Another fight and another victory, but Zelda finds herself exhausted. She's not a fan of the sword and shield, for all their use is customary among Hylian soldiers. It was the knives and needles of the Sheikah she thrived with at home and sorcery she fell back on in need; without them she felt slow and ungainly, more a hindrance than a help.
Better to learn that in this false world than the true one, she supposes; still, it feels very frustating to be forced so out of her strengths.
"Is there any other way to play this game?" she asks, taking advantage of a nearby rock to rest. "I don't think this role suits my strengths, I'm afraid."
Making Your Own Fun
"The year that Buttercup was born, the most beautiful woman in the world was a French scullery maid named Annette," Zelda recites to herself, curling up in one of the seats with the fourth book she'd pulled from the shelves. This one seemed promising; the only word of the first sentence she didn't understand was French, and from the context it seemed likely that it was some sort of geographic location.
Not that it was particularly explicable otherwise without a map, of course. But better that than some of the books she'd come across, which read as though they were written in the technical jargon of some particularly paranoid craftsmen's guild.
The rest continues, more or less, at the same level of understanding. Some of it is quite amusing, once she recognizes the tale as as much satire as true fairy tale, yet it's all too easy to get thrown out of the tale by references such as Voltaire, Sweden, and Paris. Eventually she decides to take the author's advice and just ignore anything in parentheses.
"This was before taxes. But everything is after taxes. Taxes were here even before stew."
Huh. "Well," she says to herself, "I suppose some things really are universal."
Wildcard
Zelda's available to be encountered anywhere on the train.
Zelda | The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time
Another fight and another victory, but Zelda finds herself exhausted. She's not a fan of the sword and shield, for all their use is customary among Hylian soldiers. It was the knives and needles of the Sheikah she thrived with at home and sorcery she fell back on in need; without them she felt slow and ungainly, more a hindrance than a help.
Better to learn that in this false world than the true one, she supposes; still, it feels very frustating to be forced so out of her strengths.
"Is there any other way to play this game?" she asks, taking advantage of a nearby rock to rest. "I don't think this role suits my strengths, I'm afraid."
Making Your Own Fun
"The year that Buttercup was born, the most beautiful woman in the world was a French scullery maid named Annette," Zelda recites to herself, curling up in one of the seats with the fourth book she'd pulled from the shelves. This one seemed promising; the only word of the first sentence she didn't understand was French, and from the context it seemed likely that it was some sort of geographic location.
Not that it was particularly explicable otherwise without a map, of course. But better that than some of the books she'd come across, which read as though they were written in the technical jargon of some particularly paranoid craftsmen's guild.
The rest continues, more or less, at the same level of understanding. Some of it is quite amusing, once she recognizes the tale as as much satire as true fairy tale, yet it's all too easy to get thrown out of the tale by references such as Voltaire, Sweden, and Paris. Eventually she decides to take the author's advice and just ignore anything in parentheses.
"This was before taxes. But everything is after taxes. Taxes were here even before stew."
Huh. "Well," she says to herself, "I suppose some things really are universal."
Wildcard
Zelda's available to be encountered anywhere on the train.