Indifference. If only Link knew of his otherworldly acquaintance. It might explain a lot of things but Livius found it easier not to correct views of aliens being little green things. People couldnât respond rationally when the word alien flashed through their mind. Downplayed was easier.Â
âWell, Link, as I said, it is a pleasure to meet youâ Livius hooed softly, glad the other found some spring in his step as they hit the clearing his shrine had made itself at home in, coop and little crop pot happy against the side of the shrine âporchâ of sorts but that bread smell was nice. Soft and warm, with little seeds thrown in there for something hearty to the meal. Heâd happily forfeit his for Link while he made himself something else. A hearty boar soup, with spirals of pasta and chunks of root vegetables bobbing in the broth would await Link once inside, simmering on the stove.
âJust over a hundred yearsâ But be a good guest and wipe out boots on the mat, or leave them by the front door. Stooping to unlace the little leather guards of his talons that served as âshoesâ, and he was pushing the door open for Link to make himself at home.Â
Single story, and open plan. But from the grooves in the floor and stacks of door like dividers pushed to the corner, he could make or remove rooms as needed. The kitchen and bathroom being the only other room, with a single red door to the far side of the room. Some cushions around a table, a strange âuâ shaped branch bolted to a base by the bookshelf (bird chair? Bird perch?) and said bookshelf was the furniture to grace this room. But, then again, he was a monk, so it was hardly lavish. It was homely, which was what he was going for.
âMake yourself at home, dinner just needs a bowlâ
Link had almost forgotten his manners, and proceeded to remove his mud-drenched boots and leave them outside. He looked up at the owl in surprise â a hundred years?! â maybe they had met before. He couldnât remember, but there were lots of things he couldnât remember. âSorry, have we ââhe paused, unsure how strange this would sound, but concluded that it was worth a try. âDo you remember meeting me before? I mean, a hundred years ago, had we ever met?â If the answer was no, which it probably was considering his reaction to his name, then nothing was lost. But otherwise⊠Link might be able to get more information on who he used to be, maybe remember a few things.
He followed Livius inside, mouth open and a sliver of drool escaping as all the smells and the sights of the food collided into him. The interior was nothing grand, but it was immensely comforting at the same time. âUmâŠâ he felt like he was slightly intruding, and thought about instead waiting for his friend to indeed grab a bowl, get food, and start eating before he did, but his stomach took over, making decisions for him. A cheerful, albeit impatient âThank you!â was all he could say before tearing into a piece of the bread and grabbing servings of everything else. Every bite was better than the last â nothing compared to what Link was capable of making in a cooking pot in a freezing forest.
âSo, Livius,â he asked, between mouthfuls of food, âwhat do you do?â