I hope you like this @dartiri11 , Thank you for the idea!
The forest rarely felt quiet to the Hero of Time.
There was always something going on. Perhaps it was the faint chime of the fairies, the small echoes of the signature voices of the Kokiri, or maybe even the rustle of leaves from harsh winds.
But it was never silent like this.
Silence is always suffocating. Silence is always two large hands taking the heart and squeezing it to a singularity. Silence is always hated.
This time, though, silence feels good. He was finally at peace, the world around him paralel to his perspective; equal in every and any way.
Well it was fun while it lasted.
Time whipped his head around to the source of the voice, strong, tiring, yet not overwhelming; at least not yet. “What do you need?” He locked his knees, attempting to keep his disappointment about the tranquility that was now lost to a minimum. His heel lifted as he prepared to turn around, but he was already met then and there by the champion.
“I have a present for you.” Brown, crumpled paper was wrapped around a box-shaped object, gripped tightly in the scar hands, “You know, found it at the market and thought of you.” In all honesty, the man wasn’t sure whether that was something he should be proud about, or worried. He tentatively reached forward, wrapping his own fingers around the box before gently pulling it away.
He glanced down at the boy, who gave a goofy grin, along with a nod of approval in return, “Alright, I’ll open it.” His fingernail scratched the delicate parchment, creating a small tear due to the damage. Peeling the paper off, he was left with yet another box, this time a smooth wood, still smelling of the forest it was cut from, “Do I open this one too?”
He could only shake his head in return, “Duh.”
After carefully lifting up the small metal latch on the box, Time peered into the object. It was as if he was looking at himself-or at least before he ditched the proud green tunic, “A tiny inanimate Hylian?” He questioned, using his two fingers to lift up the figure.
“Well, it kind of looked like you,” Wild shrugged, but his arms felt stiff as he weighed the probability of disapproval, “The hair looks similar.”
Time exhaled slightly, but not of disappointment, “It’s adorable,” his lips curled into a half smile, deciding to stash it in his pocket, under the layers of tunic, chainmail, and armor, “Thank you.” His arm reached out again, this time to lay his hand, aged with time, onto the teenager’s shoulder.
The champion grinned again, pure and genuine, “Good,” he projected, “because no take-backs.”
“No take-backs.” He echoed.
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