#lu zant

[doodlesbf]

Doodle of my version of zant from twilight princess

[kovacs-of-courage]

---------March 12th, 1836----------- ---------Texan Revolution-----------

Twilight kicked down the doors of the Saloon, a dozen rifles meeting his audacious entrance.

He didn’t flinch; they were of little consequence, his quarrel only laid with a single soul among their unlawful crowd. It was an evil that man could not measure to, not in a hundred twisted lifetimes of misery.

He put his left hand on the holster of his revolver, his eyes dilating in anticipation, his fangs bared; the desire for retribution mixing with animalistic senses.

“Easy there, folks; I’m not lookin for a fight-”

Twilight pointed his free hand to the center of the bar. The cautious crowd looked towards his target; an ill-fitted aristocrat, adorned in a black three piece suit, their skin as gray as the steel of their rifles.

“I’m just here to take a snake off your hands.”

Said aristocrat recoiled, seething anger overtaking him.

“You’re supposed to be dead. Deader than dead, a stain under my boot. The Alamo was a massacre, ” He muttered through clenched teeth, the icy exterior of his balanced composure melting away to an undying anger.

“You know what they say. You just can’t keep a good dog down.” Twilight responded, venom in his voice.

Twilight reached into his pocket, the shining star of a ranger badge in his hand. He pinned it to his chest. The outlaws overlooking his interaction took notice, returning to their affairs.

“You have two options, Zant. I drag you back to your people alive, or I kill you here,” Twilight threatened, his thumb hovering the hammer of his colt pistol--

“Your choice.”

Zant squinted his eyes, out of his seat now, his hands balled fists.

“You’re bluffing. You wouldn’t risk your anonymity to the goddesses on a single target,” Zant said.

Twilight’s expression remained the same, staring down his old enemy like a predator waiting in the bushes to pounce.

“Funny--your Queen said the same thing.”