@organicgold YOU GET IT, imagine the drama of the animated sprites, the hand-waving and the pacing and the wild dialogue, it would be perfect. But now I’m imagining an actual crossover where the crew of TNG meets the WAA and friends.
A response to this. Nalvanka meets someone she almost knew.
With every step, something mounts inside her, pushing and clawing its way from her insides like bile. It permeates every nerve and soaks her, soaks through her. Something resounds through her head. It’s those memories again, the not-her that she has seen a dozen times since it’s first visit. Memories that aren’t hers. A word breaches in her mind, and she stops dead in her tracks.
Her throat has closed, and her vision swims.
What is this? What is this? Who is she? Who is-
No. It’s not that. What rises inside is emotion, emotion. She’s terrified, apprehensive, her throat has closed because what she tastes is fear. Fear trips along her silent tongue and back down, and her eyes swim because that pull overwhelms all other senses. She blinks, and it comes back.
I am me. I am the only me.
The black and white tile is still before her. The corridor stretches out and into blinding light, towards the Great Hall.
Her heart- it can’t beat. She knows it doesn’t beat. But she can feel it, a phantom ache she has never had, a drum beat urging her forward.
Koschei’s eyes only narrow further, moving to Sabine instead. He regards this arcane women with suspicion, but some level of kinship. More than meets the eye, his gut says. But more interestingly, pressingly-
Lockjaw?
To miss a piece of one’s soul; clearly, necromancy. Then… his mounting suspicion continues to, well, mount. Building up further and further, like sand pushed forward by steady waves.
He doesn’t need to look away from Lockjaw to know that Ilya has done his job. He hears someone move aside, clearly alarmed. He hears the faint, worried ‘your highness’ and then he turns his head to look.
Her footsteps close in, and then soften. Carefully, she lifts one foot, stepping to the side, and as if the wind has been knocked from her sails, she stops. She is but a metre away from the group. Nalvanka stands, but what she’s seeing is a ghost. She moves closer not because she thinks to do so, but because she must, her footfalls the click of claws until she’s level with Koschei. He watches her with open uncertainty, his right-hand balling into a fist behind his back before he lets it go.
His mouth opens but he forgoes saying it. There’s no point. He can see from the look on his wife’s face-
Completely raw, shocked, shifting through emotion like wreckage after a battle. She looks Lockjaw dead in the eyes and mouths the word at her.
Mother.
Her throat muscles contract again. She takes a step forward, stride long, and only to hesitate. Ripped away. Those memories, the darkness, the not-her, empty eyes, severed and thrown away into the desert. The heat. The smell. The ache of loss.
All of these things, they are hers.
Mother, she signs, unable to blink even when her eyes brim with clear-and-pink fluid, and it drips down the end of her fingers. Mother.
@cake-b-berry I mean, maybe? Like, the royal family has (or had depending on the timeline I guess) access to the Ocarina of Time which had time altering capabilities. Not to mention, all of the ancient Sheikah tech in BotW is vaguely reminiscent of the “ancient robots” from SS, and I seem to remember a theory floating around that the people who built those ancient robots and used the timeshift stones in SS were possibly the Sheikah or whichever group of people would become the Sheikah. So it’s not too wild to assume the ancient Sheikah who built the Divine Beasts and stuff also had access to time travel magic/tech (I mean they built a shrine that could revive someone who had died, so like, anything goes). And like, I know BotW has no official connection or placement in the “canon” timeline, but like, the theme of time travel has been present quite often throughout the series. So it’s possible Zelda rediscovered or reactivated some sort of ancient time traveling mcguffin that happened to be stored or built into Terrako.
@cake-b-berry DAMN I FEEL THIS IN MY BONES THOUGH? Like Zelda has so few connections to her mother as it is, let her have the small robot friend. And I dunno if it’s just how I interpreted the cutscenes and stuff, but it felt like her mother had a strong interest in ancient tech as well, and possibly added some things to Terrako to make sure they could take care of Zelda if she (the mother) was gone? Like the fact that Terrako knows Zelda’s Lullaby, like, I know Zelda built Terrako with her mom and this was “Zelda’s first big interactions with ancient tech” but you can’t tell me a young Zelda would have added her mother’s lullaby to Terrako, since as far as she knew her mother wasn’t going to spontaneously die (BUT her mother might have known, if she was ill or something, that Zelda would have been left alone, and might have tried to make Terrako as a kinda guide to help young Zelda through the pain, which makes the king’s decisions to have it put away even more like...dude wtf).
ANYHOW sorry for rambling, I just have a lot of feelings about Zelda, and I thought it was neat that she and her mother both had long-running ties to the ancient tech, and it was so nice for Zelda to have some sort of personal connection to her mother in the form of this small adorable robot friend. And also, as you said, her life’s been hell, let her have this.
@midorilied I’m too lazy to format the reply, but I knew you were joking--but also I did once start a drawing with my non-dominant hand and then finish it with the other and it turned out okay, except the wrist of my non-dominant hand hurt for a week afterwards bc the muscles weren’t used to being used like that
A response to this! And thANK YOU, Eden is the best boy.
The guards salute as he passes, and he feels interested eyes go to the approaching group. They’re so curious, everyone here, everyone under his protection. It’s something he used to shy away from like a burning flame. Curiosity would only ever harm, and thus, he did not inquire after anything nor anyone. It was an awfully safe way to see things.
Now, though, he is curious.
He stops close, boots scuffing along the golden-pink sands, and bows his head when Malzahar does. Equally footing, he muses, with some trepidation. King to king. If nothing else, they go into this both understanding their weight of their rules. Regardless, he can’t help but find some part of his mind scrambling for an advantage, tactical and almost ruthless.
He doesn’t need an edge right now.
With a matched faint smile, he takes Malzahar’s hand. Not faint for cruelties sake, but because- how does Eden put it? His face cracks like porcelain if he smiles too hard.
A little unfair, but he’s simply too serious a person to go about beaming.
(A pleasure to meet you in person.)
He hasn’t entirely inherited Koschei’s distaste for light dragons, but he understands the usual worries. Elitists. Snobs, high and guarded in their fancy towers, ignoring what goes on beneath them. A good leader would be enough to sway his father. Rho doesn’t need to be swayed at all.
(Not at all- you made good time.)
He lets go of Malzahar’s hand, silently hoping that his gauntlets weren’t too cold. The metal bites when too chilled, white smoke roiling about it. Not to say it’s in such a state right now; he’s calm, and so, the magic is calm. Only the softest frost prickles around his feet when he turns to lead them inside the Cathedral, a wisp and softest snow that dissolves within a handful of seconds.
(Although I’m sure I needn’t say, we’re very happy to have you. I would like to introduce you to two of my people.)
The Great Hall stretches, cavernous before them. Most of the mercenaries seem to have made themselves scarce, but some flip through the noticeboard for work. Those that look over to their guests bow respectfully before going back to what they were doing.
Please stay well behaved, Rho thinks, please don’t show me up.
Eden gets there before Rho actually introduces him, sliding over to his side and bowing with a flourish to the group. Curls of pink bob at his movement, and he does grin, radiating a sense of welcome.
“I’m so glad you got here okay,” he pipes up. He stands out as the only one here not wearing black, but instead wearing only loose white cloth dungarees, and decorated in pink silks and jewellery that give his every movement a hypnotic chime.
(This is Eden, my consort.)
“I’m just here to make sure you all get along,” he says, with a laugh. “And don’t get too serious. There’s no need for anybody to get up in arms when we can have a friendly chat.”
Rho shuts his eyes briefly, then stands up a little straighter.
(Prince Bastion, my retainer.)
Bastion salutes to Malzahar before he stands to attention. His eye lingers on the king’s scars, following them from his face to his shoulder; something seems to soften in his sharp gaze.
“I’m honoured to meet you,” he says. Rho doesn’t usually introduce him as a prince, so it catches him a little off guard- not that it shows. He’s not sure if he’s happy to hear it, or not.
Mostly not.
(Come, you’ve been travelling for a long time. Let us sit down and talk.)
He leads them into one of the guest suites. A piano sits at the edge of this one, facing the open window. A few flower pots, full to bursting with lilies and daisy mark the open double doors, and there are a half dozen seats of plush velvet surrounding a black wood table.
“You must be parched,” Eden asks, “Do you want anything? We have amazing smoothies and milkshakes. Or coffee.”
He nudges Rho with his elbow.
“If you drink coffee, you’re set,” he adds, mischievous. Rho ignores the friendly jibe. “You have to have something if we’re going to talk shop.”
“Talk shop?” Bastion mutters, rueful, “Really?”
(There’s no rush to... ah, ‘talk shop.’ You’re free to settle in first.)
Rho nods, calmly.
(But if you would like something, we can more than accomodate.)
Eden beams, leaning forward on his toes, anticipating.
