Author's Note: Just a little Sheik experiment. If I had half a brain, I'd write cool Zelda fanfiction. But, I don't. XP Set about three years after Link fell asleep in Ocarina of Time.
Title: Summer Storm
Summary: In Kakariko, it was raining again.
Rating: K. This is just a drabble.
Soundtrack: Erik Satie's Gymnopedie No. 1. I really like this song. It always reminds me of rain.
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In Kakariko, it was raining again.
It hadn't rained for several weeks now. The sun had actually been unusually benevolent to the small town, her rays a bright and frequent visitor to the townsfolk; and the wind had lent his hand by way of refreshment, running his fingers through everyone's hair, rapping on windows, asking to be invited inside.
But, now the wind seemed almost lost without his brilliant companion, whirling here and there, but not really enjoying himself as he had been. The rain came as it often did: gray clouds casting shadows at dawn, little drops pattering slightly for about an hour while the thunder murmured unobtrusively above. By eight-thirty, grass was drenched, wood porches darkened, and villagers sent inside to avoid the falling drops.
Sheik watched placidly as the lightning danced hesitantly over the ridge, just past the graveyard. A roll of thunderous applause followed each electric step, and he smiled, almost inclined to clap himself. Even on this muddy day, it was a comfort to be home. Sweet storms like this were so rare anymore–storms that came softly, of their own accord, rather than being thrust over the land by the blackness that flowed prolifically from the castle. Even the air was different after such weather. Here, the air settled clear and clean, refreshingly wet and crisp. Any other storm would have carried some odd scent of smog or sulfur, or a smoking fire. But, then again, maybe that was just Sheik's imagination. No one else seemed to mind too much.
These were dark days, despite the valiant efforts of sun, wind and rain to bring cheer to Hyrule. Dark years, for that matter. Most people could not think of how things could get worse than they had been for the past four years. Most people clung to the hope that things would get better from here, or a least very soon.
Sheik knew, in his heart, that there was no hope as of yet. Certainly, he did what little he could within that system, but he had only managed to win very small victories against the ever-growing power of the king. He laughed scornfully. Ironic. The Sheikah had always served the royal family. And now, even while the royal family was in practical exile, he served the king. At least, that's what all appearances said, and he had always been good at manipulating appearance.
" Hey."
He turned head leisurely to the left, toward the voice. Impa stood at the window, leaning out over the thatched awning on which he sat. Even her typically harsh image was softened today by a white, long-sleeved tunic that fell to her knees. A warm scent seeped from the window, inviting him inside. Joann was making soup. Appropriate.
" Come inside, Sheik." Impa said. It was less of a command that it would seem, and rather more of a motherly entreaty. " It's cold out here."
" It is." He replied indifferently, taking one last deep breath of the damp air before crawling carefully to the window and slipping inside.
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Nix: Some things I would like input on: writing style, grammar, spelling, characterization, level of annoyance. Hearts.