Disclaimer: Blah, blah, blah, no Nintendo or Namco ownage. Don't sue me.
But I'll take Link if you're offering.
AN: Everything from the prologue's AN still true. . .sorry for the hold up, life got a little hectic, but hey, at least I'm trying again, right?
Chapter 2
Link's fingers inch the cloth up as he peers underneath it, discerning the top of a person's head in the shadows that indicated that their face was cast down into their lap. He assumes they are sleeping whoever they are and he mildly wonders why anyone would want to camp out in the ruins of a cathedral. His eyes travel away towards the source of the light's diversion that had caught his attention in the first place. It was a curved blade that was attached to a staff that the person had laid across their lap. Not a great way to be ready to defend one's self, but perhaps the traveler was exhausted. Gaze traveling slowly, he notices the runic engravings in the staff as his curiosity piques. He lowers his face just slightly so he can try to read them; thinking them a slightly Hylian in nature; or maybe it was his mind playing tricks on him. He was perhaps more tired than he thought, forgetting his breath in the close proximity he shared with the sleeping figure.
Yuri opens her eyes in shock. She'd felt a warm brush against her hair though it felt like a breath or breathing. Come to think of it, she felt a body close to her, overshadowing her and suspending her cloak away from her. Working out of its tired bewilderment, her mind works to piece together her surroundings to form a course of action. It felt like a person. . .a male was standing over her, their presence was too large to be female.
"I mustn't panic. . .I must remain calm. . .look for an opportunity to strike and flee." She thinks as she wills her breathing to calm once more. Her hands quiver just slightly as they clench the glaive in anticipation. "What does he want. . ." she questions impatiently while she waits. Her eyes open and she stares into the darkness of her lap, discerning her belt buckle as it peeks from under the cloak folds. "I can't take this anymore! I'll be killed if I wait any longer!" her mind screams; her feet shifting slowly in preparation to spring from their resting places.
He had become too interested in making out the inscriptions to notice her feet, but he noticed the movement of hands; the movement of clenching. It meant that he had been careless.
"I'd better move, I think they woke-" his thoughts are interrupted as he feels the end of the staff swiftly tip up and knock him off balance momentarily. The figure moves to a standing position with relative ease and faces him, weapon at the ready. "So much for being careful. . ." he thinks abysmally. The sword drops downwards as he twirls it into a ready position in front of him; his eyes following his opponent. Voice raised, he shouts a warning to the fighter opposite him, "I have no quarrel with you!"
"Liar. . ." she thinks as she straightens herself; muscles aching at having their rest interrupted so rudely. Her breath comes quickly now, pressed by adrenaline that rushes through her even now. Vision attuned, she studies her adversary, taking in a green tunic and his large broadsword held in a gloved hand. "Can that be. . .the Soul Edge?" her mind asks as her eyes move to look towards the face of the sword's owner. Blonde hair. . .blue eyes; almost a pristine color. And finally his face; youthful and achingly beautiful. She starts a little, caught off guard by his youthful countenance and lets her guard down for a moment.
Rushing forward, Link knocks the hesitating fighter down, pinning them under his shield. He wondered why they'd opened such a large hole in their defense but at the moment it happened, he took advantage of it. His weight rests lightly against the back of his shield, pinning the struggling body under both it and him.
"I won't hurt you if you tell me who you are and what you're doing here" he says between breaths, his eyes closed. He'd closed them as the impact hit underneath his shield and opened them slowly now, looking up towards the face of his competitor and has a mild shock. Laying on the stones under him, is a female; the hood of the cloak thrown back. His eyes rake over her hair in a shade of crimson; the light catching the blonde partially. She was young, not far behind him in years it looked though she retained an odd familiarity about her. It seems like she had come from his home far away; though his logic rules that out entirely. Her eyes open and he blinks down at her, at a loss for words; though he tries to make up for his speechlessness. "I'm. . .I didn't know. . .forgiv-"
Her hand gripped at the small dagger shed worked out from under her skirt that she kept attached to her outer thigh in a small sheath. She'd dropped her glaive in the scuffle and had been left without any real means of defense as the boy had knocked her down. Her mind had reflexively commanded her to disable him; a tactic enforced by her father when he had trained her. She feels his body weight increase as she pulls her hand off the dagger; her fingers left moist and sticky while a few drops of his blood fall onto her cloak. Pushing him off her, she rolls him onto his back and he lets out a soft groan; her own body resting a moment on the cool surface of the tiled stone under her.
She wonders what he was intending to do as she sits up and looks over his body. His sword had fallen uselessly beside him and his shield lay on the ground; still strapped to his limp arm. Gathering herself, she stands and tries to set herself to rights, a little shaken from the assault. Her gaze turns to her weapon but she freezes in movement to retrieve it; looking back to him again. Red stains his green tunic near his shoulder, turning the fabric an odd brown color. Moving closer, she crouches slightly to move her bloodstained hand to hover over his lips; feeling for breathing and finding it shallow and slow. Sickness hits her at the sight of him crumpled on the ground and she turns her hand over; staring at the red splattered on her pale skin in horror.
"What have I done. . .?"
AN: Everything from the prologue's AN still true. . .sorry for the hold up, life got a little hectic, but hey, at least I'm trying again, right?
Chapter 2
Link's fingers inch the cloth up as he peers underneath it, discerning the top of a person's head in the shadows that indicated that their face was cast down into their lap. He assumes they are sleeping whoever they are and he mildly wonders why anyone would want to camp out in the ruins of a cathedral. His eyes travel away towards the source of the light's diversion that had caught his attention in the first place. It was a curved blade that was attached to a staff that the person had laid across their lap. Not a great way to be ready to defend one's self, but perhaps the traveler was exhausted. Gaze traveling slowly, he notices the runic engravings in the staff as his curiosity piques. He lowers his face just slightly so he can try to read them; thinking them a slightly Hylian in nature; or maybe it was his mind playing tricks on him. He was perhaps more tired than he thought, forgetting his breath in the close proximity he shared with the sleeping figure.
Yuri opens her eyes in shock. She'd felt a warm brush against her hair though it felt like a breath or breathing. Come to think of it, she felt a body close to her, overshadowing her and suspending her cloak away from her. Working out of its tired bewilderment, her mind works to piece together her surroundings to form a course of action. It felt like a person. . .a male was standing over her, their presence was too large to be female.
"I mustn't panic. . .I must remain calm. . .look for an opportunity to strike and flee." She thinks as she wills her breathing to calm once more. Her hands quiver just slightly as they clench the glaive in anticipation. "What does he want. . ." she questions impatiently while she waits. Her eyes open and she stares into the darkness of her lap, discerning her belt buckle as it peeks from under the cloak folds. "I can't take this anymore! I'll be killed if I wait any longer!" her mind screams; her feet shifting slowly in preparation to spring from their resting places.
He had become too interested in making out the inscriptions to notice her feet, but he noticed the movement of hands; the movement of clenching. It meant that he had been careless.
"I'd better move, I think they woke-" his thoughts are interrupted as he feels the end of the staff swiftly tip up and knock him off balance momentarily. The figure moves to a standing position with relative ease and faces him, weapon at the ready. "So much for being careful. . ." he thinks abysmally. The sword drops downwards as he twirls it into a ready position in front of him; his eyes following his opponent. Voice raised, he shouts a warning to the fighter opposite him, "I have no quarrel with you!"
"Liar. . ." she thinks as she straightens herself; muscles aching at having their rest interrupted so rudely. Her breath comes quickly now, pressed by adrenaline that rushes through her even now. Vision attuned, she studies her adversary, taking in a green tunic and his large broadsword held in a gloved hand. "Can that be. . .the Soul Edge?" her mind asks as her eyes move to look towards the face of the sword's owner. Blonde hair. . .blue eyes; almost a pristine color. And finally his face; youthful and achingly beautiful. She starts a little, caught off guard by his youthful countenance and lets her guard down for a moment.
Rushing forward, Link knocks the hesitating fighter down, pinning them under his shield. He wondered why they'd opened such a large hole in their defense but at the moment it happened, he took advantage of it. His weight rests lightly against the back of his shield, pinning the struggling body under both it and him.
"I won't hurt you if you tell me who you are and what you're doing here" he says between breaths, his eyes closed. He'd closed them as the impact hit underneath his shield and opened them slowly now, looking up towards the face of his competitor and has a mild shock. Laying on the stones under him, is a female; the hood of the cloak thrown back. His eyes rake over her hair in a shade of crimson; the light catching the blonde partially. She was young, not far behind him in years it looked though she retained an odd familiarity about her. It seems like she had come from his home far away; though his logic rules that out entirely. Her eyes open and he blinks down at her, at a loss for words; though he tries to make up for his speechlessness. "I'm. . .I didn't know. . .forgiv-"
Her hand gripped at the small dagger shed worked out from under her skirt that she kept attached to her outer thigh in a small sheath. She'd dropped her glaive in the scuffle and had been left without any real means of defense as the boy had knocked her down. Her mind had reflexively commanded her to disable him; a tactic enforced by her father when he had trained her. She feels his body weight increase as she pulls her hand off the dagger; her fingers left moist and sticky while a few drops of his blood fall onto her cloak. Pushing him off her, she rolls him onto his back and he lets out a soft groan; her own body resting a moment on the cool surface of the tiled stone under her.
She wonders what he was intending to do as she sits up and looks over his body. His sword had fallen uselessly beside him and his shield lay on the ground; still strapped to his limp arm. Gathering herself, she stands and tries to set herself to rights, a little shaken from the assault. Her gaze turns to her weapon but she freezes in movement to retrieve it; looking back to him again. Red stains his green tunic near his shoulder, turning the fabric an odd brown color. Moving closer, she crouches slightly to move her bloodstained hand to hover over his lips; feeling for breathing and finding it shallow and slow. Sickness hits her at the sight of him crumpled on the ground and she turns her hand over; staring at the red splattered on her pale skin in horror.
"What have I done. . .?"
