CHIEFTAIN.

ACT: INTRODUCE YOURSELF

Frisk’s voice on its own proved to be inelegant and full of stutters. However, they could speak elegantly and with eloquence if allowed to use graceful hands. Their hands formed a beautiful dance and they spoke with motions and symbols.

At being asked Frisk smiled and knew they could show her. They could show her how they spoke. Writing was nice, if given the proper tools they could speak through text. 

Riju. 

Frisk’s pointer and middle fingers crossed each other like vines intermingling with one another. Fingers curled towards their palm as a small little finger stood erect and proud. Frisk’s little finger made a “J” motion. Pointer and middle finger stood tall. 

R-I-J-U.

Frisk tapped at the name written in the sand before pointing at her. 

Patricia.

What a pretty name! It looked nice too. A pointer finger directed itself towards the sandseal as their middle finger pointed to the ground. A curled fist with an extended thumb was formed. They nestled their thumb between their closed palm and wrapped their pointer finger around it. They crossed their fingers again and then made a fist before extending their pinky. Curving their hand into a C Frisk made an “I” Frisk formed the “A” again. 

P-A-T-R-I-C-I-A.

Hands laid atop Frisk’s chest atop a loving heart. 

* ( 4/10. )

Giving her their nickname they spelled it in the sand with their finger. Frisk’s handwriting proved to be neat and tidy and the “I” made was dotted with a heart. 

Pointer finger and thumb formed an “O” shape as the rest of their fingers stood up. They crossed their fingers once more as that led into a closed hand with an pinky to create “I”. Closing their hand they pressed their thumb along their fingers. Then spread their pointer and middle fingers apart as they stuck their thumb between the standing fingers. 

F-R-I-S-K. 

It was captivating how people could speak without ever uttering a word. Of course it was common to convey meaning through motion, but Riju had never seen someone speak with their hands in such an intricate manner. Her eyes shone like varnished emeralds, delighted to have seen her own name replicated in their extraordinary language. 

Patricia’s name seemed more dazzling than hers; a longer name allowed for a more elaborate dance. Her own hands felt compelled to move as she watched, but her thoughts dissuaded her from doing so. Their movements possessed a refined grace that she couldn't hope to mimic, but how she wished in that moment that she could learn!

❝Frisk,❞ she read aloud after watching them spell their name out. It felt unfamiliar on her tongue, much like Hylian names often did. ❝I think the way you speak is very pretty, Frisk. It reminds me of the way my people tell stories though dance.❞ The Gerudo had never established a sign language, however, they had a firm gasp on the art of sending a message through movement. When texts detailing their culture were lost to time, those stories lived on though spoken word and dance. 

        In the stretch of silence between her words he can hear the sounds of Gerudo Town among the soft brush of wind. Laughter, the strum of the lute somewhere, and he feels a thick sense of homesickness. They will never allow him within the walls of their home, he knows this. Even if he were not a man, and even if he is one of them, he has done far too much for them to truly welcome him. Too much blood on his hands, much of it being theirs. He has led his people to near-extinction, why would they ever want him back?

        Her eyes are determined yet curious. The eyes of a child. Ganondorf lets her question sink in, lets himself really think about it even though the answer is so clear to him. Of course he remembers, but the memories could be so overwhelming. It had been one thing to see all of it transpire through the eyes of beasts, but when they were defeated one hundred years later, one by one, he truly saw these memories as his own. And these memories keep him up at night more often than not. It is strange, to have killed so many and yet become haunted by a few.

        “Yes, I remember.” Suddenly, he finds it difficult to meet her eyes, but he keeps his gaze even. There is a minute tightening of his grip on his bow, and he lets it drop to the sand so he does not break it in his tenseness. Lady Urbosa — she had fought well, she had been the most difficult of the Champions to strike down; she was Gerudo after all. It would have been a surprise if she went down easily.

        Lips twitch, then turn into a frown. Ganondorf looks off to the side. There is a sick, tepid feeling forming in his gut. And with it, the brief darkening of his expression. Finally, he looks back at her.

        “And yes, I did. I will not lie to you about that.”

It was the answer she had been anticipating, though her foresight did little to put her at ease. Crestfallen, her chin fell to the golden earth, pulling her eyes from his. Her silence this time was bitter and corroding, and it left her with a tainting sensation in the pit of her stomach. 

❝I’m sure that you loved your people. I know that they loved you...❞ The era of his reign lay dead in antiquity, however a scattering of stories from that age survived their decline. It was said he possessed a sort of magnetism that made him greater that any king that came before him. The very same ambition that had him poised to lead them into prosperity had ultimately been their undoing. 

Two days from now. That was the promised window of time explained was needed for them to get all the preparations together. Instances where her people wouldn’t be in strict need of her guidance alongside Buliara’s along his scheduled adventuring brought to a low point. The ability of his sword arm, strength and grit had been requested far and wide upon Hyrule’s goddess graced lands.

It was working wonders in instilling a sense of purpose even after toppling over one of the greatest foes he ever had to face.

Link’s travels drew him to the harsh expanse of Gerudo’s desert through a device instilled with technology eras beyond their time. It’s within the depths of the night that he arrives, materializing back into Hylian form as the stomach turning transport of the Shiekah slate lands him down. Well-adjusted to this method of transport, his eyes were quick to adjust, quick scanning the surroundings of vigilant city of the Gerudo. To their indomitable grit, even now, guards were busily keeping the parameter scanned for any suspicious activity. Voe especially being at the top of the list for getting handled appropriately.

As a pressured sigh is breathed through his nose, the knight already knew what time was for. Selecting the preferred outfit from the slate, Link knew that keeping on the Champion’s tunic from here on out would be nothing short of foolishness. This called for a different touch.

Passing through security, resisting the unholy urge to check their vibrant shops that managed to stay available even at this hour, this mysterious Vai was taking part mingling within their territory. Skipping past the shop that brandished a fine selection of salted cutlets and meats, it was nearby the training yard that the blond ventured, steering back towards a familiar woman made waterfall before scaling up few stuck out ledges his formidable grip could settle upon, making it an easy enough venture for the adventurer to gain the high ground. From here on out, it was a matter of carefully inspecting the guard’s predetermined routes, the hawk like eyes of that lead soldier and to scale up to the royal chambers.

It’s upon one of it’s sun baked rooftops that he’d wait. The last thing he wants to do is stir up her sense of alarm, so a special system they set up would be perfect for the task. At this very spot (which he frequented now out of habit for these late night escapades) there was a plank of wood left at this select spot he perches at. Glancing downward while waiting for her to appear, his knuckles would swiftly rapt upon the wood, making a precise number of knocks in the form of a code.

Her ride was finally here for another big adventure.

@sahvitra

In the days leading up to Link’s arrival the young chieftain worked subtly on her preparations for their outing, although the excitement within her was waiting to burst forth. She was accustomed in conducting herself in a sophisticated matter before the expectant eyes of her people, keeping her true thoughts behind a stately mask. Beneath the ornamentation and regality she was a merely girl, enlivened by her own sprightly nature and the onset of wanderlust. 

On the evening of her departure she sat waiting her bedchamber, finishing letters of consultation to Buliara and her cabinet of advisors in her refined script. Already she was swathed in the billowy fabrics of her travel robes with a single satchel resting near her feet. She knew there was little need to pack heavily for their journey--Link would have had everything they needed in that bottomless knapsack of his.

It was just as she concluded her final letter with a stamp of the royal emblem when a familiar rhythm, familiar only to her ears and her ears alone, sounded from the rooftops. In an instant she rose from her desk, quickly downing the last of the safflina tea that would keep her warm through the night before snatching up her bag and slipping out of the arched doorway. Her gaze caught his with a quick glance skyward, prompting her to smile broadly in greeting. 

❝This way,❞ Riju uttered into the dark, waving a hand as she crept onto the thin ledge just outside of her room. From there it was a small hop into the waterways that coursed over Gerudo Town’s walls. At the westernmost corner of town a rock structure allowed them an easy descent to the grounds just outside of the high walls.