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#( issie i am rubbing my hands giggling kicking my feet at having the first Interaction on this blog
balladetto · 7 months
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cont. from here / @legendarylullaby
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     How does the saying go again? Better late than never?
     As Link watches Zelda press the cooled jar to her eye, he presses the thought to his anger: a simmering, swelling thing in the curl of his fists and the set of his jaw. He'd arrived at the tailend of— this. Whatever this is, whatever she was doing here, ears catching all the mockery but hands too far from the fist that dealt the felling blow. It isn't her first time here from what he gathers — isn't her first loss here — but any hurts to his friends have always stung worse than his own; even if it seems she sought these out herself.
     ...Maybe especially when it seems she sought these out herself.
     The tide recedes, momentarily, at her words. His fingers unwind. His shoulders slowly loosen. He moves to crouch beside her, back to the wall, head shaking with a noise of it's fine. She doesn't need to thank him for something like that.
     "'This'," he repeats, voice fading into the faint bustle of the brighter streets. The quiet holds for a moment, stretched like the band of a slingshot drawn to the fullest, before it snaps with the breath that leaves him in an audible not-quite-sigh. He looks at her— keeps looking at her. His gaze hasn't really strayed from that big bruise, now covered, or the tiny patches of scraped skin, or the reddened contours of her face.
     Concern has his brow puckered, his lips pursed. The questions on his tongue melt away for another time — save for one.
     "Where's— where...else...s'it hurt?"
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