Naught but a Shade

“Ah, well it’s no trouble. I suppose your presence is motivation enough to feed even myself. My eating habits are dreadful at best so don’t worry about it. I should get out of the bed and stretch my legs so they don’t get stiff so…dinner it is.”

Hands took hold of the walker and pulled himself up off the bed. Today was not one of his bad days. He felt a lot stronger but rather than risk hurting himself, he used the walker anyway, heading into the kitchen.

“Do you eat meat at all? I don’t have much of it but I’m sure I have fish or chicken.”

     He could have walked ahead of Atem, he knew, and yet the shade hung back, following after him curiously. Though he wouldn’t admit it out loud, this man intrigued him, though not simply because of obvious, physical abnormalities. No, in this case, it was due to the fact that his companion seemed completely unphased by Shadow’s appearance.

     There weren’t many who would invite a living shadow to dinner, after all.

“Hmm, well I suppose I can see the appeal of calling you Wraith or Shadow. At one time, I myself had similar names, but I think it’s a cop out. I’m certain there must be more to you than darkness and shadows so I suppose in time, I’ll figure out what to call you. For now, I’ll call you Shadow — if only because it sounds pretty cool.”

He pushed himself into a seated position on the bed, looking around the room for his walking stick. With a bit of effort, he was able to grab hold of it and swing his legs over the side.

“Are you thirsty? Or hungry?”

     The shade shrugged, though found that he couldn’t find the motivation to argue that point - as far as he was concerned, however, he was very much just that. A shadow of another person, nothing but a poor reflection. His blood boiled at the thought, and the wraith struggled to push down the frustrating emotion that always lingered so very close to the surface.

     He was successful as he observed his companion, blinking as he realized, perhaps for the first time, Atem’s difficulties when it came to moving. Then again, this was the first time that Shadow - if that was what he was to be called this time - hadn’t woken him up in the dead of the night.

Well if you are going to keep popping into my place, do you not think it would be polite to give me a name? Or I could simply make one up for you, but you may not like what I choose.

@effinxi // liked for a starter // short.

You look familiar. But I suppose you must be if you are here in my place like you own it. What’s your name again?

*30 Minutes Later*

Me: I've successfully come up with a completely different concept for this Dark, from his creation to his motives, and he's a totally different character.

     //Like his counterpart, Dark can play the ocarina, and has a knack for picking up tunes just by listening to them. Most of his preferred music is anything that can be played on that instrument, though he does enjoy listening to folk music that he sometimes hears while passing through settlements. Usually, slower tunes are his preferred type; his favourite song is Song of Storms.

The hostility makes Malon backstep. She gulps under her breath, not sure who he was in the first place. Not Link, obviously. He looked like the wrong side of a Pictograph. 

“Who are you then? Why… are you visiting my ranch?”

     Why indeed. He’d been given no orders to visit the Lon Lon Ranch, and yet he’d been drawn here. Lips parted, but it took a moment for a response to come, as if he were uncertain as to how he should respond.

     His first mission was to ‘keep an eye on the boy’ - a fact which, truthfully, had the shade irritated at best. Ganondorf had promised him the chance for vengeance upon the hero, for an opportunity to punish the abandonment of his darker half. Slipping into the Gerudo's lands to play spy was not what he’d been expecting, nor wanting, and for a time, the shadow had resisted his orders.

     It was only the promise of what would come with his next set of orders that had the wraith complying. The Gerudo King had best be wise in holding up his end of the bargain though, the shade thought.

     Slipping past the Gerudo guards had been simple, given the fact that he was a living shadow. The tricky part had been locating the man, Mikhail’s, workplace, though the shade’s travels would eventually bring him to the forge - lacking its blacksmith, much to his annoyance. With no one in sight, however, the wraith allowed himself to slip from the shadows he’d hidden within, crimson eyes glancing curiously over half-repaired armor, blades that were not quite ready for combat, and the cooling embers that remained in the forge. If this was Mikhail’s word, the shade thought, then he was obviously quite skilled.

effinxi started following pasturesong

“…Wait… Fairy Boy? You… don’t look like yourself–”

“You’re not…?”

     Her voice, her face, rouses memories that aren’t his, that have never been his. There’s a strange sense of uneasiness under her gaze, one that quiets the rage that constantly courses through his being for a time.