Dante was the first common Zora to ever wear clothing. He turned giddy with excitement every time he pulled out his trousers... he had only seen five winters when he obtained his first pair. He had found the trousers of the traveling merchant fascinating... so fascinating, in fact, that he had spent 2 whole blue rupees on a pair. (Dante had never seen so much money in all his life -- the rupees had been a birthday gift from his Uncle Japas.) Sure, the trousers were the most inexpensive pair there and yes, they were plain brown with a simple string as a belt, but to Dante they were the most beautiful things he had ever laid eyes on. He had proudly strutted about, showing anyone who would listen about how the fabric was stitched together with fine thread from Clock Town, how they were held up with a dog-hair rope from Romani Ranch, how they folded and stretched with every movement he made.
The other children were so amazed at the treasure, they almost managed to overlook the four locks of shiny black hair protruding from Dante's forehead.
After Dante's birth, some of the older, less open-minded Zoras had immediately labeled the baby as a monster, with no hope for any future. After all, he had black tentacles on his face! They had said to dry the tadpole out, or hook it, or give it to the local experimentation lab, anything but keep it in their Hall. The mother fought for the baby, and after much debating and tears, the child was permitted to stay. He was diagnosed simply as a disabled Zora with a non-contagious disease involving recurring mutations. They had cut the black things, pulled them, plucked them, but they always came back eventually, so the experiments were called off. They seemed to cause the baby serious displeasure anyway.
Dante's mother raised him and loved him, naming him after a legendary Zora hero. She prayed the name would give him strength and courage to live differently. Dante grew, and never complained about himself. He lived among the rest of them, resembling a Zora in every way, the only exceptions being the black hair and his headfin. It was longer and straighter than a regular headfin, but no one ever paid any heed. It was rare not to have one or two different headfins in a generation. He lived in the Hall with the rest of them, occasionally venturing out to play on the beach, and every twelve days to the temple, to pray with his mother. He never prayed to change. He never prayed to be like everyone else. He thanked the Gods he was alive, and prayed his fellow Zoras would permit him to stay that way another day.
As Dante aged, he found that his beloved trousers were growing smaller and smaller, seemingly by the second. He began to pray another merchant would come, so he could buy new ones.
His faith was not in vain.
When another merchant paid call, Dante was six winters wiser, and had been saving every greener he found to add to his trouser funds. When he added all the greeners with the four blue rupees he had saved from his past two birthdays, he had thirty-seven rupees to call his own. Dante hoped it would be enough to buy a finer pair of trousers that would last longer. He managed to lay his hands on a pair of soft, shiny, tan-colored trousers with a leather belt and metal buckle, valued at forty-five rupees. He had borrowed four rupees from his mother, and the merchant had been kind enough to let the trousers go for only forty-one rupees.
Dante was fortunate the ones he had chosen were of good quality, and built to last long. He would soon need them to help conceal the secret that would all too soon ruin his life.
When he began to approach his fourteenth winter, Dante was terrified to find that his black disease had begun to spread to his underarms, and worse, his most private places. He was afraid to tell anyone; they would label him diseased, contagious, and hazardous. His trousers became his most treasured possession, the only thing standing between him and exile.
On the merchant's next visit, shortly after Dante's sixteenth winter, he provided Dante with a forest-green, one-shouldered cape that, with a few minor alterations, covered the bottom half of Dante's face. He wanted to hide his chin and cheeks -- the disease had begun to spread there as well. Sometimes he could take a sharp rock he kept hidden in a box under his bed and scrape some of the black off, but it always left his chin prickly after a day or two, and it also cut his face something fierce.
After Dante had seen nineteen winters, his mother began to worry; he was still unmarried. All the Zora boys he had grown up with had been married for at least two winters by now, and she had never even seen Dante with a girl.
Dante did not dare tell anyone that he had never before laid with a woman -- never even been with one on a remotely intimate level -- but he could not do so, or she would surely speak of his disease with others, then word of it would spread faster than the disease itself.
Dante became accustomed to living alone with only a mother and uncle as companions. He spent his time playing his guitar, and thinking of the lost father he had never known. Everything was laid out in a delicate balance.
That balance was thrown off the instant Dante was thrown off his feet by his brother, to have the trousers torn away to reveal his disease to all... the disease he had taken to calling the Black Thorn.
They had all seen it... they all knew.
All Dante knew then was that he had to leave. Now.
Or he would soon become feed for the fishes of the Great Bay.
The other children were so amazed at the treasure, they almost managed to overlook the four locks of shiny black hair protruding from Dante's forehead.
After Dante's birth, some of the older, less open-minded Zoras had immediately labeled the baby as a monster, with no hope for any future. After all, he had black tentacles on his face! They had said to dry the tadpole out, or hook it, or give it to the local experimentation lab, anything but keep it in their Hall. The mother fought for the baby, and after much debating and tears, the child was permitted to stay. He was diagnosed simply as a disabled Zora with a non-contagious disease involving recurring mutations. They had cut the black things, pulled them, plucked them, but they always came back eventually, so the experiments were called off. They seemed to cause the baby serious displeasure anyway.
Dante's mother raised him and loved him, naming him after a legendary Zora hero. She prayed the name would give him strength and courage to live differently. Dante grew, and never complained about himself. He lived among the rest of them, resembling a Zora in every way, the only exceptions being the black hair and his headfin. It was longer and straighter than a regular headfin, but no one ever paid any heed. It was rare not to have one or two different headfins in a generation. He lived in the Hall with the rest of them, occasionally venturing out to play on the beach, and every twelve days to the temple, to pray with his mother. He never prayed to change. He never prayed to be like everyone else. He thanked the Gods he was alive, and prayed his fellow Zoras would permit him to stay that way another day.
As Dante aged, he found that his beloved trousers were growing smaller and smaller, seemingly by the second. He began to pray another merchant would come, so he could buy new ones.
His faith was not in vain.
When another merchant paid call, Dante was six winters wiser, and had been saving every greener he found to add to his trouser funds. When he added all the greeners with the four blue rupees he had saved from his past two birthdays, he had thirty-seven rupees to call his own. Dante hoped it would be enough to buy a finer pair of trousers that would last longer. He managed to lay his hands on a pair of soft, shiny, tan-colored trousers with a leather belt and metal buckle, valued at forty-five rupees. He had borrowed four rupees from his mother, and the merchant had been kind enough to let the trousers go for only forty-one rupees.
Dante was fortunate the ones he had chosen were of good quality, and built to last long. He would soon need them to help conceal the secret that would all too soon ruin his life.
When he began to approach his fourteenth winter, Dante was terrified to find that his black disease had begun to spread to his underarms, and worse, his most private places. He was afraid to tell anyone; they would label him diseased, contagious, and hazardous. His trousers became his most treasured possession, the only thing standing between him and exile.
On the merchant's next visit, shortly after Dante's sixteenth winter, he provided Dante with a forest-green, one-shouldered cape that, with a few minor alterations, covered the bottom half of Dante's face. He wanted to hide his chin and cheeks -- the disease had begun to spread there as well. Sometimes he could take a sharp rock he kept hidden in a box under his bed and scrape some of the black off, but it always left his chin prickly after a day or two, and it also cut his face something fierce.
After Dante had seen nineteen winters, his mother began to worry; he was still unmarried. All the Zora boys he had grown up with had been married for at least two winters by now, and she had never even seen Dante with a girl.
Dante did not dare tell anyone that he had never before laid with a woman -- never even been with one on a remotely intimate level -- but he could not do so, or she would surely speak of his disease with others, then word of it would spread faster than the disease itself.
Dante became accustomed to living alone with only a mother and uncle as companions. He spent his time playing his guitar, and thinking of the lost father he had never known. Everything was laid out in a delicate balance.
That balance was thrown off the instant Dante was thrown off his feet by his brother, to have the trousers torn away to reveal his disease to all... the disease he had taken to calling the Black Thorn.
They had all seen it... they all knew.
All Dante knew then was that he had to leave. Now.
Or he would soon become feed for the fishes of the Great Bay.