Chapter Text
Mask, the little ankle biting goblin of his problems (problems which he loves dearly) was back. Not that Wars wasn’t happy to see him, he’d missed the kid to tears but shit… Mask was Time. Time was Mask. His little brother had been with him and he hadn’t even known.
He felt like crying.
“Language Sprite.”
THATS THE FIRST SENTENCE YOU SAY TO HIM?! Wars shocked himself with that one, Mask didn’t seem to care much. The kid just used more explicits, not that it wasn’t expected.
They ended up setting up camp in a forest after getting away from the area of the fight, Wild was cooking something that smelled heavenly and most of the chain was around the fire minus Twilight who had gone for a quick perimeter check.
”Someone can cook?” Mask asked as he tugged Wars scarf a bit more than necessary, Captain nodded, smiling in amusement as he took off the scarf and putt it around the kid who huffed in annoyance but kept it over him.
“So what is going on…” Sky asked obviously a bit uncomfortable with the angry child that looked like he would chew someone’s head off (Wars wouldn’t put it past him) “How do you know the kid?” Wild put in.
Oh right, introductions. He sighed both internally and externally as he stood up, smoothed out his clothes and curse at the goddess for the however many nth it was.
”This, is Mask. He served in the War of Eras. Mask, these are other heroes from different eras-“
Skipping over what Mask said which had gotten some questionable faces Wars continued, “-that’s the Vet, Rancher, Traveller, Cook or Champion, Smith, Sailor and Sky…” Wars gestured at at his company in right turn before grinning as he continued,
“Or Link, Link, Link, Link, Link, Link, Link, Link and Link.” He poked Mask in the chest.
He scrunched his face up at it and pushed Captain’s hand away from him.
”Stupid..” he grumbled quietly.
The camp went on fairly quiet that night, no one really knew what to say, the kid wasn’t talkative and Wars was spacey and everyone else felt the mood shift.
Four took first watch. Twilight took second and Legend took third.
Mask didn’t sleep.
He was in a camp full of almost strangers again and he didn’t know what was going on.
Looking down from the tree he’d perched in, he watched uhh who was it again? Whatever. The colourful tunic hero, Mask decided on, was sharpening a rather interesting sword. It had a golden guard and pommel, the pommel having a ink black gem which Mask could bet probably had some sort of magic signature, the fuller was short much like the hero who wields it and overall it was well maintained.
Mask climb further out on the branch to get a better view of how the other was honing his blade.
It was done with careful consideration, Mask was almost tempted to ask him for advice. Almost. The other hero then wiped his sword, put his gear down and stretched. He reached his arms over his head and bent backwards, Mask heard his shoulder pop and neck crack.
Suddenly his eyes looked up and stared directly at Mask.
“Oh…hi. I forgot you were up there. Shouldn’t you try and sleep?” In the firelight his eyes acted a lot like the gem in his sword handle, Mask could almost swear that they changed from purple to green to red. Trick of the light he supposed.
He shook his head. Debating whether to hide back in the foliage he remembered that the Captain trust these people. He has a connection to them. For all the Captain was a piece of bossy shit, annoying and vain he knew the man was good and trustworthy, he also knew he didn’t trust like a naive puppy and Captain trust these people.
He guessed he could grace them, just a little. He was curious was all, he didn’t care for the Captain’s approval, Hylia knows the man is proud enough already.
Carefully he swung down the tree landing on his feet with a little ‘oomph’ (not that he would ever admit it).
The colourful hero looked surprised that Mask had come down.
“…would you like to sit Ti- uh Mask?” The other hero asked tentatively. Mask shook his head again.
“..what kind of sword is that?” Mask asked, voice low. He swayed in place subconsciously as the other answered,
“It’s called the Four Sword…it was made by creatures called Minish.” “What’s a Minish?” Mask asked, the smithy (Mask remembered after seeing his honing) looked more hesitant to answer, Mask could understand him not wanting to say.
“Th- “
“you-“
They both looked at each other. Red ears twitched down,
”sorry, you go.” Smithy said after a beat of tense silence. Mask shook his head and gestured his hands for the Smithy to continue, he wanted to know what the Minish were and it looked like the other might tell him, selfish maybe, but childish curiosity was hard to resist, even for a hero.
The Smithy nodded after a second and resumed his earlier interrupted words, “The Minish are special people who helped me on my quest.”
Special people? Mask supposed he had some companions like that or…had had.
“..Could you show me how you sharpen it?” A light pink crept onto his young face.
The other looked at him, eyes a purple-red tinge, he nodded and smiled grabbing his tools again.
It was interesting Smithy knew so much about how it worked and the best techniques…ohhh that’s how he got his nickname. Mask felt dumb for not realising that fact it was so clearly in his face. They sat together for a while the older hero explaining what he was doing and how to do it properly so not to damage the blade. At some points he would give Mask items and he would have a go, correcting his hold on the gear and feeling the textures of the tools, Smithy told some interesting stories like how he once caught his apron of fire and got soaked by his grandfather…it was educational (Mask was not going to say fun, he only snorted slightly when four said he hammered his thumb and got called berry finger for days).
After a while Mask looked at the sky, the moon glared at him and a feeling of dread fell over him but he coolly looked away at the older hero who gave him a strange look,
“It’s time for second watch.”
“Oh I guess I’ll wake Rancher. Are you going to sleep?” Four asked, rather melancholy.
The younger hero shook his head, during his time talking to Smithy he’d concluded that the man wasn’t that bad, not that he trusted him fully but that he didn’t give a feel of harm. He would be fine without sleeping anyway…his second adventure had forced that into him.
As the coloured hero woke Rancher as he called him, Mask retreated back to his tree and spent the rest of the night there…how would he get back to his home?