Dried blood.
Zelda's dried blood.
Images flashed into his mind ... the missing chunk of her elegant blonde hair, her ripped and soiled clothing, the gleaming blade that sliced all too perfectly across her throat ... the blood that poured out of the wound instantly ... the blood ... all that blood ...
Almost like a switch had been flicked, Link's lifeless body jolted. He'd been sitting there reminiscing for Hylia knows how long with widened blue eyes upon discovering the blood, but that last image in his mind was what sent him over the edge. It was like watching a statue suddenly come to life, brimming with untamed emotion.
Knees sunk in the sand as Link's position switched. His heart pounded wildly in his chest with unrecognizable anxiety as he fiercely tried to rub the blood off his palms.
The friction didn't do much aside from peel little bits and pieces off but Link couldn't stop his movements — he simply couldn't. Every last drop of blood had to go ... he couldn't have that reminder, that failure haunting him more than it already was.
However, the madness had only just begun.
Suddenly he was all too aware of the scarlet that blossomed the front of his chest. He could remember holding her after her body had crumpled to the floor ... holding her so close, willing her to be okay. And he could have sat there and willed her wellness for the rest of his life and it wouldn't change a damn thing. She was not okay. She was inside Gerudo Town, very possibly taking her last breath and he wouldn't be able to do a single thing for her.
Shaky hands tore at the clasp that held his handmade Voe Spaulder in place, feverishly attempting to tear it off. The clasp came undone and he fell forwards to his hands with gasping breaths.
How had it come to this ... how had he let it come to this ... ?
Link was starting to wish he'd listened to himself and tried to sleep because the more he looked into is own state, the more panicked he was becoming. The sight of blood or gore wasn't off putting for him by any means — he'd slain many a beast and man in his life without so much as batting an eye. Showers of blood had splattered him on various occasions and he'd done nothing more than washed himself with cold water and carried on — but it was a whole different story when that blood was Zelda's.
The image of her gushing scarlet liquid was branded into his mind as he looked down at his chest and rediscovered the sticky substance had not only stained his hands, but his armor and torso as well. It was dried, as expected, but that didn't stop him from physically scraping and clawing his nails against his skin in a feeble attempt to get it off.
It seemed as though the blood wasn't coming off despite his efforts, and he was growing more and more feverish with each passing second. He needed to get it off. Every last bit.
How he'd even considered sleeping when so much royal blood coated him, was beyond Link. Thoughts of sleep were cast to the back of his mind all together, replaced by the urgency to cleanse himself by whatever means necessary —
And just when he thought he was starting to see results and a moment of clarity peeked through the darkness that clouded his mind, something blunt knocked the back of his head and he fell face first into the sand, unconscious.