Hello, all ^__^ Welcome to my Zelda fiction, Black Thorn. This story was
inspired by a sketch I drew the night before I started to write this
chapter in my science class. I was drawing a Zora, and then spontaneously
decided to make something different about him. Why? Because I wanted to,
that's why. That immediately spawned thoughts of 'what if?' and I suddenly
wanted to tell the story of this strange Zora that no one accepted. I can't
tell you what is different about him now, because that would ruin the
surprise. Just read it.
(Ps- I don't own anything. Get over it. Pickles.)
*****
Dante wept as the piercing eyes all took him in. Lying curled on his side on the gritty floor of the Zora Hall, he was only dimly aware of his stinging jaw and burning face. All he could see were the eyes, ever piercing, ever cold, full of hatred. Hatred. Hate.
They hate me... All of them.
It was all he could hear in his mind. All he knew was the hatred and the eyes. Dante snatched at his trousers and tugged them back over his hips as he pulled himself to his shaky feet. It was over. He could cover it up now, he could hide it, but he could not erase that one horrible moment from their minds. The disgusting reality he was... the distortion that now lay hidden within his trousers. He looked around him at the still Zora that were once his society. One by one, he met their eyes. None looked away. Finally, he turned to face his only brother.
Tokaw's jaw was firmly set, his eyes showing no trace of emotion. His fist was still tight at his side, the knuckles still slightly white from the impact that had stung Dante's jaw so just moments before, though it had seemed an eternity to both.
'You're disgusting.'
Dante had heard the words a thousand times, but they stung twice as much coming from his brother's lips. He gazed numbly at them, the lips that had just shattered all that remained of Dante's tiny world. Fresh tears began to blur his vision as he turned to his mother. She was already bolting across the seashell stage to her dressing room, her hands unsuccessfully covering her tears. His Uncle Japas was right behind her, calling for her to come back. Dante looked down to his hand, at his birthmark.. a small patch of skin paler than the rest of his typical, icy blue Zora coloring. He glanced back to his brother. His only brother, 5 years older, and a man he had spent his life beside, admiring him, supporting him, worshipping him. How often had he bragged to the other Zora boys about how strong and brave his big brother Tokaw was? Now that brother was lost. He hated Dante just as much, if not more than the rest of them.
Dante knew. He had to leave. Now.
Or he would soon become feed for the fishes of the Great Bay.
(Ps- I don't own anything. Get over it. Pickles.)
*****
Dante wept as the piercing eyes all took him in. Lying curled on his side on the gritty floor of the Zora Hall, he was only dimly aware of his stinging jaw and burning face. All he could see were the eyes, ever piercing, ever cold, full of hatred. Hatred. Hate.
They hate me... All of them.
It was all he could hear in his mind. All he knew was the hatred and the eyes. Dante snatched at his trousers and tugged them back over his hips as he pulled himself to his shaky feet. It was over. He could cover it up now, he could hide it, but he could not erase that one horrible moment from their minds. The disgusting reality he was... the distortion that now lay hidden within his trousers. He looked around him at the still Zora that were once his society. One by one, he met their eyes. None looked away. Finally, he turned to face his only brother.
Tokaw's jaw was firmly set, his eyes showing no trace of emotion. His fist was still tight at his side, the knuckles still slightly white from the impact that had stung Dante's jaw so just moments before, though it had seemed an eternity to both.
'You're disgusting.'
Dante had heard the words a thousand times, but they stung twice as much coming from his brother's lips. He gazed numbly at them, the lips that had just shattered all that remained of Dante's tiny world. Fresh tears began to blur his vision as he turned to his mother. She was already bolting across the seashell stage to her dressing room, her hands unsuccessfully covering her tears. His Uncle Japas was right behind her, calling for her to come back. Dante looked down to his hand, at his birthmark.. a small patch of skin paler than the rest of his typical, icy blue Zora coloring. He glanced back to his brother. His only brother, 5 years older, and a man he had spent his life beside, admiring him, supporting him, worshipping him. How often had he bragged to the other Zora boys about how strong and brave his big brother Tokaw was? Now that brother was lost. He hated Dante just as much, if not more than the rest of them.
Dante knew. He had to leave. Now.
Or he would soon become feed for the fishes of the Great Bay.