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Description
A sigh escapes your lips, brows meeting in dismay as you watch the last of the traces of the blood moon disappear. The two of you had agreed to meet up the soonest whenever this happens, an agreement he often forgets, at which you'll most likely find him humming beside a cooking pot, oblivious of the looming danger you're about to smack his head with.

However, tonight is different.

The anxiety slowly fades, albeit not for a good turn. Denial creeps in the vacated space, reminding you once again of the impermanence of this state.

You should have let him leave the first time.

Perhaps this time, he already did.
Another hour passed.

Still, no gush of wind nor the awaited glow from the nearby shrine indicates his return. You succumb to the prolonged hunger, tossing random food items to the pot, anticipation dissolving in the resulting stew.

You knew. You always knew.

The moment you pulled him out of the water - when you recognized the forgotten markings on the slate tied to his waist as you checked whether he breathes -

you knew that he was never meant to stay.

Yet you clutch where it now hurts, whilst the same thought morphs into a painful swell in your chest.

The distant voice of the stable owner temporarily distracts you, telling something about the food getting burnt. Sudden panic replaces pain as you put the fire off, the surrounding breeze growing colder in its wake.

You pull up your hood for comfort, finding it in his scent on the borrowed garment. You close your eyes and sees his face, and your mind veers to that memory -

a sudden thunderstorm,

the drenched clothes,

of a confluence that should be not,

and its afterglow whose reminiscence you now bask yourself in.
Another hour had passed.

A heavy sigh connotes resignation as you finally walk into the stable, eyes tired and yearning for sleep. Alas, without his sheikah slate, it will take months before you make it back home.

For a while, his safety had crossed your mind; you wonder if you ever crossed his, when you're not by his side.
There was no sound.

Yet somehow you knew it was your name on his lips.

Reality greets you where the dream had ended, and you groan at the noise of the nearby bed. You rise up, hunger clouding your reason, your trip to the cooking pot cut short by the sight of a man sitting by the entrance.
A startled sigh escapes his lips, yet he remains still even perplexed, as he finds himself trapped inside your arms. You are kneeled behind him, your soft cries muffled against his shirt. When he asks you what happened, you simply tell that he's an idiot and then no more, a small smile forming on his lips upon realizing his offense. He lets you be as you cry still, thanking the goddess for the blessing of warmth on that cold morning.

He knew. He always knew.

The moment he opened his eyes and met yours on that fateful day - when he noticed your resemblance to a memory from a hundred years past -

he knew that he will eventually had to leave.

Last night, amidst a familiar pain he watched for hours from a distant tower, to ensure your safety prior to his supposed departure.

Yet here he is.

And there you are.

Perhaps this time will be different.

That you are meant to be by his side -

a l w a y s .

Description
A sigh escapes your lips, brows meeting in dismay as you watch the last of the traces of the blood moon disappear. The two of you had agreed to meet up the soonest whenever this happens, an agreement he often forgets, at which you'll most likely find him humming beside a cooking pot, oblivious of the looming danger you're about to smack his head with.

However, tonight is different.

The anxiety slowly fades, albeit not for a good turn. Denial creeps in the vacated space, reminding you once again of the impermanence of this state.

You should have let him leave the first time.

Perhaps this time, he already did.
Another hour passed.

Still, no gush of wind nor the awaited glow from the nearby shrine indicates his return. You succumb to the prolonged hunger, tossing random food items to the pot, anticipation dissolving in the resulting stew.

You knew. You always knew.

The moment you pulled him out of the water - when you recognized the forgotten markings on the slate tied to his waist as you checked whether he breathes -

you knew that he was never meant to stay.

Yet you clutch where it now hurts, whilst the same thought morphs into a painful swell in your chest.

The distant voice of the stable owner temporarily distracts you, telling something about the food getting burnt. Sudden panic replaces pain as you put the fire off, the surrounding breeze growing colder in its wake.

You pull up your hood for comfort, finding it in his scent on the borrowed garment. You close your eyes and sees his face, and your mind veers to that memory -

a sudden thunderstorm,

the drenched clothes,

of a confluence that should be not,

and its afterglow whose reminiscence you now bask yourself in.
Another hour had passed.

A heavy sigh connotes resignation as you finally walk into the stable, eyes tired and yearning for sleep. Alas, without his sheikah slate, it will take months before you make it back home.

For a while, his safety had crossed your mind; you wonder if you ever crossed his, when you're not by his side.
There was no sound.

Yet somehow you knew it was your name on his lips.

Reality greets you where the dream had ended, and you groan at the noise of the nearby bed. You rise up, hunger clouding your reason, your trip to the cooking pot cut short by the sight of a man sitting by the entrance.
A startled sigh escapes his lips, yet he remains still even perplexed, as he finds himself trapped inside your arms. You are kneeled behind him, your soft cries muffled against his shirt. When he asks you what happened, you simply tell that he's an idiot and then no more, a small smile forming on his lips upon realizing his offense. He lets you be as you cry still, thanking the goddess for the blessing of warmth on that cold morning.

He knew. He always knew.

The moment he opened his eyes and met yours on that fateful day - when he noticed your resemblance to a memory from a hundred years past -

he knew that he will eventually had to leave.

Last night, amidst a familiar pain he watched for hours from a distant tower, to ensure your safety prior to his supposed departure.

Yet here he is.

And there you are.

Perhaps this time will be different.

That you are meant to be by his side -

a l w a y s .