chronic ghiraposter

Honestly turns out rawing everything on one layer helps me somehow. I think it's because of the sketching phase that's now changed to be less tedious, because my digital sketches always feel off to me. I guess going in with colour like in trad painting helps me get rid of that feeling. Also Fi is just really pretty and has great colours.

I went in without reference, so after I was finished I quickly realised I didn't give her her forehead gem, and also her hair has extra tufts on her neck, but like shhh we won't talk about it. We can just say this is older Fi and she's changing shape or something, it's no biggie

What matters is - sword friend is pretty af, I'm proud of the diamond in particular, and I'm now actually excited to do more digital for once ฅ⁠^⁠•⁠ﻌ⁠•⁠^⁠ฅ

Two deactivated robots had crumpled in the back of the room, rusted beyond repair. Maybe they were part of Skipper's crew? Had they... been waiting for him to return to this place? Link frowned and called upon Fi for analysis.

She appeared in a swirl of dancing light. “This robot is part of the LD-301 Series of artificial life-forms,” she explained. “As just one of a number of mass-produced robots, it was not assigned a name.”

Link’s stomach twisted.

Her description was factual, no different from the ones she gave to any common robot. So why did Link suddenly and desperately ache for a Timeshift Stone? 

He had seen dozens of these fallen robots on his journey, but something about these two in particular made their fate feel… wrong. Maybe it had been the way Fi called them "nameless." Maybe it was the heavy quiet weighing down the atmosphere. Maybe it was how kind and genuine Skipper had been to him so far, leaving Link to wonder if there were other robots that shared Skipper’s kindness, ones Link would never have the chance to meet.

Regardless of the reason, Link knew exactly what he needed to do next. As if in a trance, he solemnly retrieved his gust bellows and began to sweep the room.

Cleansing air rushed past the sand and ushered the dust through the door. Link, for once, minded the pots, not breaking a single one as he blew away the ancient sand. He took special care around the robots, making sure each was spotless, and finally moved on to the edge of the room where portraits peeked out from their sandy blanket.

Link’s heart leapt to his throat as he uncovered the paintings’ subjects.

There was Skipper, of course, his hands raised happily towards the sky. Other paintings were gorgeous seascapes, with sunsets and blue skies reflected over more water than Link could comprehend. Grand ships in their prime sailed off to new worlds—Link wondered with a pang if those lands would ever be discovered again—and right next to a grand blue and gold chest… was a painting of the crew.

Link had never seen so many robots all in one place. Their hands were thrown high like Skipper’s, the proud captain in the middle of the jolly crowd preparing to take the wheel for them. None of the robots had mouths, but somehow, Link knew they all were smiling.

He dragged his hand against the wall as he wandered towards some papers pinned up a few feet away. Link traced an inlaid gemstone with his fingers. Even the walls had sea charts on them, faint lines marking pathways to forgotten lands and oceans lost to time. Link smiled sadly at little scratches and carved waves. So much character for a little room.

Link reached the first posted message and squinted to read the faded text:

Dear Captain, Thanks for everything, zrrt! Yours, the crew, vrrrrrm.

Link’s chest somehow grew warm and cold all at once. Of course Skipper would save a note like this. There was a lot of love behind it. Link moved on to the next message:

Dear Dad, Good luck at work, vrrm!

The air completely left the room.

Link’s heart skipped a beat, so many dreadful puzzle pieces snapping into place, because those were toys, children's toys, and decorations built for Skipper’s... Link took a step back and blinked rapidly. He didn’t even question how it could be so. He just knew it to be true.

And just like that, the room felt less like an old house, and more like a memorial.

The gravity of just how old this room was sunk upon him like a dirge without a melody. He could no longer deny the obvious.

Everything in the desert was gone. It had been for a long, long time. 

The little robot he'd saved at the mining facility was gone. 

Skipper's crew and family—two of which now lay discarded and vacant on the floor—were gone.

Skipper himself was dead. 

He had been deactivated long before Link had even been born.

It was all a bit more existential than Link had been prepared to deal with that day.

Feeling his limbs turn to lead, Link lowered himself onto the lone stool that sat in the middle of the room. Reverently, he turned his gaze to the faded portrait of Skipper. Funny how he'd only just been introduced to the captain, and now mourned him and a crew he never met.

"Master."

Link jumped as Fi's loud chime shocked him out of his daze. Clutching his heart, he glanced up at her now corporeal form, gasping a bit. "H-huh? What is it, Fi?"

She stared back at him with her blank, emotionless eyes. "I recommend waiting until after you have achieved your objective before taking a rest. First we need to find the sea chart."

…Right. Duty first, Link grimaced, and couldn’t help the way his heart sank and mourned. Fi was right, of course, and he knew it. He knew. Impa's warnings were still fresh in his mind, after all. But with Zelda in Impa's proven care, safely on the other side of a gate of time, Link had at least hoped that Fi would have allowed him a moment of silence in this place so heavy with memories. 

Memories. Time. Link had never felt them weigh so powerfully on his soul. 

He drew out a long, deep sigh that felt like it reached his boots, and slowly dragged himself off the stool.

The sea chart was right where he'd expected it to be. The bright turquoise chest was hard to miss in such a dilapidated room. At least it seemed to have protected the old sea chart tucked away inside, as the pages were much crisper than the crinkling letters on the walls. Link carefully placed the map in his bag.

Once again, Fi's chimes filled his ears, and again he turned to listen.

"Master, look over there."

Link felt his face grow more somber as he followed her gaze. Skipper’s crew waved back at him, oblivious to their fate.

"That is the ship containing Nayru's Flame," she concluded from the painting. "There is a 90% chance that the synthetic life-forms assembled here are the crew. As I have determined that the map you hold is indeed Skipper's sea chart, we are now one step closer to locating the Flame. Let's take it back to him."

Link looked back into the spirit's unblinking eyes, feeling his heart twist for his companion. What sort of existence was it, he wondered for a moment, to know so much and yet feel so little?

"I detect you are... disappointed, Master Link? I had expected this information to be useful to you."

Link smiled sadly at her, patiently shaking his head. "No, no. I'm not disappointed, just..." Weary? Overcome? Would she even understand what those feelings were, or just mistake it for needing physical rest? "It's just... a lot. All of this." He gestured to the wall.

Fi tilted her head. "You are... overstimulated?"

Link breathed out, pleasantly surprised at how close her assessment was to the truth. "Yeah. That's almost it."

"You are overstimulated... by paintings?" Fi cast her gaze around the room, reassessing its contents. Finding nothing of note, she turned back to Link. "I do not understand."

Instead of trying to explain his feelings and inevitably failing, Link tried a different approach. He pointed to the painting of the crew.

“What do you see in this painting, Fi?” he asked, slowly.

“Was I not clear before in my description of the subject matter?”

“No, no, I can see what's obvious, that is Skipper and his crew,” Link nodded at the painting. “I'm just trying to get you to look more deeply at it.”

“More deeply, Master?”

“Well, yeah. Think about it. What do you suppose getting a picture together meant to Skipper, or his crew? Why would Skipper keep it in his cabin?”

Fi paused for a moment, processing his question. “...One could surmise the picture was an object of great importance to him that he wished to keep close,” she said slowly.

Link's heart leaped with hope. "Yeah! Yeah, it holds a lot of sentimental value, doesn't it? A moment from day long past... What else, Fi? Can you see why it's sentimental?"

When Fi failed to respond in favor of simply staring at the painting, Link backpedaled. Trying to speak more in her language, he probed, "What can you... analyze about the moment this painting was made? About the crew? About Skipper?"

Fi continued to stare at the painting in silence. After a few moments, Link figured he’d pushed her too much, and the wind began to leave his sails. Well. At least he’d tried to get her to understand. Link was contemplating heading for the door when suddenly, very slowly, Fi spoke again.

"…The image would indicate that the ship's captain spent many happy days among his many crew members.”

Her eyes were still glued to the robots as Link spun around, staring at her in shock. The hope in his chest burst like a ray of light, spreading through him in an instant. “Yeah, yeah it does, Fi,” his voice wavered with pride. “They all look very happy.”

“They were all closely connected.”

“Yeah,” Link breathed out. “If I had to guess, this picture probably reminded Skipper of simpler days, before he was alone. Before… he had to face the monsters by himself."

Link shook his head, trying to focus on Fi’s breakthrough instead of the way Skipper's story sounded so, so familiar.

Fi glanced back at him a moment—almost quizzically—before returning her eyes to the waving crew. She studied the picture quietly for a long time, as if trying to see past its canvas. After a few seconds, Link realized that she was too preoccupied to say more, so he left her to her analysis and ambled back to the stool.

Link dropped onto the seat with a weary sigh. His arms were killing him after using the clawshots so much, and it felt good to let his throbbing limbs droop for a while. Funny how easy it had become to forget such discomforts while on a time crunch. Well, maybe that was less “funny” and more “worrisome,” but it was a problem for later. For now he would rest his body, and maybe… his eyes… too… … …

A gentle glowing blue light roused Link to his senses before he could fully nod off. After shaking himself awake and breathing in deeply, Link blinked blearily up at Fi.

“Hey. Sorry,” he apologized, rubbing his eyes.

Fi was… oddly slow to respond. “…A report, Master.” She turned her face to the grate in the ceiling.  “I have detected a bug infestation in the upper area of the house.”

“A… bug infestation?” Link repeated, feeling very confused as he glanced up and saw nothing but the grate above him. He tried to ignore the decorations.

Fi simply nodded and spiraled back into the sword on his back, leaving him without further explanation.

Link groaned as he started to piece together what a “bug infestation” probably meant. Having fought a few arachas already, he could only assume that there were a fair few of them crawling all over the roof of Skipper's house. Great.

A bit disappointed that Fi had reverted to her no-nonsense way of speaking so soon, Link resolved it was time to go. He stood, stretched his arms and back, and made it to the door before pausing to glance around the room once last time. After sending up a small, silent prayer for Skipper and his family to find peace, Link turned the doorknob and left the room.

The sound of cicadas and swirling wind hit him as soon as he was outside.

“All right, let’s get this over with,” Link murmured, quickly finding a box to climb. He crested the first level of the house and braced himself for hordes of scuttling legs.

The roof was empty.

Link blinked, hauling himself up so he could stand. He walked a full circle around the level to double-check, and still no arachas. Had he missed something?

Link stopped at the foot of a clump of vines and followed them up with his eyes. There was one last tier of the roof he could investigate, though it offered very little room for a supposed “infestation”. There were no monster sounds, either. In fact, the only noise he could hear besides the wind was the persistent buzz of cicadas…

…Hang on a second.

He climbed the vines as quickly as possible. Sure enough, the highest level was completely clear of arachas. The buzzing, however, was only getting louder, leaving no room for doubt as to just what kind of bug had made its home at the top of Skipper’s Retreat. Link slowed his pace to a crawl as he tip-toed around the smokestack in the center of the roof, desperate to catch a glimpse of them.

Beautiful cicadas clung to the smokestack, chirping their chittering calls to all that would listen. For a brief moment, Link considered pocketing them, but it almost felt wrong to take them from this place. So, he simply crept as close as he dared, studying their glistening black and gold bodies and letting their rattles flow through him.

He smiled. Musical insects never failed to put him at ease. They reminded him of his home, a place so full of music and laughter.

Of Zelda’s music and laughter, he amended with deep yearning.

Maybe that was why cicadas were now one of his favorite insects.

Link gasped. And Fi knew that.

Some mix of disbelief and pride soaked through his bones. Is that… is that why she…? He turned his head, trying to study the hilt of the Goddess Sword, which remained suspiciously quiet.

Link let out a breathy laugh, a grin splitting his face. “Thank you, Fi. This made me really happy.” He ran his fingers over the hilt. “I really needed this today.”

The sword chimed under his touch, and Link was convinced her glowing flicker was brighter than usual. Its warmth spread through his body, giving him the strength he needed to stand up straight.

Link made his way down the roof, stepping out onto a platform where a zipline waited to escort him back down to Skipper. He breathed in the desert air, the breeze ever so faintly tinged with the salty smell that surrounded the Timeshift boat in its pocket of ocean. It was time to move on. It was time to find the Flame.

Link gripped Fi’s hilt once more, squeezing it as if he were holding her hand.

Together, my friend. We’ll do this together.

Fi chimed brightly behind him.

>>><<<

End of fic!

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Author’s Note: I can’t remember now if this is one of the first times Fi describes something in emotional detail (referring to Skipper’s many happy days with his crew), but it’s one of the first that stuck out to me, especially after being smacked in the face with “get back to work” after I made Link sit down before getting the sea chart at Skipper’s retreat. 😅

ALSO (and because I just did this in-game) freeing Skipper’s crew from the Sandship must have been a HUGE mood booster for Link. He made a difference in Skipper’s life and got to have him reunite with some of his crew, at least! Asfdhjgfkh the robots are so cute, y’all, I love them ^u^

Extra Note: I am a children’s book/family friendly author, so please keep all comments Safe For Work (no swearing please!) I want to do my best to make this a place for everyone. Cheers!