and I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem

[sageprincess]

Who: Princess Zelda + YOU
What: Zelda accidentally goes dreamwalking. Shenanigans ensue.
When: September 1st, night
Where: ~the land of dreams~
Warnings: Please put any content warnings in your subject lines!

[Gods and shinki, strictly speaking, do not need to sleep. The biological need simply does not exist in the spiritual beings of the far shore, and if the old gods, beings with no experience in being bound by the physical needs of the body, were still around, perhaps we wouldn't be having this discussion.

But it is said old habits are hard to break, and sleep can still offer some benefits to the denizens of the heavens besides, even if it is no longer truly necessary for survival. So it is a quiet night, and though the air is warm, the rising of the moon brings with it a breeze that keeps it from being nearly unbearable as it is during the light of day. You drift off, as you have likely done a thousand times before, but something is different now--

Your dreams are not your own tonight.]

_{[ooc; dreamwalking log! set up the kind of dream your character is having in your starter and zelda will appear in the middle of it, mildly befuddled. and again, please make sure to put any content warnings that might come up in your subject lines. thank you!]}

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[reformedsinner]

[Hakkai flinches at that, outright, and looks up from the three earrings in his palm to the stranger standing in his kitchen.]

I did not want to hurt them-- [He stops himself before his voice can break, or spiral up into panic. There are no bodies. Even his hand, as he looks down at it, seems less bloody, the warm liquid on his fingers becoming ephemeral. Tea?

As he thinks it, he realizes that it is just tea, that must have splashed onto his hand when he set his cup down. Why had he ever thought it was blood?

(Behind him, unnoticed, the red stains on the teacup and the kettle become nothing more than a red-glazed teacup, a red enameled kettle, as quietly and easily as though that had always been what they were.)

He looks up at Zelda again. She's afraid of him: she should be, of course. He's a monster. The limiters in the palm of his hand, with their ability to mask his monstrosity behind a human guise, make no difference to that at all. Knowing that, he closes his hand over them, but still pulls it close to his chest, as though protecting a treasure.]

I don't want to hurt you.

[And, with a determined air, he opens his hand and reaches up to slip the limiters one by one onto the shell of his ear.

His appearance does not change in the least, but the set of his shoulders shifts, just slightly, as though a hidden tension has eased.]

I don't want to hurt you.

[He repeats it with more certainty, and closes his eyes for a few seconds before sagging back into the chair that is still pulled out from the table. The other is empty now, pushed in, bloodless. Hakkai looks at it, wondering if there were ever blood there, or if he is dreaming, or if he has lost his mind.

He gestures to it nonetheless, with automatic politeness, and meets her unsettled gaze.]

No one will hurt you here.

[sageprincess]

[She is still wary, of course; that is simply human nature, to be wary of things one doesn't understand. And she doesn't understand, not truly, this whole experience one confusing and alarming event after another, but she watches him, carefully, as his demeanor slowly shifts from something like that of a cornered animal to one seeming almost professional. Nothing on the outside has changed at all - she still sees sharp teeth and sharper claws alongside mismatched eyes that are perhaps the most unsettling things of all - but she cannot deny that something has.

Appearances are at once everything and nothing. She knows this much from seven years of hiding behind a shadowed mask. So she swallows, and slowly steps forward, not yet taking the offered seat but standing behind it, cautious gaze never leaving him.]

... What are you?

[It's a rude and childish question, some part of her dimly recognizes. But she does not ask it with cruelty or disgust. Wisdom's chosen cannot brave through any hardship unfettered like Courage or mow down opposition like Power, but she can seek understanding.

It is simply human nature to fear that which one doesn't understand. But then, subverting that nature is equally simple.]

[reformedsinner]

A monster.

[Dreaming, he thinks. There had been blood. There had been bodies: he's not so confused as to mistake anything else for a corpse. His ears should be rounded and his claws fingernails, with his limiters on, but though they cloud his perception they haven't changed his youkai appearance. It's a strange dream, featuring a stranger, but it's a dream.

So he may as well tell the truth.

Knowing that the blood had been real, he can't quite bring himself to offer her tea; he stays where he is, sitting at the old wooden table, hands clasped together.]

... And a youkai.

What are you?

[What does it mean, that he's seeing her in his dream? Her ears could be youkai, but her eyes, teeth and hands are human.]

[sageprincess]

Monsters do not know fear.

[She's fought monsters, creations of the Evil King made to plague Hyrule. Not a one of them showed a moment of hesitation in their attempts to take her life, even as their own were slipping away. Even Ganondorf himself, a man turned demon turned man again, when faced with eternity locked in the Sacred Realm, screamed curses with his final breath, not pleas for forgiveness.

This... thing, this "youkai," whatever that might be, did. The specific words he spoke are lost to her now, so wrapped up in her own fears was she, but he did plead for her to stay away.

She continues to watch him carefully, her gaze discerning, almost as though he is some kind of dangerous puzzle to be solved. But she does answer him.]

... I am Hylian. My name is Zelda.

[reformedsinner]

Of course we do.

[A dream, but why is he dreaming about people who are just wrong? Any monster could know fear. Animals know fear. Regret, perhaps, would have been worth a moral debate, but fear?

He's regretting not being able to debate morality with his subconscious, he thinks, and unclasps his hands to bury his face in them, laughing at himself for a few breaths.]

I'm sorry.

[And apologizing to his subconscious now -- he pushes that thought aside firmly. He'll take the dream at face value. He hasn't woken up yet, for some odd reason, and so.]

I'm--

[He stutters before he reaches the next word, genuinely, horribly unsure what his name is. Gojyo, dead: Hakkai. Kanan, dead: Gonou -- he's a different person in many ways now, and his name isn't the most or the least of them. He swallows, and manages a choice.]

Hakkai. Cho Hakkai. I don't know why I'm dreaming about you, but I'm sorry. [A smile illuminates his face with irony.] I'm not ready for visitors.