Experimental Scene Collection (M)[Hor/Fan]

The Experimental Scene Collection

This is the ESC, and here is where I will begin my expeditions into my own perspective of the LOZ universe. I got the inspiration to do so after entering a competition in the Art Arena subforum that required depicting Zelda scenes. I will be doing the same here. I will be somewhat liberal with my interpretations, but I want you to trust me that they will be interesting and fresh takes.

By the way, you'll like this if you like:

• Zelda
• Macabre violence
• Gothic prose
• Lovecraftian horror
• In-depth character pieces
• Spooky stuff

And so, here is the entry I gave, ripe for a read for those who haven't. Very soon I will be writing up another for your pleasure.

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Ocarina of Time: The Color Out of Shadow

The Hero of Time. Courage Bearer. Noble titles. They do well to conceal this madness from the common folk, from the recollections of what exactly lives behind the imitations called nightmares. Those were only the children of abominations, imps. He had seen the murk from whence the bloodline ran. And his own heart ran cold to think of it.

Link ran a hand down an open slash in his right glove, the woven leather seemingly so tough from touch that the incision itself was surreal. His features played a grimace as he laid eyes on the black scar cocooned inside the auburn hide. He remembered the sword that had made that slash, but it made him sick to remember things which eyes are not meant to look upon…

He put his hand back to his side, to sway as he walked. The Water Temple, that place of the Deeps, was finished; he was dry at last. And so, what was he to make of his childhood moments at the azure lake? How could the beautiful fish with their cutting scales, delightful flickering auroras become so dim and black? They were soon to be pure again, now that the reflection with stars for eyes had bled out unto the pools, and Morpha was once again in slumber, but how could nature be so corrupted? He could not believe it was the same place at all. But he was lying to himself. He knew.

Ganondorf Dragmire. That name that was every bit as scorched as the desert sands. The legends of the Gerudo King, that dominance that rose from the depths of femininity! It was as if he were an equalizer, an overbeing that was the collective raw force of a thousand males that had never scratched through to the blessed womb. His face was a gaunt mask, a conspiracy of crimson hair and royal ego. And his magicks…He could strike down great wonders, and wither them into hollow scabs.

Deku, Godfather…Never in vain.

Link called for Navi, but she was nesting in a soft curl of his blonde hair, just around his ear. He knew and then was quiet. Quiet, that was, until he heard and felt the mixture of sensations that did not mix. He heard rain, and to his nostrils came the contradictory smell of...was it ash? His eyes grew wide, and his hands shook.

A conflagration fed on Kakariko Village. Ash sifted down from the once-somber House of Impa, the roaring orange and red filling the wet sky with smoke as it attempted to raze the structure to the ground. It was misery. When he reached the center of town, he was staring at a rare thing. A Sheikah’s back exposed was a symbol of utmost trust, but that was the last thing on the Courage Bearer’s mind. He could not make out the warrior’s words for the life of him, the flames were so deafening. What was he saying?! Did he speak of the vandal who did this?

Splinters spat forth as the framing of that accursed well took to the sky! The Hero remembered that orifice too well, and knew immediately the source of this chaos. Even as a boy, he knew that to be a Hell hidden in plain view. His stomach turned. He saw Sheik’s lithe form in a blur of unsightly movement now, like a dance of pain made of purple and white.

A small obstruction, as well as confusion, held the Hylian frozen in his tracks. He pulled a splinter from his brow, dribbling blood into his eye. He shrieked a curse at his luck as he tried to see what was happening. A thud revealed Link's ally lying upon the grass, limp, beneath the stair of the place where the Hero had walked as a boy, looking for trouble. Looking for Death Mountain with a letter, like a damned fool.

His teeth came together; his gums bled. He was sick and scared, and saw the thing now. A slithering movement, like a quivering vacuum of air was hungry for him. A long path of grass was being slicked over as if something was crossing it. A shadow with a rapid approach. He was blind to all but its traces. It was feet from him now, and he raised his blade. He shielded the fallen with the bird crested sigil of blue steel. Tightening his grip, made his muscles taut for a hard swing.

It was in the moment before he blacked out that he realized he had no chance.