For Lack of a Fit
Characters: Ganondorf (destinedtorule), Sheik (oblique_wisdom)
Location: Deck 13
Date: Tonight, after Ganondorf's dinner with TP!Zelda
Rating: PG
It'd been much more difficult to quiet her. The longer she spent aboard the ship, the more assertive she had grown to be. It felt like a never-ending competition with the princess. Sheik was displeased, but understanding all of the same. If he had argued against her, he assumed she could have easily found out about everything he did when he had her locked away. In that respect, he was less than willing to outwardly banter with his other half.
He pulled his bandaged fingers across the strings of his harp. Durable things, they were. Over time he'd gotten hard on them, perhaps even edging into the fine territory that lacked compassion and mercy. Music had turned from an inspiration to more of a form of obligation. He spoke his true thoughts through his music. He spoke of his tales, of his observations, of everything through something so entirely materialistic. Was it sentimentality? Yes. A part of it had been.
Flowers at his feet, he stared off into the distance of never-ending petals. Perhaps when he took his leave, it would do all the better to bring Her Majesty some. She did enjoy flowers, and he had not seen her anytime recently.
Location: Deck 13
Date: Tonight, after Ganondorf's dinner with TP!Zelda
Rating: PG
It'd been much more difficult to quiet her. The longer she spent aboard the ship, the more assertive she had grown to be. It felt like a never-ending competition with the princess. Sheik was displeased, but understanding all of the same. If he had argued against her, he assumed she could have easily found out about everything he did when he had her locked away. In that respect, he was less than willing to outwardly banter with his other half.
He pulled his bandaged fingers across the strings of his harp. Durable things, they were. Over time he'd gotten hard on them, perhaps even edging into the fine territory that lacked compassion and mercy. Music had turned from an inspiration to more of a form of obligation. He spoke his true thoughts through his music. He spoke of his tales, of his observations, of everything through something so entirely materialistic. Was it sentimentality? Yes. A part of it had been.
Flowers at his feet, he stared off into the distance of never-ending petals. Perhaps when he took his leave, it would do all the better to bring Her Majesty some. She did enjoy flowers, and he had not seen her anytime recently.