Zelda the Gray Quiet One
Chapter Two – Day to Day
I'm nothing like my sister. While she's out and about exploring the wilderness. I spend most of my days huddled around the fireplace reading books, watching DVDs, snuggling Twig, and all in all being a smol couch potato. When ideas of moving to the city popped up, she was distressed, while I was apathetic.
===*~~oOo~~*===
Mornin'
Howling wind tears through buildings, threatening to rip the roof shingles off houses as it whips debris through the pungent air. The sky is dark and foreboding, low, churning clouds casting an eerie gloom over the landscape.
Zelda runs, her tiny legs straining against the powerful gusts that tear at her body. Her throat burns with each ragged gasp. Icy rain stings her skin as water surges along the street, rising fast and reaching her ankles as she stumbles onward.
The hurricane's fury is relentless, the elements shaking the very earth beneath her.
I need to find help.
Lightning flashes and thunder roars.
Bang!
She shrieks and falls hard onto the concrete, adding to her already aching body. Smoke fills her nose as a nearby tree groans and crashes down in front of her, splinters flying in all directions, threatening to poke her eye out if she hadn't shielded herself instinctively.
Heart pounding, Zelda scrambles to her feet. The air is thick with the smell of smoke and ash. Lightning splits the sky once more. Her brown hair, tangled and messy, whips around her face.
Suddenly, Zelda finds herself in a dense forest. A massive tree looms ahead, its roots twisted and gnarled like a gaping maw ready to snap at its victim. Despite the terrifying sight, she darts toward it, sliding in the muck.
Underneath the tree's roots, Zelda huddles, her small body trembling, clinging to the faint semblance of safety.
All alone with no one to warm her...
Her feet are wet. She isn't wearing any shoes. Why?
She gasps as she realizes the water is quickly pooling around her. Desperately, she tries climbing out, but the mud gives way, sending her tumbling back down. Damp clothes cling to her shivering frame, legs are littered with scratches, dirt, and blood stuck underneath her nails.
There she lies, out of breath, out of strength, out of hope...
She simply hugs her knees to her chest.
"Zelda..." A voice calls her name, barely audible over the storm. It's familiar yet distant, filled with strange warmth. She looks up, blinking through the rain, but sees only darkness and the occasional flicker of lightning.
"Zelda..." The voice comes again, closer. A searing light pierces the gloom, blinding her. She squints, trying to see, but the light is too intense, washing over her as if she's standing in front of the sun. The heat is almost painful, enveloping her completely.
And then she screams.
"Aaaahhh!"
Zelda jolts awake, her heart pounding in her chest. Before she can even register her surroundings, her world flips—literally—as she falls off the bed.
Thud.
"Ow! Seriously?" she winces in pain. For a moment, she lies there, silently staring up at the ceiling. Her eyes fixed on the ceiling fan, turning lazily. She admires how their room is shaped like a trapezoid and not a rectangle—Wait, is that asbestos?
Her musing breaks as sunlight streams through the window, casting warm, golden beams across the room, especially her sister's side.
Zelda blinks, her vision clearing as she takes in the familiar surroundings: the cluttered desk covered in her sister's crude yet charming adventure drawings, her messy bed, and clothes and boots lying haphazardly on the floor.
Her side of the room is a stark contrast, neat and orderly. It has a small reading desk, walls adorned with posters of her favourite artists, and shelves filled with books and merchandise from her beloved cartoons and anime.
And most importantly, an assorted pile of plushies on her bed.
Uniting the two sides are the large Christmas lights strung up on the walls, a seasonal decoration the twins insisted on keeping all year round, much to their mum's amusement.
"It's just a dream. Just a stupid dream." Slowly, she sits up, her breathing no longer ragged. The sweat on her skin feels clammy and gross, a lingering reminder of the nightmare.
"Ugh, I need a shower." Glancing over at Hilda's bed—empty, as usual—she sighs. "Probably already off having some grand adventure," Zelda mutters.
It's been two days since the events in the Meadows and Giant Butterflies. Life moves on for her sister, continuing on her adventure as we speak.
But for Zelda, she traces over her cheek, the cut miraculously healed nicely in the past two days, much to her family's surprise. For as long as she can remember her body easily mends wounds, she merely attributes it to great genes, to Johanna's amusement.
She gets to her feet, feeling a bit woozy, and heads down the hall to the bathroom for a quick shower.
Zelda splashes water on her face, the coolness calming her frayed nerves. She dons her usual grey sweater, dark jogging pants, and white kicks. At the sight of her makeup kit on the shelf—a gift from Mum—she decides to start her day looking fresh.
Facing the mirror, she began applying some light makeup.
Just some powder, concealer, lip balm, and maybe a little mascara for fun.
"Dammit," Zelda hisses as her hand slips, smudging the mascara and ruining her hard work. "Terrific," she grumbles, already feeling the weight of the frustrating morning.
When she reaches up to fix it, she notices her hand trembling. Why? Irritated, she tries to clean it up but only smears it further. She glances at her nails and grimaces.
Dark red grime is stuck underneath them, blood.
She turns on the faucet and wash her hands. After drying them, they still feel oily, and dirty. Unsatisfied, she washes them again. But the sensation persists.
The sight of her ruined makeup intensifies her frustration, and she scrubs her hands vigorously, her movements becoming frantic. "Come on," she mutters, scrubbing harder, yet the phantom dirt and muck still seem to cling to her skin.
Water splashes over her face, and her makeup is ruined completely. Her hands, now red and raw, still don't feel clean. The light makeup she had managed to apply runs in streaks down her cheeks, beyond salvage.
"Great," she sighs, deciding to skip makeup altogether. She wipes her face clean and looks into the mirror at her bare reflection.
"Good enough," she mutters, turning away, leaving her makeup kit discarded on the counter.
===*~~oOo~~*===
Average Afternoon
In the living room, Johanna sits on the couch, savouring a cup of tea while the sunlight filters through the windows. She's engrossed in the local paper, the headlines murmuring news of the day.
Slam!
The abrupt door slam from upstairs shatters and shakes the house. Johanna flinches, her hand trembling slightly as she sets her teacup down on the coffee table. She takes a deep breath, steadying herself, before glancing toward the staircase.
Moments later, Zelda trudges downstairs, her steps heavy and sluggish. She notes her dishevelled hair and the bags under her eyes. Without so much as a glance in Johanna's direction, she makes a beeline for the kitchen, heading straight for the cabinets. The familiar clink of a cereal box and the rustle of packaging fill the silence as Zelda pours herself a bowl, moving on autopilot.
"Well, good morning to you too," Johanna remarks dryly.
"Morning, Mum," Zelda mumbles through a yawn, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She shovels a spoonful of cereal into her mouth, as she takes a seat on the kitchen counter.
Johanna's gaze sharpens with mild disapproval. "Good afternoon, more like. You slept in quite late today." Her tone is gentle but firm.
Zelda pauses mid-bite and glances at the clock hanging above the fridge—1:19 p.m. She sighs, setting her spoon down with a soft clink. "Sorry," she mutters, her voice heavy with lingering drowsiness. "Got caught up with a late-night read."
"What was all that commotion about earlier, then?"
Referring to the earlier door slam, Zelda's face flushes as she glances away. "Oh, that? I was just messing around with some makeup. I-It didn't exactly go well... got a bit frustrated," she admits, her voice quieter.
Her mum's eyes light up. "Oh! Well, if you like, I can give you a hand."
"No, not right now, thanks. But maybe next time."
Johanna hums in response. She rises from her seat and heads toward the sink, rinsing her now-empty teacup with slow, deliberate motions. The soft trickle of water fills the air, adding to the stillness that settles between them.
Zelda returns to her cereal, the morning—or afternoon—feeling heavier than it should, the silence speaking louder than any conversation.
"Where's Hilda?" Zelda breaks the silence, already tired of the weight it carries.
"She went out with Twig to collect some unique rocks she read about," her mum replies, briefly showing her a newspaper article about some kids in Trolberg who found unusual rocks in the area.
Zelda munches on her cereal, her thoughts drifting to the past week. It's been a whirlwind since the incident in the Meadows with the giant butterflies and the argument that followed. Things between her and Hilda have been rocky—awkward moments mixed with attempts at normalcy, neither of them quite sure where they stand.
"You could still catch up with her, you know," Johanna's voice pulls Zelda from her thoughts. "She only left half an hour ago."
Zelda snorts. "Pfft, yeah right. By now, she's probably miles away. I'd be exhausted by the time I catch up, and she'd already be on her way back." She waves her spoon dismissively. "I think I'll stay in and help around the house, you know."
"If you insist," Johanna shrugs, drying her hands. She heads upstairs to resume her design work, leaving Zelda to her own devices.
Finishing her cereal, Zelda took a deep breath as she sat and set up to wash her bowl in the sink. "Right let's start the day," She said with a determined smile.
1:05 pm
Zelda wipes the kitchen counters and stove clean, satisfied with the gleam left behind. After that, she organizes the dry silverware and dishes from last night's dinner, putting everything back in its proper place. The clinks and clangs of metal pots and ceramic plates echo through the kitchen as she works.
Absentmindedly, she opens a cabinet, her eyes land on the haphazard pile of Tupperware containers. She groans at the sight "For another time, Zelda."
A minute later, unable to resist, she reopens the cabinet and dives into sorting the towering mess of mismatched lids and containers. It took a while as she wiped the sweat from her brow, admiring the neatly arranged Tupperware and the clean, orderly kitchen around her.
"Much better," she says with a satisfied smile.
1:24 pm
Zelda heads back upstairs, pausing briefly at her mother's bedroom. Peeking in, she spots her mum on the bed, gnawing on the end of a pen, her brow furrowed as she studies a design on a stencil. Not wanting to disturb her, she quietly moves on to her room.
In front of a bookshelf, her fingers lightly tracing the spines of the books browsing for something to pass the time. She pauses at Grimm's Fairy Tales, a classic.
When she pulls it out and is ready to lie in bed and read, her eyes fall on the state of the room. Her bed is dishevelled, and plushies are strewn haphazardly across the floor, a result of all the tossing and turning from her nightmare.
She glances over at Hilda's side, only to find it in a similar state—just as messy as her own.
"Not on my watch," Zelda mutters, rolling up her sleeves as she prepares to restore the status quo.
1:51 pm
After quickly organizing, straightening the sheets, and dusting off surfaces, her side of the room is now clean. She even takes the time to sweep the floorboards. With a satisfied smile, she places the final plushie on top of the pile on her freshly made bed.
"Phew, that took longer than expected," she mutters, plopping down against the headboard.
Reaching for her book, she opens it to the section she bookmarked—Snow White and Rose Red. The soft sound of pages flicking fills the room, blending with the cool breeze wafting through the open window. Sunlight filters in, casting warm rays over her, creating the perfect cosy reading nook.
Zelda sinks into the story, enjoying the peacefulness after an afternoon of tidying.
2:27 pm
Immersed in the world of fairy tales, Zelda's peaceful moment is abruptly interrupted by the sharp mechanical rumble of a car engine cutting through nature's silence.
"Is Mum going out?" she wonders aloud.
A quick glance out the window reveals otherwise. An old, rusty pickup truck—belonging to their mailman—rattles to a stop in the front yard.
"Afternoon! Mail's here!" the old mailman hollers from his rolled-down window.
Zelda springs out of bed, zooming past Johanna, who is just emerging from her bedroom. Flinging the front door open, she bounces on her toes, arms outstretched, waiting eagerly to receive her parcel.
"Oh man, oh man! It's here—it's here!" she squeals.
The mailman chuckles as he grabs a large box from his truck, carefully placing it into Zelda's waiting arms.
"Thank you!" she says, hastily pulling some cash from her pocket and handing it over before dashing back inside, nearly knocking into her mother in the process.
"Someone's excited," Johanna remarks.
The mailman turns to Johanna, handing her own pile of correspondence.
"Thank you, Mr. Elrond. You're early," Johanna says as she casually flips through her mail.
"Yes, Ma'am," Elrond replies.
Before their conversation can continue, Zelda bursts back outside, holding two letters in her hands.
"Can you send these, please?" she asks, handing them over with a hopeful grin.
"Sure can, young lady," he replies, tucking the letters into his satchel with a friendly nod.
Johanna glances at the letters curiously. "And who are you sending letters to?"
Zelda grins. "Just a couple of novice authors from some of my favourite up-and-coming books. I thought I'd send them some words of encouragement, you know? To keep them motivated."
"One of them says something like, 'I hope you continue your amazing work!'" she explains casually. "And the other one? It asks, 'When are you going to update your flipping book? It's been two years!'".
"But I made sure to say it more politely." She adds with a sheepish grin
Johanna and the mailman exchange a look. "While I appreciate the sentiment," Johanna says gently, "-Maybe don't overwhelm the busy writers with too many letters, alright?"
"I like to think it motivates them," Zelda says before heading back inside, leaving the mailman chuckling and Johanna rolling her eyes with a smile.
Back in her bedroom, box cutter in hand, Zelda eagerly slices open her parcel. As if it emits a heavenly glow, she gasps in awe at the contents.
Inside are volumes upon volumes of Manga, stacks of DVDs containing seasons of Anime, and even DIY figurines—all brought from months worth of allowance and shipped from the lands of the East, ready for her enjoyment.
"Sleepless nights, here we come!" she gushes, her eyes sparkling as she begins organizing her new treasures, adding them to her ever-growing collection on the shelf.
2:42 pm
Sorting and hiding her treasures where her nosy sister can't find them, Zelda heads downstairs to her cosy corner in the living room.
A space she's carved out for herself, complete with a plush beanbag chair and a wall shelf crammed with books, a nook she has to begrudgingly share with Hilda. Being twins and all.
As she sinks into the soft fabric of the beanbag she flips through a manga about a guy who kills people with a notebook. Definitely too dark for a typical young teen, but thankfully, her mother can't read the Kanji language.
4:11 pm
Restless from sitting for the past hour and a half, Zelda starts pacing around the living room, Manga in one hand and a handful of crisps in the other. Each crunch of the crisps fills the air as she reads, absorbed in the story.
Suddenly, a soft crunch beneath her white sneakers interrupts her focus.
She glances down to find a crushed chip stuck to the sole. Frowning, she turns to see a trail of crumbs and crisps marking her path, mixed with bits of dirt she dragged in from outside earlier. To the untrained eye, it might seem like the floor just needs a quick sweep, but from her mother's perspective, the living room looks like a pigsty—scuffed and grimy.
Realizing she can't leave it like that, she quickly grabs a broom and gets to work, sweeping up the mess she made.
As she diligently cleans, Johanna comes downstairs, eager for a cup of tea. She spots her daughter hard at work and smiles. "What a busy bee you are!"
Zelda freezes, caught off guard, then offers a tense smile as she turns around. "T-Thanks,"
"Good job, Zelda," Johanna says, rubbing her daughter's head affectionately before heading into the kitchen.
Zelda beams at the compliment, though overshadowed by a wave of relief wash over her. Thankfully, her mother hasn't noticed the overflowing trash bag filled with junk food tucked away in the corner by the sofa.
Seizing the moment while Johanna busied herself brewing tea, Zelda silently and swiftly tossed the bag into the outside trash bin, like a ninja, before casually returning to her sweeping with an added whistle.
5:09 pm
The living room is now spotless, with every corner attended to—from beneath the rug to the tight crevices of the floorboards. She even takes the extra step of giving the floor a good wax.
When it comes to cleaning, Zelda, the grey one, truly goes above and beyond.
Proud of her hard work, she decides she's done for the day until dinner and settles onto the couch, to read. She grabs the remote and inserts a DVD into the player. Snuggling a plushie, she clicks the remote, and an Anime begins to play on the screen.
As the action unfolds, Zelda flips through a magazine, multitasking between the latest episode and some juicy celebrity gossip. The cosy living room, with its warm lighting and homey clutter, feels like the perfect place to spend her afternoon.
Bang!
Zelda barely settles in when the front door bursts open.
"I'm back!" Hilda's voice booms through the house, as her red boots stomp across the floor. Twig follows at her heels as she heads straight to the kitchen, a heavy bag slung over her shoulder.
From the couch, Zelda glares over the top of her manga. As soon as she spots the muddy footprints trailing behind Hilda, her face twists and her jaw tightens. "Seriously, Hilda?" she growls, sitting up. "I just cleaned the floor!"
Hilda glances down at her boots, covered in mud and leaves. She follows the trail of dirt back to the door with a sheepish grin. "Whoops," she says, giving a light chuckle. "Sorry about that. I'll clean it up."
Hilda yanks open the broom closet, pulling out a mop. Zelda watches in horror as her sister haphazardly swipes the mop across the floor, smearing the mud in broad, careless strokes. The streaks look more like an abstract painting than any kind of proper cleaning. Zelda's eye twitches with every sloppy pass.
Hilda scrubs harder, trying to fix it, but only making it worse. "This might take a bit," she says, her voice betraying her growing uncertainty as she wrestles with the mess.
Zelda's fingers dig into the armrest, her breathing shallow as she watches Hilda battle the floor. "Just—"
Take a deep breath
She exhales and stands, her posture rigid as she marches over. With a terse motion, she holds out her hand. "Let me do it."
Hilda sighs, handing over the mop, a look of guilt softening her usual bravado. "Sorry again."
Zelda waves it off, already swiping the mop with long, precise strokes. "It's fine. Just... Be more mindful next time, okay?"
"Adventurer's honour, I swear it!" Hilda grins, tapping her chest with pride. "Speaking of adventures..." Her face lights up as she pulls the heavy bag back onto the counter. "Twig and I just got back from the riverbed. Look what we found!"
"Oh really?" Zelda says with barely concealed sarcasm, her focus still on the floor, trying not to think about how long she spent cleaning it earlier.
Undeterred by her sister's lack of enthusiasm, Hilda tips the contents of her bag onto the kitchen counter. A cascade of rocks spills across the surface, some sparkling, some smooth, others rough, and all dusty. "Feast your eyes on our spoils!"
Zelda freezes, her grip tightening on the mop handle as her eyes dart to the mess. The rocks roll across the counter, sending bits of dirt everywhere, and some clatter to the floor with a sharp crack that makes her jaw clench.
"What on earth are you doing?!" Zelda snaps, marching over and snatching the bag out of Hilda's hands.
"What?" Hilda blinks. "It's just a few rocks and a bit of dust! I'll clean it up in a second."
Zelda throws her hands up. "That's not the point! Do you have any idea how long it took me to clean this place? And you come in, tromping mud everywhere, and now this!" She gestures wildly at the pile of rocks.
"Calm down, will you? I already said I'll clean it up!" Hilda protests, folding her arms defensively. "You're blowing this way out of proportion."
"Easy for you to say," Zelda huffs, her voice dripping with disdain. "Mum would say otherwise."
"Oh, come off it!" Hilda fires back, her face flushing red. "You've been cooped up here all day, lounging around on your beanbag! It's not like you've been working all that hard."
Zelda freezes, the words striking a nerve. "Lazing around? Who do you think cleans up after all your messes, Hilda? Me!"
"That's not true!" Hilda snaps, stepping closer. "I clean up after myself just fine! Mum's always on my back about it. You're just too much of a control freak to let anyone else handle anything!"
"Oh yeah? Well, maybe if your idea of cleaning wasn't so half-assed, I wouldn't have to redo everything you touch!" Zelda retorts, her voice trembling. "You think a quick swipe with a rag is good enough!"
Twig whines from the corner and darts upstairs, his tail tucked between his legs. He came upon Johanna's bedroom door and began scratching it, attempting to get Johanna's attention.
Back in the living room, Hilda crosses her arms tighter, clearly flustered now. "You're being ridiculous. The only person who'll overreact to a bit of dirt!"
"Me ridiculous?" Zelda rubs her temples. "You know what? Just go to your room, Hilda. I'll deal with it."
"I'm not a child!" Hilda shoots back. "You're not Mum, you don't get to tell me what to do!"
"I might as well be since you clearly can't handle anything on your own."
Hilda's face flushes with frustration. "Y-You're so annoying!" she yells, her fists clenched at her sides.
"And you're impossible!" Zelda shouts back, her hands balled into fists too.
"Girls!"
The twins freeze, their heads snapping to the stairs. Johanna stands there, her face stern, hands firmly on her hips, Twig hiding behind her legs.
"What's going on here?" she demands, her voice low and firm, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a knife.
Both girls look at each other, breathing ragged, before opening their mouths and begin shouting over one another.
All hell let loose.
"I spent hours cleaning, and she barges in with muddy boots—"
"Mum! It was just a bit of dirt!"
"—and she started mopping, making it worse-!"
"-I was in the middle of cleaning it, but nooo, she wouldn't let me!"
"-Because you're doing it all wrong! The floor's streaky now!"
"Oh, sorry, Miss Perfect, I'm not good enough for your precious clean floor!"
"And then you dump that pile of rocks on the counter—dust everywhere!"
"I just wanted to show you the rocks! It wasn't that bad!"
"You chipped the counter!"
"-By accident! You're always so dramatic!"
"Because you're always making a mess!"
"Maybe if you weren't such a control freak, it wouldn't be a problem!"
As her twins continue clambering over each other, Johanna stands perfectly still, closes her eyes, and takes a deep breath.
===*~~oOo~~*===
Movie Night
One disciplining later…
Twig is curled up on Johanna's lap, purring as her fingers run through his soft white fur. Johanna enjoys a cup of tea while reading a tabloid, idly fidgeting with a rock from Hilda's river haul.
After dusting and polishing the stones, she places the nicer ones on a ceramic dish and displays them on the living room coffee table. "Hmm, these are some good rocks," she comments.
Meanwhile, Hilda is mopping the floor and dusting off the kitchen counter, wincing slightly as she gingerly nurses a bump on her head. Earlier, in the heat of their argument, Johanna had inadvertently bonked their heads together, leaving Hilda with a stinging reminder of their quarrel along with an earful.
Over to the right, Zelda prepares dinner, chopping vegetables with a shimmering pot on the stove. Whenever they make eye contact, both sisters exchange stink eyes, each believing the outcome of their punishments is unfair—Zelda more so.
As a single mother, Johanna loves her daughters but often finds it challenging to manage their clashing personalities in their remote home.
After a solemn dinner and tidying up for bed, Johanna invites them to play a board game called Dragon Panic by the fire with some tea and crumpets, much to Hilda's delight and Zelda's dismay, as she would rather stay up and binge on her Manga.
Hilda leans back in her chair, sipping her tea with a contented sigh. "I'm really appreciating the cosiness tonight."
Zelda, glaring at her tiles and pieces on the board with a bit of a scowl, mutters, "It'd be a lot cosier if you'd stop singling me out and attacking my territory."
Hilda grins, not bothering to hide her amusement. "Me? Singling you out? Perish the thought." She deliberately accosted over one of Zelda's tiles, costing her some points.
Zelda shoots her a glare. "You're doing it again."
With an exaggerated look of innocence, Hilda shrugs. "It's just the way the game's played, sis."
Johanna, watching the exchange, gives a soft sigh. "I do wish you girls would get along."
They both look up, still bristling from the game.
Johanna chuckles lightly, then asks, "I mean. What would happen if I died, hmm?" Her tone is light, but the question lingers in the air like the gentle flicker of the fire.
Zelda's brow tightens. "Mum, don't say things like that. You're not going anywhere." She sits up straighter, her frown deepening with concern. "You're far too young to be talking about... that."
Hilda, ever the adventurer, leans back in her chair. "Death could come for anyone, anytime. It's just part of life. I mean, I'd laugh in the face of it, but... you know, I'd be polite about it too." She winks at her sister, her casual attitude clashing with Zelda's unease.
Zelda shoots her a sharp look. "This isn't funny, Hilda."
Johanna smiles gently, her eyes warm as she reaches for her tea. "Well, whatever happens, I'd like to think you two would be there for each other."
Zelda glances at Hilda, then back at her mum. "We'll be fine, Mum. We'll try and get along."
Hilda shuffles close to them "And I'll try not to wind her up." She says, sincerely.
Johanna smiles. "That's all I ask, girls." The warmth of the fire and the simple game before them soften the edges of their day, and for a moment, everything feels a little easier.
Bang!
Of course, they can't enjoy a tranquil family moment without some form of disturbance.
A shrill whistle cuts through the air, and who else but their meddlesome neighbour, the Woodman, strides in, flinging the front door wide and letting in a gust of cold. Without a word, he traipses past them, dumps a heap of wood by the fire, and sprawls out unceremoniously on the carpet.
"It's a tad drafty in here. Someone ought to shut that door," He drones.
"Rude," Johanna and Zelda mutter in tandem, both scowling at the little wooden fellow, while Hilda remains unfazed, hopping off the sofa to latch the door.
Zelda stands over the Woodman, arms akimbo. "Do you always invite yourself into other people's homes like this? How many poor families have you imposed on today?"
He doesn't bother looking up. "Bit on the nose there, don't ya think? I'm not here for one of your sermons."
"Well, we're not running a hostel, so I guess we're both out of luck," she snaps, eyeing the book in his hands—Giants of the Old. She perks up, but before she can pry further, Hilda returns.
"Mum!" Hilda calls, holding something minuscule between her fingers. "It's another one of those tiny letters!"
"Good grief, that's the sixth one this month," Johanna groans.
"Sixth?!" Zelda exclaims alarm etched on her face. "Why am I just now hearing about this?"
Hilda smirks. "We told you. You never listen when I go off on my little tirades."
Zelda scratches the back of her neck sheepishly. "Oh... right."
Before anything else can be said, the Woodman springs upright with a stiff, sudden motion, startling a yelp from Zelda.
"I can't read with all this racket," he declares flatly, marching out with his book, narrowly missing Zelda's attempt to snatch it.
The family crowds around the table as Johanna pulls out her magnifying glass to inspect the letter.
"Dear, Residents!
By decree, Hilda, Zelda, Johanna, and Stick are hereby evicted from the premises and banished from these lands. You are granted three moonrises to depart. This action is final and non-negotiable. Failure to comply will result in further measures."
Zelda's eyes widen. "Well, that's... Ominous."
"And downright outrageous!" Hilda fumes. "Who do they think they are, trying to chuck us out of our own home?" She grabs a pen and furiously scrawls a reply. Storming outside, she bellows into the dark, "Oi, listen up, you little pricks! This one's for you lot!" She flings her letter onto the doorstep before marching back in.
Johanna arches an eyebrow. "Bit crude, Hilda?"
Hilda wilts under her mum's unimpressed gaze, feeling the weight of her scrutiny. "How about we carry on with Dragon Panic?" she suggests, trying to steer the convo elsewhere.
"Whose turn is it, then?" Johanna relents.
"I reckon it's Zel's," Hilda replies, glancing over.
"Zel?" Hilda calls out to her sister, who seems lost in thought, gazing off into the distance.
"Zelda, it's your turn." Hilda gently shakes her shoulder.
"Wuh?" Zelda blinks, breaking free from her reverie. "I'm fine, just caught up in something. Don't worry." She waves them off, reaching out for the dice and cards to begin her turn.
"Probably daydreaming about those new books you'll be reading late at night," her mother jests, a playful smirk on her face. "What are they called again, Manga is it?"
"Yup, totally," Zelda replies.
"Well, change of plans, 'cause we're having a movie night after this," She announces.
"Awesome," Hilda says.
Zelda ruminates on the announcement before looking up at her mother with wide eyes. "Can I pick?"
"Sure," Hilda answers for her, her excitement evident.
Moments later, they found themselves nestled together, the soft glow of the screen casting gentle flickers across the room. The film—a lighthearted rom-com—played on, but Hilda, buried under her blanket with Twig, wasn't impressed.
"I regret my decision," she muttered, clearly not unamused in the romance unfolding on screen, unlike her mum and sister.
An hour in, everyone had drifted off except Zelda. She leaned into her mum, listening to the soft snores of Hilda and Twig, but the night's warmth soon claimed her too, as the Sandman gently pulled her into sleep.
…
…
…
…
"ZELDA, WAKE UP!"
"Gah!"
Ensuing chaos is the first thing that greets Zelda as she jolts awake, disoriented. High-pitched, disembodied war cries echo around her with unsettling frenzy.
"Heave-ho, you must go! Heave-ho, you must go!"
Blinking rapidly, her mind races to catch up as she takes in the overturned furniture, shattered glass glinting the floorboards, and cupboard doors flailing wildly. A bitter chill from a broken window sends shivers down her skin.
The TV buzzes with static, shouting distorted nonsense: "BANISH THE BIG BOOTS! JETTISON THE GIANTS!" before it crashes to the ground in a heap. Its DVD player starts ejecting its discs like a projectile.
"Watch out!"
Johanna huddles her daughters close, shielding them as various objects—cushions, pottery, and anything not bolted down—are hurled across the room. Their winces and cries resonate amid the unyielding assault from their invisible assailants.
The tearing of paper snags Zelda's attention, pulling her focus to her little corner of the living room. She gasps as she spots invisible hands tearing through her precious literature.
"My books!" she shrieks, wriggling free from Johanna's grip and racing to her corner, just in time to save the remnants of her now-ruined book.
Thud!
She spins around and gasps as an unopened package—DIY figurines from Japan—topples from a nearby shelf, crumpling into pieces.
"My figurines!" she cries on her knees, her heart sinking.
The couch flips over, sending Hilda and Johanna sprawling to the floor, a book smacking Hilda squarely in the face.
"Alright, that's it!" she exclaims, pushing herself up, fury igniting within her. Fed up, she dashes toward a discarded mop, deftly sidestepping an onslaught of flying objects from a nearby drawer.
Armed, she launches into a counteroffensive, swinging the mop fiercely at the unseen attackers atop counters, beneath tables, and across the floor. Each strike connects with a satisfying thwack, her grin widening at the panicked shrieks of disembodied voices.
"Ow, ow, ow!"
In the mayhem, Twig, emboldened by her human, bounds after a group of invisible assailants, his antlers glinting in the dim light.
The tiny pitter-patter of footsteps begin making their way out of the broken window, dust swirling in their wake. Thus betraying their invisible advantage under the dim light.
Slam!
But their escape route is abruptly cut off by a hefty book. If the tiny assailants had faces, they would pale at the sight of a seething Zelda blocking their path.
"Oh no you don't!"
With a swift motion, she uses a blanket to ensnare them, their invisible limbs wriggling inside the trap. After sacking them, Zelda runs to the front door and winds up her legs before kicking them outside, launching them into the air with comical cries and pleas.
"On your left!" Her sister yells.
Zelda sidesteps, letting Hilda herd the remaining attackers outside, with Twig bounding alongside her. The twins pause, breathless, soaking in the thrill of their victory over the tiny invisible foes.
As the last of them flee, Zelda and Hilda share triumphant grins. "Ho-oh! Did you see that?" Zelda beams with pride.
Hilda, panting, wipes her brow with a smirk. "Yeah, you really sent them flying."
"And you traumatized them," Zelda quips, earning a shared laugh and a high five.
"I like this side of you," Hilda admits. Zelda shrugs, adrenaline still surging through them. They turn eagerly to share the victory with their mother.
"Mum, they're gone," Zelda calls—but their excitement dashes at the sight of her brooding figure hunched over the wreckage of their once-warm home.
To think an hour ago they sat huddled together on the couch watching a movie.
Now the room hangs in a haunting stillness, the devastation stark. Torn pages from Zelda's beloved comics and books lie scattered. Shelves stripped bare; Hilda's treasured mementoes from her adventures are strewn about—cherished sketches crumpled.
Crunch.
The sharp crack of glass beneath Zelda's foot shatters the silence. She flinches, kneeling to pick up a cracked frame. A photograph of the three of them, Twig nestled between them, slips from the shattered glass, causing her chest to tighten.
The twins exchange a look and step toward their mother, who immediately pulls them into her arms.
"Thank goodness you two are alright," she says softly.
"You too," Zelda replies, leaning in.
"It takes more than that to rattle me," Hilda quips, trying to lighten the mood as they pull away. Johanna's gaze lingers on the chaos around them, a shadow flickering across her face as she takes a deep breath. An unsettling silence fills the air, hinting at the weight of her next words.
"Girls, I hate to say it, but we can't stay here."
The words hang heavy in the air. Hilda's brows knit together. "What? What do you mean?"
"Listen, Hilda," Johanna begins, her voice soft yet firm "We've never been attacked like this! I know it's hard to think about but we can't ignore what just happened. I think we will have to move to Trolberg,"
Zelda jumps in, her words tumbling out before Hilda can respond, "I agree! As much as I hate to admit it, this place is becoming far too dangerous. Trolls, Forest Giants, Giant Butterflies... and now this! What's next Gnomes?"
"But this is our home! We've lived here our entire lives!" Hilda protests. "I'm not giving it up for some stinky old city."
Zelda counters, "Moving to Trolberg might not be so bad. There are benefits. Like how the comic shop won't take an hour to reach."
"Typical. You only care about yourself," Hilda retorts. "Please, Mum," She pleads, her eyes wide and earnest, even holding Twig for added cuteness.
Johanna sighs, relenting, "Fine."
"Yes—"
"But if anything like this happens again, we're gone."
This sent Hilda into deep thought as she rummaged through the remains of their living room to scavenge a pen and paper.
"What are you doing?" Zelda asks, peeking over her shoulder.
"Saving our home," Hilda replies, determination settling on her features as she focuses on her letter, the words flowing with urgency.
"Dear little guys who trashed my house. Why are you so angry with our family? Let's negotiate so we can all live in peace. All the best, Hilda."
Stepping outside, she gently places the rolled-up letter on the front door, her heart racing as she scurries back and closes it with a soft thud.
"You think it'll work?" Zelda asks.
"I hope so. I'll do whatever it takes; I'm not giving up on our home so easily," Hilda insists, her words lingering in the air, carrying more weight than intended.
The implication isn't lost on either Zelda or Johanna. They share a glance, the sting of Hilda's comment clear. Zelda shifts uncomfortably, while Johanna's face tightens, though she says nothing. The tension settles around them, unspoken but undeniable.
Johanna sighs "Let's hit the hay and get some sleep, yeah? We'll sort this out tomorrow." She takes their hands and leads them back to their shared bedroom, with Twig trailing behind.
===*~~oOo~~*===
Bedside
Upstairs, Zelda was fluffing up her plushies before laying down on it to sleep. In the corner of her eyes, she sees Hilda sitting on her bed, looking downcast.
Not wanting to have another potential argument, she reckons it best to diffuse the situation early on "Hilda look, about what I said, and—".
"Did you mean it?" Hilda cuts in, her voice quiet.
Zelda blinks. "What?"
"What you said downstairs... That you agreed to leave our home?" She says, hugging her knees close. Zelda's heart sinks at the sight of her fierce sister so vulnerable like this. She sits beside her.
"W-Well yeah a-and… No, not really. I'm not gonna lie, sis, I love living out here too," She didn't feel the need to explain more, as felt those words were enough to do so.
"I-It's just, I'm scared, and I'm sure Mum feels the same way," Zelda admits, her voice barely above a whisper as she looks away. She gasps softly when she feels Hilda's arms wrap around her from behind.
"I'm scared too," Hilda whispers, holding her tightly. Zelda closes her eyes and leans into the embrace.
Hilda pulls back slightly and grips Zelda's shoulders. "Then help me settle things with the hidden people."
Zelda rolls her eyes. "Hils, you know I'm not much of an adventurer," she says, gesturing with her hands.
"I know, I know. You're more of an indoor person." Hilda fidgets with her hair. "I just need to know you've got my back. That's all I'm asking."
Zelda sighs, taking a moment before finally nodding. "Alright, fine. You've got my utmost support."
"That's all I need," Hilda replies, her expression softening, though a hint of tension lingers in her voice.
"I'll support you no matter what. But not to the point of ruin, am I being clear?" Zelda levels her gaze. "If things go south, we've got to accept it and move on."
"Crystal," Hilda says, a small smile tugging at her lips, finding the terms fair.
Zelda exhales again, visibly more at ease. "I guess I got a bit hasty about moving to the city where it's always noisy."
"Yeah, and the traffic," Hilda adds with a laugh. "Hours stuck in cars when we could walk anywhere here."
"—Not to mention the judgy looks I'd get when I tell people I live in the woods. Like, really? You lot aren't any better," Zelda retorts with a wry smile.
"Ugh, and the light pollution. Could you imagine? No more stargazing because the sky would be orange."
"Exactly! And don't get me started on the smell…" Zelda trails off.
Their conversation continues, a subtle warmth starting to mend the rift caused by the earlier argument. Though not fully healed as the scars from last week still remain, at least the tension between them starts to ease.
As the soft sound of their laughter fills the room, Johanna, just about to close her bedroom door, pauses and smiles to herself. "They'll be fine without me," she murmurs, recalling their fireside conversation from earlier.
Lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling, an unexpected pang of guilt settles in. She sighs quietly. "Maybe Hilda's right. Maybe I'm giving up too easily."
===*~~oOo~~*===
End Scene
Chapter Two – Day to Day
===*~~oOo~~*===
A/N: This chapter was meant to be much longer, but that would mean delaying its release further, oh well.
If you're taking the time to read this, I want to let you know right now, exclusively in Chapter Two, that every review will be responded to in the specific chapter where you left it.
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Cross-posted on Wattpad, can't post on AO3 right now cause my previous account got hacked, so sad.
Est. Word Count: 7000+
Published Date: October 4, 2024
