。f o r s a k e n

❛——-Yes sir.❜

A grin, nearly childlike and pure in expression, appeared on the psychic’s face. She walks—- Which is in fact and rare occurrence—towards the man, fitting between gripped hands. How exciting!

Trying to mask his perturbed expression, though the disbelief in his eyes could be clearly noted as hands were placed on the underside of her arms. Fingers curls slightly to better grip her though not applying too much pressure, no need for her to cry out in pain just yet. Lifting her up in the air, amazed at how the psychic was acting like a mere child before him. 

     ❛————-Yes. A Leader. Nothing more, sadly, nothing less.                     To most it is a very worthy title, but  to  us,                      It simply means protecting our gyms,                      and the area around it. ❜

        It was unnerving the way he spoke  to   her,          And how the citizens seemed   not   concerned,          continuing their daily lives,   without     glancing          towards the two. Was there   something   more          important than this possibly dangerous Intruder                              lurking in the city?

                       ❛I never—Implied that. You—-❜

       She could feel the  order   and   focus        within her mind,  slipping,  There  was        something about his tone. Something                            that she was not used to.                  she needed to remain dignified.

             Absorbing the information freely given                     it did not sounds too appealing to him. Since it was a new land                     that was unknown to him perhaps this was the closest title they                     had to a royal. Musing over it, completely oblivious as to how                      they were ignored.

                            ❝  That sounds rather...mundane. ❞

                    Commenting on her opinion though it was more to himself than                     to her. A curl of lips, a threatening smile in place. Which looked                     out of place on him. He was a man of nothing more than rough                     muscles and calloused skin. The appearance of a smile was                      nothing more than a sign. A sign that this was the calm before                      the storm. 

                            ❝  Then what did you mean? ❞

Even though he was still incredibly taller than she, Yvaine kept her back straight and face stern. Who was this person to think he could come in here and ask if she was the strongest like it wasn’t a big deal? She remained still, trying to read his face, but to no avail.

"Denton." She answered through a tight jaw. It’d be foolish to give him her first name or her title of Her Majesty, regardless of whether or not he figured it out. 

"Why are you here asking for the strongest, if I may?"

Expression remained neutral not wanting to hint what his ulterior motives were but he sensed the suspicion that could not be missed. The exiled royal realized that he was not more round about his need for information, probably too forthcoming for this stranger's comfort though he had no particular tact for it. Or care for that matter. Though for now he was willing to be careful on what he said.

                                    ❝  Denton. ❞

Repeating the name given but paying no heed to it, after all it would mean nothing to him later on if they would not give him what he needed to know.

                      ❝  To enlist them into my aide. ❞                                         or kill them.

Being mindful not to say the last part as a vicious smile appeared, which somehow contradicted his words due to the savageness that was depicted from it. Ganondorf was only driven by one thing & that was power, either they join him or they die. 

【♚;;           — "Because all life is precious." She replied to his question,                    be it rhetorical or not, though has soon as she said those words,                    there was a moment where she faltered.

                                              ( Part of her didn’t fully believe that. )

              Her life, had not been anything sweet or calm, it was the               opposite, it was covered in blood, tears and prays for the               angel of death to take her awake quicker than anything.               Parts of her mind had blacked it out, a part of her, was so               dark and locked away that if it were released, she feared what               it would do.

            Her features, the changed, the look in her eyes became something             that was considering doing something like this. "If I were to kill for             you, would I be granted power to do so? Would I be allowed to             kill the ones that hurt me in the past? Would I be protected? Are             you   p o w e r f u l   enough for that?” If he was, if he could sweeten             the deal, she may be tempted by the devil himself to take lives revenge             could be such a tempting motive when it flickers in the mind.

             a mocking snort resounds in the room as the tawny                     gaze sharpens, no softness could be found there. whether it be for her                     view on the value of life or her question about his powers remain in the                     dark. though no offence was taken for she did not know the extent of his                     powers, if she so wished it he would return the favour with giving her what                     she needed as long as she was his pawn.

                                    ❝  not every life. ❞

                    remaining adamant, pausing to let it settle before giving her his answer                     on regarding what she desired. wanted. after all they were all the same,                     people always succumbed to power. it was their nature. a type of greed                     that even the exiled sovereign was susceptible to.

               ❝  i can give you whatever it is that you desire..                    as long as you remember your place, child. ❞

                    the exiled gerudo was well aware how many before had become drunk off                     of power. thinking they could best him. the one akin to darkness, hatred &                     power itself. 

Hearing those words were a first, and was very surprising for the shadow child. He thought he’d never hear such words spoken to him before. To think this tall stranger would think such a thought of all things. What did the man possibly see in him?

Shadow slowly reached for the other’s hand, though a bit hesitant he ends up stopping with his hand still reached out, but his fingers close in on themselves. He’s very uncertain and at a loss of what to do, that the hand resting at his side curls towards his palm over and over again.

"Okay… But I got one last question. What makes ya think that?"

Just be patient with him, a phrase that repeats as his hand is not met by theirs (though so close). Offering a smile that endures, it offers a kindness that is constructed with lies that he knows all too well to say. Though he could not offer a true answer just yet to the shadow child perhaps something that bordered the truth would suffice. 

                 ❝  You aren't like the Hylians are you? ❞

 » The pressure that builds pounds in her ears, and she can almost hear the drums clashing from the anger and darkness swirling around.

 » She has fucked up. She knows this. She does not flinch at the swirling aura, but she does shut her eyes, if only for a moment. There were some truth she did not desire to see.

“I stayed not for the people- they hold no gain for me- but to be sure I checked the entirety of the lands. I did not dare look elsewhere if there was possibility that he was merely hiding here.”

 » She wanted to stay, sure. She wanted to smile and laugh and enjoy time with the people she had gotten close to while searching high and low for this one man… but she knew where her priorities were.

"I will leave thusly, if you wish me to move on."

There is suspicion building now, one thing that the deceased demon hated was liars. Though he knew she would not dare lie to him, one could never be sure. After all he was a man who knew very few loyal people and she was nothing but a paid servant.

Keeping an eye on her expression, nearing her and tendrils composed of darkness began to wrap around her own shadow. His hatred & bitterness had been lighted, only growing as each second passed but he knew to remain calm.

Even if not by much. As long as she knew where he place was, that she could not escape him even if she so desired. Decaying teeth are bared, as flesh still clings to it and an odor akin to sulfur could be notable as he talked.

A king. How very quaint! The man of smaller stature folded his hands beneath his chin and his smile grew a mite less predatory as his dark hues raked over the man. He was hardly offended by Ganondorf’s ignorance, for it was as he’d said: Grima’s legacy was not tied to this place.

The back of his hand carried a brand that his company might glimpse as he analyzed him unabashedly; it was not like the Triforce upon his own in appearance, and yet its meaning was not unlike the selfsame— he was chosen by some great power for some great purpose. Purple as a bruise but sharper still, a single line split into a V with dual crosses at its base which ensconced diamonds, and each slightly curved arm was upset by the design of three almond-shaped eyes.

'Very well, Ganondorf.' In his voice the velvet brushed the Gerudo's ears once more, though the effect was closer to that of a pleasant-sounding human's then.

'I have slain sovereigns before,' he observed momentarily, though there was no threat from him in the words; mild amusement, perhaps.

One aspect of the other that Ganondorf could not dismiss was the apparent symbol that was etched onto their hand. It was unlike what the exiled king had seen before, the colouring and shaping did not bring any information. Despite being a man who had took pride in his vast knowledge. Nonetheless he kept his expression neutral, especially at the small comment made by Grima.

                                    ❝  that so? ❞

Offering his own smile, which was anything but kind. It slashed against his tanned face, lips parted only by a fraction. The whites offering a harsh contrast to his other wise dark colouring. Though he was not threatened, instead interest piqued at the power they seemed to have (unless they were lying to him).

                  ❝  We seem to have that in common. ❞

     «  ♫  »

    “I see.”

        Her expression falls and she pauses, full stop - it is becoming         increasingly clear that he wasn’t going to be deterred from         taking what he wanted from this place. Even if she refused         now, it seemed that someone had made a promise to him -         she suspects Ingo, and shakes her head. The look in this         man’s eyes tells her that he won’t treat her horses the way         she would want him to, or the way they should be treated -         he has called them beasts, for the love of the goddesses.

        But where she is weak, this man is strong. She breathes          out —

    And all she can think of is how disappointed her mother would         be as her chin sinks to her chest and she nods, heart racing,         and gestures for him to follow after her.

     Malon wishes for her father, even if he is no stronger than she         is, and wrings her hands as she mentally runs through all of         their horses. They’ll likely be driven hard, she knows, and         probably mistreated; after all, how can anyone take proper         care of a horse if they barely see them as living creatures at         all? They’ll need to be sturdy, powerful horses that can be         pushed. Smart, too, if they are to please this man.

    In all respects, Epona is the strongest of their horses - well bred,         sharp, with energy to spare even once she has run race after race         — but she would never bend to this man’s whim, not when she is         so wild and free. Not when she will not be treated as an equal.

    So the redhead leads him to one of their more rugged horses,         a sharp-eyed stallion with a smooth mahogany coat and         a strong constitution. Her mother’s horse.

    “His name is Duke,” she says as a heavy pressure settles on her         chest, like someone had shoved their hand through her and         had begun squeezing her heart. ”He’s a strong companion, and         fast. The best we have.”

his expression is not kind, no softness but only hard lines and edges. more so when he is left with no choice but to follow her. passing other weaker looking horses who did not deserve his attention or glance. they were not sturdy or built to survive his heavy hand. hardly any beast was, known for his cruelty was there any softness in this brute of man who  was known to never shown any type of kindness only fabricated courtesy during the days he was a member ( instead of king ) in the royal court.

Thinking this was a ruse to keep the horse he desired away from him, merely a ploy to waste his time till she thought of an excuse until she introduced him to a stallion. Lean but filled with all the  needed muscles that would serve this king well. With a narrowed gaze, those tawny hues did not soften but only sharpened. To find any flaws in this beast, after all he was a critical person with a fine taste for what belonged to him.

Yet there was none & despite most of his attention focused on the creature there was something about the girl's tone that made him flicker a gaze. Unable to understand as to what the change was ( & unable to actually care ) though he kept in mind. 

             ❝  How old is this Duke? Is he sturdy?                  I do not desire horse that scare easily.                  A horse that can handle battle, hm. ❞

“I already told you — Step. Off.”

{ Perhaps the best decision to make in this situation would be to merely    ignore  the  shade  ’til he grew bored and  disappeared.  Or  perhaps    that was wishful thinking; after all, why would he be left alone when    he  had  already  played into the eidolon’s hands? It was  too  late  to    change  his  strategy  now,  despite how poor a tactic it  was.  In  any    case,  he  doubted  he had the strength to hide a response  of  anger.    This  was one confrontation he could not end with a fight — he would    have to endure.

   Perhaps  he would respond, but movement would save  him — motion    could obscure reaction when concentration was on walking. As though    to  leave the other behind he walked, a tad bit more aggressively  than    he   would  have  liked,  but  walking  all  the  same.  Mayhaps  it   was    provocatory,  but it would be his saving grace nevertheless. One foot    after the other, he made to leave. }

& their reaction only enticed the phantom to  continue their harassment of the acclaimed hero. Becoming a shadow that followed behind their heels. With no power to harm and only haunt those who could see him it was only natural for the specter to not lose sight of the boy. Even if the reason they bang to walk away was to be far from them. Regardless, the deceased leered at the other even if it was marred by lack of proper facial structure. A taunting voice leaked out, dark tendrils curling and distorting the hero's shadow.

                ❝  O'hero but I have a question..       Are you still a hero even when you murder? ❞

Though his tone was light, it was gravelly with no softness in it. There never would be kindness heard from the angered spirit who was forced to be his enemy's reminder. Looming closer, wrinkles forming on their caricature face as they tried to hold back their exploding hatred that still burned strongly.