Archive of Our Own ^beta

The morning came crisply, air smooth and light in contrast to the thick heaviness it held during the noon hours. In his bed, a young man sniffs and his eyes flutter open, blinking at the pillow his cheek is currently pressed to. He had intended to sleep in for a fair while longer, but he is awake now and there is little he can do in way of that wakefulness. The sun is not yet high, merely a suggestion on the horizon at this point in time; the world is growing bright with that sharp sunlight of dawn as it reaches upwards, and the life under it has begun to stir. 

Vio pulls himself from bed, running a hand through tangled hair. His eyes are still sticky with sleep, but his mind is far too awake for him to let them fall shut again. Outside, the birds have begun to call, and he heads to the kitchen. 

Tea is brewed as silently as he is able, the kettle taken off the hearth just before it heats enough to whistle. It’s a fragrant tea — he has never been able to palate the darker varieties, sticking instead to herbals and the occasional earl grey — and the aroma wraps around him like a blanket as he cups the mug in his hands. The sun finally crests the horizon, blindingly bright, and Vio squints as the light floods in through an open window. As the world awakens, so does he, and he finds himself taken with the ever increasing need to do something as the morning progresses. It is still early — far too early for his brothers to have even begun so much as stirring — but he finishes his tea and places a strip of cloth in the book he had curled up with and sets them both aside, rising and shaking the last dredges of sleep from his shoulders. 

When he had made tea earlier, he had ventured out briefly to draw water from the well, and it had been wonderfully cool, nearly to the point of drawing a shiver. The pitcher is only half full now after filling the kettle, and he has little faith that his brothers will leave any water in it upon waking as it is now, and so he slips outside to fill it once more. The grass is cold and wet against his bare feet, coated in morning dew, and Vio finds himself wondering where the dew had come from in light of the recent lack of rain. He’s sure Zelda’s library possesses a book with the answer to that particular question -- he will have to ask her, should he remember to. 

House taken care of, Vio can find nothing more to do with himself. But the insistent need to be doing something has yet to subside, and he finds himself pacing before an idea finally dawns on him. Filling his waterskin first, so that he is not caught without it again -- a rather unfortunate experience, and a story for another time -- he runs through a list of things to bring with him. 

His sword, while in all honesty is likely unnecessary, is strapped across his back and rests there comfortingly. It is good training, in any case. He should be well used to carrying his sword, in the case that it is required of him — of them — to take it up against destruction once more. Along with the sword, he takes with him a light pack, slinging it over his shoulder so it comes to rest on top of his sheathed sword. On his way out the door he stutters, turning back and grabbing the hunting knife Green had been working on previously from where it rests on the counter. It doesn’t hurt to be prepared, especially since he is heading off alone, regardless of how short a period of time it may be. 

The path from their house is dusty from the summer’s heat, and dirt rises in plumes under his heels. Thankfully, as he enters the woods, it turns to soft trail, kept saturated by the surrounding trees and brush, and the earth is springy now beneath his boots. It’s quiet, in the woods, though not in a complete way — animals weave through the leaves, rustling them; and birds call out across the canopy;  and there is the ever present hum of far-off winds and waters, tumbling through the world. Silence, Vio thinks, as adverse to quiet, would be rather unnerving. Silence never meant any good.

Vio hums, softly to himself, once, shaking the memories from his mind, and continues to trod along down the path. 

The mountain that rises before him is the one at which’s foot the little town is nestled at, and it is not a far walk to the beginning of the climb. It is by no means a very large mountain, rather short and squat in comparison to the ones that lay beyond it, but it is far too tall to be classified as a hill. Sitting at the very end of its range, the size of the mountain in particular makes sense, and though it may not possess much of a challenge in the way of physical exertion it will do well enough to suit Vio’s needs. His thoughts wander to odd little things like this as he walks, beginning to feel the rise of the ground in his calves, and these aimless musings are accompanied by the gentle sounds of a waking world around him. 

The mountain comes into itself, the climb steepening exponentially from the path he had first set out on from his front-stoop. Well in shape from frequent training, it is not enough of a climb to burn in his legs, but it is certainly enough to be felt. The days have been hot lately, with the smoldering sun sat high above and unhindered by clouds. In the morning, though, the heat has yet to permeate the world below, and for the first time in perhaps a fortnight or so Vio finds himself at ease in the outdoors. Were it more feasible, he thinks he would take to hiking at night; but even if the dangers of doing that were not present, his attention is normally taken by reading or working on a project. Still, it is a nice idea, and he wonders if his brothers would be keen on an overnight trip into the mountains in the coming days.

He enjoys hiking. Much of his time is spent indoors or training, and this has given the impression about him that he is rather adverse to the outdoors. It is quite the opposite -- his element is, after all, earth. Hiking allows him time to think more freely, not needing to keep himself as occupied as he normally might, and he has also found that he is far more lax in controlling his thoughts in these moments. They come and go as they please here, amongst the smell of the earth and the gentle breeze and the soft greens of the plant life. As an added bonus, it keeps him from becoming complacent without feeling too much like a grueling test of his body. It is a marvel he does not venture out onto the trails more often, all things considered. 

Vio finally peaks the mountain, breaking away from the trees that blanket its sides. There is a rocky overlook, and from it he can see the whole of the valley below, even so far as the distant glimmering of Lake Hylia and the miniature, indistinct spires of the Castle. He settles with his back against the trunk of a tree, legs crossed loosely, and he pulls some odd project or other from his bag. It’s rare that he is afforded a quiet like this while he works -- save when he stays up into the late hours of the night, bothered only by his own breathing -- and with the early morning sun at his back he relaxes into an easy contentment. 

The sun continues to rise, and he is sure his brothers must be waking by now. As pleasant as it is in the current moment, if the preceding days are anything to go by, the day will be turning hot and stifling within the next two hours or so. He is half tempted to suffer through the hike back home in the heat, if only to stretch out this little pocket of peace he’s created for himself, but a quick glance at his sword and half-full pack have him decide otherwise. With a soft grumble he pushes himself up, tucking his things back into their place, and he leaves behind the moss-blanketed rocks and the gentle hold they’d had on him. 

It was good timing on his part to have left when he did. By the time he arrives home the bugs have begun to make their presence known, and this has been a telling precursor to the shift of the slowly-creeping morphing warmth into smothering summer heat. He latches the door behind him, setting his things away as he goes, and someone -- Blue, he thinks -- calls out from around the corner. 

“Where have you been?” 

Vio shrugs, unclasping the hunting knife and its sheath from his belt. It is not an accusatory question, but rather a question in plain, which he is thankful for. 

“I hiked up Mount Kine,” he says, and Blue slips up onto the counter to sit. “Woke up early and couldn’t fall back asleep.” 

Blue nods knowingly, propping themself up with their arms out behind them. Vio moves about the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water from the pitcher he had filled earlier, and Blue lets out a rather violent yawn. 

“Early mornings are hard,” he murmurs, and within a moment is yawning again. Vio laughs softly, giving his head a little shake. 

“Clearly,” he says, and Blue only half shakes his head in response, spacing out at some far-off point visible to only him. His brother comes back to as he is finishing off his water, eyes snapping over to him in a motion that seems half-robotic. 

“Was it very nice out?”

“Mmm,” Vio responds, and Blue nods again, sighing as the sunlight from the window settles over him. They are both still waking, in their respective ways -- Blue from sleep, and Vio from his own mind -- and their words are slow because of it, but Green suddenly bustles into the kitchen, full of their ever-present hum of energy, and despite the lack of words they find themselves shaking free of the slow of the morning. 

“It’s nearly ten, you know,” Green says in a motherly way, and it is then that marks the end of Vio’s quiet little morning. He is not resentful for this, in fact, he is rather pleased with the day for the first time in a while, and he is glad that he’d been able to steal away from his regular doings that morning. He shares a joking glance with Blue, and helps Green prepare their things in the kitchen.