There was nothing but a cool, enveloping mist dissolving itself onto his skin, as he lay motionless in the dark thin waters, the silence of the room the most beautiful serenade. The water twisted about his hair, sprawling each golden strand out like short rays of sunlight that he rarely got to see with his eyes...his eyes, that were the color of the Red Planet, the one he saw very clearly during a stay in Termina that managed to attain by randomly wandering about the worlds, and in which he snuggled in the tall grasses of the feild, cradled by midnight itself.
He had watched that planet all niht long, from the moment its orbit brought it to the center of the sky, until it sank below the creamy horizon. It was brightest at its peak; the Red Planet gleamed with a bloody vibrance, it was the very element of the color Red, so imperial that he theorized the Goddesses must have taken the most vivid red things to exist (blood, cherries, wine, roses) and blended them together to concoct a special dye just for that planet. Mars was probably the only things he had ever related to, ever had a personal bond with. Except for one other person...
But still he lay there, his thoughts incomplete masses of confusion and possible malice. The cool water kissed the back of his neck, the mist lay upon him the way snow does on a rotting log in winter. He was all alone in this room, except for a withered, cancerous tree that stood on a tiny patch of soil, and the whispers of illusions that were just barely inaudible.
He would come here when he had no emotion to express, when his body was numb and unfeeling. He no longer had his connection, his planet, to spill his deepest secrets to. His outlet, the one the same color as his eyes, was gone and stripped from him, as he lay like a dead man in the reflective room.
And he probably would have stayed in that spot until either he somehow snapped out of his paralyzing thoughts, or starved to death (whichever came first) had the door to that chamber not opened.
The footsteps that fell into the mirrored waters were quiet, but the mist amplified it, and wrapped it in new secrets. Maybe the room could extract thoughts, but you could never hear them clearly because you could never THINK them clearly?
The owner of the foosteps approached him. The scent of night and moonlight laced around him, and within seconds he knew exactly who it was that loomed beside him.
"Sheik?" the velvet voice whispered as softly as the illuminated secrets dancing around the room.
And he, Sheik, would usually leap at this voice, and would feel an unnamed sense of passion and relief overflow his senses. He would usually crave an embrace, a kiss, and more words to be spoken by that voice as he stared into those eyes...those eyes, the ones that matched his own. The only ones that were to be found on the face of a human, not a beast, ones the same color as Mother Mars. How he loved those eyes, and how he loved knowing he was not alone.
But now, even this outlet had been stripped from him. He could say nothing to Dark Link, for there was simply nothing to say, and nothing to say to anyone.
Dark stroked Sheik's face, but Sheik did not even flinch. Nor did his pulse show any sign of alteration. It continued its steady, slow, faint beat.
All Sheik could do was ay there, as he found himself now surrounded by strangers that didn't exactly exist.
AN: Yes, I made Sheik a guy for this particular piece. And no, it might not make much sense, but I wrote it as an expression of how I was feeling today. All the same, R&R, please?