K_S
Unrepentent Giovanni and Rocket fan
- Partners
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I'm basically doing a revamp of some of my older stuff and using this forum as a means to tackle it.
Ranking: Teen
Trigger Warnings:
Powerlessness
strong horror elements
gore/violence/combat
injuries
shoddy healing/medical
child abduction/endangerment
Without further a-due, my Twilight Princess fanfic, Four by Four.
Summary:
In their land there were cycles.
Monsters came riding on the back of a disaster, a Hero appeared, Sages were consulted, and a sacred sword was taken up.
Those tales normally ended in "they lived happily ever after" and were the stuff meant to placate children.
So when the monsters came, they expected a hero, a sword, trails to be undertaken...
Save none but a handful could see the monsters, and there was no Champion to save them.
In this Hyrule, hope, came not in the prescribed threes of divinity. There were no seven of trials or Sages. Only a clutch of weary, disbelieving, civilians who could see the beasts that had crept into their kingdom and sounded the alarm.
This is the story of Twilight Princess' Resistance.
Table of Contents:
Shad, The Edge of Sight (finished) -presently posting-
-part one: A flash of gold Ran through Grammarly 4.28.2021
-part two: Bitter Taste
-part three: A good Deed
-part four: Voices in the Dark
Rusl: The Nature of Courage (finished) -to be posted-
part one: Of Monsters
part two: With Both Eyes
part three: Nature of...
The Gathering (interspaced between shad, rusl, auru, and ashei pieces) -to be posted-
Auru: Foundations of Flame (pending)
Ashei: Can you hear... (pending)
It was a particularity of his glasses, that from time to time, with the lighting was just so, the world would become lost in a wash of light. It was a painful phenomenon, and frequent for him growing up. He'd been such a careless boy running here and there, searching for legends under the bushes and rocks alongside Hyrule's capital. Still, he searched despite the pain. Wasting a lifetime's exuberance in the span of one childhood. Said childhood was just growing a mite chill from the years that separated it from the present.
More to memories of foolishness long past Shad took a draw of his drink. His toast for one done, a tribute to no one's bravery or life, to a no-one like him, complete, he set his cup on the table with a wry smile. His.... shenanigans if it was such... went unnoticed by the varied guards and tradespersons about. But then the bar was such a rough and tumble place that anything shy of a holler wouldn't get you noticed by anyone. That or singing. But only if the singing was bad. Then others would be drawn over and join in. Case in point there was a clutch of armed and armored guards, all off duty, indulging a singalong of bawdy songs by the fire. Their chorus, course, and utterly uncreative were doing a good job in drawing off a few familiar faces from the trades guild. A few lesser journeymen were tossing down their rupees, polishing off their drinks, all the better to head for out.
The barkeep flitted about them, offering teasing snide commentary to turn her customer's retreating surliness to humored chuckles. Done pocketing the money of a particularly skittish batch of weavers she looked to him and came his way, steps more swish than anything else.
"Another sweetheart?"
Broad and buxom, she sidled up to him, half leaning against her bar so she could better toss her trademark wink at him.
He never quite knew how to respond to her flirtatious turns, so he didn't. Mutely rolling his tankard in his hands, letting his eyes scroll over her features for some sort of inspiration.
Smiling wide, as she always did, the barkeep was a picture of benign, mid-aged friendliness. Familiar, yet not. Her dress and apron were prudently dark so stains weren't easy to see. Her mop of red hair and dark skin hinted at a heritage quite exotic. Yet that mystery was dashed when one considered that her job made her as common as the cobbles outside. Thus she was regularly ignored unless someone wanted "another" be it meed, wine, or to whine.
Despite being common she was not content to be ignored. She was brash, with winks and swaying for her comely customers. On the other hand, her hovering and endearments held a different tenor for him. But between them, there was a familiarity near familial.
Regardless of her warmth towards him, he wasn't quite sure if she knew it was his day of birth. He'd come here for it the last ten years running, so he suspected, but neither he nor she had overtly acknowledged it.
Perhaps this year he would. If only he could recall her name...
Xem... Yem... something "a". He was sure there was an "A" in there somewhere.
While he dithered over the bartender's offer her attention was pulled away by some guardsman or other. She walked off to take the armored man's cup and went to the barrel behind the counter. Some fussing with the spigot and she returned, foam-topped mug in hand. The silver armor-clad man had followed, sparing her the walk back which was a sort of half-hearted kindness. Until the guard turned away, drink in hand, clearly not meaning to pay. To that, injustice, Shad stiffened. Rising out of his customary slouch to better glare at the armored man. He wasn't intimidated by any stretch. Bean pole was a compliment, and his nose was beaky enough to inspire comparisons to various herons. Still, steady regard, and a flat expression, did wonders. The soldier "remembered" that he'd "forgotten to pay" and tossed a few coins on the bar's counter with a huff.
Snapping up the coins, the barkeep pocketed it, mouthing a "thank you" to Shad. But, wisely, did not say so out loud. She swished off to the nook beside her ale barrels to add the catch to her cash box. Pointedly ignoring the ruckus of the other soldiers who wanted service. The clutch of them was likely to be served slowly tonight, if at all, all to pay for their companion's stinginess.
Alone, Shad stared at nothing in particular and let a bead of moisture rolling down the edge of his cup wet his finger. Splaying his long digits, he doodled against the grain of the wooden table. It wasn't much, and didn't go far, but was a passable facsimile of... Well, it was abstract and geometric... and vaguely familiar.
He frowned at the doodle, frustrated a mite when the light about it, and him, dimmed in a particularly blocky shape and...
"You decide yet or do I get to surprise you?"
And for the record Shad did not hop out of his stool. He did not trip. Such flailing was the stuff of adolescents getting spooked. Or children. And he wasn't either or so he didn't.
He only scraped the chair a little when he jerked in his seat in surprise.
At least Shad had one answer of sorts, the doodles mirrored the violet pattern stitched by the pockets of her apron. Pushing his glasses up, the scholar looked up at the barkeep, his friend, and felt that familiar frustration leave a sour taste in his mouth. Ten years, she told him again and again and still even with that and ten years he kept forgetting... So he did what he could deflect, smile, and nod. Such gestures avoided conversation and the crucial gap he couldn't fill.
Oblivious to his thoughts she filled his cup to brimming, crooning "Surprise it is!".
And returned, not with beer, or wine, but coffee. His favorite poison. Freckles ringed around her grin she leaned against the bench, watching him drink the black brew like it was the mana of the Goddesses, a found smirk quirking her lips.
Considerate to the last she waited until after he took a long sip before breaking the silence.
"Sad, isn't it?"
"Pardon?"
"That."
He turned to where she pointed. An expected play of gesture and reaction and he was unimpressed by the conclusion. Pushing up on his glasses, to better ward against the flash of light on glass Shad dredged a smile that felt as sickly but that she took as friendly.
The focus of her attention was some Hylain trooper, shorter than his peers, but beyond that sole feature, he was made anonymous by the insignia encrusted armor, chain mail, and feature obscuring helmet he wore. This specimen of Hyrule's finest was"sleeping it off" . In a puddle, no less. Only the subtle slant to the wooden tables had kept there from being any depth for the armored man to drown in.
Had Shad bothered to feel anything he might have said much. Something cutting, something akin to how the beardless young man was trying to make his chin into an impromptu mop. Cutting words did not seem the fare for today though, so he just kept his sickly smile in place and nodded in an agreement he didn't feel.
"Yes, it is sad."
Leaning close, green eyes a touch concerned, smile ever in place, she leaned forward to better peck him on the forehead.
"That's what I like about you, Shad. You've never given up on your dreams. Poor sod like him, he's given up so long ago he never realized it."
He waited, tensed, expected the question that'd ben jeered and hollered at him, from childhood to this rather late date in his adulthood…
And it came. Without fail and preamble. He would have cursed, but as a gentleman and a scholar, he never cursed. Much less at her, who at least menat it kindly.
That still did not mean Shad did not want to, though.
"How goes your Oocca hunt?"
Teeth locked, he gritted out a soft, "Slowly."
Wanting to avoid any follow-up questions, for details and the like, he swirled the contents of his cup with a practiced roll of his wrist, pointedly not meeting whats-her-name's eyes.
"How's business?"
To that bit of deflection, she waved a thick arm to encompass the tavern, its occupants, and herself.
"How does it look, Shad?"
He looked, saw the same old patrons in the same old places, his smile acquired an edge of bitterness to it.
"Same old, same old."
To that she laughed, no maidenly titter, no juvenile giggle, but a throaty rich chuckle that took some of the sick out of his smile and made it genuine. Reaching across the table she swatted him, the friendly gesture near making him smash into said table.
Still chuckling, she stood, picked up a pitcher of more potent brew, and left him to his drink.
He nursed his cup alone, for none wanted to sit with him. Unknowing that as he sipped his bitter drink his expression twisted to be almost as acidic as the brew he partook. He never added sweetener, or cream, or milk. He took pride in the fact that he drank his coffee straight up. Such a powerful drink had to be dolled out in small doses, grimaces were after all, ungentlemanly, so he never winced as he sipped.
Just looked sullen, and never knew he was doing it.
All wrapped up in the fond delusion, that he was at his core a gentleman, and a scholar, Shad finished his drink and did not order another.
Late became later. Shad cradled the empty tankard, the ghost of steam and taste of repast all there was to tell him he'd even drunk anything at all. Ushering out the last swaying customer into the arms of his more sober friends the barkeep tidied up the tavern. Experience told him where her broom and mop were, and experience told him if he even looked sideways at either she'd hit him with both. So he didn't. He lingered in his chair, by the bar, like always, watching her work.
When at last she was done, she looked to him, tired but smiling. It was a different smile, no teeth were bared this time, she just sported a quiet grin that curled her lips and took the age from her face, eased the lines about her eyes, and made her seem to bear wisdom of a homely stripe.
"Walk me home?"
She asked, still nameless, always friendly, and he had to wonder if there was a flaw in that. Was the flaw was in him, or her? Thinking of flaws, he lowered his head, contemplated the tankard.
"It's not far." She prompted, seeing his hesitance she strove to cross the metaphorical bridge before his indecision felled it. She must want something from him, and she'd use the "walk" to propose whatever she wanted from him. Just like every other "walk" they took.
Shad checked his first impulse, which was to sigh, say no because he was tired...
Still, he was a gentleman, and she –the lady- had asked.
"Of course, all you have to do is ask."
Which, was, if nothing else, the truth.
Ranking: Teen
Trigger Warnings:
Powerlessness
strong horror elements
gore/violence/combat
injuries
shoddy healing/medical
child abduction/endangerment
Without further a-due, my Twilight Princess fanfic, Four by Four.
Summary:
In their land there were cycles.
Monsters came riding on the back of a disaster, a Hero appeared, Sages were consulted, and a sacred sword was taken up.
Those tales normally ended in "they lived happily ever after" and were the stuff meant to placate children.
So when the monsters came, they expected a hero, a sword, trails to be undertaken...
Save none but a handful could see the monsters, and there was no Champion to save them.
In this Hyrule, hope, came not in the prescribed threes of divinity. There were no seven of trials or Sages. Only a clutch of weary, disbelieving, civilians who could see the beasts that had crept into their kingdom and sounded the alarm.
This is the story of Twilight Princess' Resistance.
Table of Contents:
Shad, The Edge of Sight (finished) -presently posting-
-part one: A flash of gold Ran through Grammarly 4.28.2021
-part two: Bitter Taste
-part three: A good Deed
-part four: Voices in the Dark
Rusl: The Nature of Courage (finished) -to be posted-
part one: Of Monsters
part two: With Both Eyes
part three: Nature of...
The Gathering (interspaced between shad, rusl, auru, and ashei pieces) -to be posted-
Auru: Foundations of Flame (pending)
Ashei: Can you hear... (pending)
It was a particularity of his glasses, that from time to time, with the lighting was just so, the world would become lost in a wash of light. It was a painful phenomenon, and frequent for him growing up. He'd been such a careless boy running here and there, searching for legends under the bushes and rocks alongside Hyrule's capital. Still, he searched despite the pain. Wasting a lifetime's exuberance in the span of one childhood. Said childhood was just growing a mite chill from the years that separated it from the present.
More to memories of foolishness long past Shad took a draw of his drink. His toast for one done, a tribute to no one's bravery or life, to a no-one like him, complete, he set his cup on the table with a wry smile. His.... shenanigans if it was such... went unnoticed by the varied guards and tradespersons about. But then the bar was such a rough and tumble place that anything shy of a holler wouldn't get you noticed by anyone. That or singing. But only if the singing was bad. Then others would be drawn over and join in. Case in point there was a clutch of armed and armored guards, all off duty, indulging a singalong of bawdy songs by the fire. Their chorus, course, and utterly uncreative were doing a good job in drawing off a few familiar faces from the trades guild. A few lesser journeymen were tossing down their rupees, polishing off their drinks, all the better to head for out.
The barkeep flitted about them, offering teasing snide commentary to turn her customer's retreating surliness to humored chuckles. Done pocketing the money of a particularly skittish batch of weavers she looked to him and came his way, steps more swish than anything else.
"Another sweetheart?"
Broad and buxom, she sidled up to him, half leaning against her bar so she could better toss her trademark wink at him.
He never quite knew how to respond to her flirtatious turns, so he didn't. Mutely rolling his tankard in his hands, letting his eyes scroll over her features for some sort of inspiration.
Smiling wide, as she always did, the barkeep was a picture of benign, mid-aged friendliness. Familiar, yet not. Her dress and apron were prudently dark so stains weren't easy to see. Her mop of red hair and dark skin hinted at a heritage quite exotic. Yet that mystery was dashed when one considered that her job made her as common as the cobbles outside. Thus she was regularly ignored unless someone wanted "another" be it meed, wine, or to whine.
Despite being common she was not content to be ignored. She was brash, with winks and swaying for her comely customers. On the other hand, her hovering and endearments held a different tenor for him. But between them, there was a familiarity near familial.
Regardless of her warmth towards him, he wasn't quite sure if she knew it was his day of birth. He'd come here for it the last ten years running, so he suspected, but neither he nor she had overtly acknowledged it.
Perhaps this year he would. If only he could recall her name...
Xem... Yem... something "a". He was sure there was an "A" in there somewhere.
While he dithered over the bartender's offer her attention was pulled away by some guardsman or other. She walked off to take the armored man's cup and went to the barrel behind the counter. Some fussing with the spigot and she returned, foam-topped mug in hand. The silver armor-clad man had followed, sparing her the walk back which was a sort of half-hearted kindness. Until the guard turned away, drink in hand, clearly not meaning to pay. To that, injustice, Shad stiffened. Rising out of his customary slouch to better glare at the armored man. He wasn't intimidated by any stretch. Bean pole was a compliment, and his nose was beaky enough to inspire comparisons to various herons. Still, steady regard, and a flat expression, did wonders. The soldier "remembered" that he'd "forgotten to pay" and tossed a few coins on the bar's counter with a huff.
Snapping up the coins, the barkeep pocketed it, mouthing a "thank you" to Shad. But, wisely, did not say so out loud. She swished off to the nook beside her ale barrels to add the catch to her cash box. Pointedly ignoring the ruckus of the other soldiers who wanted service. The clutch of them was likely to be served slowly tonight, if at all, all to pay for their companion's stinginess.
Alone, Shad stared at nothing in particular and let a bead of moisture rolling down the edge of his cup wet his finger. Splaying his long digits, he doodled against the grain of the wooden table. It wasn't much, and didn't go far, but was a passable facsimile of... Well, it was abstract and geometric... and vaguely familiar.
He frowned at the doodle, frustrated a mite when the light about it, and him, dimmed in a particularly blocky shape and...
"You decide yet or do I get to surprise you?"
And for the record Shad did not hop out of his stool. He did not trip. Such flailing was the stuff of adolescents getting spooked. Or children. And he wasn't either or so he didn't.
He only scraped the chair a little when he jerked in his seat in surprise.
At least Shad had one answer of sorts, the doodles mirrored the violet pattern stitched by the pockets of her apron. Pushing his glasses up, the scholar looked up at the barkeep, his friend, and felt that familiar frustration leave a sour taste in his mouth. Ten years, she told him again and again and still even with that and ten years he kept forgetting... So he did what he could deflect, smile, and nod. Such gestures avoided conversation and the crucial gap he couldn't fill.
Oblivious to his thoughts she filled his cup to brimming, crooning "Surprise it is!".
And returned, not with beer, or wine, but coffee. His favorite poison. Freckles ringed around her grin she leaned against the bench, watching him drink the black brew like it was the mana of the Goddesses, a found smirk quirking her lips.
Considerate to the last she waited until after he took a long sip before breaking the silence.
"Sad, isn't it?"
"Pardon?"
"That."
He turned to where she pointed. An expected play of gesture and reaction and he was unimpressed by the conclusion. Pushing up on his glasses, to better ward against the flash of light on glass Shad dredged a smile that felt as sickly but that she took as friendly.
The focus of her attention was some Hylain trooper, shorter than his peers, but beyond that sole feature, he was made anonymous by the insignia encrusted armor, chain mail, and feature obscuring helmet he wore. This specimen of Hyrule's finest was"sleeping it off" . In a puddle, no less. Only the subtle slant to the wooden tables had kept there from being any depth for the armored man to drown in.
Had Shad bothered to feel anything he might have said much. Something cutting, something akin to how the beardless young man was trying to make his chin into an impromptu mop. Cutting words did not seem the fare for today though, so he just kept his sickly smile in place and nodded in an agreement he didn't feel.
"Yes, it is sad."
Leaning close, green eyes a touch concerned, smile ever in place, she leaned forward to better peck him on the forehead.
"That's what I like about you, Shad. You've never given up on your dreams. Poor sod like him, he's given up so long ago he never realized it."
He waited, tensed, expected the question that'd ben jeered and hollered at him, from childhood to this rather late date in his adulthood…
And it came. Without fail and preamble. He would have cursed, but as a gentleman and a scholar, he never cursed. Much less at her, who at least menat it kindly.
That still did not mean Shad did not want to, though.
"How goes your Oocca hunt?"
Teeth locked, he gritted out a soft, "Slowly."
Wanting to avoid any follow-up questions, for details and the like, he swirled the contents of his cup with a practiced roll of his wrist, pointedly not meeting whats-her-name's eyes.
"How's business?"
To that bit of deflection, she waved a thick arm to encompass the tavern, its occupants, and herself.
"How does it look, Shad?"
He looked, saw the same old patrons in the same old places, his smile acquired an edge of bitterness to it.
"Same old, same old."
To that she laughed, no maidenly titter, no juvenile giggle, but a throaty rich chuckle that took some of the sick out of his smile and made it genuine. Reaching across the table she swatted him, the friendly gesture near making him smash into said table.
Still chuckling, she stood, picked up a pitcher of more potent brew, and left him to his drink.
He nursed his cup alone, for none wanted to sit with him. Unknowing that as he sipped his bitter drink his expression twisted to be almost as acidic as the brew he partook. He never added sweetener, or cream, or milk. He took pride in the fact that he drank his coffee straight up. Such a powerful drink had to be dolled out in small doses, grimaces were after all, ungentlemanly, so he never winced as he sipped.
Just looked sullen, and never knew he was doing it.
All wrapped up in the fond delusion, that he was at his core a gentleman, and a scholar, Shad finished his drink and did not order another.
Late became later. Shad cradled the empty tankard, the ghost of steam and taste of repast all there was to tell him he'd even drunk anything at all. Ushering out the last swaying customer into the arms of his more sober friends the barkeep tidied up the tavern. Experience told him where her broom and mop were, and experience told him if he even looked sideways at either she'd hit him with both. So he didn't. He lingered in his chair, by the bar, like always, watching her work.
When at last she was done, she looked to him, tired but smiling. It was a different smile, no teeth were bared this time, she just sported a quiet grin that curled her lips and took the age from her face, eased the lines about her eyes, and made her seem to bear wisdom of a homely stripe.
"Walk me home?"
She asked, still nameless, always friendly, and he had to wonder if there was a flaw in that. Was the flaw was in him, or her? Thinking of flaws, he lowered his head, contemplated the tankard.
"It's not far." She prompted, seeing his hesitance she strove to cross the metaphorical bridge before his indecision felled it. She must want something from him, and she'd use the "walk" to propose whatever she wanted from him. Just like every other "walk" they took.
Shad checked his first impulse, which was to sigh, say no because he was tired...
Still, he was a gentleman, and she –the lady- had asked.
"Of course, all you have to do is ask."
Which, was, if nothing else, the truth.
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