@thomasrainier
everything feels so wrong here. if it were merely the people, or something as banal as the architecture, zelda is sure she would not be half as disturbed. but it is - - - everything. the flora and fauna. even the sky seems to be the wrong shade. the air smells different and the voices are all so odd, no accent one she can recognize. her own voice is strange and foreign in a way it should not be. zelda shivers and draws the cloak further over her shoulders as she turns her face from the dark night sky ( there are so few stars! where have they all gone? ) to peer at her companion curiously. everyone else has gone to rest in their tents and zelda watches a red coal roll from the fire. with a flick of her fingers she reverses it and returns it the moment before.
"you say you are a ... warden?" the word feels strange and angular in her mouth; zelda isn't sure if it's the word or the common tongue rather than her own language. "i am afraid i'm still not certain what exactly that means. we do not have wardens when i am from." despite her obvious confusion, and perhaps obvious discomfort, there is a clear curiosity in her bright eyes as zelda tips her head at him across the campfire. she does not know how to return herself to her time at this current moment, so she might as well learn as much as she can about this place, this time. it seems warden is a title with quite a bit of weight, what with the way people say it, and it would serve zelda well to know what that means.









