thaneuerebor:
cleverindeed:
holds out his little arms hugs pls
takes hobbit and wraps in furs
watches the hobbit vanish in the furs
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
macklin celebrini has autism
Show & Tell
art blog(derogatory)

⁂
we're not kids anymore.
trying on a metaphor

titsay
AnasAbdin
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
cherry valley forever

blake kathryn
Today's Document
Three Goblin Art

if i look back, i am lost
noise dept.
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wallacepolsom
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸

ellievsbear

seen from United States
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@majestiies
thaneuerebor:
cleverindeed:
holds out his little arms hugs pls
takes hobbit and wraps in furs
watches the hobbit vanish in the furs
offers you this sad longing looking hobbit bc he looks so sad. :c
She stands near the sealed Door of Time, light blue gaze lost and unfocused.
And though she seems lost in though, she is not unaware of the presence she senses behind her.
brxvura:
❛As I said.❜
Amusement laced gently upon his tongue, the Hero would pause in his trek in order to face the royal completely; frosted boots stilled within the snow and calm breath arriving in puffs of mist alongside the winter air. While the crisp environment was not particularly comfortable for either of them, it was nonetheless tolerable for the moment— and the destination he’d had in mind would surely do its job to fight away what chill had managed to wrap itself around their forms.
However, they did need to get there first.
❛It will be worth it, I promise. Unless you want to wait for another day?❜
( He’ll try to not to appear too disappointed at the prospect of turning back. )
She had not intended to offend, but she realizes now that the subtle resistance is just that. She ducks her chin down slightly, tucking her hands about the arrow provided for her warmth.
He wanted to show her something.
That was enough.
She squares her shoulders gingerly, tipping her head forward and trotting up a bit closer so they might walk abreast.
❝ We've already come so far... ...and I am curious. ❞
Pink lips curve into a gentle smile, gazing at Link from behind golden lashes sprinkled with snow flakes.
❝ How did you come across this place? ❞
[brxvura:]
❛An hour or so, perhaps.❜
It wasn’t too far, at least in comparison to other treks he’d partaken in. The chill of the air was rather noticeable, however; and no matter how pretty the white of the snow was, it wasn’t always the most comfortable.
Still, he’d tolerated harsher environments whilst donning only his usual garments, thus ignoring the cold of a winters day was something he could certainly achieve. Yet that did not mean that he could remain ignorant in other things; and with a quick reach into the depths of his pack a single fire arrow would tugged out, tip glowing with the gentle heat of embedded magic. It’s with a glance towards her that it’s offered forth; and while it would do little to warm her entirety in its dormant state, it would at least remove the chill from her fingers.
❛Here❜
Goddesses above. An hour?
She keeps her expression neutral (apart from another shiver) as he turns to face her, her long ears twitching up slightly to spot the single arrow, the fire magic infused warmly as it comes to rest in her hand.
And she's touched by his consideration and it shows: her slightly off-put expression melts in favor of a tender one.
❝ And...it's still supposed to be a surprise? ❞
She wouldn't dare invade his space, but she does position herself closer.
(She can at least pretend to share warmth with her hero.)
brxvura:
❛A little cold cannot hurt me, Princess!❜
Besides; tromping about in the snow was just far too much fun to miss.
Perhaps he's not cold, but she is, gathering the dark cloak closer about slender shoulders...
But she does not want to show weakness, in the face of such pleasure.
❝ How far is it...? ❞
She follows without missing a step.
(Though she cannot quite hide all of her shivering...)
❝ Aren't you...cold? ❞
xdemonologyx
As though she would not have sensed dark magic.
His presence has been tolerated for some time now, and she is well aware he awaits an opportune moment of weakness.
Curiosity alone keeps her from direct confrontation; he is foreign to her directly yet his presence grates at her senses. Foreign, yes...but not unfamiliar. And so the sovereign waits: light magic channels at her fingertips in a way naught but the most perceptive might sense.
brxvura:
❛—Really?❜
What was this, permission to continue sneaking around? Even if it meant harassing the guards a little?
Certainly, something he could not reject.
And if possible he perks up even more at the mention of food; having hardly been expecting the offer of staying all that long at all, let alone to be treated like an honored guest. In all honesty, he wasn’t quite sure what he’d been expecting when he’d arrived back within Hyrule’s cradle, let alone the sanctity of the castle— but Zelda’s kindness seems even more endless than his expectations reach; and with a clasp of calloused hands about her own, her offer is readily accepted.
Naturally, Zelda’s wisdom knows no bounds either— for her guess is indeed correct in regards to his rumbly stomach, and it’s only a matter of time before the digits curled about her own tug readily, youth apparently more than willing to drop whatever sense of social hierarchy that should have stopped him from treating her so casually. It’s towards the exit of the little courtyard that he leads them towards; a mere assumption regarding the correct direction in which to take, Hero well aware that he has absolutely no idea where the royal kitchens were yet perfectly comfortable in relying on instinct and logic. Said action leads the pair almost right into the path of a wandering guard (supposedly on patrol, yet looking somewhat sleepy); and Link wastes little time in switching paths in order to hide behind the sanctity of a nearby hedge in a near automatic action.
Hands still grasped together, he turns towards her and beams; quite brightly, quite boyishly— and for the moment his hungry belly is ignored in favor of the beginning of their little game, something so nostalgic and happy that he can think of no other way to achieve what could be a simple stroll through the castle grounds.
❛It’s a little familiar, isn’t it?❜
A whisper on his tongue; fond and pleased.
Oh but that grin soothes years of pain and loneliness, voice light and carefree, an expression she had not known in nearly fifteen years, not since his first youth.
So it is that she does not possess the heart to tell him there is a much less guarded route, too pleased with his hold and his drive to think to stop him.
She crashes into his back at the sudden shift of direction, clamping a hand over her mouth but unable to truly avoid a trill of giggles that nearly give them away, pressed against a hedge and ducked down. Her hand squeezes Link’s and she catches his expression, taking it in as though it were sunshine after years of rain.
Oh, but the guard was so close now, that she has to scoot over, nearly pressing her lips to the shell of his long ear.
❝ ...we need to get in through that door. ❞
She squeezes his hand, and this time takes the lead, timing their rise silently and darting towards one of the back servant doors. And once the door shuts, she turns to look at him with a grin of her own.
❝ A little, ❞ — she purrs, her voice warm and light, ❝ Though I think you had far more experience with this than I did. ❞
She gazes down the empty hall as if lost in consideration.
❝ Right hall is quicker but riskier. Left one is longer but less taken. ❞
Pink lips pull into a soft smirk, leaving the decision to her companion.
obscuura:
The threat does little more than amuse the shadow, voice echoing about the space as he openly cackles at the woman. He’s a fool not to heed her warnings, yes - but his childish, reckless nature keeps him from realizing the true danger he’s in.
“Oh, Princess - I didn’t think you to be so cruel! Surely you must feel some pity for a lowly little creature such as myself?”
Her head inclines gradually, fixing him with an ice gaze that seems to pierce through him rather than behold him. She flashes a brief ounce of magic through her touch, not enough to mar the shadow. But enough to warn.
❝ Consider your options wisely, for any movement may be your last. ❞
obscuura:
“Oh, I can think of plenty of things that aren’t mine, yet I take them anyway.”
Offering up a toothy, devilish smile, the shadow rubs his hands together as if to try and warm them, pretending to shiver away despite feeling nothing.
“They won’t be cold for long; promise. I’m sure that a light as radiant as yours can easily warm any man to his core - even a poor, depraved soul like myself. How about it, Princess~?”
All gentleness in her energy evaporates like mist under a blinding sun, blue eyes blazing icily.
❝ Truly there wouldn't be much left of you after I light your soul ablaze. ❞
/Touches; BIIII
Those red eyes always unnerved her, bearing a familiar face but none of his spirit.
So she turns, head held aloft as she gazes at her hero's shadow.
❝ That is not yours, and your hands are cold. ❞
grishildr:
With such a bright light that she possessed, it only seemed natural that the shadow she cast would be long and dark; however, that which resided within her was anything but. In the moments that their minds were one, the queen could sense the others thoughts and agreed that what she now possessed, or had for her entire life and only realising it now with her pseudo-mother’s influence, recoiled slightly at the presence of light but did not draw completely away as if shunning what was composed of her essence.
From within her, a new life had been given shape—one she had carried since the day she was born but only now had been noticed after so many years had passed.
I will take this shadow that lies within me, accept it, and allow for it to grow.
She wanted to believe that this was a rite of passage—something her predecessor had endured throughout her reign, given the circumstances to ensure all hope was not lost. The queen had not forgotten what had transpired nearly two years ago when the advent of the dark lord seemed all too real. Yet, fate had intervened and sought out the next hero whom was destined and chosen by the gods.
It will become my armour.
The chaste kiss placed upon her crown had made her lids close with a slight quiver as memories rushed through her like a powerful current. With the connection still intact between their minds, she relived the memories, once more, of her predecessor and felt her chest constrict in the most uncomfortable manner. However, such discomfort was dismissed and cast aside as she focused on what was now bestowed upon her.
“—Impa. It was Impa who had come all those years ago. She taught me the physical arts of the Sheikah skill and then prepared me to gain the Eye of Truth—she had said that the final piece of the puzzle would only come later on.” Zelda had believed she had gained the sight after her great sacrifice, and while that had been true, it had always felt as though something were missing.
This was the final piece that would complete the puzzle—the one thing she had been waiting for and now it was finally hers.
When it seemed that the connection waned, she let out a sigh, breath expelling from her lungs as if a great weight had been lifted. Though, with all knowledge and all its forms, she would never be rid of these burdens and they would continue to weigh her down until she was consumed in both sorrow and grief.
Such was the burden of those cursed and blessed by wisdom.
With the connection open, the elder is laid just as bare as her successor, years upon years of regrets stacked high but well organized. To this point they’ve been organized and sorted, something that only came after death...after her spirit was found and revived, after her mind was coaxed back to conscious awareness and thought.
❝ Would that I had come sooner... ❞
The Hero’s Shade, her counterpart’s spirit had made itself known in the time of darkness, to aid and guide his successor. For a brief moment, the former sovereign is overcome by a wave of guilt; perhaps her daughter’s pain might have been eased somewhat by power of Shadow...perhaps she could have spared the queen’s torment by not having been so mired by her own selfish regrets…
...and the Shade draws a deep breath, a sharp inhale to rid herself of the uselessness of such thoughts. She draws back to ease the strength of their connection, gazing upon her daughter with pride...and longing.
❝ When you master influence over rousing and coaxing your Shadow...seek me where the Blade rests. I will continue your training there. ❞
The predecessor always found training worked best in a place of maximum solitude, a resting place...a place where mortal man did not often dwell. For her, long ago, this place was the graveyard in Kakariko, beneath the ever vigilant eye of the Sage, and of her own Shadow. But the Sacred Grove...the last mortal to step foot there was the current Hero...and only to lay to rest the Blade.
brxvura:
❝Oh? I thought you’d just gotten shorter.❞
And it’s humor that finds its way into his voice next, the joke on his tongue effortlessly offered, casual as though he had never left. The strain in the brief sound of her laugh had been noted instantly, and it’s via the shift in topic that allows him to inch out of his once awkward concern and into something he hopes is more recognizable— a posture of clear confidence, hand on hip and chin high, a smiles curve playing at the corners of his mouth.
❝—I had food this time.❞
It’s an attempt at explanation that he has no doubt she would understand. ‘This time' was very much something he considered a second chance at growing up— a second chance at life. And in comparison to the previous span of grown he’d been forced into within the depths of the previous timeline, his body had been allowed the comfort of maturing naturally this time around, rather than traipsing through puberty whilst relying singularly on the lifesource of magic.
Or— whatever it had been that had kept him alive during those past seven years. Truthfully he’d never been quite sure, yet although his explanation was primarily based on mere guess and stunted understanding, the physical differences between now and then had not been left unnoticed by the Hero. He felt better than before, certainly. Less tired, even though he still spent a majority of his time traveling and fighting. Less drained, almost; as though his frame had not been left to rely on something it naturally should not have needed.
❝I think it must have helped some.❞
Her laugh is less a sob this time, but she covers her mouth all the same, genuine mirth born more of familiarity and joy than humor. With his chin held aloft, she finds her closeness to him keeps her from seeing his face much beyond the upward curve of his lips. So she takes a step backwards, eyes lifting to blue eyes she had feared she’d never see again.
Her laugh stills somewhat with sympathy, not enough to melt her expression to worry, but to soften it to a spot of tenderness and remembrance. So long had it been, such a distant memory that to see his matured visage again feels like something out of a dream.Yet his face, lit by the warm afternoon sun, framed by sunshine locks is very real, unlike her nearly hazy memories of the few precious moments she had with him during her capture and during the final battle. Her heart thrills faintly with sudden longing, and she feels a peace she hasn’t known in years…
But her senses return and her gaze lifts to his warmly.
❝ You must be starving... ❞
Her hand extends to his, offering but not taking. Her first impulse is simply to offer him food, but seeing a childhood friend like this suddenly rekindles a playfulness so strong that it demands her immediate action.
❝ Let’s sneak into the kitchen. They’ve been baking pies all day. ❞
And oh, what a mischievous little smirk crosses her face, every bit the reflection of her expression all those years ago evading her guards with him in Castletown. And though by one order she could demand the pies be brought to the courtyard, to serve the hungry hero, she hopes he understands her desire for some inkling of reminiscence; her tiny revival of two lost childhoods.
Her head inclines in the direction she wishes to lead, and evermoreso her hand extends in offering to the hero.
xdemonking:
The tyrant had always found himself at peace when using dark magic, easy to find it & warp it to his control. Even without the triforce of power aiding him, the familiar magical properties were always familiar to him. It surprised him that the princess had let out a scream, though he should have suspected she would not take kindly to it’s usage after all she was the princess born under light.
& he merely a king borne of darkness.
As she shook in her arms he merely stares, pity touching his features faintly that she feared such magic when it had always served him well. She, if anything, should be grateful for such abilities. Since it had saved her life, though this was probably disregarded.
Just as he disregarded her pleading for her people’s safety, what she desired he could not offer. Merely because this was his kindgom, people were not strong against a kind hand. Her father for example, the people quickly submitted to his control when the previous king had been…removed.
But he did not torture them (yet), merely required their loyalty since he was now the one ruling over them. If not he did not hesitate to rid of them too. For he had little patience for such disobedience.
❝ Do you think you have the right to make that request after being gone for so long, princess? ❞
There is a pause, one corner of his lips is turned upright. He was amused by her little ploy whatever it may be.
❝ Fret not, I have plans for you. ❞
& it was true, despite the fact he was helping her to a degree she was still the one who bore wisdom. That had always been his main objective even if he did from time to time sway.
The pain wears away, leaving a lingering numbness in its wake. She breathes out slowly, willing herself to relax, tilting her head over the strong arm still possessing her. Though weak...though half dead, she harnesses what little faculties she still has control of to her favor.
She cannot compel the fear from her gaze entirely, as her blue eyes lift slowly to focus on those upturned lips. He must have plenty of plans for her, unlike the tyrant who had taken her previous. He, after all, was on the barest edge of outright killing her, and though the most human part of her psyche would fight and guard and protect out of a desire to live, logically she awaited death as it would seal the Triforce’s protection.
Hope still lingers in her breast. Perhaps the Evil King could still be brought to a mistake, enraged or--
Her eyes lift to his, showing more fear at his last statement. Her filthy golden brow furrows tightly, eyes lifted unfocused and wide to his own in silent pleading.
She would give him what he wanted to see - that she was vulnerable and afraid.
Perhaps it might distract him from his true goal.
But she's suddenly distracted, feeling a wave of dizziness and pain such that the expression flares painfully in her eyes before they roll back in her skull and she falls utterly limp in his arms.
urheus:
It was a surprise, to the hero, that he scarcely reacted to the contact— not a jump nor the tensing of muscles, a twitch of the fingers. The magic welled within her, sparking at her fingertips, should have sent him reeling, if nothing else. Perhaps it could be said he leaned into it, if only slightly, should anything be said of it at all. Perhaps, as his eyes finally met her own, he had shown how heavy his exhaustion weighed upon his shoulders. “Your Grace…” Ill, he almost felt— assumed he should feel, if only for her sake— for why would she desire to touch skin that had been sullied with the failure and blood, all he’d had left to give to the White Goddess? What right did he have to feel such relief at her touch, to allow himself to wallow in his exhaustion and grief even for a short moment? Yet, he could not part his gaze from hers, pale blue hues futilely attempting to convey the message he’d never speak aloud. He’d done the best he could.
She feels his weariness as though it were her own, fingers curving as she sees those shoulders slump with nearly endless grief and anguish. How long past his natural life had he experienced such torment? The pain that scarred him, that carved innocent flesh into a weapon only to be used for a season still weighs upon his spirit, unchanging and unlifting.
Had none found him worthy of such gentleness?
After so long, would her words and actions bring any amount of solace?
All she can do is try.
The magic is very guardedly released through the barest brush of her fingers against his neck and jaw. She maintains the contact as lightly as she is able, holding his gaze as she reads freely the desperate message he offers. Despite her peaceful visage, a tear escapes from her eyes, trailing freely down her cheek. She steps closer, and her fingers lift and apply steadily more pressure against the backs of his ears.
Pressure points.
Bastions of pain, both physical and emotional.
For a spirit, it’s marginally different yet largely the same: He holds his pain in his shoulders, in his neck...in his eyes.
She focuses on those pale eyes, attentive, true, and so very weary...
❝ I wish for you nothing but peace... ❞ —her voice breaks, more tears trailing down her cheeks...
I would bear your pain away, were I able...