Through the Brittle Air
It's cold.
It's- cold in there. It smells of dampness.
There is a reason why he's there, but it's been lost in the darkness. The intoxicating taste of that blue liquid still hasn't left his mouth.
He's sitting on the bed, staring, squinting at the childish drawing of a Triforce on the wall beneath him, but he's- he's barely able to make it out in the darkness of that isolated room.
Darkness - dim illumination... a little bit of bright green and then lilac fire, hovers inside the hanging cage over his head.
A long hand, cold and so pale he can see it even in the dark, traces his neck. He flinches. It hurts horribly, it- he can almost still feel the sharp, rotten teeth of that Redead sinking and tearing into his skin, and the dizzying vapours of all the potions in the world won't possibly make him forget it, can't make- can't make that angry purple and red bruise disappear.
He exhales.
Darkness. Darkness. It's cold. Cold breath against the curve of his neck. He stiffens—
"Hold still."
Although his mouth is open, that isn't his voice. It's a low growl, emanating from beneath him, from a man who remains faceless in his mind, from a mouth he doesn't want to see.
The cane traces the side of his face. Cold sweat, cold fire, the cold laugh of the fire, cold tongue against his wound…
The spirits are moving, they're floating far from where they should be, but neither of them minds much, and— and now he's suddenly numb. He closes his eyes, not wanting to see. It's staring at him from the side, that piercing, red eye, and it's begun to inundate his mind, reading into it, playing with it, pinning him to the cold hard wall. It's damp and it smells damp and it presses against him the slightest bit too hard, but he doesn't protest. Not if he doesn't want to.
He exhales. He feels like he's forgotten to breath. He feels like that eye is making him forget to breath, even with his own closed.
White fingers run through dirty blond hair, caressing long Hylian ears. The kiss tastes of drink and feels like death. Clear blue eyes glance at those empty bottles next to the bed.
(Pleasure and) disgust.
Maybe if I was as good-looking as you, I could run a much different kind of business…
The young Hylian almost jumps out of his skin. Flinches away, stands up. Feels sobered up. That eye's guard is down.
"I- I came here to sell a ghost," He mumbles.
Silence, then that vague chuckle.
-
The teenager rushes out after he's been paid, and the dealer shifts up slightly, thoughtfully.
Hard times for the land are good times for him, after all. It's just a shame Link won't be back.
A/N You know you all were thinking the exact same thing.