beast mode

"Say, Goldie - d'you ever wonder if Baelve might be part Lynel?"

"Do I, or have I?" Goldie felt a rare burst of sarcasm coming on in response to Flexter's...well, was it really such a ridiculous question? He was muscular, gruff, and certainly more no-nonsense than Flexter. She hadn't ever seen him with a beard, but it seemed like he could probably grow one. And not to mention how tall! Stably built, for sure.

Have I, or do I? "What's the difference?"

"Well, I know I don't make a habit of it. But if you want me to consider it now, I suppose I see where you're coming from."

Flexter nodded, as close to sagacious as they ever got. "If it's anybody in Hyrule, I'd bet it's him. He's probably a better marksman than the hero."

Neither of the two could attest, since Baelve wasn't the type to engage in such productive wastes of time as target practice. But indeed, he was methodical, and seemed to set very high standards for himself, in an odd sort of invisible, indecipherable way.

Goldie cocked her head, considering and considering some more. "If that's so, then why isn't he the hero, do you think?"

Now, the answer to that question was obvious, given how standoffish Baelve consistently proved to be. Was he out-and-out coldhearted? No. He wasn't a jerk for jerks' sake. He would help out, if prevailed upon (strongly enough). He would just stand around and let things happen sometimes, it was true (Goldie thought of the Koltin-and-the-Chus incident), but if those things were indeliberate human acts of stupidity, eventually his hand would usually be tried, if not forced.

"It's a fair point. Since the hero can be anyone, regardless of descent."

Link was Zelda's chosen hero, and not the goddess's, though, so the point stood. This was no longer and would never again be the Era of Myth. The son of a Knight of Hyrule went on, naturally, to train humbly but earnestly in the royal circles, meeting with and charming members of every people across the land from a tender age. No matter how fantastical the Calamity and its trappings, the hero's part in the tale was effectively modest.

Really, Link was fun-loving and quirky! A bright, resourceful individual always ready to lend a hand or an ear or a bit of buffoonery in the form of expressive body language could never be the spawn of a Lynel.

"Wait...oh, Flexter, I'm not sure I like the thought of that." Lynels being intelligent creatures with morals, she could grant, but imagining that a Hylian had, well, bred with one was a different matter. Suddenly "spawn" took on a whole new meaning, and Goldie involuntarily scowled, cringing.

With a sympathetic look, Flexter replied, "What, just now catching on? Come on, jot it down in your notebook. Be a scholar!"

"My..." The sarcasm of earlier was now purpling to rarer fury. "Ugh! That's horrible - you're entertaining this whole gruesome idea just to plaster it all over Traysi's sensationalist rag!"

Everything stopped, then. The hay clumped wetly under Goldie's petulant heels. Flexter looked as if they were in desperate need of swallowing a sneeze.

"I thought you liked the Lucky Clover Gazette," they said, with quiet, perfect clarity.

"Well...well, I do." Goldie gave an impulsive shake of her head. "I do! But not when the spread of information comes at the cost of innocent people's dignity."

Flexter's brows flew into their hairline. "Baelve is innocent people?"

"Actually, that's proving my point. We really don't know anything about him, so how can we say what he does and doesn't deserve?"

Maybe she was overreacting, since she felt so guilty about her part in engaging the topic. Maybe it made it worse if she did explode like this, because that was implying that there would be something wrong with Baelve if he wasn't full-blooded Hylian. That's full-blooded, not pure-blooded, Goldie made sure to mind.

"I'm sorry, Flex," Goldie said, to their silence. "I guess I just don't like the idea of adding Baelve to my notebook like he's just another...specimen. What if I've been treating everyone else in Hyrule that way too? You know, sometimes being a scholar feels like a dirty business."

"Now you're getting it."

Goldie's neck whipped around to the source of the quip, but Baelve was stood still as a statue, shoulders reared, one eye closed.