fourteen {audio

Jun 03, 2011 23:38

[The night is still but for a soft breeze, audibly rustling leaves in the background of Sheik's broadcast. His voice is low, soft, and carries a rather bitter little sigh.] ...Hmph.

I suppose it doesn't matter how many times these things are sent, nor who sends them...

One can never get used to such things.

[There's a long pause, as if he's ( Read more... )

event: dreams, sheikah need no comfort, apparently just a minstrel, stoic sheikah

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unholy_rebirth June 7 2011, 01:55:11 UTC
[Moocow just sits there for a few moments to listen. Well, more than a few moments. Many moments. But eventually she also contributes to the conversation.]

...what is it that causes these visions?

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theeyeoftruth June 7 2011, 14:11:51 UTC
I couldn't tell you for certain, my lady. The cause I knew before was different than the cause here - it seems to be the work of the fae, however... The horse, perhaps, that we witnessed in the dreams.

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unholy_rebirth June 12 2011, 16:15:40 UTC
[Wait. Now she's a little curious.]

What was the cause you knew before, Sheik?

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theeyeoftruth June 12 2011, 16:35:57 UTC
The Dark Tower. The axis of worlds.

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[action] - just before this post is made forhyrule June 12 2011, 22:02:33 UTC
[ Zelda woke slowly after the dreams had passed, rather than jolting upright as one would expect to escape from a nightmare. A single thought weighed on her waking mind, amidst the painted landscapes the community's collective nightmares: it had happened again. But repetition did not make the experience easier, nor dull the sharpness of the emotions that assaulted the dreamers. It remained as terrifying as it did inexplicable. ]

[ She sat up in bed, looking over the dark shapes in her croft and waiting for her eyes to adjust to the lacking light. She lifted a hand to touch her cheek, finding a trail from the tears that had fallen while she slept. Again. It was impossible not to share the dreamers' sadness, their anger, their fear, nor to wear it in her expression when she woke. ]

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:> theeyeoftruth June 14 2011, 18:17:11 UTC
[It’s - difficult.

To stand here, outside Her croft, and will himself to knock on the door is inordinately complicated. He waits, silent and withdrawn, arms folded and head bowed, as if she might miraculously call him in without knowing he’s there.

It’s not that he begrudges her knowing such things - she has a right to, she ought to. But there’s a time and a place and these dreams, damn these dreams, completely disregard such things.

But then… without them… would he ever acknowledge them?

Reaching under his tabard, he holds the cold metal pendant in his bandaged fingers for a few long moments. And then, sucking in a breath, he squares his shoulders, and knocks.]

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