#remainedqueen

                              “awh,  still  pouting?”  she  quips  by  way  of  greeting,  a  hidden  brow  raising  before  she  immediately  shifts  her  attention  to  drawing  patterns  through  the  dust  with  an  idle  claw.  “you  must  feel  it  as  i  do…they’re  alive.”  a  breath  —  a  shrug.  brimstone  flash  &  midna’s  gaze  falls  wholly  upon  her.  evaluating.  “now,  would  you  like  to  know  what  i've  seen?”  

‘ your counsel is comprised of fools---if even a single one of them tests me further, you will not be able to even dream of stopping the WRATH i will unleash upon them--- ‘

it was something of luck that the fragile hylian doorframe he leaned upon didn’t outright shatter at his weight. everything in this castle seemed to be made of the most delicate of materials, perfectly crafted for a people likewise made of glass. slim, thin-boned, capable of breaking under a mere glance.

however, there was nothing delicate to the eyes that finally drew up to address him, nor anything fragile to the sharp tongue she wielded without a second thought. she who had endured a millennia of enduring this life time and time again--she was far too hardened to break under even the slightest bit of pressure.

feisty. a spitfire, when not putting on a show for her subjects. there was an entertaining quality to seeing her pushed to her mental brink, even when her frustration veered in direction to set itself upon him.

it did help that his good mood served as a buffer to any irritation he could have felt in kind.

‘ don’t go falling over yourself in your excitement to see me, queen zelda. ‘ golden eyes drifted idly to observe the work strewn across her desk, curiosity whispering at the back of his mind to investigate as to what it was that demanded her attention so thoroughly today. it was, however, set aside for the very reason he had come to this place.

‘ our meetings are only ever pertaining to that of politics and what-have-you---i simply thought it fit while i had a spare moment that we take this opportunity to discuss... us. ‘

the gleam to his eye was coy, though one peering closely could detect the hint of mischief that laid with it.

‘ fate will one day catch up. ‘

[screams at high pitched volume]

   The vestiges of her own abstract appearance, bright blues, reds, golds and all, seemed to strike some sort of caution with the guards keeping her at bay. More accurate to depict them as moving talking cardboard with toy spears and swords, but she was being cordial in this matter. It was in her best interest to remain as peaceable as possible, on this world contrived of remnants from fairy-tales and forgotten times. Blessings were being counted for the luck of not having landed here by her own space-craft, only imagining the culture shock flooding this world and the populace for its’ existence. Far be it for her to pull a James T Kirk in this Kingdom known as “Hyrule”. They already thought her strange enough, the guards themselves, so here she was hoping to the stars above that their queen was--accepting.

   ❝--Cause’ I’m not a demon! Look, guys, I appreciate your work ethic here. Like really, stellar stuff, especially holding those pointy things towards me for the past half hour we’ve been walking... but do I look like a demon? Come on. Look at my face.❞ An interval of her jutting out her own face as if to display some means of non-demonic-visage took place, outlining her cheeks and eyes with bound hands. ❝Yes? No? ...No response? Silent type guards huh? ...I’m guessing it’s because I blazed out of the sky like a star, right? Go figure. Starstruck.❞ A pout settled on her lips, the token strewing an aloof mask across her face as they entered through a doorway. A rather large chamber, stretching across with multiple pillars, a decorative lavender carpet spanning to the center of the room. A throne, more to say, on a foundation with one very regal looking figure at the peak. 

   They motioned for the blonde to stop, permitting one of the guards to leave while the other was ever prevalent in his proud duty to keep her back--with the pointy thing. The other was treading on to, who she presumed, to be the queen they spoke about prior.