#14. gloryseized

[flockrest]

ordinary monsters / accepting / @gloryseized ( Link )

     The stars-damned thing is, it'd been his idea.

     With his health improved to an extent where not even the flock's healer or apothecary could honestly say anything against him finally picking up his bow again, Revali returned to aerial archery with the alacrity of someone starved to near death of it. Working to realign his skill with his ken was fulfilling, if also frustrating — in no small part due to those same worrywarts. They couldn't convince him to allow his abilities to languish any longer, but they could certainly convince any willing warrior to decline his requests for bouts with the maddening supposition that he had anything left to recover from.

     Well, any willing Rito warrior.

     He dives at Link, anticipating the shield that rises to meet his talons and rebounding off it with a force that carries him back to the skies and shoves his rival into a stagger. Revali's behind him now, in prime position to strike when he's exposed and busy steadying himself. As he nocks a trio of arrows and aims, the thought flits into place with the lightness of a passing breeze, tinged with a satisfaction found only in the flow of battle — even with the stakes as low as a spar's: he can't miss.

     Then it lingers.

     He can't miss.

     He can't miss.

     A sudden desperation sprouts in his chest, in tandem with the burning that flares in his left side where lesions old-and-new lay. His breath snags somewhere in the depths of his lungs, his heart — already quickened by exertion — pounding a nigh agonised rhythm as the Windlines tear out from his grasp. Faced with the abrupt dread that he's stalled for too long; a certainty he feels in his bones that he's going to be shot down any second now; a memory his body, for all its age, can't forget despite his efforts in restoring it to this point, in building up the strength to simply draw his own bow again, despite everything—

     He doesn't miss — only because he doesn't fire.

     He has the wherewithal, at least, to ensure he doesn't fall flat on his tailfeathers ( or worse, his beak ). But the damage to his pride is done: as soon as he lands, hunched and left leg threatening to buckle completely as though still rent from wounds dealt a century ago, Link is approaching with an expression he wishes he couldn't see.

     "Unless," Revali grits out, remiges still clenched around a strung bow. He latches onto the indignation of being pitied, forcing words where his breaths continue to elude him, "you're coming to strike me down, step no closer."

     In another time, something like that might've been enough to have the Hylian withdrawing. Here, it merely keeps him at bay. It does not stop Link from sheathing his equipment or poising his hands to speak, and Revali — in a move he immediately feels a sharp sting of regret for — turns his head away with shut eyes. It's horrifyingly juvenile.

     He pushes through an inhale, then another, before he's blinking his eyes back open and slowly straightening. The weight of humiliation, coated with an additional layer of self-contempt, sits on his back like newly scored scars. Whatever Link said or didn't say, his saving grace is that he seems to understand just how poorly it'd be received; his hands have dropped into rest by his sides.

     That blasted expression hasn't left his face, though.

     "Enough," Revali snaps, with such venom that his shoulders heave. A grievous mistake: his wingtips, alarmingly, lose their hold on the arrows he failed to release. He twitches — and refuses to look at them as they clatter to the ground, as if ignoring a pathetic blunder of those proportions is possible. "I'm fine."

     Silence. Nothing. It's exactly what he hoped for and exactly what makes the feathers by his neck bristle. He opens his beak, another snarl swelling in his throat, but Link's hands suddenly lift.

<< Your wings are shaking. >>

     Revali pauses.

     His instinctive response is one of denial. It's also one that would only prove Link's point. He clacks his beak closed, gnashing on an inability to say otherwise, because the trembling — even as he tightens his grip on his bow and rolls the pinions of his other wing into something like a fist — doesn't stop.

     It doesn't stop.

     "—A miscalculation," he says, brushing the unwelcome observation, the entire debacle, aside with half of an unwanted truth. He pitches his voice louder, firmer, an attempt at distracting. "It's been, as you know, a while. You will have to bear with my recovery — or is that beneath you?"

     ( Still, it doesn't stop. )

[justicepuppet]

@gloryseized from [x]

"Shinjuku?" He repeated the destination, both to make sure he had heard correctly and confirming that this was where Akira wanted to go. They weren't exactly close; the trip would easily take close to half an hour by subway, and twenty by car. And Akira wanted to be there in fifteen.

"Alright."

Akechi waited a moment for Akira to pull the helmet on and get settled behind him before twisting the handle, revving the engine and causing the 'bike to jump forward. If Akira hadn't been holding onto Akechi, he likely would have been after that; it took a bit of practice to be used to staying upright and on a moving motorcycle without holding onto something.

Most of the main roadways would be busy with evening traffic, but side-roads would take too long-- unless you were someone that had no fear of breaking traffic laws and racing as quickly as possible down them. Willing to go down one-way streets the wrong way and cut behind businesses would shrink the distance they had to go.

There had been a brief moment of eye contact with one police officer as he cut through a particularly busy intersection, but by the time the man had started to scramble to go after the racing 'bike Akechi had already been long gone.

And an abrupt halt, bike tipping slightly forward on its front wheel before settling back, as he pulled up in front of the metropolitan building. Time? 14 minutes.

[regnantlight]

@gloryseized sent: ❝ you were involved, weren’t you? ❞ >> handsigned by Link

Tears of the Kingdom Starters

They had been watching from bridge of her study as chests of books and scrolls were loaded onto the dual carts below, set to be sent to Purah’s and Robbi’s research laboratories. Zelda’s gloved hands laid upon the stone, overlapped as she herself stayed still as a statue, gazing with an empty stare while her life’s work was slowly carted away.

Link stepped closer to her, which was usually a fair indicator that he had something to impart—and, true enough, when she glanced to him, there was a smooth movement to his hands that said to her, “You were involved, weren’t you?”

“Yes,” She nodded, eyes trailing back down to the carts below, “I have been developing my research since the age of 14…”

Officially, at any rate. It was when she had been able to convince her father to provide funds to grow her research beyond the books of their library. And she had promised, with all the sincerity of the world, that it would not interfere with her spiritual training.

Yet, three years later, her research filled wagons while the powers of her birthright remained a distant, ever dwindling hope.

“Purah and Robbi will be able to make far better use of my research,” Zelda said the words as though she had practiced them before a mirror, over and over, until her tongue was tired and her throat was sore, “After all, I am no scholar. My time will be better spent in the springs and temples.”

Despite all of her practice, the words still sounded hollow to her ears.

“…Though, this will mean more time away for you as well, Link. I’m sorry. Yet I do wonder…I will be leaving behind my work, but what of you? Is there anything you will be leaving behind, as well? Did you have any involvements?”

[flockrest]

     He nearly chokes on the sudden sparks of outrage that twist up within him, absurdly familiar in all their white-hot, spitting soreness. What — is that supposed to mollify him? Soothe the shame of his incompetency? Oh, how gracious! How kind! Yes, you had me pinned, Revali, and you let me go! Ha, you're not the only one who makes mistakes, don't you know, I'm out of practice!

     His back is pulled as taut as the ensuing silence. He makes no attempt at schooling the glower he can feel marring his beak. His wings are shaking, his heart is beating as though still in the throes of death, his own body has betrayed him — and Link insists on holding himself aloft.

     A century removed from their stations, their differences, and this hasn't changed at all.

     He hadn't expected things to have drastically improved between them. He really had only dragged the hero out here for a controlled bout, but— he'd at least thought, with what words he'd let spill out of him in Link's previous visits, with all that he'd aired out when he was still counting on a permanent parting, with everything they'd done—

     Forget it. Revali laughs, awful and ugly and raucous. Forget it.

     "Are you doing this on purpose?" he hisses, clinging onto the bitterness curled in the hollows of his chest, even as it sears his throat with each breath and leaves brands imprinted on his lungs. It's easier to carry than anything else he's felt since landing. "Or are you truly that thoughtless? I'd hate to think you insensitive, so why don't you spare me the pity."

     He's drawn himself to his fullest height, turned now so that his left wing is carefully tucked out of Link's sight.

     The grasp he has on his bow's riser feels firm enough to splinter.

It's been awhile since Link has had the chance to face a proficient air-bourne fighter. Tulin of course is rapidly gaining skill and mobility in the air, something which Link is only too pleased to witness, but it's a far cry from the skill of the famed Rito warrior. It's only a matter of time, Link knows. Soon the young warrior will be just as proficient in the air as Revali, but for now no one can match Revali.

Or it was only a matter of time.

Revali's recovery after a century confined and battered inside Vah Medoh took it's toll on the Rito's body, just like it'd taken a toll on all the other Champions. Each of them carried the burdens of the of their confinement in their own way, but for Revali's part, it seemed to grate at him more. Link doesn't have any healing arts, but he knows that what a body needs to recover sometimes is time. ( Not that Link is the glowing example of this.) It is another thing he shared in common with the Rito warrior-- if he'd been forced to a bed for weeks on end, he would be anxious to do anything else too.

So when Revali had asked to spar, Link had took up the offer. It was a chance to practice his skill against a capable, flying opponent again; it was a chance to get Revali out of bed.

Link's rusty against someone so skilled in flight. There's a whole additional direction of movement, and Link finds the breath darting in and out through his lips, cheeks rosy in the cool Tabantha Frontier air. Seeing the Rito swoop down towards his head, Link automatically raises his shield, feet braced against the ground. Only for the sharp gust of wind to connect with his shield instead, making him skid backwards a few inches. It's not a huge mistake, but Link realizes it for what it is the instant after it occurs, a bitter twist in his throat.

Throwing himself backwards, he flips in the air to realign himself to ready a defense against the Rito. He's never going to hear the end of this, beaten the only recently recovered Rito. How could Link call himself the Hero of Hyrule when he's brought low so easily? Lips a grimace as he readies his sword to receive the next attack, even though he knows it's too slow. Revali has placed himself in the perfect position and Link couldn't keep up.

But the attack never came, heart thudding dully in his chest as he glances up at the Rito. Does Revali mean to taunt him from the air? To leave the threat of an arrow alone to serve as a boast that can't so easily be addressed unlike a deflected arrow? One glance at the Rito's expression shows that is not the case. That is definitely not the case. And Link's heart hitches in a new way, uncertain jangling catching his breath as he straightens from his battle ready crouch. This is not a taunt.

And Link lurches forward as Revali lands heavily on the ground, automatically reaching out his hands to make sure the other doesn't tumble to the earth, and pulling back a beat later as he sees the Rito catch himself. Whatever is going on, Link knows Revali's pride, knows that he wouldn't accept help so easily. So then... so then what's happening?

Brows furrow in worried confusion, flicking over the Rito's form to try to figure out what's going on. If it's not a taunt, then what? Maybe they'd pushed Revali's injuries too hard? But the healer said he should be able to return to flight and combat. Maybe not fully return to combat. Link's throat bobs in a swallow. Has Link done something to hurt Revali? Or perhaps it's something more?

Pointing at the Rito, his left hand moves to chop on his right palm before he stops himself. Revali has turned to look away, a livid knife in his gut as Link's expression darkens. It's as effective as silencing him could ever be, either that or tying his hands behind his back, and his old anger at the Rito surges again, cheeks reddening for an entirely different reason.

Revali's voice snakes out of his mouth, still not looking at Link, and there is no mistaking the emotion in that voice. This isn't a boast or a taunt, some action done out of spite. No, no, this is something more and Link's hands fall limply to his sides. Give him a monster to fight any day, he can manage that no problem. But this? This gaping hole of aching sorrow standing before him, he's not equipped to deal with this. But he can't leave either.

Because Revali is not fine, and Link has never seen that more clearly. Tentatively, he starts to sign again, swallowing his pride and making sure his hands are where Revali can see. Pointing at Revali, both hands flap next to his shoulders before he rattles his left hand back and forth. << Your wings are shaking. >>

And the response comes, but it's delayed again, still bearing the barbs as before, but a beat later than Link expected. Again, it's off. Again, there's something wrong. But what should he do? What should he say? Link knows Revali would never allow something as simple as comfort. Not from him anyway. Link isn't cruel though, and he's not going to leave Revali like this. Whatever this is.

A miscalculation, Revali supplies and Link's blue eyes cut to the other's face. A miscalculation? Link must have misheard. Revali doesn't make miscalculations--well, except for the last fight inside Vah Medoh when the Calamity struck. Oh. A rushing enters Link's ears as he realizes it, the world seemingly listing sideways. But Revali... he always seemed so confident, even now. Maybe, maybe he still needs time to heal.

Pointing at the Rito, his left hand swings forward in a grab before tapping at his chest. << You pinned me, >> Link admits, expression bashful. It's giving Revali a graceful way out, Link hopes he sees it for that and not patronizing. Tapping his chest, his fisted left hand brushes along the finger of his extended right pointer finger. Fisted hand sweeps out from underneath his chin, thumb sticking out. << I am out of practice. >>