Categories > Games > Zelda > The World in Brief
Timeline: Phantom Hourglass
Warnings: PG
Characters: Linebeck, Jolene
Theme: word - gold
WARNINGS: PHANTOM HOURGLASS SPOILERS AHEAD
When she finds him, she will slit him sideways. There is no persuading her otherwise; Jolene is not a woman to be shaken like a loose sail, but firmly anchored to her cause - and Linebeck knows this well (and so does the crate), but there aren't the words to explain this to the boy. Not quite yet, anyway. There are still treasures to be had, a wish buried in his heart, a promise good as gold, so there is still comfort in the sharp click of sliding blades.
He, himself, has never tried the sword, so he cuts her down the only way a man can - skirting truth and dodgy words, and nothing seems to work to much avail, but he supposes that was always half the game. There is a sense of something left unfinished; a curious sensation he has no mind for, nor does he wish to dwell on the things he assumes past. She is stuck in a rut, a ship beached - so he says! - and this is not a route he is eager to follow.
Confrontation draws near; he can't run forever. He is on a collision course with world much bigger than his own, and the fear of being capsized and left drifting is heavy on his heart. The feeling settles deep in his gut like malady or sin (he can't decide which), seized by the sense of inevitable; he is not quite sure what he will do when there is nothing to separate them, no swords and no silence and no ocean between them, and he is terrified to think what she will take to make things split even.
But for now there is a boy and his ship and a crate, and for a time, he can afford to wait.
Warnings: PG
Characters: Linebeck, Jolene
Theme: word - gold
WARNINGS: PHANTOM HOURGLASS SPOILERS AHEAD
When she finds him, she will slit him sideways. There is no persuading her otherwise; Jolene is not a woman to be shaken like a loose sail, but firmly anchored to her cause - and Linebeck knows this well (and so does the crate), but there aren't the words to explain this to the boy. Not quite yet, anyway. There are still treasures to be had, a wish buried in his heart, a promise good as gold, so there is still comfort in the sharp click of sliding blades.
He, himself, has never tried the sword, so he cuts her down the only way a man can - skirting truth and dodgy words, and nothing seems to work to much avail, but he supposes that was always half the game. There is a sense of something left unfinished; a curious sensation he has no mind for, nor does he wish to dwell on the things he assumes past. She is stuck in a rut, a ship beached - so he says! - and this is not a route he is eager to follow.
Confrontation draws near; he can't run forever. He is on a collision course with world much bigger than his own, and the fear of being capsized and left drifting is heavy on his heart. The feeling settles deep in his gut like malady or sin (he can't decide which), seized by the sense of inevitable; he is not quite sure what he will do when there is nothing to separate them, no swords and no silence and no ocean between them, and he is terrified to think what she will take to make things split even.
But for now there is a boy and his ship and a crate, and for a time, he can afford to wait.
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