The candle provided little light in the room, which was smaller than he would've liked. It didn't adequately grace the warm, wooden walls surrounding him, nor did the light reach as far as the bed too short for Ganondorf's feet.
Outside, thunder rolled over the inn as if it were someone pushing boulders across a mountain. Gravelly, sonorous noise drowned out the rain for a precious second, followed by a sharp crack and peal of lightning.
He saw the great, black sword leaning against the window tilt, and then a man with white hair appeared in its place in a shimmer of ethereal diamond motes.
"It's raining, Master," said Ghirahim.
Ganondorf could smell the rain permeating the inn. "We're not in the desert. It rains all the time here."
"I don't like it."
Another dull yawn of thunder, so soft by comparison of what the Gerudo king was used to.
Ganondorf sat up on the bed. "You enjoy the rains when they come to the Valley," he said.
Ghirahim looked back at his master, regal as he sat in the shadows, his golden eyes catching traces of the candle's light. The king's thick, red hair framed that strong face like a bonfire.
The sword bowed in partial agreement. "I enjoy how nervous it makes mortals," he admits.
Ganondorf snorted.
"But you seem to enjoy them," Ghirahim added, more of a question than a statement.
Ganondorf lifted his gaze to the windowpane, dark and splattered with waves of water against the glass. In another lifetime, he'd drowned with all of Hyrule. In another, he'd been imprisoned without water or food by people who called themselves sages. It was always too much or too little.
Ghirahim didn't understand what it meant to be mortal anymore. It had been so long since he was anything resembling a man that Ganondorf wondered if he even remembered it. "Without the annual storms, the desert would be completely uninhabitable," the Gerudo King said. "It feeds the oases and the cacti along the borders, and the peahats soak enough to be good reservoirs all year.
"The storms are also great reminders never to get comfortable. Those we get in the desert have no trees to stop the wind, no wild grasses to soak the excess and prevent flash floods. They are terrible, and loud, and cover the entire sky in a vast cataclysm you can't escape. I think of them as a symbol of myself."
"Very poetic, Master."
"Hmph." Ganondorf fell silent for a few moments. The rain continued to beat and rattle the pane.
Ghirahim thought he saw a flicker of doubt cross his master's face. It was a twitch of a frown, a moment of downcast golden eyes losing the sparkle of the candle flame.
"Something troubling you, my king?"
The wooden bed frame creaked beneath the Demon King, Leader of the Gerudo, as he shifted his weight with his hands laced between his knees. "The storms are, as of right now, more of a god than I am."
"How so?"
Ghirahim admired Ganondorf's beauty in a way few people were able to. Most creatures didn't see the King of Evil this way, in his incarnation as a man with the memory of many lives. There was majesty in that face, but also a great weight in him.
Failure—despite divinity, despite the eternal, cyclical curse, despite the Triforce of Power—had changed him, and Ghirahim wasn't sure he liked the uncertainty of what that meant. Things hadn't been so simple in a long, long time.
And his master, settled deep into the combination of light and shadow in the inn, said, "Because unlike the great storms, I can't renew or give life; I may only take it when I see fit."
He was not Hylia. He never was.
And yet the incarnation of the Goddess chose to lead a people who repeatedly, unashamedly, chose to "unify" the lands around them by force, and to ostracize those of the desert. And the goddess thought it appropriate to keep this status quo, at least so much that her interim descendants could undo all social progress she attempted to make.
He wasn't a god of life, but she'd squandered the power she possessed. Wisdom, indeed.
Ghirahim saw the wobble in Ganondorf's pupils as they became slits for a brief moment, and he got excited. Oh, were they going to go on a spree? Right here, right now?
No.
Ghirahim's burgeoning grin faded as Ganondorf exhaled, his shoulders slumped.
"To me, Ghirahim."
The demon dissolved in a cascade of floating motes once again, and a large, black sword appeared across Ganondorf's knees.
Ganondorf reached down toward the polish underneath the bed and set the clean rag on the blade.
He was silent as he worked. His large, calloused hands smoothly scrubbed off any flecks of dust, and he ran his hands along the metal, checking for imperfections or scratches.
Once satisfied, he released Ghirahim back into his human shape.
"You tease," Ghirahim breathed.
Ganondorf perked an unimpressed eyebrow as Ghirahim kneeled under Ganondorf's hands, the demon grabbing his master's hand and setting it on his hair.
Ganondorf slid his hand slowly down his servant's hair. He even cupped his cheek, his expression blank.
"Demise and I are not the same," he said.
Ghirahim began to protest, to whine at his king that yes, of course they were the same, but Ganondorf glared at him.
"One day," he promised darkly, "I will be a storm."
Ghirahim smirked. "My master...who do you think gives me life? You already are."
Eeeven more super self indulgent 'Genshin Ghirahim' doodles cause idk man lissen...
Part one of the doodles is here I guess
Part two here
So this time we got a very subtle, sneaky sword spirit asking some very subtle sneaky questions -w- (He hasn't actually told anyone what he is tho so technically he really is being sneaky?? But also not really...)
Hi! I could be wrong, but I'm pretty sure you made þe redraw of þe Frieza mannequin wiþ þe green shirt and skirt. But I can't find þe post, and every version of þe art I see is really pixelly. Do you still have þe post around, or if it wasn't you, do you know how I could find it? Þank you, sorry for þe weird request.
Indeed I am the original artist behind that Frieza mannequin drawing I made ages ago lol It fascinates me it still runs around. Here you go in all it's glory.
Been doing silly 'Ghirahim accidentally ends up in Teyvat' rp and it made me wanna doodle a Genshin-fied Ghirahim~
Which just... so many details hhhggh... I got carried away...
They're pretty rough ideas rn and I wanna design a sword and his other forms n stuff but have this for now -w-
Also he gets an anemo vision bcs
1. It's ironic as hell, with anemo being the element of freedom.
But also cause the first thing Ghirahim does in Skyward Sword, and the thing that kickstarts the entire game is the giant tornado he sends up to Skyloft. Also anemo absorbs other elements like pyro electro which is sorta like the final fight where he uses flame like 'cutting wind' and his sword absorbs the lightning when Demise uses him. The second choice for him would def be geo tho, maybe he can have a geo delusion XD
Some doodles of the 'Genshin Ghirahim' I drew before but he hasn't gotten properly glam'd up -w-
(In this rp thing he basically gets uh... 'adopted' by Flins but like... in the way someone would 'adopt' (capture) a violent, angry stray cat to stop it from terrorizing the locals... and he gets a ratnik uniform... and I wanted to draw him wearing it bcs cute... unfortunately it's not slutty revealing enough for him tho 😔)
Ghirahim, and Fi for that matter, are more than swords.
It may seem like an obvious statement, but I feel like a lot of people tend to base their thinking around them being sword spirits and the way they think, act, and are influenced because of that. And while yes, the fact that they are sword spirits does influence their characters greatly, that isn't all they are.
The point of Fi's entire arc is that she is a sentient being with emotions and thoughts of her own that exists as more than just Link's sword. She is, in every way that matters, a person.
Mirroring her arc perfectly is Ghirahim, who you don't know is a sword spirit as well until his very last scene. So you think of him more as a person with free will for the majority of the game until it is revealed that his entire existence and motivation relies upon the resurrection of a horrifically abusive master. Where as Fi slowly starts to gain more of a sense of self, Ghirahim has his sense of self constantly taken away from him no matter how hard he desperately attempts to assert it. He acts in these loud, over-the-top mannerisms so that no one can deny he lacks emotions or a personality of his own.
He is all but shouting from the rooftop, "Look at me! I am more than a weapon! I am powerful, I am unique, I deserve to be taken seriously and treated like the person that I am, and not just an object!"
So it doesn't feel right to water down their characters to be solely the result of the way they were forged and the fact that they are sentient blades. You don't think of other fantasy races as less person-like just because they aren't human, so why should it be different for them?
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