📔 with a subject on Ezlo or Mini c:
Once again, I am plagued by thoughts of those long gone, those who I have cast away eons ago. Yet under the light of the moon, surrounded by nothing but wind and wilderness, my goddess-forsaken brain likes to thrust some dusty memory into the forefront of my mind again, until I’m left frustrated. I doubt this journal will ever come into hands other than mine, and so I shall write in anticipation of such whispered secrets becoming lost forever.
Before I was Vaati the Wind Mage, I was merely Vaati the Minish. I’m sure it’s not surprising that I was an outcast even before I stole the Cap. I was always different. It’s not as if I was shunned by the other Minish; no, that pathetic race wasn’t capable of such things. There was simply a gap between me and them. A gap which I am unsure of whether to label as a difference of intelligence, instinct, or whatever else. The Minish always just were, just happy to do good, to make others happy, to simply live. I, on the other hand, always asked why.
It is this why which both gave me opportunity and isolated me. I’m not sure what about the pathetic, brooding Minish kid caught the old man’s interest, but Ezlo extended his hand to me, offered to teach me. As someone with nothing, of course I accepted.
...Though I may lie if asked, the time under his tutelage wasn’t... bad. While we were Master and Apprentice, the relationship often edged more into Father and Son territory, as loathe as I am to say it now. We really did feel like... family.
But as the years went on, I came to realize that though I had hoped Ezlo was different from the others just like I was, that his wisdom would make him just like me, I was destined to be sorely disappointed. He didn’t have the why. Just like the others, he just was-- wise, dedicated to magic and research, but without any question. I remember that I had asked him once, why we must be good and generous and kind and helpful to the Hylians. Ezlo seemed to think it was a stupid question. The answer, if I recall correctly, was just that it was right.
I had felt... more isolated than ever. I felt stifled. And admittedly, I felt utterly powerless and useless. As much as I may claim to be a genius Wind Mage, I was nothing back then. Never enough, or at least never enough to be taken seriously and for my questions to be answered. For that, I would need to be strong. Powerful. If I was going to be alone, I at least wanted to be alone at the top.
Ezlo’s reaction to me stealing the Magic Cap just confirmed everything to myself. We would never understand each other. And when the time came, for all that Ezlo liked to think he was like my father, he wouldn’t stand on the side of his “son”, but rather the side that was “right”. It came true in the end, though admittedly unleashing monsters upon Hyrule and trying to steal the Light Force was probably enough justification for his actions. Still, I wonder if in the years following my first “death”, he had ever mourned for me? Or did he only mourn what I used to be like, before I decided to follow my ambitions?
I suppose it’s useless to wonder now. I am alive, and he is long dead. And if there was any sort of miracle that allowed us to meet again, I doubt we would ever gain closure. Neither of us were good at talking.
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