#archaictunic

Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom Link Fanart! I love the archaic tunic.

" link? but how can you... "

it's been ten thousand years. it's passed in the blink of an eye, and yet, she can feel a tingling in her forehead. the weighty absence of a keen whistle of wind in her ears. her body is impossibly heavy, and yet bigger than she remembers.

link is in front of her.

something isn't the same, anymore. she can remember the years passing, but she remembers one thing the most- knowing for a fact she would lose herself completely, and never, ever be the same.

link is in front of her.

♡ / @archaictunic

     You'd think getting home would be the easiest part of this whole adventure. 'Specially when all they have to do half the time is fall, but of course — of course — it's proving a harder trek than first thought. The snowsquall had appeared with the same sudden intensity all of Hebra's storms like to come in, a force of legitimate nature rather than monster nature, and it's got Tulin wanting to throw or shoot or rip into something. He's just done the most amazing things in the most amazing place with the most amazing person — and he's gotta deal with something like this, now, of all times? Go figure.

     He gazes out beyond the maw of the cave they managed to retreat to in the nick of time, feathers puffing as he grasps at the Windlines once more and tries to blow this stupid snow away. He can feel the shape of the path he wants to make along his wings, clearer and more tangible than ever since he took up his ancestor's mission; so when he pushes, he really pushes, and yes, he—

     —Blows the stupid snow away for about three seconds. Maybe four.

     "Blizzards." He sighs. Secret Stones need to be trained with too, he supposes. Or is it 'cause he's so tired? And hungry? Oof — if he's feeling this awful, how's it like for his companion? Tulin turns to him now, head and wings sagging sheepishly.

A wince, as her hand traces over the wound delivered by a very crafty Lizalfos. Those boomerangs were incredibly sharp, but what had injured her was a manufactured, strung together spear. She was lucky the saw-tooth edges hadn't buried themselves into her body.

If the other swordsman hadn't shown up, she probably would have been monster food. Not probably- surely.

Her breathing is hollow, heavy. Everything hurts, and it becomes all the more apparent she needed a potion of some kind... Just... She had to get into her pouch.

Gazing up at the sky alight in shades of crimson and orange, it never came to her that she missed Hyrule. Different the surface may be from what she remembers, the sky remained relatively the same in spite of ruin, reminding her of bittersweet, yet sentimental, memories as she travelled alongside him.

The smell of sauteed mushrooms and meat flood her senses, washing away any thoughts to nothing. A moment of peace. But before she was able to close her eyes and relish: a flicker of movement above catches her eye. Dread constricts her chest, before the gears in her brain click; though that doesn't ease away how her heart chokes. It stole her breath, in both awe and realization. That must be—

“―Zelda.” Her voice is no louder than a whisper, subconsciously rising to her feet and drifting closer to stare. The dragon drifts languidly across the sky, an ethereal streak of white and gold. Everything is silent but the passing breeze that rises as she crosses above, holding a clenched fist over her heart. “Oh, Zelda...”

♡ / @archaictunic

     The fire is a little weaker tonight, he notes. He has to huddle in close to watch the trails it traces along the curves of the bars and pot trapping it, wings wrapped around himself and feet idly twiddling with the half-entwined, now-forgotten ribbons he initially brought with him to while away the late hours.

     He quietly trills some aimless tune to the flames' soft pops and crackles. It's not the first time Kido's found sleep escaping him. The village kitchen is where he's wandered to this evening, in the wake of some dream he can't recall. Only a vague impression of its nature had remained in the form of frustrated, almost desperate energy: a too-much-to-contain feeling that has yet to leave — that has him wishing somebody else could be awake, and here, and feeling too-much-to-contain with him.

     Ugh. He doesn't know how or why anybody would want to be nocturnal when being nocturnal is like this. It kinda really stinks.

     He's tempted to go see if it's late-turned-early enough that any aunt or uncle will be up for him to distract and be distracted by, when he catches footsteps thud-thud-thudding their way closer and closer. They're lighter than they'd usually be, without the duller tap of talons against wood; awfully familiar in a way that has him restless in a different sense, so he quickly turns to look and— yes!!

     "Hi!" Kido chirps, just about jumping to his feet. It's Mr. Link! It's always so hard getting to see and approach the hero that is Mr. Link alone whenever he visits the village lately, so this is— like— the best surprise. "Good evening!"