It's cold here.
More than anything, I'm reminded of him by the cold.
The white frosty plumes of snow as they drifted off the roofs in Rito village and would encircle him as he walked, proud and tall. The way his breath caught in midair, halted in front of his face like a haunting mirage. How his feathers would ruffle, not in a shudder, but to shake off the snow as if it affronted his dignity, the individual snowflakes daring to try and touch his elegant plumage. Even now, my chest aches and fills with its own frost, remembering what I had, what I could have had now, had I not been what I am.
Trapped in this palace, ever as always, whether by duty or by the cursed, blighted presence of Ganon and yet another of his attempts to gain the rule of this world, I lie in wait, my body under siege and my mind in torture chambers of my own making. The knight, the hero of Hyrule is elsewhere, recuperating, and who knows how much longer I must wait in this purgatory. It feels like a million years have passed. My body is breaking down, blood and bone drying up and becoming ash. All I have to get me by are my thoughts. Thoughts of home. Thoughts of friends long gone. Thoughts of love long lost.
