( A Routine )


[Written]

[Written in an elaborate form, this writing appears on the journal late in the evening. No effort is made to disguise the writer. It’s simply a tale, with a simple moral, that he recalls from his youth. Events of late has give him pause to consider it.]

My people tell a tale of a woman who became stranded in a desert oasis. Surrounded by desert for hundreds of miles, there was no journey to be made in which she would survive. But the oasis was not a terrible place to live. All she needed was provided to her. The water from the lake was refreshing and clear, and the plants bore the sweetest of fruits. In time, she knew, that she might find a way home if she waited for the time to be most opportune. The seasons would shift and the winds would change. Her people would come and would return her to her home. So she waited.

But trapped in her lonely oasis, she became enamored with the sun. Every day, she would look out upon the sky, watching as it rose and as it set. Every day, her oasis felt smaller and her ambition grew larger. She thought that if she could simply touch the sun, for just a moment, that she would be given the strength to wait. But even the tallest of the trees could not grant her the purchase she desired. So one day, she gathered all she could, and waited for the sun to rise in the east. She immediately set out for the west, quick as her feet could carry her. The sun rose across her back, over her head, and though she tried to keep up with it, it outpaced her and set in the west.

The next morning, she did the same. Over and over, she continued to try and catch up with the sun. But it was not meant to be. After the seventh sunset, she collapsed into one place to be buried by the sand, lost and forgotten. Two months later, the seasons shifted and the winds changed and her people found the oasis, but she was no longer there. She reached too far and for it, she was punished.

[Voice]

My steed has been returned to me. I require stables that he might be kept in. I understand that there is now ample space in a new set of stables. I desire to make use of them and would speak to whomever is most involved with them.

From Ganondorf's perspective, it had but been mere hours since he had returned to his world, soundly defeated his foes, and returned to Luceti. It was curious that he remembered none of his deeds in this world, but there would be time to dwell on that later. Once again he had arrived in this world in nothing bit ill fitting white pants a few sizes too small for him. The great wound in his chest continues to glow. A clean cut, even the strange unearthly glow can be seen from the other side. Having so obvious a weakness revealed was infuriating. He remembered how much he loathed the Malnosso.

And how much he desired their power.

It was clear time had passed in Luceti in his absence, but he had little way of knowing how much. But he knew the way. So the great lumbering man, all seven and a half feet of him, proceeded back to Luceti. The ground was cold, some of it still icy from the rain a few days ago, and he might have froze if he had not become so accustomed to the cold bitterness of the Twilight Realm. His destination was the clothing store. But it was daylight as he entered town, where anyone and everyone could see. Tedious, really.

After donning his armor once more and claiming a brilliant white blade from the smithy, Ganondorf was left with the curious task of returning to a life of domestic dullness. He'd need a place to sleep, he'd have to collect groceries, exchange pleasantries with people far beneath him, and bide his time in this most curious of prisons. He hated it already. But he could be found in the village doing just that. Eventually he would settle on a home far removed from the village, but not until later.

Later he would address the journals:

[Written]

By my last reckoning, it was the month 'January' in the fifth cycle of this enclosure. I understand much has occurred in this time. I would relish the opportunity to learn what has transpired.

Furthermore... would anyone know what fate befell a woman named Zelda and an assortment of boys sharing the name Link?

((Please check out his permissions!))

[It has been some time since Ganondorf has been in the village. After accepting a mission on the second, he merely took his leave the next day without communicating his absence to anyone. He made assurances his steed would be able to survive on his own and that was that. So after twelve long days of combat, he is finally back in the village late in the afternoon. Yet however powerful he might be, not even the Triforce would seem to stand up to the Shifters he encountered. Consequently he has returned to the village wounded, ragged, and just a bit on edge.

His injuries make his armor too uncomfortable and have made him concerned it has negatively impacted his speed. So today he goes to the Battle Dome wearing some loose, flowing black robes. Despite having received two Gerudo scimitars as his prize, he leaves all his weapons behind. He will manage to set himself up a simple scenario of a desert landscape, fighting shrouded warriors. Though not identifiable to anyone, he requested the computer model their abilities and combat abilities off some of his potential enemies within Luceti. More than that, he has disabled the ability to use powers. After being placed in this very scenario during his mission, he does not want to risk making himself so vulnerable. He needs to be able to fight without weapons, armor, or magic at his disposal. The way he was once excelled at in his training to become king. Despite all that, he is fighting with very clear injuries. Notably he walks with a painful limp. He lacks healing magic and has too much pride to request someone deal with it for him.

In the late evening, he will be walking with this same limp on his way to the plaza where he aims to request a hot meal from Seventh Heaven, which he intends to take home and eat in privacy. He is not looking for company or conversation, but he will act amicable if approached. As much as he can stand at least.

The next morning, on the 16th sees his very first snow fall, which he soon finds a distaste for. He deems this an appropriate time for a brief voice message to settle some business.]

Midna. I would have words with you. Let us find a place we can speak.

[That should do it. Unfortunately due to not knowing how to stop it recording, the journal will also catch him muttering to himself:] I grow weary of this accursed weather.

[Ganondorf had been looking for a better form of transportation at the farmlands, hoping he might find a horse fit to bear him across Luceti. He was pleasantly surprised to find his own stallion sitting there acting all cool. Given that most horses would likely be too small to carry Ganondorf anyway, this is a fortuitous turn of events. Consequently he can be seen riding back to the village on the same steed. It's quite a magnificent creature, really. Especially given how much larger than a normal horse it actually is. And... the red eyes. It later prompts a message on the journals.]

It seems as though my steed has followed me to this world. I require an appropriate stable with which I can keep him in. I have little I can offer in exchange, but I am certain some arrangement could be made.

[Later, in the evening, he will set out again, once again mounted, to the mountains. There is a certain beast that roosts there he intends to visit. He had yet to check on it since returning to the draft, but he had little reason to think it would have had trouble.]