#004 The Ceremony [PLOT] {Zelda}
Jul 14, 2017 17:47:30 GMT -5
edited on Dec 20, 2017 1:28:06 GMT -5 by Aryllia Queensguard
Post by Nynaeve † on Jul 14, 2017 17:47:30 GMT -5
[googlefont=Josefin Sans][googlefont=Raleway][googlefont=Kaushan Script][googlefont=Homemade Apple]
Who’s a heretic, child?
Can you make it stick now?
Nynaeve watched as the girl before her stumbled out of her portal, and stepped forward, looking at the altar around her. A laugh filled with mirth came from her, as she raised her hands to the sky, facing the full moon. Delight was carved into her face, and her eyes were wide. A grin split her normally composed features.
“Now, dearest Zelda, our true work begins. Nobody will be interrupting us, and nobody will be harmed. Provided you cooperate, that is. Precautions have been made to protect your family, but they won’t last forever. I twisted that boy around my finger, to dance to my song, just so we can have this moment. This meeting…”
With a snap of her fingers, a green ring of fire circled the two, separating off the altar from the rest of the temple. They were trapped there, it seemed. Nynaeve’s focus, as before was on the Master Sword, and her grin turned to a grimace as she ran her finger along the edge, a crimson drop of blood falling from her finger onto the ground.
“Blood magic. So mundane, but it’s the best I can muster using this form. You see, dearest Zelda, in a past life, something very precious was taken from me, something that was rightfully mine, but was stolen from under my nose. In a sense…”
A stone goblet was withdrawn from within her robes, and a few drops of her blood dripped into it as she clenched her fist.
“We have the same goal. We want back what is ours. But there can be no interference, of any kind.”
Her hand gently took hold of Zelda’s wrist, before tightening and twisting. The heir to the throne would feel a prick, then see a few drops of her own blood fall into the cup. When the two mingled together, there was a shimmer to them, obviously not natural. The cup was set next to the Master Sword, and Nynaeve sat, cross-legged, looking at Zelda. Between her hands, various masks began to appear.
“Throughout the ages, I have held many personas. This one, Nynaeve, has served me well for quite some time. As her, I mastered the power of the masks well. I took the masks of my mentors, a Zora Prince, a lost child, a Hylian heir long before your time, and even that of a king of my own people. Her own people. I preserved their memories, their essence, and in donning them, I can become as they once were. Many faces, many names. I have held many names. Twinrova. The Silver Prince. Demon-King.
All are held to be led to a better world, in time. This is my power. But I’ve always wanted to forge one last mask. So, dear Hylia, my beautiful and elegant sister. You always had what you wanted in life. Your power, a kingdom that was both of ours.
My Hero. Though I moved on, I ask you give me this one thing, and you can have your precious Hero back. But first…”
When she looked down, then back up, upon her face was a visage that Zelda had only seen in dreams. Nynaeve laughed, then put a finger to where the mouth would be on the mask.
“You have to name me. Hylia well remember, but let’s see if you will, Zelda of Hyrule.”
“Now, dearest Zelda, our true work begins. Nobody will be interrupting us, and nobody will be harmed. Provided you cooperate, that is. Precautions have been made to protect your family, but they won’t last forever. I twisted that boy around my finger, to dance to my song, just so we can have this moment. This meeting…”
With a snap of her fingers, a green ring of fire circled the two, separating off the altar from the rest of the temple. They were trapped there, it seemed. Nynaeve’s focus, as before was on the Master Sword, and her grin turned to a grimace as she ran her finger along the edge, a crimson drop of blood falling from her finger onto the ground.
“Blood magic. So mundane, but it’s the best I can muster using this form. You see, dearest Zelda, in a past life, something very precious was taken from me, something that was rightfully mine, but was stolen from under my nose. In a sense…”
A stone goblet was withdrawn from within her robes, and a few drops of her blood dripped into it as she clenched her fist.
“We have the same goal. We want back what is ours. But there can be no interference, of any kind.”
Her hand gently took hold of Zelda’s wrist, before tightening and twisting. The heir to the throne would feel a prick, then see a few drops of her own blood fall into the cup. When the two mingled together, there was a shimmer to them, obviously not natural. The cup was set next to the Master Sword, and Nynaeve sat, cross-legged, looking at Zelda. Between her hands, various masks began to appear.
“Throughout the ages, I have held many personas. This one, Nynaeve, has served me well for quite some time. As her, I mastered the power of the masks well. I took the masks of my mentors, a Zora Prince, a lost child, a Hylian heir long before your time, and even that of a king of my own people. Her own people. I preserved their memories, their essence, and in donning them, I can become as they once were. Many faces, many names. I have held many names. Twinrova. The Silver Prince. Demon-King.
All are held to be led to a better world, in time. This is my power. But I’ve always wanted to forge one last mask. So, dear Hylia, my beautiful and elegant sister. You always had what you wanted in life. Your power, a kingdom that was both of ours.
My Hero. Though I moved on, I ask you give me this one thing, and you can have your precious Hero back. But first…”
When she looked down, then back up, upon her face was a visage that Zelda had only seen in dreams. Nynaeve laughed, then put a finger to where the mouth would be on the mask.
“You have to name me. Hylia well remember, but let’s see if you will, Zelda of Hyrule.”
Notes: T̀͏͇͚̺ͅH̢͚͇̱̖͔̰͠͡E̮̯ ̢̰̺̝͔͔͕ͅC͢͏͏̯̬̻̺͕̝Ó̞͚̮̭͍̠̥̯͎͟M͈̬̯͟I̵͙͓̤͇̰͇ͅṆ̬̞̘͎͢G͙͚̥͢ ͕͕I̸̴͙͙̬̱̪̱S҉̟̩̘ ̶̥̻̜̫͍̗̩̕͝N͖̫͖͍͘I͎̠̯̕͠͠G̩͔̦̼͎̗̮͔̀H̙̞̼
Alyne ∞
