Whispers in the Wind (open)
POSTED ON Nov 24, 2020 2:02:07 GMT
Post by Deleted on Nov 24, 2020 2:02:07 GMT
Vlad wouldn't call his self overworked, but he had been blanking in front of the people of Kakariko, seemingly more distant than before, distant enough that he sometimes didn't feel his self, he'd come back to, fingers and toes tingling and ears ringing. So, he was told to go take a break, as much of a break as a guy who talks to ghosts could get.
He frowned as he continued to walk on mindlessly. He figured he could learn more about the local fauna, but had probably spent a good hour or so literally just reading a book on his spells as he walked, the grass nearby where he stopped had even been torn up by a basic orb of swirling winds that he had thrown out.
He couldn't wander around like a potato, he was supposed to be relaxing but he was just idling about the eldin part of hyrule field with idle brain and hands, a brain that was beginning to wander now that he had stopped his read-walking.
With a defeated noise, Vlad put his best 'whatever' face, put the book up and walked right into a small thicket without a second thought, something drawing him there where he found ... wild roses. The small clearing was actually strikingly beautiful, and the sight of wild roses, with the type of stone found in the Eldin region, it reminded him of home...
The whispers of a gentle spirit nearby soothed him, and for a second, he allowed his self to draw a breath and remember. There was no hostility here. The soft voice, smell of wild roses, wind through his hair and the overall feel took him back to being very small, his ill mother tending to wild roses that had sprung up outside of where they live, despite the next to lifeless landscape of Ikana. She always had such a gentle smile for him despite her shaking hands.
He was still for a while, breathing evenly, listening to the whispers that sounded as if they were telling a tale he couldn't quite hear all of. Whoever was speaking to him was too far out of reach, but that was fine, he was used to it. Some older spirits whispered, rather than spoke.
Tilting his head to the side, he noticed a headstone, and moved to sit down by it, hardly noticing that a thorn had caught the scarred tissue he kept wrapped up. There he sat, ignoring the small spot of blood as he closed his eyes and listened to the story.
Problem was, he had sat there for so long that the sun had began to set.
"Wake up, darling." whispered ever so softly stirred him from where he had fallen asleep, eyes opening to a brilliantly colored sunset peaking through the foliage.
- It's long, but I figured this deserved a better mood and setting than I was originally gonna give it.