World Tree MUSH

  Vast swaths of the kingdom enjoy relatively mild winters. Snowfall does happen in the lowlands, but in most cases, it isn't enough to shut down entire regions. Life would normally go on in places like Castle Town, if Castle Town and Hyrule Castle weren't abandoned, burnt-out husks. Snow blankets the vast sweep of Hyrule Field around the citadel. The further towards the mountains one goes, the more desolate the winter becomes. In the low foothills, snow is piled high and deep. Higher up, the passes almost can't be navigated. Up above, at the highest points of Hyrule's mountains, at the roof of the kingdom, it is nothing short of a frozen hell.

  Peak Province is the highest region of Hyrule. It is entirely mountainous, rugged and undeveloped, with no villages or settlements to call its own. The only noteworthy landmark in this wild, lonely place is a single fortified castle. Snowpeak Garrison was originally meant to house a number of soldiers, but it was abandoned after its construction. Ghost stories circulate in the lower foothills about this place, in areas like...

  Well, no, Kakariko Village is an abandoned husk, too.

  Hm. /Something/ happened in this iteration of Hyrule. Something terrible. Not recent, either. These places look like they've been abandoned for years. Structures are beginning to fall into disrepair. The natural world has begun the process of reclaiming some of them. There are much smaller settlements scattered around; much more temporary. People have been forced to live like nomads, fleeing natural both disaster and the strange, magical twilight that shrouds vast swaths of the kingdom: A mysterious blight that warps perceptions and casts the skies in a sickly orange light. Oddly geometric embers drift and dance. Bizarre and dangerous monsters roam the countryside.

  Higher up, one can almost forget the curse of the Twilight slowly ravaging the land below. The snow purifies everything. The wind scours away cares of the world. In the chill grip of winter, everything becomes meaningless but to survive the next blizzard.

  There are lights on in the garrison, and its broken skeleton has been repaired over the last year or two. It's too new-looking to be abandoned or haunted like the rumours say it is.

  Also, Vines occasionally dump travellers near its courtyard.

  Today, the courtyard is piled high with snow. The weak winter sun has already sunk below the jagged peaks around the garrison, and the temperatures are starting to drop in earnest. Wind has begun to tug at the ramparts, skirling around the tower. It's a rotten night to be caught outside.

  Fortunately there's something of a path that leads up to the courtyard, and it's been dug out enough that the front door is not only easy to locate but looks like it might actually open.

  In fact there's a figure out there now. Wearing a dark hooded robe and struggling against the wind to climb the battlements, the lone figure holds the lamp up high, gazing out over the path that leads up to the manor. Surely nobody could actually see that well from that far away, right?

    A place like this is kind of akward to drop into through the Vines, if one isn't prepared for the snow and the cold. Unfortunately for one Shirou Emiya, while this isn't his first visit to this region of Hyrule, it *still* isn't an intentional one.

    Turns out trying to desperately search for a Vine that might magically bring you back to the World you originally came from, combined with *somehow* still not fully grasping how to properly navigate the Vines is not a very good combination.

    Sound travels easier in a place like this, so the sound of a surprised yell and a soft *thump* of something falling into a deep snowbank might very well be heard before the robed figure at the battlements ever sees anything.

    "Why?!" exclaims a red-haired would-be-magus in frustration over having been quite literally dumped out of a Vine here, as he lifts his face up from the freezing snow coating the ground, a dust of white exploding around him from the quick motion meant to bring bare skin away from the source of cold as quickly as possible. "Do I need to start carrying warmer clothes with me just in case...? Brrr..."

    It's dark here this time around, so he doesn't immediately recognize his surroundings. But he does quickly understand that he can't stay out in the cold for very long like this -- at least not long enough for him to be blindly trying to find the opening to a Vine all over again here. His jacket provides *some* protection against the elements, but it's meant for early winters of Fuyuki City rather than an actual mountaintop.

    So, like the lost puppy he is, Shirou promptly turns for the first sign of shelter-- the light in the distance, up the snowy hill. Stomping desperately towards the garrison, arms clutching around his shivering body in an effort to work at least some warmth to himself, and trying to ignore the slightly-loosened strap of the tube-shaped pack he carries resulting in the pack thumping uncomfortably against his back with every stomping step through snow.

  Torches nearer to the garrison paint flickering warm light across frozen shadows. It's enough light to see the figure has a bow, and the second there's a yell out in the dark, the bow is trained on it. It's visible because the steel of an arrowhead glints in the darkness.

  The figure up there ducks out of sight a moment later.

  When Zelda reappears, it's as she slogs through waist-high snow outside the courtyard, hooded robe whipping in the wind. She has a lantern held high. No sooner can Shirou look up and notice the garrison or the bobbing lantern than the figure is practically attempting to tackle Shirou, to clutch at and drag him towards the garrison doors.

  "Inside!" The voice of 'Sheik' is sharp and loud in close quarters, but even a little further away from his face the wind almost snatches it. "It's not safe out here!"

  In the distance, there's a distant scream.

  It's very much not human. It doesn't even sound animal. It's just wrong.

  "Inside!" The young woman's tone is insistent, and so is her yanking at his arm toward the open front doors.

    Shirou might have perceptive eyes, owing to the time spent in practicing archery. Even more so when he gets the chance to Reinforce his eyesight! But his overall situational awareness, especially atop a freezing, highly windy mountaintop? Not so great.

    So he doesn't notice the appearance of 'Sheik' until she is already outrihgt tackling him over, drawing a yelp of surprise and alarm both from the young man. There's a brief instance of initial struggle borne out of reflex, but thankfully, her words sink in before he has the time to put up an actual fight.

    Not safe here? Sure, it's cold enough to freeze to death, but--

    And then the inhuman scream.

    A chill runs up Shirou's spine, and suddenly the insistence of getting inside seems much more reasonable and urgent, and before long she will find that she doesn't even need to force him to come along, since his feet are suddenly *very willing* to run straight for the doors.

    Once through, he even helps push them closed in a hurry -- the lost feeling in his bare fingers completely ignored for the sake of chasing that safety from the unknown enemy. "What's out there?!"

  Two things are obvious in close quarters. Sheik is fast, and she's stronger than she looks. Gloved fingers clutch at Shirou's upper body in an effort to bodily haul him through the drifts, towards the courtyard, with its torchlight and promise of distant warmth. Her breath fogs in the frozen air, and she pauses in her struggling every so often to look out to the darkened treeline.

  Fortunately, the hapless visitor gets with the program pretty quick. Zelda gives him a helpful shove out of the snowdrift, and from there it's across the courtyard and into the manor. The Hylian shoulders the door shut behind them, and slides home a well-oiled iron bolt. That wasn't original to the structure, but it's been worth every rupee.

  Only then does she turn, resting against the back of the door. There's a dull thump against the door. It's not enough to even move the thick oak timbers, banded in iron and bolted. As she sweeps the hood back from her face, Zelda's face twists in what could be disgust, rage, or some combination of the two. She reaches up to flick snow from her hair and eyes Shirou dubiously.

  "Ah. Master Shirou." She tilts her head. "A messenger of the Twilight," Zelda proclaims, with more calm than she looks like she might be feeling. "A monster. Do not open this door," she adds, stomping the snow from her boots and shrugging out of her robe, hanging it on a peg near the door. Beneath she wears warm woolen riding clothes; simple fare suited for a commoner, but there's still an aristocracy and grace about her movements. "I wounded it earlier. It will not last the night."

  There is a serene confidence to her statement, although whether she means it's going to die of its wounds or whether Zelda's going to go out there and finish it off herself, it's hard to say.

  "Come." The Hylian beckons from down the hall, heading towards the kitchen. "Have something hot. How long have you been out in the snow?"

    Strong as the door might be, Shirou is instinctively pushing himself against it as well. There's no point to it, really. In the event the door didn't hold, he surely wouldn't be physically strong enough to keep the beast on the other side from simply bowling right through.

    Thankfully, he doesn't need to truly even try, but he's still left for a good moment with his palms - with his fingers having lost their color some from the cold - pressed against the wooden frame.

    "A-ah?" He hears his name spoken, and it's only then that he really looks back over to the figure that brought him inside, and the Hylian face now looking at him with the hood back. "...Oh. Lady... Sheik?" He blinks slowly, and finally lets himself actually take in *where* he is. "Oh. I see... It was dark so I didnt realize--" He shakes his head, and finally lets himself lean back away from the door.

    The offer of something hot? Like music to his ears. He's already back to rubbing his hands together in an effort to get the blood flowing through them properly after just that short while in the freezing outdoors. "I... quite literally just dropped in," he tells her, while following along. "I guess your place is kind of... easy to make a wrong turn to. Sorry, I'm still working ont his whole... Vine navigation thing. I was sure I was going to find it this time..."

  The door is strong, built from new timbers made with modern techniques, imported from offworld. It doesn't even rattle in its frame, although the booming thud of impact is loud in the silent hall.

  She must have confidence to turn her back on it, but the stiffness of her posture suggests conscious effort. As Shirou reorients herself, Zelda pauses to glance back at him. Lady Sheik? "No." She only shakes her head, quietly. "I am only 'Sheik.' That's right; something hot. You look like you were out there for some time."

  The kitchen is the same: Too big for the scant handful of offworld souls who live here, but clean and well maintained.

  "I believe that happened the last time. You know, one needn't fall through the Vines. One can simply walk through them," she adds dryly, hanging an iron kettle over the hearth. "Stand here. You'll dry more quickly."

  "You are lucky." Zelda tilts her head just enough to regard Shirou from the corner of a grave, summer-blue eye. "The mountain is not kind. Travellers are warned away from Peak Province in the dead of winter. Even I cannot leave this place when the snow lies deep, save for only the greatest of need. It is too easy to lose one's way in the blizzards that scour this place from the peaks." 

  She turns back to the hearth, pulling off her gloves and flexing similarly cold and white fingers before the fire. "We have guest rooms. Stay the night, at least. You will be safe within these walls; in fact, you shall have a guard, if you like." Her mouth twists, amused. "You would not even know she's there."

    "A-ah... Sheik then, I apologize." Shirou's face twists just a measure towards embarrassment over this unintended faux pa. "Sorry, I'm never sure how to address people in different countries... or worlds, as it may be. But yes, please, something hot... I feel like my fingers are about to fall off."

    The young man coughs akwardly on the matter of how Vines can (and should be) travelled, and he promptly looks off to the side. "Y-yeah, I... I'm still getting the hang of it."

    Approaching the hearth, he rubs his hands together for a brief moment more, before holding them out towards the warmth of the fire, sighing out with relief. "I kind of gathered that. Do... monsters wander this way around often? I remember what you told me about the situation of your country last time I was here, but... I guess I didn't fully grasp just how grave things might be."

    Inevitably, he even crouches just by the fire, in an attempt to bring the warmth spreading as much over his body as possible -- the poor boy really isn't used to colds like what faced him outside, but the offer of staying at the guest rooms brings him looking to Zelda, with a faintly hesitant expression. "If it's... no trouble. I don't want to impose." As far as the explanation of a guard goes, though, he blinks rapidly. "Uh...? Do you employ ninjas as your guards? ...Actually, maybe it's better I don't know."

  Zelda's correction is gentle, at least, and there's a bizarre note of amusement in her voice when she acknowledges the title. It's the tone of someone subtle enjoying a private joke. That summer-blue gaze is on him the entire time -- the eyes of a soul orders of magnitude older than the twenty-some years she seems to be. This young lady must have been quite the precocious child, indeed. She is quiet, but mistaking that for meekness would be a foolish mistake.

  "I take no insult." She shakes her head in dismissal. "The situation is... complicated." A slightly cryptic thing to say, but she doesn't elabourate any further.

  Her lips thin as she glances back to him, a frown slashing across that aristocratic face. Up to now her expressions have been subtle, more or less, but now there is very real anger in those eyes: Cold as a glacier, and just as inexorable. "Ordinarily, no. But the activity of monsters has increased dramatically over the past years. Since the death of the royal family, the kingdom has collapsed. The murdering usurper sits the throne in name only; he does not rule, and until the goddesses show us a sign of what to do in the absence of the royal family..." She shakes her head, letting out her breath. "The end of the royal line is an unforeseen, and unprecedented, disaster."

  Turning, Zelda fetches two cups, measuring out tea and any accoutrements (in her case, what appears to be honey, a pinch of sugar, and more than a few dashes of cinnamon). Once that's done, she settles on her haunches before the fire, too, holding out her hands.

  "Those things out there shrieking bloody murder are beasts of the Twilight Realm, under the control of the usurper. I do not know what they are. I only know they are somehow wrong, and I feel it to the innermost core of my being." The Hylian snorts, softly. "I will dispatch that beast later, if it has not perished of its wounds. They are clever, but not intelligent; it will not know it is being tracked."

  Or she could sic Yalai on it. Hm, there's a thought. She wouldn't be back until either she or the Twilight Messenger is dead...

  "No trouble at all." Ninjas? Zelda tilts her head slightly, expression quizzical. "I do not know what those are, but--perhaps you may as well see for yourself."

  Lifting her chin, Zelda curls her lip and shrills a whistle.

  There comes from distantly in the castle an answering shrill, a blast too focused to be the wind -- voice, not a whistle.

  "She will be here soon. Actually," she admits with a fleeting half-smile, "I'm not sure how she heard that over the wind."

  Huh. Cryptic.

  "I do not make a habit of regularly employing her kind, though. She is among the last of her people, to the best of my knowledge. According to legend, her people had died out long ago. The Sheikah; the Shadow Folk." Zelda nods, faintly. "I have always had a love of history. Speaking with her has been most... illuminating."

    Shirou, for his part, doesn't have much to say about the renewed explanation of the situation in Hyrule. That's not to say that it doesn't touch him, though. There's a steadily deepening frown on his features, copper-colored brows slowly edging closer together while he pictures it all in his mind. And by the time she has brought a cup of tea for him to cradle in both hands (he takes his without any added spice), his amber eyes have drawn town to his lap, while idly considering all of it.

    And the matter of the monsters of Twilight nearby, too. Not just the one that just recently gave chase, even in it's wounded state. His world isn't the only one in potentially dire straits -- but the difference here is that this one *can* actually be reached.

    There's a thought to be shoved away for later, though.

    "Ninjas are... mmmh." Figures the concept of a 'ninja' wouldn't be an universal one across the different worlds. "In my world, at least, that was what was usually given to warriors with great skill in stealth and subterfuge. That's about the best I can explain it without spending potentially an hour on it." And that's not to even mention the nonsense ways they depict ninjas in some of the anime he's seen.

    His head lifts slightly with the whistle -- and the responding sound in the distance. Another confused blink from the young man. "H-...huh. Good ears, I guess...?"

    While this person she's called out with her signal of a whistle is still en route, Shirou considers something again. And after a small sip taken of the warming tea, he resolves himself to ask something of Zelda:

    "About the beasts outside. Can-- Is there anything I can do to help?"

    What... a strange thing to ask, just out of the blue. It's a bit naive, at that, if not outright childish. To ask to help with some grand matter such as that, without any clear vision of *how* to help. What *could* he even do, just by himself? He doesn't even seem like anything special. Such a childish thing to ask, indeed.

    And yet, Shirou Emiya sounds entirely serious.

  Is there anything I can do to help?

  Zelda considers the question coolly, expression neutral, and the stillness of her face and posture is enough to suggest she's thinking at a fast clip. She seems to be considering his question serio--

  "No. These beasts are dangerous, Master Shirou, and to the best of my knowledge you are no more than a mortal." She regards him with her head cocked at an angle. "That is not likely to change. So -- no. You would be much safer. I am a healer, and if I may risk sounding arrogant, one of uncommon skill within Hyrule, but there is only so much even I can do." The Hylian wrinkles her nose. "If you are mortally wounded, and these beasts are equipped to make that happen -- I have a scar, myself -- all I can do for you is to prepare your soul for the Goddesses."

  "No. This problem must be traced to its source. It must be destroyed swiftly, and absolutely." The degree to which Zelda's voice is cold and clinical is simply not normal. Perhaps not human. That tone is in and of itself a suggestion that this young woman is more than she seems. She sighs. It's both frustrated and resigned. "To do that, we must throw the usurper from Hyrule's throne. We must banish the curse of Twilight with the same absolute haste: Only then will Hyrule be free to rebuild and heal its wounds. To right this grievous wrong."

  Just a former royal handmaiden, huh? She's awfully passionate about restoring the kingdom.

  There aren't the sounds of any footsteps.

  Loremaster Yalai is just there, beside Shirou, sizing him up entirely too closely while the point of a needle-like throwing knife gleams entirely too closely to Shirou's throat. She's as shocking in appearance as her arrival -- stark pale of complexion, hair stark white, bright and intelligent eyes the colour of fresh-spilled blood. Her ears are long and taper to a point like Zelda's, but where the princess has fairly recognisably human features, there is something both more graceful and more alien about the Sheikah woman. Her movements are graceful, but also articulated in ways that just aren't normal; something almost bird-like in her physical mannerisms -- but perhaps more an eagle than a sparrow.

  "This one is no threat, yes?" Her voice is like liquid smoke: Smooth, soft, just vaguely scratchy; something of resignation and boredom in her inflections. There is a hint of sing-song accentuation to her speech that gives her words an almost musical quality. It's hard to pin down just how old the woman might be by the measure of her people, but she looks young; not too much older than Zelda.

  Two lines of faint ash-grey run down her cheekbones to her jawline, centred beneath those scarlet eyes.

  "May I introduce Loremaster Yalai? Master Shirou is a guest beneath our roof. Please put up your blade, Yalai."

  The Sheikah sheathes her blade so smoothly it's impossible to tell which scabbard she'd taken it from; she wears light black leather armour and silk. Her cloak is so black it seems to swallow light, and it looks soft as sin. Her boots are silent. All her clothing is fur-lined like the princess', but where the princess' are pale, Yalai's are trimmed in black.

  Once her weapon's gone, she inclines forward in a formal and liquid-graceful bow, although it's articulated kind of fluidly wrong for a human skeleton.

  "A pleasure to be making your acquaintance, Master... Shirou, yes?" She echoes the foreign name uncertainly, and a little awkwardly. "I am being a servant of the royal family, as well. We are all of us here being... hm... those who are resisting, you could be saying, the Twilight King." Yalai shows her teeth, and in that expression, there's no mistaking that these Shadow Folk people are living weapons. There's nothing but killing intent in that expression. "When we are catching up to him, it will be a day to be remembering."

    No, she says. You are no more than a mortal she says.

    It all digs at a truth that wars against the core of not just Shirou's offer, but also his own wish. His desire to just... *help*. A pointless chasing of an ideal of a hero who can save anyone he comes across.

    Shirou knows it, of course. Even if the dream itself is a foolish one, he *does* still understand how foolish it is, especially under his own power. The archery club dropout. A failure of a magus who didn't even inherit a magic crest from his unwilling teacher. Effectively just a normal human.

    But even understanding that. Even hearing the unsettlingly clinical tone that Zelda speaks with over the duty that she sees in the future. Even with all that, he seems... displeased. Unsatisfied.

    "But even so," he says, trying to seem resolute in his own desire to at least help in *any way* at all. "I--"

    And it's promptly undermined by anothe reminder of how vulnerable he is. He doesn't hear the woman coming. But he does get a chill running across his spine, an instinctive sense of death getting uncomfortably close. And with his words left hanging in the air, just the subtlest shift of his head alerts him to the point of a blade at his throat, just a little pinch warning him from moving any further.

    And wisely, he stills *completely*, like a man turned into a stone statue. His mouth left hanging slightly open and breath brought to a still. Only his eyes move, edging to one side to fruitlessly try to get a peek at the one now effectively holding his life in her hands. He stays like that while she and Zelda exchange words -- and only when the blade is drawn back, does he finally let himself breathe again.

    "A-ah... Just 'Shirou' is fine..." he offers, with a faintly shaking voice, all while his hand brushes over his throat to check if the skin there had been pricked by that uncomfortable proximity of a blade. The threat of the weapon might be gone, but he still finds himself feeling rather remarkably uncomfortable all of a sudden. The way Loremaster Yalai exposes her teeth doesn't help matters at all. It's like sitting right next to a carnivorous beast.

    "It's... a pleasure to meet you. Thanks for not stabbing me outright." His eyes narrow for a moment, though. Something Yalai said reminded him of something-- and it's Zelda his gaze sweeps back to. "About this Twilight King-- the way you talked earlier. You made it sound like all the troubles wouldn't go away just by ridding the land of him...?"

  The incognito princess doesn't seem to notice how uncomfortable Yalai makes her quarry, or if she does, she chooses not to acknowledge it. Zelda is all business, with a clinical detachment at odds with her apparent youth. A hand reaches up to clear a stray lock of chestnut hair from her face. Surely this 'Yalai' must be a true ally, though. Zelda seems completely at ease in the Sheikah woman's presence.

  "'Shirou' it is, then." The Hylian's mouth quirks. "Heh. I scarcely have room to complain when I am the one to insist upon informalities."

  "We are not being in the habit of dirtying our blades unless it is being needed." Yalai's answer is grave, and those spilled-blood eyes fix on Shirou, solemn. Like quicksilver her expression shifts into one of sly amusement, and she inclines forward into a formal, if flourished, bow; her black cloak falls behind her, trailing her movement. "But you are being most welcome. You are being an acquaintance of--" She catches herself from saying something, there. Hm. Nothing registers in Zelda's expression, but the Sheikah's verbal hitch is more than just her oddly-accented way of speaking. "Sheik." And then she looks for a brief instant like she's trying not to snicker at something. This time Zelda does shoot her a brief but displeased look. Yalai's expression melts like snow in the sun, but there's still a sliver of mirth in those red eyes. "If she is trusting you, that is more than enough for me to be trusting you. I am Loremaster Yalai of the Sheikah, the Shadow Folk, and I am being at your service. There are being few of us left, and we have been in hiding for many, many years... we were serving the royal family of Hyrule, once, but now, we are fighting alongside those who are being left after the coup, and who are wanting to return Hyrule to Hylian hands, yes?" Her grin is savage. "We are being a people scattered to the four winds, but the goddesses are being on our side."

  Her expression smooths.

  Zelda looks over as Shirou's attention turns to her, listening for a moment with an impassive and unreadable expression. Her features may as well be carved from marble.

  Although her expression tightens in displeasure, evidently ticked off by the mere mention of this figure, but it isn't uncontrollable. Her expression smooths again in what must be conscious effort. "No. He has done a great deal of damage. I did not see how far the fires spread when I was forced to flee, but I am confident most of Hyrule Castle has burnt to the ground. The library is destroyed. Enough knowledge has been lost to sicken the scholar in me." She sighs, shaking her head as she sips at her tea, leaning a hip against the counter. "In any case, a great deal of rebuilding will be needed, after his influence is gone from this land. Much has been destroyed, whether by deliberate vandalism, natural disaster, or supernatural disaster. Those Twilight Messengers -- that beast I'll be dispatching later -- have remarkable staying power, and they've a habit of doing a great deal of damage when they're pursuing a target. I find them to be obnoxiously aggressive little horrors."

    There is something just a *little* odd about that little exchange between Yalai and 'Sheik'. Shirou is not skillful enough in reading people to fully figure out what it is, but he does still notice that little hitch in the former's speech, and he's left looking back and forth curiously between the two. Maybe he's just missing some kind of inside joke...? Who knows.

    When Yalai introduces herself more formally, that's when the young magus' eyes narrow for a moment. Of the Sheikah, she says. He throws a quick glance to Zelda, but... nah, it's probably just a coincidence. Right?

    "Well... I truly hope the goddesses will help pave the path to your victory, at least. ... You know, even if not me, I'm sure there's some people from off-world who would be willing to provide some kind of assistance, too." Probably more capable than him too, at that. That thought doesn't bring him any joy, but he pushes it aside, for now.

    Shirou's quick to notice that just the mention of the Usurper's title is not something Zelda is happy to hear, and the realization makes him wince. It comes with an apologetic expression, even if he doesn't quite say 'sorry' outright. "If... nothing else, he seems like the worst kind of person, too," he observes. Not quite helpful at all, at that.

    She plans to go dispatch the one that tried breaking through the door later, too. His lips purse for a moment in thought and then, "I could at least come along for that, to watch your back if nothing else," he offers. "If that thing is wounded, it... Shouldn't be too much trouble, I imagine. But I feel I should at least do *something* as a show of gratitude for the shelter and..." A quick sip at the warming drink in his cup, and he smiles wryly. "...The tea."

  There's clearly some kind of inside joke between the Hylian and the Sheikah women, but neither elabourates. When Shirou looks back to Zelda her expression is carefully neutral. Yalai's expression is... well. There's something exotic and alien about her features, and she seems even more carefully guarded than Zelda.

  "Hmmm. Thank you." Zelda tilts her head a little. "It is not common for offworlders to pay such respect to Hyrule's goddesses." She bobs her head a little more deeply, respectful. "Thank you."

  The worst kind of person? Her nose wrinkles, a little. "I cannot argue with that. He is as petulant as a child, and as impatient as one. Conquest takes no thought. Actual rule is a great deal more complicated." Argh, grr. She sobers at his suggestion, before shaking her head. "No. Better not to risk it. I know precisely where the beast is." No, really. Her confidence in the statement is absolute in spite of the treacherous weather out there. "I am accustomed to these wilds, and I know how to track that beast, dispatch it, and return here before I freeze to death." Zelda eyes him for a moment, both appraising, dubious; aloof as a cat. "Forgive me, Shirou, but you do not."

  "Yalai will stay with you, if you like." Her expression remains flat. "I promise she will not hurt you."

  Yalai's smile is flat. "I cannot be telling you the reasons, but know even if I were not liking you, I am honour-bound not to be doing you any harm, yes? You will be safe with me." Her expression sobers.

  Zelda's head bobs in a nod. "Very well. I will return shortly, Shirou. Tend the fire in my absence, yes? Something tells me I would very much like a cup of tea after this."

  With that, provided Shirou doesn't move to stop her, she shrugs into her robe, takes up her bow and quiver, and shoulders the door open to disappear into the howling wind and snow.

    "Just because I am not familiar with the locals doesn't mean I shouldn't give them their due respects, right?" Shirou points out with a faint offer of a smile, and a brief lifting of his teacup.

    At least she seems to more or less agree with his quick assessment of the Twilight King. The description of a 'petulant child' does even mildly amuse him (even if the image of someone of such nature taking over *is* worrying).

    But then she's right back to rebuking his offers of help. It's not that he doesnt understand where she's coming from with that, but... it doesn't make him entirely happy, nonethless. In the end, he simply dips his head down to her, and doesn't make any further effort to persuade her, much less stop her from leaving.

    "Um... that's... reassuring...?" He says in response to Yalai's words, though he can't help but seem a *little* nervous regardless.

    Once Zelda's out of the kitchen, he takes one more sip of his tea, and... then rises up to standing. Curiously, he goes wandering through the kitchen, humming a low, thoughtful sound.

    "Do you think she will forgive me for going through the supplies here," he asks of Yalai, without really looking back to her -- focused entirely on assessing the state of the kitchen. "If I do it for the sake of making something decent for all of us to eat?"

  Once the front door closes and the wind is shut out, the silence that falls is resounding. In the quiet, the Sheikah is... not quite staring, but definitely watching Shirou. The weight of her gaze is not inconsiderable. For the moment she only watches as he trails into the kitchen.

  It's not clear when exactly she follows him, but between one heartbeat and the next, the small Sheikah woman is perched atop a sealed barrel, idly testing the sharpness of a throwing knife against a long, delicate forefinger.

  "We are not having much, here. When the snows are falling, the roads are being too dangerous to navigate." Yalai's gaze follows him as he makes his assessment. "But I do not think--" Again there's a brief instant of hesitation; her fleeting half-smile is oddly self-deprecating. "Sheik will not be minding." She's already made it clear she doesn't consider Shirou a threat; not really. "When you are being tired, I can be showing you to your quarters, yes?"

  Settling more comfortably atop her barrel-perch, Yalai tilts her head to regard Shirou with the kind of dispassionate curiosity one might regard a captive specimen. "As to whether or not she will be forgiving you... well. A handmaiden of the royal family she was being, once, but maybe there is also being a pinch of dragon's blood in her veins, yes?" The woman shakes her head before vaulting off the barrel and landing neatly on her feet. "I may as well be helping, since the matter of the beast outside is being well in her most capable hands." The supplies are eyed, and then Shirou. "What are you having in mind?"

    The Sheikah goes completely unheard, and even unseen-- until Shirou just happens to peer towards the barrel she did decide to settle on. The sighting comes with a little jump of surprise on Shirou's part, and an audible huff of air after he re-settles again. "Definitely a ninja..." He mutters, mostly to himself, but hardly quietly enough for her to not have heard it.

    "I did kind of figure you wouldn't have the provisions for a gourmet meal, but... mmm..." He muses idly while he goes through some pantry or another, face twisted with some idle thought. The kitchen itself might be an entirely foreign one for him, and yet somehow? The way he moves through it, considers the tools and packed foodstuff at hand, he seems... entirely at home here. Even the unsettling qualities of his... guard, don't seem to bother him as much anymore. "You can always make something almost out of nothing."

    He pauses in his process to peek back at Yalai, after she's said her piece on the... 'handmaiden'. One russet brow subtly arches upwards. "Do you mean... metaphorically speaking, or do you actually think she might be descended from dragonblooded people...? Do you have those in this world?"

    She offers her help, then and Shirou... just crosses his arms for a moment, considering more or less the entirety of the kitchen. Considering. Calculating. "You have any leftover animal bones?" He asks eventually. "Pig or cow preferably, but I could probably make rabbit or such work..."

  Yalai never moves through Shirou's startle, although her gaze tracks toward him at the movement. The Sheikah's facial structure is exotic, but it's her eyes that really set her apart. She may be tasked to look after his safety as long as he's under this roof, but it's not out of any sense of altruism. The detachment in her gaze sure is real.

  Kitchens are fairly universal. There's a large hearth where the kettle is hung over an iron strut, plenty of counter space with polished stone-top counters, and various storage cabinets. Notably absent is a refrigerator. Presumably there's an icehouse somewhere nearby; although right now, things left in the storeroom may well stay frozen.

  Yalai idly sights down a needle-shaped throwing knife as she answers, replacing it into her bandolier and drawing another to sight down its blade.

  "I know Sheik is not being descended of dragons." A quicksilver smile, all teeth and blood-red focus, there and gone. "She is being descended of a very... old... family, though. If she were being dragon-blooded, though, it would not be surprising me, yes?" She twirls the knife and replaces it into the bandolier. "I am not knowing of any dragon-blooded people, but Hyrule is certainly having dragons. There are being many examples in history, but a living dragon..." That red gaze goes distant as she shakes her head. "I am not knowing of any, currently." Her mouth twists. "Not since Volvagia of Death Mountain was being slain by the Hero of Time... that was being the last, supposedly."

  "One is never knowing, though, and the Lantern-Bearer is being fond of mystery. Things are having ways of working out, yes?" Her head tilts, subtly. "It may be there are being dragons even in these highest reaches of the world. Much of Peak Province is being unexplored; it is being too dangerous, and too rough. There is being little reason to be here, under most circumstances."

  Animal bones?

  "Most probably there are being leftover bones from the soup, yes? We are not having any dogs to be throwing them to, but you are being welcome to them, if you are wanting them." She shrugs, casually. "They are in a barrel in the storeroom." A hand flicks toward the appropriate doorway. "Cow. Pig. Deer, I am thinking, and rabbit." No chicken, because nobody in their right mind would slaughter Cuccos unless they had a literal death wish. "You are welcome to however much of it you are wanting, as long as you are having a way to be transporting it."

  A stark white brow rises, almost suspiciously. "Why?"

    "Such a person as a handmaiden..." mutters Shirou idly -- again, mostly to himself, but still not making much of an effort of hiding it all.

    Just as he's peeking into another cabinet, though, he's right back to turning to send a look to the Sheikah over his shoulder, prompted by a particular thing she's said. "...I kind of have a feeling you both have a fondness for mysteries," he points out, with a purposeful lift of one brow. "Not that there's anything... wrong with that. Even if you are making me more curious about you and your boss both, I'm not going to try to ask any questions that shouldn't be asked."

    The cabinet gets closed, and the young man's focus deepens again, for a moment. "...If the bones were used for the stock already, they won't be much good for getting any taste anymore. That's fine though, I probably wouldn't be able to get any of your perishable ingredients thawed in time for Sheik to be back either way. ... Hm. You guys have flour and sugar, though? I know I saw her use cinnamon for her tea..." Speaking of the tea, he does make a brief diversion to the hearth to stoke the fire. She did ask him to keep it going!

    And yes, apparently baking is the route Shirou decides to take with the kitchen's supplies. Nothing too complex, though-- he doesn't expect his host to be gone for a very long time, so just some fairly simple shortbread cookies he can make the dough for fairly quickly, and without any need for eggs. The choice application of cinnamon would make for fairly efficient addition for taste, though... or maybe chocoa powder, if by some miracle the pantry actually had some.

    Whichever way that goes, though, another question inevitably pops into Shirou's mind, to be asked of Yalai: "...I hate to sound like a clueless tourist, but what's a Hero of Time, exactly?"

  The Sheikah tilts her head to eye Shirou, but what she might mean by that look is hard to say. She must have caught that offhand comment of his. Evidently she's satisfied to file away whatever her reaction may be; no change registers on that pale face.

  "The Author of Law is being fond of them, herself, and we of the Shadow Folk are all being Her servants." Must be a goddess, from the tone of voice Yalai uses. The reverence is clear. "And we of the Shadow Folk are dealing in secrets as you humans are spending rupees." Currency. "Or silver, yes?" Those blood-red eyes narrow, subtly. "Secrets, though... secrets are being more valuable than silver. You can only be spending them once, and they are then losing all value." A hand lifts to snap her fingers, the sound loud in the mostly-empty chamber. "So. They are something to be spending with the utmost of care, yes?"

  Her smile is not... reassuring. If he asks anything he shouldn't know, this one certainly won't be giving anything away.

  "Flour, yes. Sugar. Cinnamon. Sheik is being very fond of cinnamon." Half a glance is cast toward the nearest stack of crates. Nothing so exotic as cocoa powder, though. There's not a lot of local trade going on in Hyrule; most of the foodstuffs here are exports from a modern world, and probably familiar at least in style. There's even a can opener and some canned fruit he might be able to make use of.

  For her part, Yalai remains out of the way, resuming her perch atop the nearest unused jumble of crates. Wrapped in that soft black cloak, she's like an inquisitive raven, head tilting every so often to watch what Shirou does with dispassionate curiosity.

    The plan made, Shirou's quick to get to work in the kitchen. Its not a grand gourmet confectionary he's going to be making, with both lack of supplies and time put into mind, but it's something. The canned fruits are left alone for much of the latter reason -- and the fact that they'll be much better served in something else, surely. If nothing else, Shirou's secret little cinnamon-shortbread recipe will hopefully sate his host's fondness for cinnamon.

    While Shirou more or less makes himself at home mixing up the dough, he listens to the Sheikah woman speak. He doesn't spare a look back to her as much anymore (though when he does, there is some mild hints of being unsettled -- something she may or may not find endlessly amusing on her part). "Rupees...?" The boy repeats inevitably after the mention of an unfamiliar term, only for the followup of 'silver' to clarify it some. "Oh. Money. Right..." The allegory that follows makes *much* more sense with that, thankfully.

    "That seems to be an universal truth across the worlds," he observes. "Back where I come from, it's... a particularly weighty matter, with Magi. Their entire existences are practically made out of secrets. I guess... The part of me that followed that path is too, to some extent, even if I don't like secrets much as a whole. Maybe it's naive of me, but I prefer to be at least somewhat open with people around me."

    With the dough prepared, the young magus gets to work shaping pieces of it - with flour-coated hands - to forming them into small, round shapes, coated further with a light mix of sugar and cinnamon. "Can you do me a favor?" He asks while he works on that. "Find me a tray or something similiar that can tolerate heat, if you could?" Without an oven, he might have to get a little creative with the hearth, but he's fairly confident he can get this to work...

  The Sheikah woman watches in detached curiosity, making no move to offer help. Her mien is one of feline disinterest; an alien detachment in that blood-red gaze. She regards Shirou as she might an interesting botanical sample.

  The Loremaster isn't without expression, though. Her nostrils flare subtly and the faintest hint of a twitch at the corner of her mouth, Loremaster Yalai recognises what he's doing.

  What Shirou has to say is noted and filed away silently. Focus returns to that sharp regard. An attitude like that's going to get this boy killed, someday -- but it seems the Sheikah woman chooses not to comment.

  Ah. Yes. Baking sheet. Yalai nearly vaults over the top of the crate, black cloak flaring behind her, and retrieves the item in question from a cabinet. Favour dispensed, she resumes her perch, watching with feline disinterest.

  'Sheik' isn't back yet, but Yalai doesn't look too worried. Not yet, anyway.

    Shirou certainly already felt the Sheikah woman to be kind of disconcerting before. But at least until now she had at least provided some conversation to go along while he worked in the kitchen.

    But with her just resuming to silence makes that space fill with... an uncomfortable air, for him. Even while he was speaking, he was occasionally giving vaguely-nervous glances at her again, despite that original anxiety having faded away for a while before. Like he's halfway expecting her to bring the blade to his throat again, even in spite of everything. One part of his brain *is* telling him all evidence points to that being an incredibly unlikely occurence, but the tiny embers of that fear are still there, fanned by the Loremaster's mannerisms.

    "Thank you..." He offers to her regardless, when the baking sheet comes. He wasn't sure if they were going to have one of those here, but all the better then. He slips into silence for a while with that. Focusing on spreading the raw confectionaries to the sheet, and then bringing settled above the fire in the hearth. And piling some more kindling and wood both within to try and force the heat further. It'll be slower going than a modern oven, but it'll do.

    And in the end, the silence become too much. He doesn't have anything against silence inherently, but somehow, with the silence reigning over in a space with Yalai now? It seems opressive, even when broken apart every now and then by the crackling of fire and ember. He remains crouched by the fire to keep watch, and shuffles uncomfortable every now and then.

    "....Ssssooooo..." He voices out eventually, thus. "Have you... worked with Sheik for a long while?" It's an akward question, mostly asked for the sake of filling the silent air with *something*.

  As before, the Sheikah contents herself with observing the baking process. There's no doubt that every detail is filed away by those eyes the colour of fresh blood. The increasing discomfort her guest is in is noted, yet still Yalai makes no effort to break the silence. Maybe she's tallying how long he can stand it.

  "No." The Loremaster frowns slightly at that, loose white hair drifting as she tilts her head, only to be cleared with a sideways toss. "That is to say, we were not meeting until recently. We of the Shadow Folk are not... how do you say--" She gestures vaguely with those impossibly dexterous fingers, "--common? Always the Shadow Folk are having low numbers, but in these times in Hyrule we are having the lowest."

  Her smile is slow, blade-thin, and alien in its coldness. "Already we are being now the boogey-man spoken of to be scaring small children. We are being gone from the weave of Hyrule's society, yes? Already the Sheikah Tribe is passing from living memory..." There's a flicker of something across her face that seems almost sad, but also fully accepting.

  "We of the Shadow Folk are serving only the royal family of Hyrule. In their absence, however, a handmaiden will have to do, yes?" Yalai resumes her perch atop the stack of crates, crouching and absently applying one needle-thin dagger to a whetstone. Both seem to materialise from thin air. They're not there on moment and then they just... are.

    How long was Shirou going to stand it? Not for very long, clearly. Not just on accoutn of the fact that he made an effort to break it, but there is also the very visible evidence of him actually wincing when that first word comes from her in response. Like a sudden strike of an assassin's knife catching it's mark off guard in pitch black darkness.

    But putting that aside, the full extent of Yalai's answer to him? It makes him lower his head for a good moment, not quite able to look to her directly now. Hiding the frown that tugs now at facial muscles.

    "...I see," he eventually offers, tone both quiet and uncertain, only for him to tack on to the end, "I am sorry." Those slowly-baking confectionaries are *much* easier to focus on now for sure.

    But something bugs at him now. Something she said. Shirou's nose crunches up, and soon, he's turning to look back to her again, finally, just over his shoulder. "Do... The handmaidens of your royal family usually have skills like this? It seems like she's basically leading a resistance movement."

  The woman doesn't outwardly react to the change in Shirou's posture and tone. Even his apology doesn't earn much beyond a dry sound that could be either thanks or dismissal. Evidently the prospect of belonging to an endangered species doesn't bother her.

  As Shirou turns to look at her, Yalai sights down another dagger. To his question she offers no immediate answer. No. She's going to finish her impromptu inspection, first. One mustn't let one's blades ever dull.

  "No." Another blunt but simple answer. "They do not."

  The door bangs open. Frozen wind howls in.

  "That is because I am not precisely a handmaiden."

  Zelda's voice is crisp as she stalks into the kitchen and over to the hearth, nearly but not quite shouldering Shirou aside to do so. It doesn't seem to be out of any given rudeness but necessity. The Hylian is cold. She radiates it and trails it after her foray into the woods. Black ichor glistens at the hem of her robe.

  "As to the latter... regardless of who or what I am or am not -- yes, Master Emiya; that much I will certainly admit to."