World Tree MUSH

  Deep in Faron Woods, ancient ruins litter a broad clearing; short grass covers the earth, and thick vines snake through tumbledown stone. Dust motes dance in shafts of warm light, and a sense of slumbering power suffuses the clearing. No roads crosses this sacred ground, but the broken remnants of a path lead up to it.

  The wagon was left behind, deemed too broad to cross the narrow track, but the horses were not. Zelda had unbound her hair and changed into her ceremonial attire, vaulting astride her own greathorse while leading Link's along behind. Once they draw nearer to the clearing, she slides off the saddle, tying both to a tree.

  At the heart of the clearing is a long, rectangular flagstone, bare but for a simple stone pedestal. Carved into the pedestal's front is the faded sigil of the three Golden Goddesses.

  Thrust point-down into the pedestal so only the blued steel of its hilt shows, the legendary Master Sword awaits. The Blade of Evil's Bane is an object of ferocious power, but right now its power feels low, like glowing coals to the roaring flame of Zelda's presence.

  Zelda pads forward toward the pedestal, slowing a dozen feet from the sword. She exhales softly; bows her head. When she lifts it, her eyes are the dark autumn blue of Hylia, threads of gold through her chestnut hair. She takes a moment for her eyes to readjust.

  The demigoddess strides forward with grace and purpose, directly for the pedestal. Her hands rise as though to touch the hilt. She hesitates with her hands hovering above the hilt.

  I cannot know what will happen here today, heroes. Her voice, ringing through the mind, is as powerful; as inadvertently forceful, as ever. It is my thinking that, with mine and Tachibana Yumi's power combined, the curse may be driven from Link. It is a thing of malice, though, and once cast from him it will seek a new host, by force. I have not seen a curse of its like for a hundred thousand years. I know this work. It is not Zant's. We must needs act swiftly, once this is begun.

  She glances to one side, regarding Link obliquely. I will not lie. This will be dangerous: We will begin when you are ready. Gather your strength.

  The ground rules here were pretty simple: Be respectful, don't be too loud, don't touch the sword, don't call on power or do anything to attract the Twilight in this sacred place.

  Hylia closes her eyes, draws in a deep breath, and lays slim hands over the hilt of the Master Sword. She lifts it easily from its pedestal with a grate of metal against stone. She lifts it with more surety than Zelda might show with something so obviously heavy, and turns to face Link, sword hanging at her side.

  Are you ready, Hero? When we begin, there will be no stopping.

All through the journey, the Sacred Beast seemed to know the way. Perhaps it was because this was simply where he was meant to be, and perhaps-- perhaps he had a guide, apart from those plainly evident. Distant rustling could be heard here and there, as if something large strode not far from them. But never did the presence make itself physically evident. Even 'mentally', he's been relatively quiet.

A part of it is a simple disbelief in what they're going to be doing.

A part of it is a separate certainty in that same thing.

A chill surrounds Zelda as she seizes the Master Sword, accompanied by a rattling of mail that is connected to nothing and no one. A ghost sound for a ghostly hero, observing the same steps that he once took a very long time ago.

Link approaches the pedestal with less hesitation than Zelda does. He seats himself to the side of it, glancing at the blade until she seizes it herself. In reply to her question he tilts his head to one side-- curiously, questioningly.

Don't... doesn't... matter if I a-- I'm not, Queenie. Link replies, An' I'm not the one who's gotta do the curse breaking. You get started when you feel YOUR moment.

On the off chance this don't work out, He adds, could you thank them for me before you get going? Vague barkin' doesn't do that kinda thing justice.

    It's been a week since Rydia collapsed at the sacred spring in Faron woods, and needless to say the Summoner is beginning to look human again. between the ravenous appetite and surly mood, at least, there was no mistaking her for some kind of undead terror, but she was looking pretty pale, back there. Now, the color has returned to her a bit better and she's in less of a bad mood by the time the group had to leave the wagon behind, surprisingly, she did not complain!
    In fact, the last Summoner of Mist is cowed into an awed and reverent silence by the time the group arrived in the clearing with the sword.
    "That's... That's it, right? That's... What we've been looking for isn't it?" She whispers, not caring who she gets an answer from as she hunkers down somewhere to not be in the way of sacred rituals and sword drawings.

Amara continued to tag along behind Cecil's group. She doesn't want to /outright/ admit she's half-doing it to make sure he doesn't turn his big evil butter knife on Rydia. (But is that really why she's doing it...? She's not really sure why....)

If nothing else, the mysteries of this world are interesting, and the blue mage ends up standing by with her weight resting partly on her staff. She leans against it, the point pressed shallowly into the turf.

"I can actually /feel/ that sword from here," she remarks with a blink, though in truth she probably can't. "It's pretty impressive. It must take quite the guy to wield it."

It occurs to her to try and make that more pointed, but she can't bring herself to sass Cecil about comparative sword ethics right now. All she can really do here is settle in to watch with interest to see what Zelda and her apparently divine alter ego actually do to both Link and the sword.

    For any other opposing force, Yumi Tachibana might have her concerns. Against forces of corruption like death or demons, she holds no more advantage than any other magic-user; though her element is sunlight, it holds no particular purifying or holy properties. No moreso than any bright sunlight or searing flame, anyway. However, against a curse rooted in the very shadows... that just might make her power worthwhile here.

    So the redhead is here in her transformed state, armor gleaming faintly in the light blanketing the clearing. As she steps forward, just behind Link and Zelda, she regards the sword with faint curiosity, briefly glancing back at Rydia and Amara. Her magical senses are much more specialized than either of theirs; she can only sense one thing, and the Master Sword most certainly isn't it.

    Still, even she can feel the subtle 'weight' in the air. Even if she were a normal human, Yumi's pretty sure she'd know the sword was something special. "I'm ready whenever," she offers simply.

Anna (whose powers seem more windy than ... lighty) had offered to scout ahead on their way here. The first person to veto this was Spiral, who informed her and the rest of the convoy that her abilities were a little too ostentatious, which Anna had said was fair.

Nevertheless, Anna has transformed into her magical girl form, and she now has the blue and green and white costume and cobalt-blue hair, mostly because she has considerably more stamina in this form. "... I mean, it's a good thing I transformed before we got here, no flashy displays is one of the ground rules," she remarks, "but this kind of situation has 'boss fight' written all over it."

The golden-furred catlike form of Spiral frowns, perched on Anna's shoulder. "Here's hoping you're wrong about that."

Spiral's eyes flicker with pearlescent light as she scans the Master Sword. "And I can see what you're feeling," she says as an aside to Amara. "Even with a goddess holding it."

    Terra is, of course, her usual quiet self for this last leg of the journey. Her eyes sweep around, taking in every little detail she can reasonably notice of the place. Old stonework, overgrowth, the effects of the lighting doing things to her imagination. She may seem a little nervous in the presence of such subtle or not-so-subtle power. Makes her nerves feel all frayed, though clearly there's no reason to be afraid.

    Then, Zelda isn't just Zelda anymore. Again. She stops at a respectful distance, giving everyone present a look. She may or may not drift to stand near Rydia, once again offering a comforting presence as much as seeking for herself. There's no sense in saying anything and she's not of much use at this very moment so she does her best to simply remain still.

    Still, even if she's aflutter at the vibes from this place. Like someone who's had a few too many shots of espresso after taking a year long break from caffeine. A hand lifts and she presses at the back of her own neck, as if she might hold her hackles down and still her own nerves.

  Those dark blue eyes fix on a point somewhere past Link's shoulder, although it's hard to say whether Hylia can see the spirits that attend him. Her eyes narrow just slightly as she studies the shadows, but she lets it go, shaking her head slightly.

  I will tell them. She looks back to Link directly, thoughtful. But know this: I am not your Queen. Even someone as far-removed from the rest of Hyrule ought to know that. It's a gentle chide; mostly amused, but also serious as well.

  Hylia looks to the others. Before we begin, he wishes to thank you all for your continued assistance, in the event that this does not end as planned. Her mouth twitches; almost-mirth.

  But we will succeed. Hylia is either confident, a good actress, or both.

  I forged this blade by my own hands, with the essences of the three dragons Faron, Eldin, and Lanayru. In it I imbued the light of the Golden Goddesses and the essence of the wide blue sky. Hylia hefts the blade easily, testing its weight. I remember you, now, she murmurs.

  The blade is lifted, slowly and deliberately, and its point is rested on Link's shaggy shoulder. The power around Hylia rises monstrously; like the wrath of the sun itself, and she steps forward to lay her other hand on his shoulder, fingers tangling into the ruff of longer fur around Link's throat. She tugs his head down to whisper into his ear.

  Whatever you do, son of Ordona, do not permit the darkness to return to you.

  Tachibana Yumi. A cue; Hylia's voice sharp as a whipcrack. Lend me your power. We will drive it out.

  And they do. Light flares around Hylia, bright enough to leave afterimages; like staring directly at the sun. The feeling may be strange to Link, too, as a persistent tugging at some strangely foreign but cohesive part of him -- the body of the Sacred Beast he's been wearing for so long. But that thing isn't part of him, and not at all natural.

  How he reacts, however, is anyone's guess, which might be why Hylia is gently but firmly restraining him.

    Watching the blade is almost hypnotic, in a way. Perhaps it's the knight in Yumi, recognizing a magnificent weapon. She's almost startled when Zelda speaks her name. "Ah, right." She takes a step forward and lifts up her hand as the light grows around Hylia, and a second light blossoms beside the first. It's a fair bit smaller, concentrated in Yumi's palm - or rather, in the space just in front of it. A gold-white light, brilliant and pure sunlight, warm and steady. Her eyes take on a steadfast focus, calm and unwavering, unbothered for the moment by the radiance the two of them are putting out.

A harsh breathing sound fills the ruin surrounding the pedestal. It echoes in a unique, tinny way characteristic to someone breathing heavily within the confines of armor. A heavy mist descends, from which emerges the rattling shade. It does not feel hostile, exactly, but no one could ever describe it as feeling SAFE. It was a hero, once. However virtuous, what hero can be called safe? But it must not be a wicked thing, because it stands here and now without the slightest difficulty. If it reached out its hand it could take the Master Sword from Hylia, if she permitted it.

A burning ember blazes in a single socket.

It is not a matter merely of being worthy of the blade, The Shade seems to breathe into the world more than speak, but also of the blade being prepared for a master. If there was no need for it, then even the strongest and most virtuous soul could not loose it from its pedestal.

The Shade surveys Hylia.

One day... It rattles, not at all deferential. Insofar as it has a readable tone, it is more the stuff of someone who has not seen a very good friend in a long time offering an awkward apology.

The Hero's Shade withdraws into the mist without another word.

Link himself is taking all of this in stride. He looks up towards Hylia with distant recognition, blinking slowly at her. He looks from Goddess, to the sword, and back again. There is a sense of a smile, even on his canine features.

Really? He wonders, I thought that was what you wanted.

This is, perhaps, an unprecedented insight from Link, who has never displayed even a dim shadow of understanding of his past lives before. Even he looks a little confused at himself the instant after he communicates that thought.

I'll do my best. Link decides. It is, although he doubtless does not understand it, perfectly emblematic of the attitude of every incarnation that came before him.

The restraint turns out to be only half-necessary. It's been long enough since Link's first transformation that he didn't remember how much it hurt, and while this power is of a much more benign nature it is also separating and driving a wedge between 'himself' and the curse. He gives a single great reflexive jerk at the front end of it -- enough to send an ordinary man flailing away -- and after that it has more in common with pain management than anything else.

Gradually he slides from his sitting position as the energy to remain upright leaves him, until Hylia is the only thing really keeping him from slumping over onto his side. The only unprompted signed of continued consciousness is the characteristic heavy breathing accompanied by periodic involuntary grunts of somebody who Really Needs Some Morphine.

There is a thunderous CRACK and suddenly there are two Links interposed over the same space. One the wolf, and the other the man. The pair flicker violently in place, a golden light spreading through each of them until the silhouette of the wolf begins to move away.

Noise like electricity turned into random musical notes fills the ruins, fading to a light hum as the wolf stops moving. It becomes fixed in place, holding position on the other side of the sword from where the hylian Link lies.

It doesn't go away, but it seems rendered down into a spiritual body. Held at a fixed distance, with the sword acting as a border that it cannot meaningfully cross.

Link -- the true Link -- makes a long-suffering noise, like somebody who both has the worst hangover imaginable, slept for exactly three hours, and finds themselves waking among the sterile unceasing artificial lighting and noise of a casino.

    Cecil is here for one reason only: to be watched by Amara! Or, more likely, because he's worked with Zelda enough to want to help out and is curious. He's at least met Link in Hylian form, so he knows the wolf is an able swordsman, and thus if this works he's sure they won't need his blade...

    It never hurts to have a spare, though.

    The radiance fortunately doesn't hurt the Dark Knight, but he keeps a solemn attention for the whole affair. Well, mostly. His hand goes to the hilt when the crackle of energy causes that noise, and reveals... well, the person he expected. That noise is something he had to be wary about though!

    The address of the goddess is another thing to consider. He murmurs, "A dispossessed knight for a dispossessed queen. I suppose it is only fitting."

Admittedly Amara had to have it explained to her why Zelda wanted to give the sword to a wolf.

Resting her hand at her collar, the blue mage listens and looks on with eyebrows raised a little.

The harsh sound of something breathing puts her immediately on edge. Frowning, Amara shifts her weight off of her staff, curling both hands around it as the shade makes its appearance. "Not sure how I feel about that," she mutters to herself, recoiling just a little.

Soon enough, the ceremony's over, and the one left behind is the /real/ link. Amara's lower lip drops ever so slightly, then snaps closed again as she grasps for something meaningful or compelling to say. Something of immense gravity has happened despite the fact that she doesn't understand it, and not much she can say could truly add to it.

"...So that happened," is all Amara manages.

    "That happened." Rydia confirms. "It's not the first time it's happened." Added a beat later.
    No, indeed, it's not the first time she had seen the Hero' Shade, or Link's true form.
    The girl simply reaches up and puts a hand on the Mysidian mage's back.
    "You kind of get used to it, hanging out around this crew."
    She pauses.
    "I'm kind of going to miss scratching behind his ears."

Anna and Spiral both tense up as she watches the light show. Their gazes flit this way and that, anywhere an attack might come from.

(... Anna isn't actually all that great at gauging where an attack might come from, and Spiral is only marginally better. But it's the thought that counts.)

And then there's that shade of a knight. Anna almost attacks then and there, but when it speaks up, she relaxes ... about halfway. It occurs to her then that she's probably a little too high-strung at the moment.

But then it's over, and Anna exhales. "Well, now," she says. She breaks into a grin. "That worked!"

Spiral nods. "No boss fight, either," she says dryly.

Anna snickers, then nods to Rydia. "Guess I'll have to hang around this crew more, then!"

    A shade? Terra, though wired with nervous energy, is weirdly unafraid of the ghost. Apparition. Whatever it is! Perhaps it's dangerous, perhaps not. Were she not advised to keep away she might have even tried to touch it.

    Despite her lack of fear, she's still very much on edge. Up until the moment the ghost made an appearance, she'd been almost totally lost in watching Yumi, Zelda-Hylia and Link. That tension, though, manifests as a rather raw if slightly stifled squeak at that sudden noise. Link's proper form separating from that bestial body so suddenly leaves her flush with embarassment for her disruption.

    Her eyes rove to Amara, then Rydia as the process seems to conclude. Their commentary is oddly comforting! She looks to everyone in turn, then back to the assembled trio by the pedestal.

    Rydia's right. She'll miss petting those ears too.

    "Ah? Boss...?"

  Hylia glances over one shoulder to regard the direction the voice and the sawing breath issue from. Her gaze lingers for a few long moments, as though she were trying to pinpoint where the spirit hovers, thinning her lips as the ancient soul offers his limited wisdom. He should know.

  For a moment she seems like she's almost going to say something, gaze lidded, but she closes her mouth and shakes her head. As this one says: The Blade of Evil's Bane sleeps until it is needed, and then it wakens to its wielder when the time comes. The time is come now, she says gently, softly; almost wistfully, though I regret every wakening. Hylia's tone softens even further as she regards the wolf whose head is in her hands. She sighs over him. Yes... this is what was wanted of you. For Hyrule. But do not mistake that as my intent: I regret every wakening, Hero. And I regret that you have never remembered why.

  She does watch Link almost curiously when he answers the Hero's Shade. Her narrow very slightly; thoughtful, and maybe even just a sliver of surprise.

  Then, there is a curse to deal with. Hylia keeps her attention fixed solely on Link. Fingers tighten in a grip of iron when he lurches, maintaining even as he slouches to the soft grass. She eases him down, but holds his head up, her countenance fierce at the thunderclap as the two halves split.

  She leans down, carefully, as though to check and make sure he's still alive through that long-suffering sound.

  He will live. She takes a step back, letting Link find his sea legs himself. Poor guy. Looks like life's gonna suck for him for a little while.

  Deep in the back of Hylia's consciousness, Zelda wonders briefly if donating her whisky to him would be a noble cause, or whether it would be considered an act of cruelty.

  She turns then to face the wolf on the other side of the sword, eyes ablaze. You, however, do not belong here. Begone. Be sealed by this blade, and my will.

  ...There's no pomp, no circumstance. The wolf simply... fades, although at the same time, the light of the Master Sword dims just a little. Its light doesn't go out -- but it has taken the curse into itself.

  Hylia reverses her grip on the blade, and lowers it to rest, point-down, over the soft grass. It's there she'll wait for Link to compose himself... well, she's not going to present it to him while he's busy reeling on the ground.

    Only as the curse fades does Yumi relent her own magic. The ball of light briefly surges, then dims and winks out of existence. In just a handful of seconds, the added warmth in the air is gone as well. For a heartbeat, the magical girl looks between the Master Sword and its newly-restored wielder, but much as she wants to step over and start fussing, she's hardly the best person for it here. No, it's best if she stands aside.

    Instead, she detransforms, and takes a step aside to leave plenty of room. And for the moment, the girl busies herself examining her hand in the wake of that sustained light.

Anna looks even more relieved when the curse-wolf vanishes. "Okay," she says. Then she giggles, and looks around. "Well, I'm glad I was wrong about that!" She focuses her own power, and then detransforms as well in a swirl of pale blue light. She's back to her civilian garb, and her hair's brown again.

She looks over curiously at Terra. "Hmm ...?"

"I reckon..." Link speaks with the care of somebody whose head is throbbing with every syllable, "that about sums up my life for the last..." He waves a hand to indicate an ambiguous period of time. Quite possibly, he hasn't bothered keeping up with it. In a lot of ways, he's a very in-the-now person.

He's still dressed like a goatherd from a backwoods village in nowhere Hyrule. A little short relative to his size as a wolf, though he rightfully /looks/ like he wrestles giant goats, lean as he is.

With a steadying sigh, Link squints into the surroundings. His eyes find Cecil quickly, and he manages a feeble grin, "Didjya think you were gonna have to fight me? Or maybe just the wolf, once it got kicked out?"

Even to him, it doesn't seem out of the question. Link sort of expected to have to duel... himself... in some way. Thankfully, it didn't happen. A part of him can't help but wonder if the old ghost had something to do with that, but there's really no telling.

To Rydia, he asides, "I hope there ain't a third time. But I don't feel the way I did last time. Back then..."

"Back then, I could feel my energy goin', y'know? Like whatever magic exists inside me was fightin' to keep me myself, but there just wasn't enough of it. I don't feel anything like that right now."

After a moment more of remaining still, Link gets himself to his feet. He's sluggish, and a little wobbly. Probably not fit for fighting just yet, especially compared to the primal strength of the wolf. He rolls his neck with a series of prominent pops.

"A few of you have been through this before," Link says, "but I'm Link. Mighty thankful for all the work people have put in to setting me back to normal. /And/ for the occasional ear scritching."

"You alright over there?" He asides to Yumi, since he can only assume she just exhausted a great deal of power on him.

Then, at last Link's attention swings back around to Hylia. Link grins appreciatively, but shakes his head, "Ain't what I meant, but I appreciate that this isn't what you wanted to happen. But if you've gotta go through this stuff anyway... I dunno. I guess there's just a part of me, that thinks you're too far away. I don't really understand."

A few nastier thoughts occur to Amara: /I wonder if this is how Dark Knights get their swords./ Her eyes linger on the back of Cecil's head for a moment, as if she's reminding herself what the back of his helmet looks like.

Then she rests her staff over her shoulder as she watches Link recover - and he's not a dog this time!

"Hi Link! I'm Amara," she puts in, apropos of nothing. "And I'll totally have to find some way to make up for missed ear-scritchings."

She does not wink. Amara is much too nice for that.

    "It's probably for the best." Rydia says at length, dusting off her tunic. Even if it means no more ear scritches.
    "So now that he's got the shiny sword of badness smashing, do we still have to stay up in that super cold mountain fortress, or can we actually take the badness smashing to some badguys now?"
    Cut her some slack, she's seven.

    The proceedings are going well, it seems. People are returning to their normal states and the vibe, though it persists, at least doesn't agitate Terra quite so much. She feels good? She thinks. Right? 

    Then Anna addressses her confused reply and she freezes up. No, no, talk! "... Giving ear scritches was nice." Hokay, well done. At least she learned a new word! To her credit, she does almost glow from Link's gratitude.

    Amara's pledge is baffling. Is it okay to do that to people and not animals? The half-esper gives the back of Rydia's head a very serious, contemplative look and her hand twitches ever so slightly.

    "It's good to see you again," Cecil says to Link. "In a shape that can talk, that is. Heh. I wasn't sure what to expect. We've had a lot of random fights of late, and I wanted to be sure." Well not so random, maybe, but...

    He eyes the ones mumbling about ears. Sadly Cecil is not one to suggest scritching ears anyway.

    "Looks like I'll need to stick around for a little while longer until you recover, but it sounds like this one is for keeps."

    Oop. Caught spacing out. Yumi starts guiltily when Link calls out to her, looking up with a touch of embarrassment. "A-ah, yeah, I'm fine. It's just... I mean, I knew I could, but I've never actually held my magic steady for that long before. Never had a need to. There's a lot I'm doing for the first time, or still haven't done yet, I guess." She shakes her hand out as if to dismiss the thought, and puts both of her hands in her pockets, moving over to stand closer to the rest of the group. "I dunno, I kind of like having our own private fortress. Though I guess if we could get one that's a lot more convenient without having Twilight problems, that'd be preferable." That mountain is one heck of a hike.

  That is not altogether wrong. Hylia's observation on Link's description of the curse is thoughtful. Did you feel it slide back and forth, hither and yon? Could you feel your humanity slipping away, only to slip back to you, like the ebb and flow of the tides? The goddess cocks her head, studying Link with a piercing look, a bizarre mixture of dispassion and curiosity.

  ...She may be relateable, but sometimes Hylia demonstrates pretty handily that she isn't human and doesn't think like one any more and probably hasn't for a very long time. Interesting that you no longer feel that tugging of sides, now. Then we have succeeded in our mission, and we have confined the curse. Mm. It is not an ideal solution, but all in all, it is less messy than any possible alternatives.

  At his description of lost time, Hylia shakes her head. Gone is her clinical curiosity in the effects of the curse on the mortal psyche; replaced with such profound regret that it's almost human-looking. She regrets setting these cycles into motion. They're always a disaster to whoever has to live through them.

  Her head tilts at a very slight but noticeably sharp angle when Link responds to her directly. She lifts a brow, eyes lidded, as though she were considering his words thoughtfully, but only shakes her head in the end.

  To Cecil's observation that this de-cursing is more permanent, Hylia only nods, once; a solemn inclination of her chin. It's strange -- she shares Zelda's features, but the eyes are all wrong, too dark and too ancient, and her hair is too light.

  I will have to leave military tactics to your queen. It is not in my nature to function on such a narrow scale. She means it. There's just a touch of the Other behind those eyes, just enough to remind that she is not mortal, although she's on the more sociable end of the scale of Hyrule's gods. Maybe it comes of lying dormant in the consciousness of mortals for so long. I will relinquish control of her soon. It will not do to draw so deeply of her power. It is limited. Fare thee well, brave heroes.

  Zelda bows her head again, and just when it seems she might need a helping hand to not fall flat on her face, she catches herself, straightening and shaking her head as though to clear spots from her vision. There are still traces of dark flecks in her eyes, and the occasional strand of hair too blonde to be hers, but it looks like the princess is back from... wherever... she'd gone.

  "Oh, don't worry about that." Zelda smiles, pleasantly, at Yumi's comment on fortresses. It's the kind of smile that heralds bad news. "We're not leaving Snowpeak Garrison any time soon. Zant isn't smart enough to look in a place like that, and any pets of his that we've caught, we've dispatched. There haven't been any alive to bring word back to him, at least not unless he's communicating with them telepathically. Which I suppose is a possibility," she muses, with a crestfallen little sigh.

  With a shake of her head, she continues. "It would be tactical suicide to give up our position there, at least until I've the opportunity to reclaim my castle, push his forces out, and reestablish a defensive perimeter that will withstand assault by the Twilight."

  Zelda stops talking for a few seconds.

  "I am going to have such a goddesses-be-damned headache for the next week," she observes conversationally, before she crumples to the ground.

  The others are probably ready for this. It happens a lot around here. Something about goddesses containing more power than they can shove into the body of their vessel, burning a candle on both ends, something something something.

  Anyway, she probably will wake up with a ferocious screaming headache, and it's probably going to last her at least a week or two after that stunt.

"Pleased to meetcha, Amara." Link replies, doing his best to remain cheery but visibly flagging a little even after this short time. He politely refrains from commenting on the ear-scritching, or lack thereof. Or maybe he's just straightforward enough that he legitimately isn't bothered by how weird that is in this new context.

Rydia's question prompts him to look back towards the Master Sword, a little uncertain. /Is/ this actually his, now? Does it make that sort of difference? It's hard to say, not that a little uncertainty about the circumstances ever really stopped him from diving in headfirst anyway.

If it did, he wouldn't be here.

He remarks to Terra, "I seemed to get that a lot, when people figured out I was closer to a dog than a man-eatin' wolf. Don't think the same idea applies to my current form, but..."

The twitch of Terra's hand doesn't go unnoticed-- but Link chooses to leave it alone.

"Well, /I'm/ sure not complainin'," He says to Cecil, "and I'm grateful for how much you've been keepin' an eye on things. Even bein' strong only goes so far without..."

Link wiggles his fingers animatedly, "Well, y'know. Can't say more help is unwelcome, though, even if I'm a bit more capable. An' yeah... I don't know if I'm gonna be swingin' full-force for a little while yet. I know all about fights comin' in the weirdest places, too. You ever run across an upset cucco?"

To Yumi he replies, "Prolly best to keep operatin' out of that place, even once we've gotten someplace a little less... snowy, and hike-y. It's just inconvenient for people to get at. Even if we clear up one of the other provinces, there ain't many good places to go besides it."

Link listens to what Hylia has to say about the curse, but his awareness dims substantially about the Weird Stuff he was remarking about mere moments ago. He looks like he wants to say something, but inside he doesn't even know what it might have been.

Then Hylia is gone, and there is only Zelda. For a confused moment he wonders if that's quite right again-- and then it passes, and he realizes what's about to happen before it does. Link steps in and seizes both Zelda and the sword before they hit the ground.

As his hand grasps the hilt of the Master Sword, it shimmers and assumes a different form-- the handguard narrowing, and lightening to a cooler shade of blue. Link doesn't manage to stop Zelda's descent entirely, crumpling to a kneel from the unexpected effort required to take even her weight.

"Ah--" With a rather sheepish look, Link says, "I don't reckon I'm gonna be able to lift her proper. Sorry to need so much helpin' even after bein' put back to a useful state, but could one of you get her?"

Anna ... looks away from Terra in embarrassment. "Sorry," she says softly. Gahhh, she made her nervous again!

She nods, listening to Hylia-Zelda. "Guess it's back to Snowpeak, then?" she says. "Or, uh ..." She blinks as Zelda starts to topple over ... Oh, Link's got her WAIT NO LINK HASN'T GOT HER. Legs surrounded by a faint blue glow, Anna zips over and moves to support Zelda's other side. "Okay, wow!" she says, grinning weakly. "Let's get her over to someplace she can rest!"

    Terra looks up from Rydia to Link as she's addressed. "Ah-" Oh, perhaps doing that to people isn't appropriate. She sneaks another look at Anna, managing a quick, "Sorry." Almost at the same time. Awkward!? She's better than she was, at least. Someday she'll manage around new people just fine.

    Then, the goddess is gone. It's hard to miss that pounding, overwhelming presence. It's just a few beats, it seems, before Zelda's finally had enough. She makes it about a half-step by the time Anna has closed the gap to offer the two Hylians support.

    They really made this sound a lot more frightening than it turned out to be. She manages to look rather tranquil in that moment, even if she doesn't quite smile. Soon, it'll be back to cold nights at Snowpeak, spoiling monster horses with apples. Okay, now she smiles a little bit.