reason he cannot pull away.]
kinda 1, kinda wildcard
It's the hardest vow that Link has ever had to carry.
He sees the ghost of her everywhere, a flash of golden hair, a far-off star in the night sky. Following those phantoms is a constant temptation, but he knows what a foolish thought that is. He could chase visions and spirits for the rest of his life and never find her again, and then what kind of a life would that be? What sort of man would he be, to renege upon his own vow like that? So he doesn't. He tries his damndest to move on, to take things one moment at a time. It hurts, it aches, but that ache becomes duller over time. Less pronounced.
And yet...
It's a flash of blonde he sees at first, the shade familiar enough to catch his eye. But-- no, he's certain he's just seeing things. Finding familiarity he wants in the silhouette of a stranger.
But he follows anyway.
Whomever she is --for he is certain it's not Zelda, at least not his Zelda-- she is nearly swallowed by the crowd at the plaza. Nearly, but not completely, and while he keeps a respectful distance, his eyes keep track of her anyway. He knows this is a dangerous practice, at least for his own heart, but for some reason he cannot pull away.]