World Tree MUSH

    Autumn has reached most of the rest of Hyrule's provinces, but in Snowpeak Province winter is full complete. Blizzards have already begun to rake over the mountain, winds howling and flinging snow into the face of unwary or unwise travellers. Since the restoration of Snowpeak Garrison, though, it's snug and warm inside without a draft to be found.
    Torches and candles are lit now that the sun has sunk below the horizon, and the dining room, such as it is, houses a single occupant. Although she may be royalty, Zelda has insisted that she share in the domestic tasks for those who have chosen to stay on at Snowpeak full time. That includes menial tasks like cooking, laundering, and other things that most blue-blooded royalty wouldn't have anything to do with.
    Tonight finds her enjoying a solitary post-dinner cup of tea in the dining room, seated demurely at the head of the table, although the plain grey dress she's managed to find is hardly regal, hair gathered up in a horsetail that speaks more of commoner than aristocrat. With her somewhat plain appearance, it could be easy to mistake her for a castle servant, or maybe a royal handmaiden, rather than the princess that she is -- indeed, the last of Hyrule's royal line.
    Of late, she has been quiet and unsociable, taken to pacing and working off restless energy in any way she can -- taking inventory, domestic tasks, practising at her archery and fencing. What very few contractors remain have taken to calling her 'she-tiger,' and avoiding her; she's taken no notice of their nervous name-calling, and has been perfectly civil and polite to the people she considers allies and friends.
    Something's been weighing on her, though, that much is certain -- and like the sun coming out from behind the clouds, over the past day or so, it's as though some of that weight has been lifted from her.

    Terra has been weirdly scarce, or at least very distant, as she's barely left the safety of Snowpeak's walls of late. Whether her doldrums have been due to depression or distraction she's not really volunteered.
    Still, she's about this evening and though her appearance is about as groomed as ever, her countenance is somewhat troubled. That look one might get when bothered constantly by some thought or sensation that's difficult to adequately process. Or articulate. Of course, as she enters the dining area it's immediately clear that she's just pacing, hardly noticing she's disturbing her hostess until she looks up.
        he half-esper reacts with a chirp and a start, stutter-stepping to a stop before gathering herself, "I didn't think anyone was still about, sorry." An awkward silence may stretch out here unless a valiant hero steps in to save the day! Oh dear! Her eyes cast about as she mentally scrambles for words and she pinches at a lock of her own hair, tugging it as if she might pull start her conversation engines. Should she mention Zelda looking nice? More cheerful?
    "Ah, sorry."
    ... Way to go. At least she has the good sense to look annoyed at herself for becoming flustered.

    There comes an owlish blink from the Hylian, who clearly hadn't noticed the intrusion until it had brought with it a sound. Had Terra come and gone silently, she might have escaped the young queen's notice altogether. Yet even in her state of distraction, Zelda is perceptive enough to notice, lifting her gaze at that odd chirruping sound.
    "Oh. Miss Branford." She arches a brow, waiting for the rest of Terra's explanation, but no more words are forthcoming. The silence gets to be a little awkward.
    Zelda gestures to the chair nearest her, and the pot of tea steaming on the table. "Well, have a seat, then. I doubt anyone else is about. I've taken to roaming the corridors by night... some company would be good. Do you like tea? I've a full pot. Help yourself."
    "Sorry?" This time the Hylian cants her head slightly to one side, looking puzzled. "Whatever for...?"

    Terra shakes her head. It was the first thing to come out of her mouth and not anything she really, actually, wanted to say. She does move to join the lone monarch, delicately adjusting the seat before taking a seat. Tea?
    Her eyes raise to regard the pot and she seizes a nearby cup from it's placement before filling it with the brew. "Thank you, ah, I was just unable to sleep."
    She does find herself wondering why she might feel so restless, though she surely takes an interest in Zelda's admission. "I mean, I suppose I understand being up late." Wandering, wondering about unexplainable somethings. She lifts the cup in both hands, not minding the heat at all as she drinks. After a warm, pleased sigh, she lowers the cup and more boldly offers, "Is there anything I can do to help?" Perhaps she's being presumptuous, or perhaps she just really likes the tea.

    "Sleeplessness? A common enough affliction, for me." Zelda lifts her teacup, cradled in slender hands. Despite their delicacy, her fingers are callused; from archery, from fencing, and from the strings of a harp. No soft aristocraft's hands, these, though they are still shapely enough in their own way. "I've grown accustomed to functioning on the barest minimum of sleep. I suppose you noticed before we arrived at the garrison that I suffer from terrible nightmares. Sometimes it is easier not to sleep."
    Her gaze settles on the half-Esper, studying the other woman with some curiosity. There is a calmness to her features that has been absent over the past weeks, a self-assurance born not of arrogance but of resolve.
    There is something both deliberate and thoughtful in Zelda's regard, as though she were making the connection herself between insomniac wanderings, and Terra's heartfelt understanding of staying up so late into the night. Too, there is a flicker of understanding in Zelda's own eyes, and perhaps some small measure of empathy.
    Is there anything she can do to help? The young queen shakes her head. "I thank you for the offer, but no. As I have no doubt explained to you, I have been praying to my goddesses and waiting for a sign, to seek out a sacred relic that will restore Link to his rightful form, and help me to win me back the kingdom that is my birthright." Zelda drops her gaze. "For whatever that may be worth. I am no doubt the very worst of Hyrule's queens. Never before in its history has Hyrule been surrendered, and control of its throne lost."
    Her attention is drawn to the teacup, and she reaches for the teapot to pour herself another cup. Once she sets the pot down, she reaches for a small silver flask, delicately and nonchalantly unscrewing the lid and pouring a measure of what looks clear and smells like paint remover, into her tea.
    Zelda picks up her cup and sips demurely. "I am adept at managing it myself. A bit of something in my tea to still my nerves. A bit in my second cup, and I have slowed enough to sleep. Not the best means of solving my little problem, but until we've a means to draw closer to regaining Hyrule, this is what the Triforce of Wisdom gives me to work with."

    Terra bobs her head as she drinks again, listening and silently comparing the similarities between her own difficulty and the way her similarly exiled companion appears to be coping.
    She dwells in particular on the thought of nightmares. Does that explain things she's recollected? Felt? Sometimes things seemed very real and at times, external and inarticulate. Once she realizies she's being considered she almost shields with the cup in her hands, feeling in some way the weight of the other woman's wisdom as if, perhaps, Zelda knows something she doesn't about herself? The brain isn't always a rational device, sadly, so such thoughts may linger in spite of all assurances to the contrary. Mentally, she tries to banish her self conscious thoughts in favor of offering something, even if she can't stand up and actually help.
    "I don't think you're the worst. You barely rest and-" Well, she's not /exactly/ sure what harsh substance turned a late night tea into a rather stiff nightcap but she gets the gist of alcohol by now. Maybe. "Anyway, you've made progress and you know what to do." Or that confidence and conviction are contagious, in a way. "I don't even know what's keeping me up at night. What I should do about it or really how to even feel." She shrugs at that, setting her cup down and reaching for the pot. Her tone, more than anything, seems less despondent than exhasperated, restless- like someone trying to scratch an itch just beyond their reach.
    "I shouldn't complain; you have been amazing, ah..." Even though, at times, a bit too intense. She leaves off at that, of course, not wanting to seem overly blunt. There's plenty of sassy greenhairs already, afterall.

    "Objectively, I am a drunkard and a coward who surrendered her kingdom to the beasts waiting at its gates." Zelda flicks a hand dismissively. "It scarcely matters now. I doubt my detractors yet live, if they were in the castle during the coup. I imagine the survivors were killed; the castle itself was put to the torch. It was burning when I stole away through the kennels and the stable."
    Her gaze drops back to her teacup, which she takes a leisurely sip from. When she opens her eyes again, the gesture is languid, unhurried. "He showed no mercy to my people, to my own /family/, and for that I will give him no quarter in turn. I would have been willing to overlook the theft of my throne. Zant, however, crossed the lines in teh sand."
    She leans forward, lacing her fingers around her teacup and inhaling the steam, summer-blue eyes fluttering closed, then open again, when Terra starts to give her last observation and trails off.
    "Go on." Zelda tips her head in clear gesture to continue.

    Here, Terra momentarily sets aside her trepidation and after a sip of tea, shows that she does have just a little bit of fire. "I think it was most important that you survived." She grimaces, thinking about people dying and things burning and all the other unpleasant memory fragments tied to what she's drawing from.
    With her gaze fixed on a point far away, she continues, "I- You had no choice but to survive so you could eventually return. You keep doing amazing things and you've made amazing friends, you're regrouping and you, we can maybe stop that person." She takes a breath, closing her eyes and trying to purge her head of ingrained, unwelcome but weirdly rational military doctrine that helped her along to her conclusion.

    "It would have been easier to just give up." Painful memories can attest to that statement. Giving up while being beaten by a hate-crazed maniac would have hurt a lot less, certainly. "I don't know what it was like. There. Then. But what you did must have been very hard." In conclusion, shut up you not-coward. She's the one that's a coward and a mope, so don't steal her thunder!

    The Hylian watches her guest, fingers curled delicately around her steaming cup. Every so often she pauses to sip at it, but she keeps her eyes focused on Terra, listening and watching. She doesn't try to speak over her. She doesn't interrupt. She waits for Terra to finish everything she's saying.
    Maybe she knows that if she does interrupt, the green-haired young woman would be too skittish to find her nerve again.
    Zelda's only response at first is to blink languidly, owlishly, gaze settling more solidly over Terra as though she were reevaluating the other after that assertion.
    "I will not lie and say that it was easy. We find strength when we are most in need of it." Zelda's gaze slides away from the half-Esper, lingering on one of the torches flickering in its sconce. "Perhaps we can stop him. Perhaps not. It will depend on how things unfold."

    Terra might very well have lost her nerve at that! Though she doesn't really hurry, it's clearly some effort for her to keep on to the finish. Her gaze flicks up, making momentary eye contact then it's back to staring into the tea.
    "I'm glad you're here, at least." She doesn't speak for anyone else but she doesn't doubt many others feel the same way. She has nothing encouraging to offer about this unknown entity, person or whatever and doesn't dare bring them up. Instead, she sips from her tea and then sits up a bit straighter. "What... Is that liquid you added to your tea like, anyway?" Oh dear.

    Terra flinches and looks down her tea, but the young queen maintains eye contact, and she doesn't so much as look down. No aspect of Hylia, this, but simple thoughtfulness and strength of will. To someone as timid as Terra, it must be like staring at the sun.
    She gives no reaction to the other woman's first assertion beyond a slight flaring of her nostrils. It proves itself as amusement a moment after she smiles, though the expression is so faint it could be missed.
    "Thank you, Terra Branford." Her gaze slides to the small silver flask. Summer-blue eyes look it over for a moment, before she eventually shakes her head. "Nothing you want any part of. Whiskey. It dulls the voice of the Triforce; allows me to sleep."
    "Speaking of that... I should go. Make some token effort at sleeping." Zelda drains her cup and sets it aside, rising and stretching in a single graceful movement. She has a runner's build, a dancer's build; steady on her feet in spite of the additive to her tea. It must be only enough to dull her fears, and not her wits.
    She looks to the door, and then back to Terra, summer-blue eyes clear; clearer than they've been in quite some time. "Soon, we ride south to Faron Wood. There we seek the Blade of Evil's Bane, the relic that will break Link's curse, and right Hyrule's wrongs. A week. Perhaps more. Whatever time Tachibana Yumi must have to set our supplies in order."
    "Good night, Miss Branford." Zelda manages a faint smile, but the nuance of it is hard to read. With that, provided Terra doesn't stop her, the young queen will pad back out of the dining hall, and up toward her quarters.