AN: This story idea would not. Leave. Me. Alone! And so I had to write it. It had to be done. I've had a particular obsession with Owlan as of late, and I happen to love the Mogmas the best out of all the land dwellers, so I came up with this. It'll be my first Zelda story, so wish me luck! Also, I apologize for any grammer or spelling errors I happened to overlook. One can only do so much. And feel free to leave any kind of review, I don't mind. I also don't mind if you don't. Either way. Also, did you guys notice that when you choose his character from the list, his name is spelled Owlen, not Owlan? But on Zelda Wiki it's spelled with an a. Huh. I wonder which one is right.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Legend of Zelda. But my brother and I DO own every single game of it out there.:3
Life was not always fair.
Everyone knew it. All the Skyloftians knew it, from the Lumpy Pumpkin to the littlest island; everyone knew it.
Perhaps no one knew this more than six-year old Kespel.
Who was, at that precise moment in time, gazing on at the other children with sad, green eyes. Her brown hair swirled about her in the ever present breeze among Skyloft as she watched all the kids her age milling about with incessant chattering. Today, they were all gathered in the Plaza to choose their Loftwing. Or, rather, bond with it. So far, the other children were having a bit more success at it than she was.
A boy that went by the name of Owlan had, unsurprisingly, already found his bond with an indigo Loftwing. Horwell was smiling down at his brightly feathered yellow Loftwing, and Wryna was giggling with her bird, a distinct light pink. A young girl named Piper was nervously watching a dark colored Loftwing, which was eying her skeptically.
Only Kespel was left, really. She had tried, but it didn't seem that any Loftwing would bond with her. She had thought that perhaps a shy Loftwing, quite like herself, would be best, but all of the timid ones had fled from her touch, avoiding her like the plague. Earlier, she had even gone to the dark Loftwing that Piper was now hoping to bond with, but it had immediately pecked her hand sharply, dispelling the thought that perhaps she needed a Loftwing the exact opposite of her personality.
Now, all she was left with for her troubles were sour thoughts and a throbbing hand. Sitting down quietly on the ground away from everyone else, in the shade of the Light Tower, she let herself watch the other children with jealousy. Rather than denying her emotions, Kespel always seemed to embrace them. This action would usually result in getting her in trouble when she let her anger take control, as rare as the emotion was for her.
But looking on quietly at the other children, when they had Loftwings and she did not, she couldn't deny the jealousy flowing through her.
"Kespel, for a happy day, you certainly do not look happy."
The sudden voice startled her out of her gazing, and she looked up to see who had spooked her. It was Headmaster Gaepora, and he was watching her with a curious yet sympathetic look on his face. It made her nauseous just seeing it, and she quickly averted her eyes to her aching hand. She mumbled something unintelligible, staring at her fingers.
Gaepora frowned. "What was that, child?"
She lifted her head up, but did not look at him. Instead, she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye once, then reverted to watching the children and their Loftwings again. She noticed, with all too much bitterness for a young girl, that Piper had succeeded in bonding with the dark feathered bird who had wanted nothing to do with Kespel. She stood by it, stroking the top of it's head with her fingers and smiling widely. Kespel mirrored Piper's grin with a frown of her own. "What good is a Skyloftian that can't even bond with a Loftwing?"
Gaepora followed her eyes. "Ahh," he said softly. "I see what the problem is." He turned his attention back to her, and said, "Come with me. I think I know the perfect Loftwing for you." He smiled underneath his mustache as her eyes filled with hope. She leapt from her spot on the ground and practically ran after him as he weaved through the crowd of Loftwings settled in the Plaza. He stopped now and then, searching among them, before he finally led her to the edge of the flock, near the back. He swept her to his side and pointed out a single bird to her; it was a deep blue hue, darker than the sky. It gave off an air of 'cool', a nonchalant attitude that seemed befitting it's colored plumage. She began to walk toward it, then stopped.
Gaepora noticed her hesitation. "Go on," he urged kindly, his long eyebrows wiggling a bit. "You'll like him, I promise."
Swallowing, not daring to hope, she sluggishly made her way toward the blue Loftwing that had now seemed to sense her presence upon her arrival. 'The problem isn't if I like him,' she thought, as she stopped in front of the bird, which she knew was a boy. He stared at her almost lazily. 'The problem is whether or not he likes me.' Swallowing again, she tentatively reached out a trembling hand, ready to yank it back at a moment's notice if he decided to peck her.
The bird paid little attention to the hand that was now slowly stroking his head feathers. Instead, he closed his eyes, let out a huff that might have translated loosely as 'Whatever', and settled down again, resting his beak on Kespel's shoulder to conserve energy. Accepting this as a sign of encouragement, Kespel continued her ministrations. However, this time she did so confidently, and with a beaming smile that would put the sun to shame.
'I did it!' she thought happily. 'This Loftwing actually likes me!' She took another look at the lazy bird, and corrected herself. 'Well, I suppose he likes me...'
But her happiness was not to be deterred, and so she stood, petting her new Loftwing companion.
It was two years later that Kespel would finally make her first friend.
Now eight-years old, she sat at the back of the class near the bookshelves and stared off into space.
Although not all the children were knights in training, they still had to attend school to learn how to handle their Loftwings, what to do when you were flying and a storm hit, blah blah blah... the rest was always tuned out by Kespel. Nobody ever really talked to her, besides Horwell, and so she usually just tuned out all the talking around her.
The slamming of multiple books startled her out of her daydreams. She looked around the classroom to see all the children beginning to leave the room 'Seems like class is over,' she thought. Heaving a small sigh, she gathered together her books and walked towards the doorway. Movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention, though, and she paused for a moment in the opening.
It was a boy with a shock of white hair. 'Owlan,' she remembered, watching him. He was still sitting at his desk, dutifully reading what seemed to be a book too thick for a child. She squinted at it, trying to make sense of the words on the page he was currently studying, but the text was too small for her to see. She figured that asking him would be a better way of finding out what he was reading than ruining her eyesight, so she spoke up. "What are you reading?" she questioned.
Owlan paused in his studying. He glanced at her before going back to reading. "It's a book about plant biology," he replied shortly, flipping to the next page.
Blinking, Kespel took note that they were now the only ones in the small classroom. Deciding that he was alright if he liked plants, she walked the short distance to his desk and plopped down beside him, dropping her books on the table. "What kind of plants?" she asked, leaning towards him to read over his shoulder.
He looked vaguely uncomfortable at the intrusion to his personal space, before he said, "The ones most commonly found in Skyloft."
She nodded, and then grinned. "I didn't know you liked plants. What's your favorite kind? I like the flowers that grow all over Skyloft, the ones the Remlit's can sometimes be found in. I think those are their favorites, too."
Seemingly not knowing how to respond to that, he shifted his attention to his hands. "I don't have a favorite so far," he told her awkwardly. "But I rather like those, too."
Kespel beamed at him and laughed. "I knew I wasn't the only one who thought plants were cool! Horwell thinks they're okay." She leaned towards him then, cupping a hand around her mouth and darting her eyes around as if she were about to share an important secret. "But just between you and me, I think he likes the Remlits more than the flowers they can be found in." She said this with such a serious expression that Owlan couldn't help but let a corner of his mouth twitch upwards in a half-smile.
"I didn't know you liked botany too!" he said excitedly, his amber eyes glowing.
"Of course! I think plants are much more interesting than people. Although I don't know much, I still like them." She said all this quickly, reverting back into her usual shell she wore when talking to people. Owlan's sudden interest in her seemed to remind her that she was talking to a boy she hardly knew. What had possessed her to talk to him so suddenly? She didn't know the answer to her question, though.
Now that he knew she liked plants too, he practically jumped to show her the thick, difficult looking book that he had picked from the bookshelves. "I hope to become an expert on them someday, so I'm studying as much as I can!" he told her enthusiastically. He showed her many diagrams from the book, and, now in his element, it seemed he couldn't stop talking. Kespel looked on in wonder. Quiet, reserved Owlan was practically running his mouth to tell her all he knew.
And so they sat in the classroom, Owlan talking, Kespel asking the occasional question. As the rest of the day dragged on, they hardly noticed when the sun began dropping lower into the sky. Eventually, they both yawned, said goodnight to each other, and, with both making promises to the other to pick up on the topic tomorrow, slunk into their rooms to sleep the night away.
As Kespel fell asleep, thinking that perhaps she finally, finally, had a true friend, she realized that maybe she did know the answer to her question, after all.
She was a moth, and Owlan was the flame. She was drawn to him against her will; not that she was unwilling in the first place.
Kespel just hoped she didn't get burned to a crisp. Life would be sort of hard if that happened.
