Where we learn a bit about a strange drug's origin, Link attempts to look into a symbol he finds on his sword-err-pen, and then dates with a dash of wariness.
I appreciate all the faves and comments! Sorry this one was a few days later than normal. I was struggling on if I should continue it or not, but then realized how information (or lack thereof) is in this chapter. 19 pages seems a good amount for now, yeah? Also I hate how Google docs, Microsoft, and whatever FF has different spelling for certain words. Makes me paranoid even after I looked up things like parts on a sword, etc.
No more song suggestions, those honestly tire me out because then I second guess if it really fits the way I felt it fit the other day.
As always, thanks Nothin'Fancy for putting up with me and beta reading!
SIX- SNAKES
Ghirahim's gloved fingers rubbed a streak of black ichor over the blue knit scarf before burrowing into the young journalist's neck. The journalist trembled within his grasp, and he tightened his hold until the trembling began to stall.
Ghirahim turned the shivering man's head from side to side. His gaze trailing over the black ichor that had begun to ooze from the man's eyes and drip along his chin. They'd only been down here in the depths of Lon Lon Industries for roughly three hours, and already the body before him was beginning to break down from the increased use of the opioid.
His test subject, Revali Rito, was tied up against a metal chair. At the start, he'd had difficulty forcing Revali to stay on the chair. That is, until Ghirahim had introduced his body to the drug. Only then had Revali become lenient. His eyes had glazed over, drawn to an eternal distance, and he'd eventually fallen unconscious all together. The only sign of life that he gave was sporadic shivering and the faint rise and fall of his chest.
The door across from him creaked as it opened, and he relented his grip on Revali when he heard a familiar clearing of the throat.
"Learn anything?" Ghirahim glanced over his shoulder as Ganon stepped farther into the room. The room itself was relatively small. It had once been a maintenance closet, but had recently been cleared for events such as testing an opioid. It was only used for a specific opioid though, one that was only allowed to be administered by Ganon's most trusted employees. Something that was hard to come by these days, but Ganon would never have to worry about Ghirahim betraying him.
Ghirahim stepped to the side and allowed Ganon view of their newest test subject. "I feel like it's evolved or mutated."
"This is the rat you'd mentioned?" Ganon's voice shook with noticeable disgust before he turned away to the small, metal table that sat just a foot away from Revali's chair.
"Yes. He's a journalist. Was following the rumors of Lon Lon's underground business."
The tanned man plucked an empty syringe carefully between two fingers and turned it from side to side. "How much have you given him?"
"Just two and a half milliliters. The one from before had only been given three before that black stuff began to show."
"What of his mental state?"
"Not sure, he's been out cold for an hour or so. I'd say about thirty minutes after the injection he became lenient and disassociated. I can't tell if it's progressed since we've only tried it on a handful of people."
"Which is why Amanda's report should shed some light on how it's been mutating. What about the warehouse in Ordona?"
"The shipments that were brought in were all contaminated within an hour."
Ganon nodded before circling Revali once, twice, only to stop beside Ghirahim. "Release him within a few hours, but before that, make sure you get rid of any video footage that would prove he'd visited us. After that, I have some interesting news that I think you'd like to hear." Ghirahim's brows arched as he watched a shadow of a grin slither across the taller man's face. "I met with the queen today, and she said some interesting things."
"The Hero, is it about his return? I thought his legacy had died along with the Triforce and Master Sword." There was a sickening lilt of delight in Ghirahim's voice, and it only helped in darkening Ganon's smile.
"The queen had some interesting words to say. Her powers have weakened significantly, but I wouldn't be surprised that her premonitions reign true. Which is why I cannot help but wonder if this opioid will help us find him."
Ghirahim's smile faltered for a fraction of a second. His thoughts running over one another as Ganon's words echoed along the walls. "How would it help locate him? The opioid is just a drug contaminated by that artifact you brought in from Gerudo a few months back."
Ganon was quiet for a moment, but then his eye moved to stare at Ghirahim with dark humor, and his lips curled into a gruesome grin. "This is why I don't trust you with much more than brute tasks, you don't use your brain."
Ghirahim gritted his teeth but kept his emotions in check, the last thing he needed after a day like today was some perverted punishment. Ganon chuckled at his minion's submission, and turned to begin leaving the room, "That 'artifact' is called the Mirror of Twilight."
That's is, I'm losing it.
It was the only thought that made sense to Link as he stared at the pen in-between his hands. He'd sought refuge in one of Lanayru's renowned parks. It was the only park in the prefecture that had a large, crystal clear pond accompanied by a small cliff that expanded out and over the water. Link had taken a seat by the water, and had remained there for over an hour.
Autumn wind coiled around him. A swarm of golden leaves rustled beneath his boots. Children played along the lip of the pond, their laughter bouncing against the trees and along the water's surface. However, none of it reached Link. His senses were clouded, ears and nerves numb to both sound and touch. The only thing that had reached him was the feel of the feather light pen in his grip.
He'd likely clicked the pen over a hundred times now, and each click ended in the sword replacing the pen. Each transformation had his arms straining against the heavy blade. His fingers constantly shivered around the bone chilling hilt with uncertainty. There had been more than one instance where he'd ran his middle finger along the edge. As soon as the pad of his finger had barely even grazed over the sharp metal, it had sliced into his skin. It felt like a paper cut, but thicker and deeper. Oddly enough it was the only way to turn the sword back into a pen.
Was it just his blood specifically, and why had it turned back into a pen when that psychiatrist had used it? Again he ran his finger along the edge, and as soon as his blood covered a fraction of the blade, it turned into a pen in the blink of an eye.
What was even stranger was how familiar it felt. As if he'd used it as much as he'd used his issued firearm, a weapon that he'd been so used to that it almost felt like it was a part of his hand. Yet the feel of the smooth, marbled pommel that flared out like wings; the solid, plated cross-guard, and bevelled cuts along the fuller felt as if he was running his hands along his own skin. It felt right. It belonged there, within his hands, just as the sun belonged in the sky.
"I've never wielded a sword before. I don't-I didn't even know what a 'cross-guard' was before this thing." Link muttered to himself, grimacing as he turned the pen over and over in his palms.
Should he try and tell someone about this?
His blue eyes lifted up to gaze at the children and the other passerby that wandered aimlessly around the park. No one who'd passed him seemed to notice the pen's ability. Then again, even if they had, he likely wouldn't have noticed. His attention too set on the strange item before him. Even now as he looked over the six children that tried to edge up to the pond's cliff in a game of dare, giggling mercilessly, did his senses still trace around the pen's barrel. Their laughter barely broke through his troubled thoughts. Nothing but distant static riding on the wind.
It was then as his eyes resettled on the pen that he came to the decision that, no, he should tell no one of this. Who would believe him?
Exactly, no one.
Again he clicked it, and again the blade appeared. The muscles in his arms strained, and then everything shifted into place. It still felt heavy, but his arms did not struggle underneath it.
Once more he looked over the silver blade with its purple hilt with a critical gaze. His brows furrowed, and his eyes carefully traced the smallest of details along the metal. They strayed on the insignia that was etched underneath the rain-guard, underneath the yellow encrusted crystal. At the center of the ricasso where the face of the blade splayed outward before narrowing to the point, a small triangle glistened underneath the afternoon sun. Every time he set eyes on it, a burning headache creeped up along the back of his head.
That triangle, a shape that was made of three smaller triangles, haunted his dreams constantly. He'd never seen it outside of his dreams until now. But then, this sword before him couldn't be real. A tingle across his freshly cut fingers reminded him though that it couldn't be his imagination. There was no possible way he was losing it this much. At least, that's what he told himself.
Gradually, his thumb brushed along the triangular shape. Its etching was raised to where he could run his thumb over each intricate line. It was as his finger met the bevelled side of the blade that an idea came to mind.
The symbol had to mean something, right? There was no possible way he could have just made it up, over and over again, right? So then, where or how could he find out more about it?
Library? Coogle?
Anything was better than nothing.
That thought alone urged him to draw blood along the blade, reverting it back to the pen. Taking one last look at the pen before pocketing it away, he stood up and quickly shuffled along the lip of the pond. As soon as he crossed the expanse of the pond did his senses envelope him in a tidal wave. The crisp fall air slid into his coat, and it forced a shiver over him as the noise of the laughing children plummeted into silence.
There are children yet there is no laughter.
That thought had a mind of its own. It wasn't his, but it was. A soft brush of recognition tangling with his conscience. His head swiveled, and he looked for the children that had lingered near the edge of the cliff. There were no children around the pond though. In fact, the park was empty. All except for the snake that sat curled up on itself.
Its body was of pure white, eyes dripping with sunlight, and it sat where the group of children had been. Link blinked, but the snake still remained. From where he stood just a few feet away from the pond, it looked bigger than his arm and longer than his body.
"Link, Hero chosen by the goddesses…"
The words pierced his ears, and he watched in alarm as the world around them darkened until it was only him and the white snake.
"Go to the princess-"
His body burned, no longer touched by the autumn breeze.
"Locked away in the castle."
Link grimaced, his jaws locked painfully together as the voice grew louder and louder until it was screaming. His hands clapped over his ears, but it did little to deter the scream from grating along his senses.
"The princess holds the ke-"
"Are you okay, mister?"
In an instant, the darkness vanished and the snake disappeared. The pain and noise that had prodded him fell away with the imagery, devoured by the brightly lit park and six small, rounded faces. The children he'd seen playing along the pond stood before him with eyes colored in concern.
"My dad said that adults don't cry, but you look like you're gonna cry." The young girl right in front of him said, her chin raised high in the air as she looked him up and down over her nose. Her friends giggled.
Link blinked, brows raised in confusion as he looked between the spot where the snake had been to the children before him. One of the shorter children, a boy with chubby cheeks, adds to his friend's comment, but it fell on deaf ears as Link quickly turned on his heels and rushed out of the park.
Only when he crossed the street to his cruiser did he stop, heaving a sigh before pinching the bridge of his nose with a hand. There's a curse ready to overflow from his lips, but the hallucination or whatever it was, still pulled at him. Its grip was solid and heavy, quieting any words or thoughts that resurfaced in the fog of his mind. He struggled to sift through his keys for the driver's side door, but when he opened it and heaved himself onto the seat, he heard the bell-like chime of his cellphone.
He recognized the chime to be Malon's assigned text tone, something she'd picked out when he'd first gotten the cellphone. With a groan he shifted, and pulled his phone out of his pocket. The pen slipped out of his pocket and rolled to the back of the car seat. Link hastily picked it up and tossed it into an empty cup holder before unlocking his phone.
How are you feeling today?
That single text cleared the layer of mist that haunted his mind. Her concern pulled a ghost of a smile across his lips. She was definitely too good for him. He typed out a brief reply, a simple "better," but as he sent it he found himself shaking his head. No, she'd know he was lying through his teeth.
Better.
I met with a psychiatrist named Impa. I'll be meeting her again next week. She kind of made me feel a bit better, free, kinda.
It was partly true. He would be seeing her next week, but he didn't feel better in the slightest. No, if anything, he felt worse. He didn't admit it though as he placed his cell phone next to the pen and turned the key in the ignition.
Lanayru's library, Gaebora Library, was a vast, two-story building aligned with large stone columns and bright red brick. Wide windows framed the front of the building, spanning across two stories. Their size dwarfed the black rimmed, rotating doors, and the brick path that bridged the parking lot to the main entrance. Link hadn't visited the library in years, but as he walked in, the smell of leather bound books, ink on paper, and aged wood brought forth a myriad of memories.
He and Malon had had many study dates here during their high school days. In fact, they'd practically lived within the library's four walls during college. Both trying their best to beat the other by graduating with honors. Malon, of course, had beat him.
Link paused a few feet away from the doors, and breathed in the nostalgia. It was calming, grounding, and he did it once more before he turned toward the front desk. The librarian who greeted him there looked the same as he remembered. Her gray hair was tied up tight in a high bun, square glasses precariously perched along the bridge of her nose, and her earrings were long and they jingled against her sharp, padded shoulders.
"What can I help you with, dearie?" Her voice even sounded the same, whispers of paper against paper.
He clenched and unclenched his teeth over the question. How exactly should he word this? "I'm not really sure if you can help me, but I'm searching for anything that might have to do with a symbol that I've seen before."
"Well, I might be able to help. What is the symbol?"
"Can I draw it instead of describing it?"
She nodded somberly and plucked a yellow post-it note from somewhere underneath the counter. Placing it in front of him, she then scooted a worn pencil into his view. He took both in hand and leaned against the counter.
The symbol itself was ingrained in his mind now, lingering like an omen, but he carefully drew out the large triangle. He then broke it up into three smaller pieces with the use of an upside down triangle. He drew the lines slowly as if they were the hardest thing he'd drawn in his life. When the lines met he set down the pencil and looked up at the aged librarian. "Have you ever seen this?"
Her brows gradually furrowed as she peered down at his drawing. Her nod was slower than when he'd drawn the lines. "Yes, I believe so. That's a symbol that was used in the Triune religion. Here, let me see if we have any of the books on that for you to check out."
A religious symbol?
She moved away from the counter, out of view, and left him to stand against the stillness of the library. She'd only been gone for a minute or so though, returning with a printed list in-hand. "This," she tapped a wrinkled finger against a single string of numbers, "is a shelf number upstairs. Look for the mythology section first, then go by the number. We only have one book, but I think it's in a different language."
Link thanked her with a smile, and with the sheet of paper in hand he headed for the carpeted stairs that would lead him to the second floor. From there he followed the signs that pointed toward the genre-based sections. Mythology sat to the far right on a large square of dark blue carpet that was surrounded by golden trim. Its shelves were almost as tall as the walls.
He followed the numbers along the shelves until he found the one printed on the paper. It took a moment before he found the book, and when he did, he felt a bead of disappointment form in his chest. From the stem alone, the book was damaged. It had clearly been repaired, but as he pulled it from the shelf he noticed that the book closed inwardly. Multiple holes aligned the stem, signifying that a lot of papers were missing.
Regardless, he sought out a table tucked away in a corner and gently opened the book. The cover didn't open to the first page, but it did open to the 232nd page. That many pages are missing?
Like the librarian had said, the words that littered the pages were in a completely different language. The only thing he could remotely understand were the pictures at least, but there weren't many throughout the remaining text.
There was a picture of the symbol though, but its three pieces were broken up separately and were held by three black figures. Each figure was surrounded by colored lines, but the actual color was beyond Link. Age had definitely discolored the ink from its original appearance.
Then there was the last picture near the back of the book. It was an illustration drawn out in charcoal from what he could tell. A drawing of the sword, the sword that the pen turned into, stood in the middle of a clearing. It was guarded by a thick line of trees, and locked in place by some form of light that streamed down like a waterfall. It was then as he leaned onto the table, eyes widening as he looked the illustration up and down, that the foreign letters below it shifted. They swirled in his peripheral, and melted into a language that he could read. Yet when his gaze snapped to the words, the foreign text remained.
He'd seen it though.
Master Sword, the bane of all things evil, all things dark, is the weapon that can only be wielded by the Hero of-It was all he'd managed to read and recognize before the text, much like the sword, reverted back to its original shape.
Maybe I'm not as crazy as I thought I was, but, "Hero of what though?" He couldn't help the indignant growl or the way he banged his fist against the table as he spoke his question aloud. The need to finish the sentence, to find out what type of Hero wielded the blade was something that he desperately needed to know. Without knowing, he felt lost, insane, borderline empty.
He relinquished a heavy sigh, feeling utterly defeated, and closed the book. Link hunched down on his chair then, but before he could dwell over the missing pages and its missing words, his phone vibrated against his side. A reminder that there were other means of research and discovery.
Quickly, he pulled out his cellphone and opened the service provider's Internet browser. His fingers tripping over themselves as he typed out Master Sword. The results that the tab brought up were fruitless, but he tried again.
Triune Mythology Master Sword.
That brought up a few results, twenty articles to be exact, but five of them were from the same site. It was better than nothing though. With a slow inhale and a silent prayer, he tapped the first article. Wakapedia's title sprang up in bold letters, followed by an article that focused on the Triune mythology.
Triune is a polytheistic religion that worships three goddesses: Nayru, Farore, and Din. Its religious practices gradually died out in the early 1200s, during the era of Argae. It is said that the belief in Triune ended during a great war. Not much is known about the religion as most of the shrines and documents were destroyed during the war's aftermath.
Symbols of a tool called the Triforce and a magical weapon-Master Sword-are reiterated throughout remaining documents. According to the texts, the Triforce was said to have been a gift from the goddesses that granted any wish. While the weapon was said to protect the Triforce from those who harbored wishes of malicious intent.
It was something he hadn't known beforehand, but it didn't answer his question. There was no mention of heroes. There was no explanation as to why the Triforce appeared in both his dreams and his hallucinations. With a click of his tongue he went back to the search engine, skimming through each article that he opened.
Ended during a great war…
Master Sword…
Triforce said to have granted wishes…
Nothing pointed him to the answers he wanted, no, needed. It felt as if he had an itch that couldn't be scratched, or a gaping wound that couldn't be stitched up. Something akin to an unquenchable thirst.
His phone vibrated in his hand, startling him from his frustrated stupor. Part of a message materializing above the screen before slowly disappearing. At the sight of Malon's name, Link opened the message.
Good, I'm glad!
Um, would you be up to have dinner tonight?
Link reread the two text messages over and over again until they took over his jarred thoughts. It didn't make replying any easier though as he struggled to form words, his attention still partly pulled to the old book on the table.
Date night? A third message from her popped up, and it drew all of his attention onto the two small words.
Date night… they hadn't had that in a long while. They were definitely overdue for one, but could he do it? He wasn't in the right mind for something so intimate. But if he said no, Malon would definitely be sad. She'd be worried again too.
She deserves someone better than me. He shook his head as soon as the idea came to mind. Pushing the book farther away from him so he could rest his elbows on the table, he typed out his response, but then quickly deleted it. It took two more attempts until he found the right words he wanted to send.
Wouldn't have my night any other way.
Malon was dressed in light green scrubs. Her long red hair pulled back and tied into a loose ponytail. She smiled brightly as soon as she spotted Link trudging down the sidewalk. Her laughter reached his ears and submerged him in a feeling of peace that quickly swept away all of his worries from the day. Even under the streetlight, he could see the freckles splashed along her cheeks, and the closer he got, the brighter her smile became.
"Hey, Link!" Her voice vibrated through him.
She closed the distance between them, but stopped a few inches from him. At first, he thought it was because she could read the trepidation that he'd fallen victim to earlier in the day. It was only when she'd looked up at him, a smile still as bright as the stars overhead, that he'd realized that she was waiting for him to make the first move. It was something she did on occasion, all for him. Even if she needed a hug, a touch of affection, as much as she needed to breathe, she always kept him in mind. After all, affection for Link didn't come and go as easily as it did for her.
"Hey, Mal. How was your shift?" Link matched her smile, and drew a hand onto her shoulder.
Her eyes had shifted to his hand on her right shoulder before moving along his arm and back to his face. "Long and boring, the usual. Sorry I didn't have time to dress into something… nicer." She frowned, but found comfort when he squeezed her shoulder.
"If you looked any better then you'd definitely outshine me, and we can't have that."
Malon laughed, shaking her head, "No, we most certainly cannot, pretty boy."
He smiled alongside her, and moved closer toward her. His hand slipped down her arm and tangled in her own, fingers interlacing. "Come on, I bet you haven't eaten since this morning." Link accused before pulling her toward the restaurant.
She'd chosen it an hour ago, and the name did not go unnoticed by him. The White Snake, although famous for its authentic Chinese cuisine, was definitely not something he would've recommended or even considered since his hallucination in the park. In fact, just by glancing at the sign that looked down on them with its royal gold accents, did little to ease the agitation in his stomach.
He must've tightened his hold on Malon's hand because she wrapped her freehand over his bicep, and she squeezed it out of concern. It helped anchor him as the glass doors closed at their backs. The warm air, thick with the scent of even warmer food, blanketed them and chased away the cold autumn night. They were quickly ushered into a booth in the far side of the restaurant that sat in view of the sparkling fountain. It was the centerpiece of the restaurant, housing a porcelain statue of a white snake with ruby eyes that coiled around the rocks that made up the fountain. Jagged rocks which shone like gemstones underneath the high ceiling lights overhead.
Link traced his attention along the snake, its mouth open wide and pointed in his direction. Its saber-like fangs were trimmed in gold just like the slight hint of scales that covered its smooth form. It didn't look like the snake from the park at all, but it still had him eyeing it warily. Almost as if he expected it to snap its gaping mouth shut.
"I'm surprised you said okay to this place. It's a little more expensive than what we're used to." Malon spoke up sheepishly from across him. Her hands flicked at the faux leather bound menu.
True, but they rarely went out like this. Once in a while wouldn't burn much of a hole in their pockets. "I know how much you like dumplings, and if I remember correctly, this place has the best pork dumplings in Lanayru."
She grinned and shook her head before she pulled open the menu. They sat there in a subtle silence as the sound of an erhu and a guzheng danced around the restaurant. The two instruments twirled along one another and traced along the decorative snake's scales. Their music gradually gained depth and grew in volume, at first working together harmoniously, but as Link's senses dulled to the melodies, they began to sound like they were fighting for dominance.
It was then that his eyes lifted from the menu and resettled on the snake. Its head was turned more to the side so that a single ruby eye looked him up and down, its jaw closed. Then ever so gently it turned its head until both of its red eyes were in plain view. A golden tongue slithered out, equally golden fangs glistening sharply underneath the light.
O Hero chosen by the gods… the dark power that you seek…
"I think I'll get the Peking duck this time around. What about you?" At Malon's voice, the discord of music settled until it was one with the background, and the snake's mouth was open as it stared straight ahead into nothing.
Link blinked, brows furrowing, and with the slightest shake of his head he pulled his attention back to the red head before him. He was met with glimmering cobalt, her eyes boring into his, and she frowned. "Are you okay?" Her right eye squinted slightly.
No. I'm seeing things, Malon.
"Sorry, just tired. Looking forward to those sleeping pills later on." Honestly, I'm afraid of sleep. What if the hallucinations get worse? "So Peking duck, yeah? Why bother when you hate duck."
"Did you sleep at all today? And I do not hate Peking duck. The only poultry I hate is the poultry Pipit makes for your office parties. That monstrosity is definitely not cucco and it's nowhere close to being turkey."
"Not really. I stayed up when you left for work. As for Pipit's holiday dish, he told me it was actually pork once."
"That is not how pork should taste then!" She wagged her finger between them, "You all really should ban his mystery meat before it makes someone sick."
They shared a fit of laughter. A laughter that robbed Link of his worries and stress, leaving him in a sort of daze as Malon continued. "Now don't worry. I warned him not to bring that dish to your party. Which will be this Saturday. You're not one for surprises so I figured I should probably tell you beforehand."
That feeling of peace was broken in an instant at the reminder of his birthday. Link pulled his eyes from hers as he silently counted the days. Today was Tuesday, and the hallucinations, the dreams, everything seemed to be getting much worse. If it was only four days away then would everything continue to spiral downward? And would it continue to do so even after his birthday?
Because unlike last year or the years before that, he didn't remember the hallucinations mixing so well into his world. After all, the event with the old woman across the street when he'd stepped out of Valoo had been the first time he'd been unable to tell reality from fantasy. He especially didn't remember having swords pop out of pens or foreign words making sense at the corner of his eye.
"Link?"
He blinked hard, and managed a grunt in acknowledgement. This time his gaze stuck to the menu, unable to meet her gaze. "Yeah, I'd rather not have his mystery concoctions as an entree for my birthday. And thanks. I'll try to make sure to get out of work a bit early."
"If nothing crazy happens." Link heard her sigh.
She'd superstitiously wrapped her knuckles twice against the top of the table just as their waiter accompanied them. Without hesitation, Malon ordered her Peking duck, while he took a moment longer before ordering his usual dish of Sichuan pork. It was only when the waiter had stepped away that Malon piped back up.
"Are you okay? You look kind of," she paused, then, "I don't know, disturbed, maybe? You aren't still angry about the party, are you? You know I just want to celebrate the day you were born. Are birthdays really that uncomfortable for you?"
"No, I'm-"
"I mean, you get like this every year when your birthday comes around. And gosh, I realize I probably shouldn't be bringing this up now during our date, but I'd really like to know why. You are always happily celebrating my birthday, but never your own. Why is that?"
Because with every birthday I feel like I'm losing more of myself.
"I just don't see the point in it."
"But you see a point in mine?"
"Well, of course. Why wouldn't I? I'd always see a point in a birthday for one of the most amazing people I know." He attempted to give her a smizing smile. She giggled a little, her cheeks turning a soft pink, before she shook her head and pointed accusingly across the table.
"Oh, no you don't! Flattery will get you nowhere."
"It got me to talk you into dating me in college." Something that he had honestly never expected would actually happen. Sure, they'd known each other since they were toddlers, and yes, he'd had a crush on her for the longest time. Yet even now, like back then, it all felt too good to be true.
"A girl never knocks down free food." She said with the hint of a blush coloring her cheeks. It was a phrase she'd said back then too when he'd asked her if she wanted to go out to dinner with him. She blushed even more at the smile that slipped easily along his lips, and then they both shared a moment of laughter.
It was only when they'd started laughing over the lame pickup lines Link had used back then that their food came. From there the dinner continued underneath the sound of laughter and her smile. The worries and stress from before, were quickly being forgotten underneath her presence. Even as they talked about their work, the closed case of Runa Lara, and his birthday celebration, the snake statue did not move for a second time. The hallucinations did not wreak havoc, and the pen in his pants pocket remained just that, a pen.
It was only when they'd finished their meal that Malon had shared her dislike for having finished the entirety of her meal. Link had quickly assured her that she was still as beautiful as she had been on the day they first met. She smiled again, and then suggested taking a midnight stroll in the nearby park. The very same park that Link had visited earlier that day.
"Are you sure? It's supposed to get colder tonight." Link said sheepishly as he placed two folded twenty dollar bills beside their stack of dirty plates. Malon only persisted, eager to lengthen their time together, and after a few minutes of arguing about the cold, Link relented.
He was reluctant at first as he placed a few dollar bills in-between their plates. He even went as far as folding them in tight squares, prolonging their stay in the restaurant. It was already bad enough that he'd had a fit of hallucinations encouraged by the statue of the snake near them, but to go back to that park where he'd seen that serpentine illusion? The very memory of that particular vision had his stomach all twisted in knots.
