#totk gesane

[deathishauntedbyhumans]

Do you think Gesane and Karson have ever explored each others’ bodies?

[john---baptist]

working hard, hard at work, (hardly working)

[silvergarnet12]

Couple of drawings.

[mikaiink]

Gesane; the guide & warden .|| Another one, also took pics of the process (sort of)... Gesane is often guarding the entrance to Rito Village; he also shares information about their culture and the folks. He re-appears in ToTK being slightly upset that Tulin has ran off to fight monsters, instead of helping in bring back resources into town. Overall, a rito who is kind and willing to give a wing.

[novantinuum]

Fandom: The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom Rating: G Words: 1.7K~ Summary: heart•song (n.): An expression of our most inner being, identity, and reason for existence – what twists and turns of life have led us here, to this dangerous place? And by what strength do we keep enduring? - Or: For a sage to give one their vow, first there must be vulnerability. (A collection of shorts exploring the bond between each sage and Link.)

Some Tulin and Link bonding content for y'all today! I have a lil' one-shot planned for every single TotK sage.

NOTE: This fic contains TotK main quest spoilers.

Enjoy! <3

____

One: Tulin

The bitting air chill produced by the monumental cyclone they’re approaching is almost enough to send a shiver down his spine, downy feathers be damned.

Tulin tucks his wings in tight and scoots himself closer to the fire Link just lit, its delicate flames protected from the merciless touch of this wintery weather within a little alcove they spotted in the ruins midway up the Rising Island Chain. It’s not an impressive fire by any means— not like one of Gesane’s massive hillside beacons— but it’s more than enough to keep warm and cook a quick meal over. 

Of course, resting and eating are the last two things he wants to focus on right now with the well-being of his whole village at stake.

He lets out a faint huff, his warm breath condensing into a foggy cloud that‘s rapidly whisked away by the wind. Restless talons rap against the sky platform’s aged stonework. Nothing about this quest has panned out as expected so far, and it’s super frustrating to him. First his prized bow got stolen by monsters— and that’s embarrassing enough on its own— but then he’s been lagging behind Link all the way up these freezing cold islands… struggling to recover his full stamina after continuous use of his wind burst powers. He just feels… so, so small— so guilty, as if… he’s somehow letting his whole village down if he allows himself to slow down and rest for even more than a minute. 

“Do we really have to break now?” he halfheartedly protests, fighting to keep his beak from chattering between syllables. “We’re like, halfway there!”

“Your stomach’s rumbling,” is all Link signs in response, before reaching into his bag.

Tulin’s features scrunch into a grimace as he realizes the Hylian is clearly attempting to spare his feelings. After all, it’s not a coincidence that Link suggested setting up camp right after watching him lose air momentum and almost miss his landing on this latest chunk of island.

He may be foolish sometimes, may be in way, way over his head up here, but he’s far from ignorant.

Or at least, he’d really like to believe so.

After a minute or so of rummaging through various pockets and flaps, his traveling partner retrieves two metal skewers and a handful of peppers and cubed venison from his supplies. (Good grief, just how deep is that bag?) He’s swift and methodical in preparing them for the fire— piercing their sides one by one, alternating between meat and vegetable to provide a well balanced meal: protein, and something to keep their bodies warm at these near impossible heights.

(For, despite what many of his people would have the Hylians think, there is a limit to how far up a Rito can venture before even their feathers freeze over.) 

But even if he’s anxious to continue their mission as soon as he possibly can, there’s no denying the fact that a skilled warrior dare not fight on an empty stomach. Swallowing the rest of his impatience, Tulin mouths a hollow ‘thanks’ as Link passes one of the finished skewers to him. Clutching it within his feathery grasp, he starts to rotate it over the flames. The two fall into a natural silence in the minutes that follow. It’s quite simple to let one’s mind wander whilst cooking, of course. The eye is so fixed on the outer rind of one’s food— waiting for the fire to provide that perfect, smoky singe— that the auditory senses are left free to explore whatever else they desire. Like the rhythmic crackling of embers from beneath the wood, or the wailing gusts intermittently slamming into the sides of the toppled Zonai ruins that form their alcove.

Swallowing, he traces the path of the wind towards the very edge of the sky island just a few talon lengths away… marvels at how far down the steep mountain peaks of Hebra are.

“Y’know,” he begins with hesitance, forcing himself to glance away from the daunting view of The Down Below, “I don’t think I’ve ever flown so high before.“

Long pause.

He glances back towards Link. His friend doesn’t move to respond at first, clutching his skewer with both hands, but he can tell he’s paying attention from the way he shifts his head, angling his ear so he can catch his voice over the air’s violent whistling. 

“Sometimes,” he continues, “it felt like… I dunno. Like even though I wanted to prove myself to my dad, wanted to explore the furthest reaches of this sky… it just wasn’t the right time yet.”

“And is it the right time now?” Link asks, almost so quiet so as to be imperceptible. It’s actually a little jarring— he doesn’t hear the man speak out loud too often. He wonders why he’s chosen to do so today.

Although on second consideration, the answer may be simpler than meets the eye- it’s probably because his hands are occupied with the cooking.

Tulin clamps his beak shut, considering for a moment. “I— I don’t know. I hope it is. Everyone back at home could really use a turn in this weather.”

His dad, most of all. It wasn’t too long ago that Elder Kaneli relinquished the role and passed it on to him. Seeing the way this duty has washed out his feathers, he almost wishes it didn’t happen at all. Of course, no one could’ve predicted the Upheaval, or this dreadful blizzard. No one could’ve predicted the village would have to reckon with the very real threat of starvation. So having to watch Dad’s dauntless spirit nearly crumple under the pressure all the responsibilities of leadership bring… it pains him. It’s why he’s been so fervent in pushing back against his non-engagement policy this whole time— because the Dad he knows wouldn’t just sit back and accept bare minimum survival when his people are suffering.

His thoughts are interrupted by a faint rumble at his side, likely Link clearing his throat. With a hum of intrigue, he turns to meet his gaze.

“Your skewer’s smoldering,” he says, nodding towards the campfire.

Sharp inhale.

Oh! Oh, yeah—

Thanking his lucky stars that someone was paying attention, Tulin yanks his meal from the flames. He summons a focused gust of wind upon his wing, blowing it across the skewer’s tip to make sure it’s not too burning hot when he bites into it. Well, at least it’s done. A bit overdone, but food is food. He certainly can’t complain after a few weeks of rationing back home. Stomach rumbling with ferocity once again, he digs in. The roasted spicy pepper warms him instantly.

From the corner of his eye, he catches a glimpse of a faint smile curving across the Hylian’s face.

“What?” he asks, the word garbled within a beak-full of meat.

Link removes his own skewer from the flames, and gestures towards him with the end of the metal stake. “Your ability,” he begins, voice a little hoarse with disuse. “Manipulation of air. How’d you become so skilled at creating such precise gusts?”

A slight laugh escapes his lungs, his body suddenly brimming with nervous energy. “I’m not sure, actually… I was really young when it started, and my memory’s kinda shaky… plus, most people don’t believe me, anyways.”

His friend scoots across the stone so he’s sitting a bit closer, and takes a hefty bite of his own dinner.

“Try me,” he says mid-chew.

Tulin inhales deeply. Oh boy, what’s the easiest way to explain this…?

“Well,” he begins, a cold burst of anxiety rushing through his veins, “it was when I was still a fledgling… still learning how to fly. I was playing with Molli and Kotts in the woods outside the village, and then… suddenly I was alone. Someplace completely different, as if I’d been spirited away.”

He pauses his story for a few seconds to take another bite of his meat and pepper skewer.

“I was in this huge, gigantic forest… even larger than the one I came from! I thought I was lost forever— that is, until this other Rito found me, and led me back to my dad. Like Dad, this Rito was also a warrior— but he had a special power, one he developed all by himself. He could push himself high up into the sky with one, mighty gust.”

Link’s brows raise in noted interest at that last statement.

“I wasn’t with him for long, but—“ Tulin lets his eyes flutter shut, thinking back to those clouded memories with deep fondness— “that day, I promised myself I’d train until I became just as powerful a warrior as him. Someone my people could really be proud of. But then again…” Opening his eyes, he turns towards his companion and gives a big ol’ shrug. “I still don’t understand how any of that could be real. That warrior… my memory’s a little fuzzy, but he looked a lot like how people describe Master Revali, from the age of Calamity. His powers, too… it’s all so strange.”

“How do you think it happened?” Link asks, his expression brimming with curiosity.

“Hmm…” he muses, curling his wing against his chin. “I dunno. For a while, I started to think that… maybe it was a dream. Maybe all my friends were right. But then again… if I’m hearing some mysterious voice calling to me from this storm… then who knows what’s possible? Maybe there’s more to all this than meets the eye, y’know?”

And maybe… just maybe… whatever’s hiding at the core of the maelstrom will finally feed him the answers he’s craved his whole life… finally feed him new purpose.

The Hylian hums, giving a short nod. “I’ve long accepted there’s things in this world I’ll never fully understand. And for what it’s worth… I believe your story.”

After a whole childhood of deniers, the sheer validation laced within those words are enough to almost bring him to tears.  

“Thank you,” he says, his heart brimming with gratitude.

And though this is but a singular moment of validation after a whole childhood of being told he’s got ‘an overactive imagination,’ the pull of the world below suddenly feels a little lighter. Light enough to push through his exhaustion and scale the rest of this rising island chain, at very least! After all… it can’t be that much further to the top. And once they’re there… this whole mystery with the storm, and all the Zelda sightings, and the strange voice he keeps hearing is gonna slot right into place.

He just knows it.