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guideoftime · 5 hours

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Sheik & Impa. Drabble. Path - a distant future.

“You have to try harder, Sheik!”

There’s sweat dripping down his face, his body is physically exhausted, and the stealth suit that was iconic to the Sheikah was clinging uncomfortably to his body. Trying to breathe through the mask wrapped around his mouth wasn’t easy with the amount of sweat that was drenching his body. And his mother has the audacity to tell him to try harder. His teeth grind together beneath the mask, he glares at the floating training dummies he was supposed to take out airborn and twists around to fall from the roof of the house he had been crouched on.

He lands in a crouch, shoots to his feet and glares at Impa. As he speaks he waves his arms, motioning toward the floating target dummies and then her. “You try it! Do you know how hard it is to throw myself several feet mid-air and take those things down! Without killing myself or falling to my death!?” By the time he gets the words out, pulled hard from his chest given the lack of air in his lungs. His mother blinks at him, looks deeply unimpressed and crosses her arms over her chest.

“Do you really want me to do it?”

No. Because he knows she can and it’s just going to piss him off more. As does her condescending attitude. Sheik’s hands fall to his side and clench, nails digging into his palms as his shoulders tense. Why she was even making him do this was even more frustrating. Sheik enjoyed getting to tinker in his room, build and create the very things they were using now. He enjoys messing with Sheikah Tech and the magic that flows through it. He likes getting to be creative and working with his hands.

He doesn’t like picking up a blade and doing all these complicated moves that sometimes ends with him falling, sometimes great feets, and getting hurt. He doesn’t enjoy picking himself back up off of the ground, needing stitches, patching broken bones–the way his mother stares down at him expecting him to be a Sheikah Warrior and not Sheik.

He doesn’t understand why his mother can’t be proud of him. Can’t see him and the things that he has done. Sheik is directly responsible for the things that they have created and use now. He made the upgraded stealth suits, the floating training dummies, the improved Sheikah phones, gossip stones, tablets–and all she sees is what he can’t do. The things she wants him to be able to do. The things the Royal Captain was trying to shove down his throat that were in line with tradition. Servants of the Royal Family.

Eventually, one would think they would be able to fight that title.

“Are you done?” A breath, he forces his hands to relax and picks his head up to meet her unimpressed gaze. “Good. Up you go again then, let’s try once more.” He spins away and begins walking toward the tree to get him back up. “And Sheik?” A slight pause, glancing over his shoulder, Impa offers him a smile. “I believe in you.”

At least one of them does.

Sheik learned to cook because Impa was physically incapable of it. All of her talent seemed to lie in wars and fighting, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Growing up had been traumatizing everytime she stepped foot in the kitchen. The things that came out, the fires that started, the take out they usually ended up with. He learned to cook almost as a survival technique. He was quite good at cooking too, and found it fell quite in line with science. He enjoyed cooking.

Impa tended to get home before him most days, other days they got home around the same time. He spends a lot of time at Sheikah Industries, or loses himself in working on a project. When he does get home, around five when he should make dinner, the house is unlocked and the outdoor light left on. He closes the door quietly behind him and runs his gaze along the kitchen, easily and quickly finding his mother seated at the table–entirely passed out, her head buried in her arms and a cup of coffee by her.

A soft sigh falls from his lips and he begins taking his jacket off. This isn’t anything new, she goes days without sleeping sometimes. Working herself to death between the Royal Family, the Queen, the Princess, the Castle Soldiers, Kakariko itself–she takes on the entire weight of the world and just continues to pile on more without even thinking. She’s done this since he was a child and it never got any better.

Making his way over toward the table he glances briefly to her face before looking down at the table. A mix of scattered paperworks, from soldier reports to performance reviews and a list of things Kakariko needed. He shook his head slightly and glanced toward her exhausted face before moving away. A blanket is grabbed from the couch, carried into the kitchen and Sheik gently lays it over her shoulders.

“I wish you wouldn’t take on so much.” She’s going to kill herself from stress, and it’s not like she listens to him. A gentle brush of his mother’s shoulder before he moves away and opens his phone.

They can have takeout today, he doesn’t want to wake her.

#▴ — path / a distant future.#// Drabble

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guideoftime · 5 hours

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Me, running on no sleep and just caffine, vibrating intently: okay but listen, Sheik in the modern verse, taking someone home for the first time to meet his Mom and Impa just pulls a sword out and points it at their head and demands to know their intentions toward her only son. Sheik standing there confused and just calmly tugging them back out of the house going "Sorry she must be on the binge end of a sixth pot of coffee--no not alcohol it is coffee though that might as well be alcohol to her."

#▴ — path / a distant future.

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guideoftime · 6 hours

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@luzofstars ;; plotted starter.

Does his mother hate him?

That is the thought that crosses his mind as he sits on the floor of the lab in his house. Impa had told him that the time had come for the hero cloaked in green to awaken, that the Princess (she’s fifteen by the way) had a premonition. A young child, who had it beaten into her head about that, had a nightmare. That is what he tried to tell her when she threw at him this task of harassing the family of soldiers to find a needle in a haystack.

Does she know how many blonde haired, blued eyed Hylians lived in Hyrule? A lot. A lot. Sheik knows, because when he did look into it, because she told him too. And he had hundreds of possibilities. What was he supposed to do? Drag every single one of them to some magical sword he doesn’t know how to find and demand they try and draw it?

Sheik can’t do that.

Because the sword probably doesn’t exist.

So, after he left the Castle–what was it… three days ago? Sheik had started working endlessly on what his mother asked for. A blonde haired, blue eyed Hylian, who could wield a sword. This man, an Android, was one of the first ones he has tried to program with the ability to both learn and know how to use a sword. So it would continue to advance based on training with human soldiers.

The Android had been designed based around several recordings of what the Heroes were said to look like. Quite attractive, if he said so himself, but then Sheik was a brilliant inventor and he was proud of the things that he made. He loved all of it, but he loved creating new things mostly.

Sheik takes a breath and leans forward, swiping his phone open and scanning threw the message from his mother asking for an update on what he was doing and how he was doing. He huffed out a breath and turned his head away from the messages, picking up his coffee (number six maybe?) to take a sip of it. He slowly lowers it down and blinks at the Android that–seemed to be watching him. Why? Did he turn the Android on? He had named him Link, meaning a link to the legends. His mother wanted a Hero based on the stories he had read as a child, that was what he was giving her.

“Stop looking at me like that.” He leaned back and nearly fell over into the pile of circuits, papers and books scattered around him. “I got to get you some different clothes. Impa says you’re supposed to wear green. Maybe I’ll make a run to Castle Town before it gets dark.” On no sleep, on six cups of coffee and stress. Well, no time like the present?

#▴ — path / a distant future #luzofstars

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guideoftime · 18 hours

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自分で使ってるのが時岡カラーの３ｐだから描いてるのも３ｐカラーだけど６ｐカラーの銀髪シークさんもすこだから描きたい。

闇堕ちシークさん描く時は６ｐカラー+αです…

#▴ — reflect upon yourself.

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guideoftime · 2 days

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スマブラSP/SSBU シーク

#▴ — reflect upon yourself.

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guideoftime · 3 days

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#▴ — reflect upon yourself.

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guideoftime · 3 days

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@lunarisdeus ;; plotted starter.

“It’s our duty to die for the Royal Family, Sheik.” “Power like his, we can’t lose it.” “Hold him down!” “This is the fate all Sheikah fall to.”

He read a story once, when he was little, about a man who was tortured when he was young. Held prisoner by his own family, beaten every single day. He had a weak constitution and often fell sick from his poor body. The boy vowed to get stronger, to be able to protect himself, and when he finally escaped that wretched hell he was in–he hunted down that power. Bathed in the strength that the power gave him, he turned on his abusers and ripped them to shreds. That power and bloodlust corrupted his mind and in turn, he became no better than the people who abused him.

The story, Impa told him, served two meanings to the reader. That desiring and cultivating power wasn’t always the right thing to do, and that revenge was never the path someone should want to go down. Sheik remembers asking her what the boy should have done instead, because what happened to him wasn’t any more fair than what he did in turn. He remembers her telling him that not all stories are meant to have happy endings.

He wonders if at this point she’d think the same thing with his own ending.

Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think–

Sheik can remember vividly every single time he’s been worn. The feeling of having someone slip the mask on and his soul being yanked from the place his mind tries to quiet itself down into. Some–dark void that is meant to be some sort of blessing he thinks. It’s usually the Princess, the reincarnation of the Goddess of Wisdom and each time his head is flooded with the memories that she carries with her. There’s been different instances, changes in the course, he can remember even more the first time the King wore the mask. Sheik had wanted to drive his own dagger through his chest and kill the man.

This time though, there was a difference. Since Sheik was tortured turned into the mask, his (body?) existence had been kept inside the vault of the Royal Family. They call him an Heirloom of Wisdom, no one even realizing anymore that the mask they threw around so carelessly had once been a person. Had once dedicated their life in service to the Royal Family and everything that came with that. Had died for them.

He doesn’t even realize he’s not even in that vault anymore until the familiar sensation of the mask being placed on someone’s face tugs at his consciousness. Many times in his life Sheik’s wondered what it would take to shatter his own soul, what it would take to free him from this nightmare.

The mask was having a very different reaction to the body he was thrown onto through and this was enough to fully rouse Sheik from the comfortable darkness that had claimed him. When the mask takes the host, the host is usually in control. They take Sheik’s skills, his knowledge, his strength and use it for themselves. There are instances where Sheik can take control, if they let him, and then the consciousness was tucked safely into the back somewhere where he can protect them. As if he wants to protect them and not just shatter himself every single time he gets control.

But this body, this host–there was something weird.

For the first time ever he felt his consciousness shoved first and the forefront of the host and–there was nothing. He didn’t feel, sense or have another mind attached to his own. It was disorienting actually, to feel in control but also alone in the body. The connection to the host was still there, but it was wrong at the same time. It didn’t at all stop the memories that flooded into his mind.

The man that had put him on was not connected to the Royal Family at all. In fact they were about as far from it as could be. Sheik had been taken by a criminal, a pure psychopath that seemed driven by nothing other than the desire to hurt the people around him. To watch the life drain from someone’s eyes and cut them down like they were nothing more than strings dangling puppets. Living the memories of this man was one of the worst experiences Sheik’s ever had the misfortune of having when passed around from host to host. The things that they did, the things he had to experience through them–

His legs crumbled beneath him and the Sheikah tumbled to the ground, his hands barely catching him as he felt like he was choking on his own bile. He’s never been worn by such an evil man–and he’s had the King of Hyrule put his mask on before. He has no idea where he is, he definitely isn’t in the Castle, and as he tries to get his stomach to settle he carefully takes in his surroundings. It looks like he’s in Hyrule Field, close to the Great Forest, but the layout changes so many times over the years each time he’s used he can get quite lost. Sheik turned his head to the side and started looking for enemies.

That was when his gaze caught sight of someone actually moving toward him. Reflexes kick in quickly and he grabs a dagger from his thigh, yanking it out and moving to defend himself. Whatever was wrong with this transfer apparently hadn’t quite settled itself yet, or maybe Sheik was just getting old, but the vertigo seemed to throw him and he quickly lost his balance once more. Falling back to the ground he lost the fight with his stomach and yanked the mask around his neck down, emptying the contents of it onto the ground.

Whatever this man ate tasted horrible coming back up.

“Καταραμένος δολοφόνος.” Curse this man, his ancestors, his descendants and anyone else unlucky enough to share his blood. He dragged the back of his hand across his mouth and finally lifted his head to look at the stranger. They don’t seem to be a threat and his head was spinning far too much to defend himself.

#▴ — path / undecided.#lunarisdeus #// long post

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guideoftime · 4 days

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