[Complete] The Work Continues

[El]

The heart was a silly thing. As quickly as Gao had made up his mind that today's work would be his last here in new Castle Town, once the time came to actually act upon the finality of it-... his chest constricted with something akin to grief.

Perhaps he could've - should've - stayed longer, but the more sensible part of him knew that what he experienced here would sweeten in memory if he kept true to his word. The oaths you made to yourself were usually the most valuable ones. It was important he respected that.

In one last spurt of energy, his vigour renewed by the dawning end, Gao worked hard that day - harder than he had any day prior. He obliterated the most menial of tasks. Ploughed through the meanest of labours. Smalltalk came easily again and time started to pass too quickly. The sentimental Sheikah even felt tears begin to mist across his eyes when he bid adieu to his newfound companions and friends - compatriots in worker's arms! The hugs he gave were far too tight and the last meal he enjoyed that night pushed his stomach to the edge of its limits, laying him flat in a food coma deeper and heavier than any other he could fathom in recent memory. He slept like the dead that night, then left just before the crack of dawn as if he'd evaporated along with the morning dew.

There were many memorable faces Gao had encountered, but he paid special care to the calming Axel and endearing Malon: leaving them both notes that contained his contact details. He wasn't exactly the easiest man to get ahold of, travelling so often as he did and usually in treacherous territories, but like anyone he had his frequent rest-spots and the most popular of Hyrule's couriers were aware of that - skilled as they were. Perhaps neither the Sheikah nor the Rito would ever pay him another thought, soon becoming swept up in their own life trials once again, but it never hurt to keep the door open just in case they should need him one day.

<- GAO HAS LEFT THE THREAD ->

[Sav'saaba]

Lucke

"You look strong!" Lucke had laughed with elation, the snow and wind greedily absorbing the volume of her voice and silver hair fluttering around her face as the girls locked blades and eyes both, "Come on, show me!"


Reverie had expertly caught the ambush; Lucke had expected nothing less.

"By Naydra's blizzards, what do you think you're doing?!" the Zora demanded, a green glow pulsing down her extremities to punctuate her words, as she kept Skulltula Bite sandwiched between her weapon and Reverie's.

Think quick! Lucke had not quite expected this predicament, and she had to grudgingly concede she was fortunate the other guard had not struck out that prettily gleaming sword of hers at any of Lucke's vitals to gut her like a Hearty Salmon, and have her intestines unspool into the sand. Keeping steadily on beat and telegraphing nothing but a cavalier manner, with a forceful and jerking move from the shoulder Lucke twisted her wrist and blade just as she pulled it backwards, forcing the Zora to step one foot slightly forward to keep her balance.
The ancient blade whined, its blue glare dimming for a fraction of a breath that went unregistered by its owner, too concerned with something else.
This was the opportunity the Sheikah had aimed to create, having ample experience with dealing with opponents much bigger and stronger than herself.
If you can't beat them fairly, beat them unfairly.

As Claria did so, Lucke snappily hooked a foot around the Zora's that was just about touch ground, putting her off-kilter and allowing Lucke to free her weapon. She jumped back and whirled around after she had, striking Skulltula Bite out again at Reverie.

A clang, a crack, and the blade forged by her father exploded into a spray of azure shards that would dull and extinguish fully before they hit the ground.

[LuckyBlackCat]

The attacker, for all her impulsiveness, knew a thing or two about battle strategy. The sudden twist of her torso forced Claria to step forward. She pressed down harder with her sword to keep the incandescent blue weapon trapped, but found herself stumbling as the quick-thinking warrior hooked a foot around her ankle before her flipper could touch the ground. The rapier, flickering and whirring slightly, slid free.

Spreading her fins wide to keep her balance, Claria narrowly avoided toppling by planting her foot to the side. "We're trying to do an important job here!" she huffed, whirling round just in time to see the glowing blade swing at the other guard - and shatter into a rain of shards that dimmed as they clinked to the ground.

Well, shit.

By the look of it, that had been a piece of priceless ancient technology. And judging by the momentary flicker earlier, pinning it in place like that hadn't done it any favours. A sense of responsibility weighed on Claria as she sheathed her own sword and crouched to help the now-weaponless girl gather up the pieces, while still casting glances out at the field as she watched for anyone who might make use of the distraction.

"Uh... If that was some kind of ancient blade, Purah and Robbie should know what to do." She gestured towards the research tower. "I'll cover the cost of the repair."

[Emily]

There was an alternate universe in which Reverie had time to react to the things happening around her. There was a world where she would have seen Claria come in to pin Lucke's sword and simply backed up, freeing Skulltula Bite and preserving its integrity for a bit longer. Of course the sword would have broken eventually- she had seen the worry in Lucke's eyes when she had accidentally hit a rock ledge with the sword after Reverie had dodged instead of blocking- but that didn't need to be today.

That world was not this one. Instead, she froze for a second when the Zora's blade trapped Skulltula Bite. It was such an unexpected occurrence. Reverie had never seen a duel forcefully blocked like this, and she wasn't prepared to react before Lucke had taken it into her own hands, pulling hard on the blade to create her opening.

This move, as one might expect, Reverie was prepared for. The beauty of duelling the same person time and time again was learning their thought patterns to the point of instinctual reactions. As the Sheikah moved to trip the Zora, her blade dimmed. Though Lucke might not have seen it, Reverie did, and released a breath even as she lifted her sword to block the incoming blow. She tried to pirouette back and around, hoping to give Skulltula Bite a light deflection to buy time, but a twig rolled under her foot. And thus was the blade shattered. More Reverie's fault than anyone's, if she had to guess, and that hurt.

"Uh... If that was some kind of ancient blade, Purah and Robbie should know what to do. I'll cover the cost of the repair."

Reverie waited a beat to collect her resolve, then straightened and sheathed her sword. She took in a steady breath. "It was a relic of her people," she spoke evenly, the life that had entered her at the duel's outset now drained away. "I doubt it will be an easy repair."

She took a step toward her friend, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, I should have reacted faster."

[Sav'saaba]

With the heel of a palm, Lucke pushed the mask up from her countenance, and staggered a step backwards.

And another one.

She momentarily locked eyes with the Zora who would help gather up the scant but perhaps salvageable ancient tech remains, and she offered the guard a bow of her head in appreciation.

It wasn't until Reverie took it upon herself to explain for her, that Lucke herself would shatter into a millions broken pieces, and not quite as prettily as the blade had. The reality of what had come to pass came crashing down on her, unbearably heavy.

That sword had been the only thing Lucke had -and would ever have- left of her parents, her clan, the only tangible relic of her past, to her roots and to feeling loved and secure, with all the cruelty and ugliness of their world still obscured by a veneer of kinship and of a duty thrust upon one unfortunate infant by providence.

Unable to stop blinking, each wink succeeding the last one more rapidly, she inhaled sharply, as if she had been drowning only moments before. Yet it offered no relief, the garrote around her throat still tightening.

What was she going to do now?

Through the hot tears that she had failed to abate and were starting to streak down her cheeks, Lucke firmly shook her head at Reverie, her distress making room for the gut-wrenching realization that her confidante was blaming herself for Lucke's special blend of recklessness.
Lucke insisted on her denial with sign language, stilted by her meltdown but serviceable to her friend, who would have surely been accused of being able to read Lucke's mind by the wisewoman back home.

Still, there was to be no mistake about who was to blame for this. 

[Mine. My fault.]

The hand on her shoulder let her know things were going to be alright. Reverie had pulled her fragile from the wreckage before.

Lucke threw herself around the swordswoman's shoulders in an embrace, and sobbed.

She wept like she had when she was mad with delirium and had teetered on the verge of death.
She wept like she had when she had secretly sought out Reverie one last time to say her farewells.
Like she had when she had been left in that chamber and she could make out nothing but the rustle of the ceremonial garb they had clad her in.
Like she had when Reverie had come for her.

Now, Lucke wept for the people she had known and loved and the thousand-and-one happenings between them that had taken place during the time that she had been gone, and Lucke privy to none of them. The thought of all that shared laughter, all those silent sideways glances, all those stories and jibes and sorrows... and all of them happening just fine without Lucke-Me'ï there.

But above all, Lucke wept for Reverie, for she would not.

[LuckyBlackCat]

Looking up to see something break behind those red eyes, much like the sword had shattered, as the warrior bowed, Claria dug her fingernails into the scales of her palms. Her tail drooped against her back. If the sword had merely been an ancient artifact, difficult to repair but replaceable if the worst came to the worst, that would have been one thing. Yet it wasn't just a relic of the past, but of this woman's people.

Crouching on one knee so that she could easily leap into battle stance if the need arose, Claria grabbed a spare kelp-fibre pouch from her belt pack and set about slowly, carefully, gathering up the sharp pieces. The sound of ragged breathing hastening into sobs hit like a gut punch - trauma was something she recognised all too well. She sped up her pace, grunting and gritting her teeth as some of the shards nicked the sensitive webbing between her fingers, but she pushed through the pain, making sure to pick even the tiniest of fragments from the ground. There had to be some chance, however small, of salvaging the precious heirloom.

"Ehh... Here." Rising to her feet, she held out her undamaged hand, presenting the bag to the distraught fighter. She positioned her other hand by her side so that her fin draped over the wounds, although that didn't hide the blood that dripped on the ground. She inwardly cringed - she doubted she'd need stitches, but even minor cuts to finger webs bled profusely and looked worse than they were. And the redheaded fighter was already dealing with enough, without something else to beat herself up over.

"It wasn't your fault." She turned her gaze from Lucke to Reverie, then back again. "It wasn't either of your faults. Fuck... I'm so sorry."

[Emily]

"You look strong! Come on, show me!" Though the wind whipped at her face with all the fury of an angry god, such was Lucke's enthusiasm that Reverie could still hear her over the roar. There was such excitement, such levity, to her voice. Despite the terrible situation she had found herself in, out here alone in unreasonable conditions under a sneak attack scenario, Reverie found herself grinning as well.

"Careful what you wish for!" she exclaimed as she dashed forward, blade swinging down, deftly met midair by Skulltula Bite. The sword's glow matched the enthusiasm of its owner, flashing slightly with every impact, seemingly keeping watch over Reverie every time she dodged one way or another. She found her high-intensity fighting style matched at every moment by this Sheikah's acrobatics. It was truly the strangest way she'd ever made a friend- the only way, really, with her admittedly small world- but it held strong. The swords they'd held that day were the same they held during every fight for the next several years, until-


Lucke crashed into her, this time without any intention of ritual combat. Her dearest friend, crying against her like this, how was she supposed to react? Mine, my fault. It echoed in her mind in the voice Lucke had used for so much of their time together. She wrapped an arm tightly, protectively, around Lucke, allowed her to work out what had happened.

Have I done you wrong? Not the first time she had wondered that. After those secret farewells, the hugs, the crying, Reverie's unwavering confusion at the situation, she had immediately began her planning. With full self-awareness, the Hylian knew there was simply no reality where she didn't run headlong into the labyrinth, tunnel visioned from stress, her hands shaking from the understanding of the decision she had made, the actions she was taking to accomplish a goal she had announced to nobody. But by Hylia, there had been so many moments since their escape where Lucke had nearly collapsed from the trauma, the night terrors, the extreme stress.

It was always the right decision to keep living, right?

"It wasn't your fault." came the comment from her guard companion. "It wasn't either of your faults. Fuck... I'm so sorry." Reverie looked at Claria, took measure of her. She was also hurting, very clearly. And not just from the wounds picking up the sword had caused. Reverie gave her a slight nod, used her free hand to pull a salve from her belt, and exchanged it for the wrapped bits of sword. "It's not your fault either. I didn't explain the situation to you, and you were looking out for my well-being. That instinct is appreciated. Please, dress your wounds with that, it will help with the pain and assist with the bleeding.

"Lucke," she said, pulling back slightly and lowering herself the slight amount to look her friend in the eyes. She steeled herself to say what she would have to, not only because it was perhaps a bit out of character for her, but also because it was a bit of wisdom she should really have come to a couple minutes earlier, so as to save her friend from such grief. "It's not your fault, it's not her fault, it's not my fault. I know Skulltula Bite is important to you, it's important to me too. We will find a way to get it reforged. And think of it this way, you can lean in over the blacksmith's shoulder while they're doing it and make sure it's the same sword, but one that will last a thousand more duels, okay?"

[Sav'saaba]

Lucke

At the scorched heart of collapse, the first new shoot would always spring from devotion. Reverie held her like she had so many times before, catching the brunt of Lucke's breakdown as she leaned into the hug, her misery spilling out. A dam had burst and savage waters swept everything up.

Lucke felt the words her friend spoke to the Zora guard reverberate in Reverie's chest, though caught in the maelstrom, she did not fully register their meaning. It wasn't until Reverie broke away from her and said her name that Lucke stilled, somewhat.

Trying to steady her breathing and swallow back her blubbering, she hiccuped with the effort, those cherished greys level to and meeting her own eyes a beacon, yet not quite bright enough to fully dispel her darkness. Lucke rubbed her face with the back of a hand and cupped her forehead as she bade herself calm, the kohl she had applied to accentuate the flattering features of her eyes running like a watercolour in the rain and smudging across her eyelids.

Who the fuck throws an ugly-cry-meltdown pity-party over a sword anyway? Wasn't she stronger than this?
She could not allow herself to look back at her worst days left behind her, lest they would come for her and drag her down to drown in the mire.
If only for the unbidden, unfathomable sacrifice that Reverie had made for her.

A life for a life.

Lucke nodded and forced a weak smile, not convinced there would be a way to reforge her treasured weapon if the outer world had truly forsaken the technology that her tribe had refused to give up millennia ago, but wanting more than anything to believe in what her friend was telling her.
A purpose, when there had not ever been one for her life other than the coda to it, that destined fate that Reverie had thwarted.

Lucke's attention turned to the Zora guard as she scowled at the sight of blood on the ground, and the earlier exchange of items between Reverie and Claria condensing into coherence for the Sheikah. Fumbling only slightly with the end of it, Lucke unfurled the strip of linen wrapped around one of her lower arms, before taking the small dagger she kept hidden on her person and cut part off.

Still a little misty-eyed but with the fog of distress pushed from her mind, Lucke gingerly took Claria's hand into her own, not repelled by any protest she might be given, and bandaged the Zora's wound.
While not perfect, it would at least help stop the bleeding.

[LuckyBlackCat]

Although guilt still gnawed at her, the rational part of Claria's mind told her it would help nobody to keep blaming herself. It would only make matters worse for everyone involved. Yet if only it was that easy to stop. "Thanks. And it's not as if you had time to explain," she reassured her fellow guardswoman, accepting the salve. She spread it over the cuts, her face a stoic mask despite the stinging, until the bleeding subsided to a thin trickle.

The red-haired warrior, at her friend's insistence that there had to be some way to fix the sword, composed herself with a shuddering breath and a wan smile through her tears. Just from watching them, it was obvious they went way back, had experienced hardships together and supported each other through them. From the sheer conviction in her voice, Claria had no doubt that the guardswoman would stay true to her promise and go out of her way to get the relic restored.

A frown of concern creased the robed woman's face as her red eyes shifted to the blood. "Really, it's nothing to worry about," Claria insisted, but the Sheikah remained adamant about helping, uncurling a strip of cloth from her forearm and using it to bandage the wounds. Fuck, was this woman heaping the responsibility for them on herself? Claria could only hope not. "It's kind of you, but it barely hurts." The membranes between her fingers still throbbed, albeit less so now due to the soothing effect of the salve kicking in, but the focus was meant to be on the Sheikah, whose emotional pain far outweighed Claria's minor injury.

"Even if the sword won't be easy to fix," she said, "there's no guarantee it'll be impossible. When you're feeling up to it, let's ask at the research tower, people there should be able to provide a step in the right direction if nothing else." She glanced back towards the gate, which couldn't exactly be left unguarded. "Once we've found someone to fill in for us, that is. And I'm still willing to cover the expenses." It wasn't anyone's fault, as the other guard had made clear. Just a shitty accident. Even so, Claria had still been a part of this, and if she could help in any way, she would.

[Emily]

"Thanks. And it's not as if you had time to explain."

Reverie had to concede that point, nodding slightly. The Zora had jumped to her aid so quickly, and Skulltula Bite had shattered so easily, that there truly had been no time to explain. In fact, there had been almost no time to react at all.

A flash from behind a snowdrift as she was on patrol, the clash of blades. Their unrehearsed dance in the centre of the grand hall, Reverie's kinfolk gathered around the outer edges of the cave, their shouts playfully cajoling the pair to push faster, harder. Bright red hair rushing away, sword held at the ready as Lucke sprinted toward a boss bokoblin and its convoy of followers. Her grandmother watching Lucke leave for the first time with sadness in her eyes, commenting only on the beauty of the sword, the burden of history that girl carried with her. Blinking the memories away, Reverie wondered if her grandmother had known just how much of a burden that history would end up being. She had died before sharing that information.

It wouldn't do anyone any good to be stuck in her own memories of Skulltula Bite, a sword she had admired as much as she admired its wielder's ability to use it. Instead, she took a breath, scanned the environment around them. She stole a glance to the north while scanning, looking momentarily worried before releasing a breath. "The conditions aren't right for bokoblins to approach. They'd need a warleader, maybe even a boss, to gather enough of a squad to approach the walls. If there aren't Lynels in this region, or subversives, it should be an easy patrol for someone else.

"I didn't get to introduce myself earlier," she continued, turning to Claria. "My name is Reverie. This is Lucke, my best friend. We came here from up north to help out with the reconstruction," a necessary lie of omission, "though I have no experience in construction."

She didn't know how to respond to the offer of compensation. Her people had never used rupees, didn't have a market system in place. If something broke and could be repaired, someone with the skill to repair it would do so. If nobody had the skill required to repair a weapon, it would be melted down and reforged into something else. If a weapon had been corroded by the gloom, something else would need to be made. Skulltula Bite was likely too difficult a project for anyone to reforge, but she didn't dare say that out loud. For Lucke to continue losing everything important to her would be too much to ask. Perhaps they would get lucky, find a master blacksmith knowledgeable about the ways to reforge such a relic. But now she found herself worrying about whether that smith would ask for something in return they couldn't afford.

[Sav'saaba]

A recollection of the encounter with the doe in the forest from earlier that day flooded Lucke's mind when she caught Reverie's furtive glance northward. As her closest friend reasoned out loud that the likelihood of a monster attack was minimal, Lucke regarded her, observing the subtle tells that would afford a glimpse into her heart.

It was exceedingly rare for Reverie to not mask her inner universe behind knightly stoicism when it wasn't just the two of them, yet Lucke had developed a keen acuity of her friend's mannerisms. She was often able to pierce that mask true, sharp as the edge of her lost blade had been.
Some traveller they'd met on the road had pinned Reverie's demeanor on 'that Hebra chill' once. The uncalled-for remark had Lucke feel a sudden urge to pin him.
On her sword. 

Even though Hebra had been reduced to no more than memories and a sliver of mountain top on the northwestern horizon, it was still to blame for her companion's unease, communicated only by a glance or a breath held just a little too long.

If only she could ease Reverie's anxiety and assure her that she wasn't just going to roll over and resign to perishing, not ever again. Should any pursuer come to claim her, Lucke would fight, more ruthless than she ever had before and with the advantage of knowing that she wouldn't be any good to them dead, not while half a world away from the place they had thought sequestered her.
But for that to happen at all, they would first have to find the mute Sheikah woman with the silver tresses that reached all the way down her backside.

The mention of her name dragged Lucke back from her reflections, and she raised her hand at the Zora warrior in greeting, before responding to her offer.

"Thank you. That's very kind, but I couldn't possibly accept that," she'd written on her slate, and waved a hand in dismissal with a soft smile, so as to lessen any unintended but perhaps perceived unkindness from the gesture.

Unlike Reverie's people, her own community did use rupees as currency.
However, Lucke felt she had a poor grasp of the true worth of goods or services, for it was simply not a matter a Plighted was deemed to concern themselves with.
Hers had always been a kept existence, like how that of the ones who had come before her had been, and how the existence of the ones who would come after her would be. Ergo, she had zero rupees to her name.
But if there was a way to restore Ancient Tech, then surely she could find a way to pay off a debt. She would eagerly work herself to the bone in a forge doing the grueling work of an apprentice from morning to night and then some, if that was what it took.

"I'm sorry if I startled you. That ointment Reverie gave you will help you heal up in a jiff, I should know!" she punctuated the written words with a wink, and wiped them away again with the hem of her robes, before resuming, "I'll have a look around the Landing, and pester Kosi for a blade. Stay put, the captain will be even more cross with me if I cost him his best guards."

The Zora's suggestion to seek out the Sheikah researchers that Lucke had seen around the Landing came from a good place, she knew, but it wasn't one she was going to follow up on. There would surely be questions about the blade's make and origins; attention she did not need, not now. Their evidently close ties to the Royal family put them in the position to have ample resources to dig around, in the name of science.

But maybe, just maybe she and Reverie could pay a visit to the newly built smithy in Castle Town some time later. For now, Lucke desperately needed to withdraw from the world, her blithe attitude beginning to slip and a strange sense of grief prickling at the back of her throat.

[Do not worry. I will see you later at camp.] she signed to Reverie and gave her a quick hug before she squared her shoulders, waved goodbye to Claria and Reverie, and trotted off into the settlement beyond the gate. She would have to ask Reverie about the Zora's name later.

[LuckyBlackCat]

Up until now, the Sheikah hadn't said a word, but now she gently turned down the offer of recompense with a quick message. Claria, having figured the fighter was simply too distraught to speak, hadn't expected her to use a slate for communication, although she knew better than to make a big deal of it. "If you're sure..." Returning the little smile to show she hadn't taken offense, she put away the rupee.

The other guardswoman, despite her momentary worried frown, pointed out that the chances of an attack were low. Claria willed her shoulders to relax. In Lanayru, it wasn't just Bokoblins and Moblins that posed a thread, but sneaky foes such as Lizalfos, notorious for camouflaging and taking their targets by surprise. While reason told her that her usual level of vigilance wasn't necessarily required here, her reflexes said otherwise. "True," she replied. If there were Lynels around, or any other large and powerful monsters, the officials would have ordered an entire militia to defend the area, not just a few guards and volunteers.

It was with an apologetic tone that the other guard introduced herself as Reverie, and her friend as Lucke. Claria couldn't exactly blame her for not having done so earlier, with the chaos that had erupted all of a sudden. "I'm Claria. No construction experience either, so I'll be mostly standing watch."

If something were to happen at the gate, the hand injury meant she'd be relying on her fins more than her sword for a while, but Lucke reassured her that the salve would work fast, before excusing herself to look for a new blade instead of heading to the research tower. An understandable decision - if the researchers told Lucke the sword was beyond repair, hearing that while the pain was still raw would do her no good. Despite her winking and smiling, there was a tightness to her expression that conveyed suppressed grief, like a dam about to break. After giving Reverie a quick hug, she waved and rushed into the emerging town.

Claria waved back, although Lucke didn't look behind her as she disappeared into the crowd in a swish of scarlet hair. With a heavy sigh, Claria turned her gaze back to Reverie. "Well this has been an eventful day so far," she murmured. "Do you think she'll be alright?"

[Emily]

"I'm Claria. No construction experience either, so I'll be mostly standing watch."

Reverie nodded, inhaling deeply. The air itself was so different here. Thicker, in a strange way, but also different in a less tangible way. In the mountains of Hebra, the air was always crisp, even as it entered your lungs it was sharp, but bright. Here, in the nation's heart, there was a heavy, moist quality to it. She didn't properly know how to describe it, other than to say she had never experienced something like it before. But that wasn't what kept her thoughts.

"It's a noble pursuit," she said, releasing the breath and looking toward Claria. "My grandmother would have said a good builder can shorten construction time by hours or days, but they'd trip and impale themselves on a spear if you gave them one." She scoffed slightly at that, amused by the memory. Her grandmother, once a large and imposing figure who by then had become quite small, cackled every time she said that. Not an ounce of mean-spiritedness in her heart, no, merely pride in her life's calling.

"It's nice to meet you, Claria." She looked back toward the horizon. She didn't know anyone here, other than Lucke, and hadn't gone out of her way to befriend or talk to anyone. Unlikely as it might be, contingency plans continued flashing through her mind of what would happen should a crazed Sheikah cult from Hebra come over the horizon. Better to not know anybody and slip off into the night, so everyone here could rightfully say they didn't know a Reverie or a Lucke, and to look elsewhere.

Beyond that, her entire life she had known the same small group of people. The few dozen people she'd grown up with were the same people who had been there when she left. She'd known everything about them from the start, and she'd never met any new people besides Lucke, who had ambushed her for a duel, and the Rito Village shopkeepers she'd been introduced to as a child. She had never been taught how to talk to people she didn't already know, and had realised only after arriving just how difficult it could be. Finding someone who seemed a -somewhat, at least- kindred spirit in Claria was nice. Maybe the outside world wouldn't be as strange and alien as she had assumed.

She had, of course, watched Lucke until her companion had disappeared beyond the walls. When Claria's question came, a reserved and cautious one, Reverie gained a small smile. Was it wistful or bitter? "I have never known a more resilient person in my life. This is a major blow for her, too soon after the last, but... I have faith in her."

[LuckyBlackCat]

Claria's lips twitched at Reverie's joke. "Still, you have to admit they're doing a good job," she replied, with a quick look towards the work in progress that would soon be Castle Town. "We're all contributing in our own ways." The architecture of brick, wood and tile was utterly unlike the sculpted, polished stone of Zora's Domain, but it would have a certain cosy appeal once finished. Especially given what it represented - the collaborative efforts of once-divided communities to restore the land to its former glory.

"It's nice to meet you too." Reverie, quiet and distant as she was, seemed like someone she could get along with during her stay here. And no matter what ordeals Lucke had faced, just from watching their interaction, she had faith that Reverie would do her utmost to support her through them as well as this most recent one.

"You know... Here's hoping you and Lucke do get to have a thousand duels and more. And I won't interfere."

People recovered. She knew that on a personal level. Not always fully - sometimes the damage ran too deep for that. Yet many folks, with time and effort, surprised themselves with their ability to salvage what they could of their lives, making something new and worthwhile of them.


The building site itself was a testament to the resilience of Hyrule's populace. Hammer strikes, chatter, song filled the air as Hudson Construction workers toiled alongside volunteers from all over the kingdom, pulling together to move forward from the Calamity no matter their own and their ancestors' experiences with it. Occasionally, a light breeze would sweep over the sweaty labourers, soothing their overheated bodies. It was the least she could do for her colleagues, Alyson thought, taking a moment to bask in the zephyr before resuming setting up the wooden scaffolding of the Hyli-Inn.

Summer swelter beat down as the sun made its way across the sky, eventually dipping towards the horizon, the brilliant blue giving way to streaks of pink and amber. The activity began to wind down, people making their way back to the pop-up inn for well-earned food and rest, as well as to lift their tankards to Castle Town and its future.

The start of a new era was underway.