The memory came true to him since that day, the feelings still tingled in his chest, the low burning sadness he had felt after the Hero’s body had gone limp and much like the rippling waters of the dungeon, the life had ebbed out of his body, his breath had halted, and Dark couldn’t help but wonder why the Hero had fallen asleep during their match. He had nearly grown worried for the hero...
He recalls that the only good things about the trade were that Ganondorf- his creator had praised him upon his good work, patted is head and instructed him to keep guard over the temple he had been created in, the second of course, being of the companion he had been able to keep. Her wings had dampened in the dungeon and though her tongue held the venom of a skulltula, something had clicked within her and she grew despondent.
Dark didn’t particularly enjoy their often one-sided chats, but over the time they had been together she had finally started to talk back to him and tell him tales of skull kids and trees and lush greens... he felt a panging in his chest he could never identify, but smiled at the thoughts of a home he knew he would never belong.
The footsteps weren’t the only key to the other’s arrival, and as his cerulean gaze lifts from the water nearly lost in thought, his body taught and nervous at the newcomer, he realises that under his creators Domain, nothing could truly harm him, and he had received no news of bad things coming. So he relaxes.
His voice is small and croaked with obvious disuse, but it was impolite to not greet a guest-- his light had often told him as much.
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