Technically A Fic/drabble Of An Au Of A Fic Of An Au - Tumblr Posts
@cloudninetonine *waves awkwardly then runs off* So, apologies for the huge delay, in my defense, I've suddenly become a dog mom of two again of two very squeaky poodles xD, doing this differently since this got too big for an ask box, and I'm reserving those for screaming about Player's Aid and about your Linksonas for now.
Part 2, though Wane will get jumped on another one, might make this into a mini series since this suddenly became longer than I expected, apologies if it's not too good though. English ain't my first language and I'm kind of sleep deprived.
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You couldn't believe your ears. Convinced you'd finally cracked, gone fully and truly mad, that the thorns and roots and flowers of Hyrule had finally sank their greedy seeds into your soul and made you finally unhinged and insane while taking root.
Did they really...?
The person in the dark green cloak with their brilliant, verdant eye seemed to recover faster, hackles raised, their tone snapping and sharp, a fox with it's tail caught in a trap, irritable and biting and willing to bite their own limbs off to escape even as they shakily took a red potion from their pilfered Sheikah Slate, downing it like a shot, "Look, I know I'm the farthest thing from merciful, but I've had a rough week alright? Can't we save the bad time for when I'm not already on the ground?"
"No!" You spoke, cringing at the volume of your tone, looking around wildly (pointedly not glancing at the downed man at the strangers side) and the shade similarly lurches back, hissing like a cornered snake in the face of a mongoose, alert and wary, the shadows did nothing to settle your nerves, nor did the sweet and nauseating combination of rot, sickness, blood and death rancid in the air, settling agaisnt the back of your throat and chocking your lungs in poisonous fumes, but no sound besides the stranger's shaky breaths and those of the chosen of Hylia broke the tentative peace. Breathing, your hands twist the chain your fairy loved traveler gave you, grounding as you felt like falling and falling and falling, your tone weak, but you would not break "That's... Not what I meant. I just... You know about that game, you're not from here, either." Tentative hope falls from within your lips, dripping like the nectar of life you'd bled and shed already today, fragile as a flower, easily crushed.
Something about that made the stranger pause, gloved fingers twitching over the Sheikah Slate's item inventory, they peer at you from within the shadows of their hood, their emerald gaze that of an assessing, wild, wild beast, and you felt as scrapped raw as those first days in the land of divinity and legends and heroes and princesses and ever cycling conflict, torn asunder as they searched you for something you couldn't begin to describe, and found it, softening as tired understanding fell upon their shoulders like a mourner's shroud, someone who had returned to the mine and only found the canary's remains, "... No. No I'm not, and neither are you, huh kid?"
It wasn't a question. Though you wanted to contest being called a kid, you nod silently anyway.
They sigh, running a hand through their face with a low curse, "For Christ's sake, I really want to deck Hylia in the face right about now. That no good glow stick chicken really fucked it up this time for two of us to be around here now."
You couldn't help it, you laugh, an ugly, slightly hysterical cackle, nails on chalkboard, pitched agony from trying so hard to keep it together, but relieved, "You go for the face while I go for the knees?" You joked.
You weren't alone in this.
That made them bark a laugh, getting up, seemingly satisfied with their pilfered loot, a good quality spear and sword, the chain around their arm clinks as they toss you a bow and a full quiver you catch on instinct, silently thanking your Champion and Rancher and the Old Man for teaching you how to handle a bow before all this mess as they picked up W- your champion's twisted reflection with a huff (Wither, it's Wither, like decay, sickness, weakness and death. Not Wild. Chaotic but not Wild. Not magnolias and silent princesses and clear spring water after storms and howling forest winds. Not your hero), and tossed him without ceremony in an empty cell, locking it tight and placing the key in the slate, grinning slightly, though you couldn't tell if it was purely out of reassurance or from the strangled (and satisfying) grunt of pain his carcass made as he hit the dungeon's floor, they come closer to you with slow, careful steps, almost making no sound in spite of their heels, liminal like smoke. Like the world didn't have a proper grasp of their fleeting existence, "Sounds like a fair deal to me, if you've been through half as much nonsense as I did then you too deserve to commit some emotionally cathartic deicide." They examine you with their eyes, green and (e/c), mismatched and unknowable in their thoughts, a small frown on their face as they offer you a red potion, "Though no offense, you don't look quite in the shape to fight god yet kid, Jesus, did you get into a scuffle with a malice infected Lynel? Point me to who jumped you, I'll return the favor before we bust out of here."
You tense, memories from earlier in the night coming to mind-
(Conquest coming to stand guard, you nicking yourself on the broken blade you've been carefully using to pick the lock of where the Master Sword had been locked away with you, the scuffle between teeth and claw and you wrapping the iron chain you've kept concealed in your neck around his own, the hair raising, bone shaking agonizing screeching crushing open your ribcage and curling around your lungs with horror and terror as your hands felt the iron heat up with hunger. As you prayed and prayed you'd never have to hear such a sound leave your lovely, kind, sweet traveler's throat as well as the memory sunk into your very marrow and you were so sorry-)
You breath, taking the potion, wrinkling your nose slightly at it but downing it like a shot under the green clad escapee's careful watch, as you cringed from the taste you almost didn't catch their wording while trying to get the bile to retreat to your bowels where it belonged, "No, Downfall Hero, he's out for now. I'm sure I could take her- wait, we?"
"The inverted Changeling?" They hiss empathetically, though sounding impressed, you couldn't see why, as you were sure his screams would forever be etched into your mind, it's nothing to be proud of, "No wonder you look in such rough shape, the Fae are ruthless and he'd be specially troublesome given his Hyrule is a downright mess, abyss touched dragon he is. Though that saves half the work... If he and this mongrel are down for the count, then that takes two of the most troublesome one's out already. Missing two now, take the space to breath and rest up for now ok? You'll need to save your strength to make a break for it, riding on horseback or going on foot won't be a picnic either way." They raise an eyebrow, or at least you think they do, their tone disbelieving, a hand scrolling though the slate while the other offers you a wet cloth, "Yes? You're a Guide as well, no?"
"That's what everyone's been telling me ever since I got Isekaied here, doesn't mean I have noticed any difference besides Lady Luck's tendency to like fucking me over more than usual," you grumble, tone bitter as you trade them the empty bottle for the rag, you examine their arm carefully to attempt to push the memory away, silently thanking the regard as you clean your hands and collarbones off of blood, you don't think you could take anyone touching you right now, much less a kind but plain odd stranger. most of the surface of their skin is covered by dark gloves and ceremonial jewelry, claws tipped green with magic.
They nod, seemingly to themselves as they take a bundle from the slate with a small 'Aha!', and an adventurer's pouch whom you hear a faint clinking from, "Even more reason for me not to leave you then. What with the way things are."
"Why...?" You start, but close your mouth with a click, wary and bitterly amused, the you from before wouldn't have questioned it, would have accepted help from a stranger in this time in a heart beat, but you've learned, watching them wearily, you were tired, but you'd be darned if you had to deal with the same situation you did with the Shadow, where you almost died for the first time.
They look and sound genuine, but so did Abyss, before you noticed the glint of teeth and the sleeping, starved lindworm at the bottom of the chasm of his soul, you wouldn't make the same mistake again so easily.
They sigh, turning to you with a hand on their hip, you think they flinch a bit, still pained from their wounds but they level you with a serious gaze, tone soothing but firm as the roots of a tree, "You don't trust me. I get it. Under normal circunstances I would honestly just get the heck out of dodge on my own and be done with it because I don't trust you either. But two heads are better than one, and I refuse to give that dollar store, after Halloween knock off of Nightmare from FNAF 4 a single inch when it's already taken a mile." Their grip on their spear shifts, cracks run along the lonsdaleite shell of their unwavering will, ruined, but not broken, and it's so, so much like the echo of the fox clawing agaisnt your ribcage and howling with the wish to go home it makes you ache, "I have people to protect, friends I can't neglect by dying here. And either I'll kill that abomination and devour it's heart so that it won't hurt anyone ever again, or it will stop at nothing or anyone to devour The Guide and wear it's soul like a crown. It's a wounded animal looking for a way to heal and I refuse to let that vulture take from anyone else's flesh. It's not about trust, (Player), it's about plain fucking common sense and doing whatever it takes for the sake of survival." Their gaze tears through you, emerald on sapphire, wild, ruinous, but understanding on frayed, raw franticness, as they gut open the reality of the matter at hand and drop the organs at your feet, "But you already know that, don't you? I'll give you two choices: come with me while you still can, and I'll stop at nothing until you get back home or until you get someplace safe, or you can proceed alone while I burn this place to ash, choice is yours, I'm just trying to do something good for once." They growl, the fox is howling again, trapped and agitated, but not at you, they look at you steadily, itching to run but kind enough to look back, "Those people are not the hero I vowed to follow, so I don't see why I shouldn't do everything to even just mildly inconvenience them, you're a fellow Guide and were further removed from the exits than even myself, that tells me enough."
You take in a shaky, fragile breath. You've never told them your name.
Suspicion bites and pecks at your soul like a murder of crows, you were tired, you were scared, you could see that desire to run reflected in them, to not look back before you got teeth agaisnt your neck and claws dragging you down into the deep river that was despair and hopelessness, to let your weariness win.
"What's the plan?"
So you couldn't even begin to tell anyone why you looked back.
Maybe it was spite, to not let the torment you've seen while leashed to these so called 'heroes' side like a beaten dog take from you the kindness that made you human, maybe it's the protectiveness you felt towards your boys, the rekindled anger at the very thought of the Shadow gaining a single edge on them that made your vision go red, your blood become the lava and magma at the heart of Eldin, and the wounded vixen in your heart howl and snarl with the cold hunt of the deity trapped in the mask. Fury beating like the drum's of Din's booming, uncaring laughter as she jeered and taunted for war.
Or maybe it was because your Links rubbed off on you, the Chain did repeatedly say that their instincts kept them alive. Something about the person in front of you felt like a kindred spirit, like looking in a mirror, and the glittering diamond of their conviction to keep you safe felt like a promise you'd hear from Time, from Hyrule or Wild or heck even Legend, the prat. From any of your Links.
And anyone with a tone like that would surely do their best to keep that promise, or die trying.
They blink at you, visible eye wide, before smiling, cerulean with relief, before passing you one of their pouches with a wink, the softness of comfort turning into the blade's edge of viciousness, "First, we are closing your wounds and wrapping your hands, those look like a bitch to move around with. Then we blow up the corridor where you came from and the stairs leading to here, that should keep these two fairly busy."
You send them a dry look, "Says the person almost sliced clean in half."
"Shh, this ain't about me." They poke you on the chest sternly. You snort, but come over anyway, careful not to make too much noise, it draws a smile across their face as they take the bandages and a second cloth to start patching you up, your back to the wall and theirs to the corridor, head lightly cocked, it reminds you vaguely of Twilight, listening like so even when in Hylian form, "Take out the Twili Touched. If possible the veteran too, they'd be troublesome to shake off and we need to minimize their tracking chances. I could probably stall the Sky Beast enough to take the Master Sword... That dowsing would be downright impossible to shake-
"No need, it's with me. I took it after downing Conquest."
They seem to blue screen, you can practically hear the record scratch as they stare at you blankly, then moves on, "... Wow. Okay. I hope you know I would die for you."
"Now that's a bit much." You sweatdrop, trying to push away memories of other people who've made such promises. Even if the hooded figure sounds more jesting than serious.
They laugh, but move on, snickering, before their tone turns serious. "Alright, so, avoid Chrono, the sailor and Conflict at all costs, the shattered hero is manageable as long as his Shadow Link decided to forsake him, Abyss too even if he would be as much of a nightmare to face, he has less stamina than the unwanted animal so all you need to do is out last him. Those three though? I mean it, you see those bastards? You don't engage. You run, run and don't look back no matter what you hear, I can handle myself and I have a score to settle and enough rage to keep me alive until I do it, you don't have half my experience though and I sure hope you won't ever have it, so when I tell you to run, you run, go it? I'm not about to test our luck here if Lady Luck or Hylia or Demise himself have decided to screw with us."
You shiver, you'd much rather not talk about Chrono, but something about their wording makes you pause, "Chrono I get, even if your confidence deeply alarms yet reassure me, why Cyclone and Conflict though?"
Your fellow guide seems to groan, artificial hand running through their face as they start setting up remote bombs on the stairwell from which you came, "Kid has the Wind Waker. Usually I wouldn't be down for punting a small child, I'm an asshole though not that kind of asshole, but if that little menace remembers he has it we are both screwed."
Fuck, they're right, "Aah, song of control, my bad, what about Conflict though?"
"He's dangerous, a snake in wolf's clothing and a soldier to boot, if he's running with this circus of unhinged clowns then that probably means he did something so bad even the royal guard would have issues with." Your fellow inmate clicks their tongue, spitting blood to the side, "I don't want to find out what that was to put it bluntly, if you ask me he's as much of a monster as the Shadow."
You wince a bit, they are absolutely right, if both of your suspicions are right, then Conflict is arguably the more personally dangerous besides Chrono, a cautionary tale wrapped in the illusion of a perfect prince and soldier from a fairy tale, a lie within a lie. And people like that are red flags dripping blood upon the floor that even the blind, deaf and mute would rather allow Gleeok or Lynels to rip them to shreds than face the nightmare pretending to be a daydream utilizing your sweet captain's skin. The other Guide also rightfully deduced so and likely wanted to chance it as little as possible.
... Which makes what you're going to say probably make you sound absolutely insane.
"... I don't think we have to worry about him for now, actually."
Their hooded head snap towards you so fast, you almost think you hear something crack, their tone concerned, "What do you mean?" They don't even wait for you to answer, looking you over carefully as you hunch your shoulders protectively, visible alarm flaring to life in the evergreen of fheir gaze, their hands tremble around the slate, "(Player), what did he-?!" They cut themselves off, head tilted, before their eye narrows, handing you one of their pouches, it smells vaguely like spice's, and taking fhe cloak they've stolen from Wither, shoving you onto a darkened pillar by an open cell, chains clacking together, "Someone's coming. Either Wane or Abyss, I hear chainmail. I'll wear them down and either take them out or give us an opportunity for escape, if it's Wane, you wait until I yell and throw this at him okay? Time for your first lesson in how to fuck up a dog's sense of smell so badly it may never be any good for tracking again. We can talk about this later where I'll surely give you a lecture my lioness of a princess would be proud of."
"Wait- wait! How do you-!" They throw something over your shoulders and face, their nephrite colored hood, the scent of silent princesses and, the Faron Woods and strangely enough magnolia's and spider lillies flooding your nose as you glare at them, readjusting the hood over your face.
And feel your heart and blood freeze.
It's your face, your eye staring back at you. A twisted reflection, a Silent Princess necklace attached to the choker around their neck and fangs for earrings, the symbol of Farore etched onto the metal holding fhen together. Tired and older and jaded. Like looking at the ruins if your own soul and not knowing wether to flinch or cry.
...Or maybe just give them a hug, for all they look like you you're certain you've never looked this battered. They look like they could use it and frankly, you could go for one too really, and who better to know how to hug you but yourself?
The person with your face, no, you, smiles, awkward and tired and hollow, but not surprised holding your hood down with their artificial hand, you can only see the reassuring curve of their smile, warm in spite if tragedy, growth where lighting struck, "I'll explain all of it when we leave here, okay? For now, just call me Craein, and follow me. I'll guide your way."
And, after putting the hood of Wither's cloak up and concealing their clothing as much as possible, they dive into the shadows to wait. Just as you hear footsteps finally reaching the stairs of the dungeon.
Wane.
... You guess you'll just literally have to trust yourself, this time.
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To be continued...