[open]

[faroresson]

Who: Link, OPEN.
Where: Along the riverbank.
When: Early this morning.
Summary: If you've had Link's luck, maybe it's too wishful to think that someone did drag you from the icy depths just before you died. But he's going to think that anyway.
Rating: PG-13 for now?

Comments

[theeyeoftruth]

For now, they were walking in companionable silence, which suited Sheik fine. Beneath the folds of his mantle, he was rubbing the red from his fingers, because whilst the exercise had helped prevent the cold really setting in, it hadn't saved bare fingers and ears. Prince's presence was more comforting than Sheik was really willing to believe, but it didn't stop him once again looking this way and that for that glimmer of green.

And well he knew the foolishness of that, but logic didn't seem much help in that situation. In turn he thought of Angeal, and Zack, and it took him a moment before he really registered that the distant sound of coughing, of scuffing in the snow, wasn't from Prince

[kakolookiyam]

Strange that the both of them still thought of green in every corner, every fold of fabric. Prince knew Elendira had taken her boot to the glass. He knew that he would never feel the sick warmth of it again. But it had it's hooks in him, pulling, pulling him to something that didn't exist anymore.

And you are weak, Prince, to have let them stick you.

Prince was doing his best to soothe away Sheik and Zelda and Zack's concern. The glass was gone now. He would never be that weak again. He would not allow such an opening for that dark and vengeful spirit of the Sands to change his body.

Our body, Prince. All that is yours...The voice had been mercifully silent as Sheik and he ran the walls and rooftops, and now it seemed determined to make up for it. But so focused was Prince on other things, his hands stuffed into the new fur that he had got from Zelda, that he didn't register the spluttering until Sheik cried out and ran

[faroresson]

He didn't take many steps before he had to stop, swaying, sucking more painful breaths into his lungs. His gloved and soaking fingers, already beginning to ice up, were clenched tightly around the lyre in his arms. The black bone and long, silken hair were probably ruined, he was sure they were, but he needed to hold on to it. It might not have been enough - might just have saved him for one night...

Weren't wolves or bears meant to find the heroes of stories nearly dead and take them in to care for them? After two harrowing adventures and this particular escapade, Link knew things simply didn't happen like that. If a wolf or a bear showed up, he was practically dead.

He stiffened (he was already stiff from cold, but this time it was intentional) when he heard the cry. He took his hand off the lyre to grope for his sword. But of course, they'd taken that off him. He wouldn't have it now. Just the lyre. And he couldn't use that to clobber people with...

But there was something about this figure that was so familiar. Something...

[theeyeoftruth]

It was him. It was him. It was him, taller and broader in the shoulder, and suddenly the note was clear as day. This was who'd lived, had a life, a family, everything, and he was here, he was here again and for a moment, the Sheikah could have fallen to his knees and wept for it. As it was, he didn't let himself, only ran to him, light across the snow.

Reason cut in just in time that he didn't throw his arms around him. But he couldn't stop himself reaching out to grip his shoulder, his arm, chill as they were, anything to assure himself that the Hylian was actually there. And he gaped at him from behind his hair, swallowing hard, suddenly breathless, mouthing the name behind barriers of fabric.

The questions burned in him, but he ignored them. They'd keep. Link was wet, and cold, and here that might mean he wouldn't last, and Sheik decided in that moment that he wasn't going to lose him again, especially not to the cold.

Sweeping the cloak off himself, he held it out, helping pull the sodden, heavy coat and armour from Link's