flockrest - Tumblr blog

[flockrest]

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hello hello, we're still alive! ft. @gloryseized's lad ♡ these two are idiots their whole journey through whatever the fuck they've got going on and that's all you really need to take away from this afkldsjf

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— Frank Bidart, from “Half-light: Collected Poems 1965-2016; ‘The Third Hour of the Night’", published c. 2017.

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You're dead serious. I'm alive silly. We're not the same

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unprompted / always accepting / @gloryseized ( Link )

     It isn't so terrible an afternoon, all things considered.

     Revali's Gale is still a distant reality with the glacial pace of his recovery, but recent trips to and from the Flight Range have him plagued more by slipping Windlines than the exhaustion that used to so easily visit him. Today, their paths even remain wholly within his grasp, from the first take-off to the return home. It bodes well for prospects of more: more that he can do, more that he can endeavour towards — and as he approaches the flock's nest, he's almost able to put the feeling spurred from the sight of Hyrule's hero awaiting on the landing aside.

     Almost.

     He considers, for a tempting moment, forgoing a descent altogether. Link visits often enough that his presence is no longer a complete surprise, but rather something of a stone to grind down — or a heavy taste to sit with. It's this certain, inexplicable type of itch that makes Revali want to wheel around, to feign a case of overlooking like his eyes aren't among the sharpest of his people.

     He lands. The urge to do otherwise feels too akin to retreating.

     "Back again?" he chuffs, a greeting all of its own. He draws close, not quite taunting, just to the point of proximity that the pretence of even footing might hold. "And how long will I have to endure you this time, hm?"

     Revali means to leave it there, certain the Hylian must be waiting for someone else and already turning to curve around him, except—

Making a face, Link reaches up to adjust Revali's scarf, the blue fabric having come slightly dislodged in the Rito's flight.

     His entire being stutters to a halt.

     What—

     What?

     The space between them, suddenly, is far too small. He can scarcely breathe past the tightness Link's fingers have squeezed around something in his chest. Have they always been so tiny compared to his pinions? Revali cannot feel them the way he would if they were in his feathers, running through them equally carefully, but his mind follows the thread and—

     What?

     "You—!" he lurches a step back, plumes puffed in a blasted, damning display. A harried wing is lifted to shield his scarf, yet even as every instinct shrieks to remove Link's work, he stops short of actually touching it for some preposterous reason he refuses to think about. "What do you think you're doing?"

     Eyes— they must be drawing nearby eyes with all the fuss, so he continues in a strangled hiss. "Do you truly think me so incompetent that I can't even— do you realise—"

     No. No. Forget it. He'd rather not know, actually. Burning with an acute memory sensation of the desire for Medoh's solace, and well against any sound judgement, he spins and begins reaching for the Windlines to stir them for his Gale.

     ( It's either gall or ignorance that drives Link's boldness. Revali can't tell which would be worse to have confirmed. )

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@gloryseized

lookin through my Archives and decided this deserved its own post…

I saw!!! a revali cosplayer at dragon con and told them they had clearly made The Best Choice

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inching my way back here little by little. thank you all for your patience, folks ♡

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there is no competition. respectfully, you could never be me. disrespectfully, i would never want to be you.

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#BALLADETTO. independent, private, selective & heavily headcanon-based multimuse featuring link of the legend of zelda: ocarina of time & majora's mask. includes muses from other zelda games, fire emblem: awakening, how to train your dragon, & little nightmares. established october 2023. doted on by ray.

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was a little too busy to post about this when it actually happened, but tết trung thu was a week ago! it's the mid-autumn festival for non-viets, also known as the children's festival, and as with most things of my culture. got me thinking....rito harvest festivals...rito hunting festivals....rito children's festivals....they would. they would. you look at that flock of birds who treasure their fledglings so much and try telling me they wouldn't have them!!

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     In the second it takes for the Hylian's hand to twist back and forth atop his forearm, the aggravation of their routine is abruptly lost to incredulity.

     What. What? He must have misperceived. The darkness— the moon's light must have failed him. The world turns in this infuriating rhythm of theirs — Revali prods and Link dismisses — as surely as the Windlines lift and the stars shine, certainly, but to discount him so readily? So easily? For a tree. A tree. What tree would offer more than an asinine waste of time? What tree would get Link anywhere, what tree would ever carry him higher than Revali's Gale?

     The indignation returns in bubbles, a slow boil in his veins. He has half a mind to leave the insufferable knight to it.

     He thinks of the dumbstruck face he might miss out on though, and, very charitably, doesn't.

     "You must realise who you're speaking with," he snipes, wingtips gesturing at Link in a sharp flick of motion. It's the most civil he can force his tone — considering the insult he just had to bear, it's more than what's deserved. "I didn't think you, of all people, would enjoy making things more difficult for yourself."

     He steps closer to the knight, making a show of scanning the fields with an offhanded scoff. "Here will do perfectly fine."

Goddess, why had he said anything? He should have just stayed silent, or perhaps even dismissed himself to do... something. Something away from the Rito at least, even if that meant pretending to sleep. Why had he decided to continue the conversation? Revali clearly doesn't enjoy spending any time with him, apparently finding it beneath him almost literally to do anything with a Hylian, and Link doesn't want to spend any more time with the boastful Rito than he has to.

Yes, he knows they all need to work together to defeat the Calamity. And yes, Link does recognize they haven't exactly had a harmonious functioning up until that point, but Link isn't sure how to work together with Revali especially now. Each of the Champions has been appointed as a matter of course, proving their skills in combat and craft before Zelda appointed them as Champions. At least they have all done something to earn their place, unlike Link who just happened to pull a sword from a stone. It makes sense that Revali looks down on him.

Even if Revali is right, that doesn't mean Link enjoys it.

So he hesitates a beat, weighing his options before an imperceptible sigh dances from his lips. He should learn how to use the paraglider better. Even from a practical stand point. It's not going to help him if he continues to have trouble with the landing, so now might as well be a chance to practice. Although it does open him up to more of Revali's criticism again. Great.

Pulling himself to his feet, he nods once. Tapping his chest, he reaches forward with his left hand, before lifting it back slightly, thumb and pointer finger pinching together. Left elbow settles on his right forearm, left hand twisting back and forth. Hands reach one above the other as if pulling himself upward. << I will find a tree to climb. >> he signs, glancing around the dark surroundings. There aren't any helpful ledges of buildings nearby so a tree will have to do. He needs to get some height to actually practice landing.

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@galestrings

transcription below

Tulin: "Amazing, Master Revali! How did you master your signature gale technique!?"

Revali: "It's simple, really, I just..." [Describes the most physically exertive and unhealthy training regimen to the point of self-flagellation and social isolation]

Teba: [Listening in] "That's... NOT NORMAL. Master Revali is a really terrible influence..."

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     "Why can't I go?"

     It's the wrong question to ask. Kido knows it even before Auntie Cecili sighs. He winces as she turns to him from where she's remaking one of the down beds, 'cause now he's gonna have to sit through the same sort of lecture he gets hit with every time the grownups bring him back from Hebra's mountains or Tabantha's tundras.

     He's right.

     "You can't go because we can't trust you not to throw yourself back out there," Auntie Cecili says, quiet and deliberate, but not gentle. Like she's reminding him of something for the hundredth time and trying to be real patient about it. "You can't keep doing this, Kido. How many times has it been?"

     He doesn't know. He hasn't bothered to keep count when none of his attempts have gotten anywhere. "I just wanna go home." He fixes his gaze on the wooden beam behind her, a little over her shoulder. It's a deeper brown beneath the light of lanterns. "I promise I won't leave."

     Auntie Cecili sighs again, heavier. She makes a slicing motion through the air with her wing, the one she gives Uncle Verla when she wants him to stop talking, before she returns to her bed-making. "You're staying here. You're not changing anybody's mind on this."

     Kido looks down at the blanket draped over his legs, at the wingtips clenched and hidden in its folds. It stings more than all the aching in his muscles. More than it should.

     "You can't keep me here," he tells her, voice barely louder than a whisper. It rushes outta him like a nasty secret, harsh and annoyed, and he almost doesn't want her to hear him.

     She does, though. "I can, actually."

     "No you can't."

     "Yes, I can."

     "Nu-uh."

     "Don't push it—"

     "You can't!" He lifts his head, eyes blazing. "You're not— you're not—"

     "You're not leaving," she cuts in, not even glancing back at him as she moves onto the next bed, "until I say you can."

     Oh, so pretty much never! Yay. "When's that?"

     "Not now."

     "When?"

     "Kido."

     He doesn't screech 'cause he knows better, knows it won't do him any favours when he's stuck here, but the sound lurches in his throat: dense and thickened with want. He sits there for a few seconds just to breathe through everything, and swallows it down with a practiced ease. He tries a different path. "I can't even go play?"

     Auntie Cecili pauses. "You can," she carefully says, "but the other children aren't awake now, are they? And Fyson should be free tomorrow, I'm sure he can watch over you then."

     Wh— really? Fyson's fun, but he's so old now he doesn't feel like a kid anymore, and he's not afraid to complain about exactly that sometimes when the grownups make him do stuff with Kido and the others. Besides, Kido hasn't needed any watching over in ages — not since he fledged. "M'not a hatchling."

     "You aren't," she agrees, lifting a blanket to flare it out. "Keep flying headfirst into danger like one, though, and you have to prepare to be treated like you are."

     That—! "That's not fair!"

     "You think so?" Auntie Cecili asks in low tones. She sounds like rumbling thunder on the horizon — and that isn't fair, either. It's not fair how she can make him feel tiny with just her voice. It's not fair that he suddenly feels like the worst kid in the world for talking back. "If it keeps you here where you're supposed to be, safe and sound, then I'm sorry, Kido; you'll have to get used to us being unfair."

     He falls silent.

     Here? Where he's supposed to be?

     The boiling beneath his feathers nearly has him tossing himself out of his roost purely on principle.

     Each single time he leaves these peaks for the colder Windlines of the outside, Kido's doing what she and all the other adults aren't doing — what they should be doing. He's— it's their job, it's their responsibility as flocklings to never, ever leave anyone behind, and he's getting in trouble for doing it for them. Why's that? Why's that? If they're not gonna search for Dad for him, why do they get to say anything about it? Why do they get to stop him?

     Why do they get to try to make him give up, the way they did winters ago?

     "My dad's still out there," Kido whispers, wings squeezing his blanket so hard that they're quivering.

     Auntie Cecili stiffens.

     "He's still out there, and I'm— here. You're keeping me here."

     Why? Why had they— what suddenly made it okay, all that time ago, for them to give up? To strand his dad to the ice, to let him go: drifting further and further away from Kido?

     "You're keeping me here."

     He was— he was a good boy about it. He's being a good boy about it, 'cause searching for his dad is lots better than what he could be doing, what he could be feeling about everything and everyone. And they won't allow him this. Why won't they allow him this? Why?

     "He needs my help out there and you're just—!"

     All of a sudden, there's a warmth surrounding him, wrapping him up in white-maroon wings. The bed dips at his side beneath Auntie Cecili's weight, the tang of old fabrics and crushed herbs wafting along his next breaths. His heartbeat rings in his head. When did she get so close?

     She murmurs, gentle now, soft and strained like her heart's hurting too: "I'm sorry."

     Kido feels it like stones dropping out the bottom of his chest into his stomach.

     There it is again. Sorry. Like it's some amazing word that magically makes everything better. And maybe it does for Auntie Cecili — maybe it does for every other grownup who says it to him, who've only ever heard pretty things from Kido in response. Who've only ever gotten his encouragement, his reassurance, his permission to stop feeling so bad. It's okay. You'll find him next time. I'm not mad. You can talk about this. It's alright. You don't need to say sorry. I'm not upset.

     I forgive you.

     And now, here, he has to do it once more.

     He—

     He...

     Kido lets her push his face into the crook of her shoulder. He does not lift his wings to clutch at hers. He clings to the blanket under his touch with a wobbly desperation, to the silence that tumbles over them like clumps of snow shaken loose from tree branches.

     He can't. Not this time.

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     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. >>

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TALES

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     Movement from the corner of his eye draws half his gaze back to those hands. He idles on them just enough to catch the first sentence, just enough to see the words for what they are, and the itch burns now.

     Revali is no fool. Even if it feels, at times, like he's sent himself on a fool's errand with all the vying. He knows this — this imposed contest, this lopsided rivalry — has only ever amounted to something worth addressing to him. Link remains staunchly equivocal on the matter, coldly appeasing as though humouring him or outright declining to react altogether. How above it all he must deem himself.

     How lowly he must deem Revali.

     He bites down on a fouler sneer, beak grinding. The Windlines taste no different than they did mere moments ago, still sweetened by the peace of springtime, and it incenses him all the more. What can he possibly say without sounding irrationally petty? Without seeming needlessly affected? Would it kill Link to respond to his provocations normally, to grant him even the impression of equal footing?

     Then — again — the knight says more than he needs to.

     Again — Revali doesn't know what to make of it.

     It's an admission Link allows far too readily. Particularly to someone like him. Is it admirable among Hylians, sharing your shortfalls with your— oh, but of course, he isn't anything to the knight, is he? He may as well be discussing what he "needs to work on" with Hyrule's princess, for all that he probably cares. Yet the thread of something gratified weaves a thought as Revali looks at him in full, placating despite everything.

     It's not hope. The odds of Link giving him hope are about as likely as a comet falling in broad daylight, right into his wings. No, this is an opportunity — another chance to open the hero's damned eyes, to get him to acknowledge the skill he should have lauded the first time he had the honour of witnessing it.

     "Well," Revali begins, gaze crossing the Hylian's. He does not glance away as he rises to his feet, nor as he sweeps a wing out at the empty, level landscape. "No better time than the present! Stars forbid you get any worse with your dallying."

Link's mind, unbidden, begins to make a list of the things he would rather be doing than sitting and talking to the Rito. Even if the silence between them was tense, it's much better than the conversation he's having now. Or any conversation he's had with the Rito up 'til now. At any opportunity, Revali does his best to shoot barbs Link's way. Even if there isn't a particularly obvious opportunity, he still manages to find a way. Indeed, it's one of the many ways he's learned to give Zelda credit for her skill in that she actually manages to distract Revali from such comments for a few minutes in order to get work done.

So then why continue talking to him now? Link doesn't want to think it's because Revali gets some strange enjoyment out of needling. Link doesn't like to think someone could be so mean-spirited, so then what?

He could just fall silent and not reply, and Link can almost imagine how that would go over. Lips work for a silent moment, intentionally not looking at Revali as the other shifts, fingerspelling the word 'paraglider' again. Palm connects with his chin before swinging down to connect with his other palm. Then both fists twist together, one on top of the other. << It's well made. >> He finds himself agreeing, which is at least a safe enough comment as far as things go.

And he takes a steadying breath, trying to calm his jangling nerves, previously braced for another insult thrown his way. What do you want? he wants to ask, but doesn't dare. He needs to try to work with Revali, and he has a hunch that question wouldn't help in that regard. He swallows his pride.

Tapping his chest, his left pointer finger hooks forward before pulling back. Both fists knock together, left hand on top of right hand. Then his left hand curls into a fist, thumb, pinky and pointer finger sticking up as his hand swoops down to settle on his right arm. << I need to work on landing. >>

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wrow

^ has thoughts they can’t fully put down into words about how revali spiralling as a spirit gets him to a point where he might’ve actually been able to reconcile his misgivings re: everyone and everything in his life that still exists like some fucked up speedrun fuelled purely by regrets he can “safely” feel because he’s going to be gone anyway, isn’t he? and how he spirals even worse when he gets revived because oh no, suddenly he can’t leave or be gone the way that would’ve left everything he says and does to mean nothing and not matter at all and now he’s gotta deal with Being Here, in a time and place he never once thought he’d actually live long enough to Be Here for, he's gotta keep reputations and standings and this shattered image he's barely keeping glued together as a failure who's alive again in mind, and it's exhausting the way being a failure who died for it wasn't

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directly referring to this / @gloryseized

     Tulin loves learning, even if it can get pretty boring sometimes with the Elder when he's running his Gatherings or with Mum when she's tryna teach him stuff like how to properly dust off hammocks.

     Tulin really, really loves Link, and there's no but or though or even if 'bout that.

     It figures, then, that he'd really-really-really love learning with and 'bout Link, which is something that's been true and holding true ever since the hero stepped foot into these peaks — 'specially now that they've started language lessons!

     Hylian Sign, it turns out, is somehow way more and way less finicky than what he knows of Rito Key. The movements are smaller and can get real compact — kinda quieter, in a sense — so it's taken a lotta fine-tuning on both their parts to allow Tulin to do more than just understand. It's different from everything else he's currently learning and trying, but, y'know, he thinks he's been doing a good job of picking it up!

     He must be, 'cause even Dad seemed a little lost and very impressed when he recounted all that he and Link went over this time during dinner tonight — lightly testing him on everything and turning to Link for the answers he wasn't sure of. Which is, like, Dad-speak for answers he doesn't know, and how neat is that?! Tulin basically knows more 'bout this than his dad, now! And-and Link's getting better at making out bits and pieces of Rito, too: when he started teasing Dad 'bout falling behind for the first time in his entire life in warbling tones, his friend jumped right in and joined Dad's side on teasing him back!

     ( Totally unfair of him, by the way. Tulin had to swipe a bread roll from him when he wasn't looking for that!

     ...And then passed him his last piece of trout when Link caught him mid-bite 'cause he felt bad, but the point stands! )

     Hehe. Link really is the coolest. And the nicest! They'd touched some more on how to talk 'bout others in his people's tongue today — hard to explain when the Hylian equivalents don't really tell you anything useful 'bout anyone, and probably harder to wrap your head 'round when that sorta blankness is what you've grown up with — but Link hadn't complained, or pretended he completely understood so Tulin would stop, or anything else like that.

     He'd stopped anyway though, 'cause it's a lot and he can be a patient teacher as well! As long as Link knows they have words that mean something like I like you without actually saying that, or I hate you without actually saying that, he's perfectly happy to leave recognising them and how to use 'em for next time. Maybe he can even try showing Link some Rito Key! Ooh, ooh, can Link whistle? Can he get Uncle Harth or Mr. Huck to make him one? How awesome would it be to see him say you-that-I-like? Or— or you-that-I-love!

     ...Which Tulin, now that he thinks 'bout it, doesn't know how to even remotely say in Hylian Sign.

     That's no good.

     He leans further out from his roost, keen student for the last time tonight as he watches Link go through the motions of, "I love you." It looks pretty simple and very doable, so it's with a huge smile back that he shuffles to the very edge of his hammock, wings rising to wholeheartedly repeat after his friend—

     —Only to fall straight out, directly onto Link with an oof!

     "Tulin," Mum's voice cuts in from above them, and that's totally unfair of her, 'cause it's not like he meant to fall! S'not his fault — not for that, and not for how he suddenly can't stop laughing, giddy with almost-sleepy silliness and the warmth that burst in his chest when Link caught him.

     "Sorry," he says when he's got his breath under control again. He pushes himself up from where he's landed, eyes bright as he straightens, shakes out his wings, and tells Link, the way he told Tulin: "I love you!"