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Let it be known that Hyrule is not usually this much of an idiot.
Sure, he's been known to wander off without telling anyone, and he's put literal poison in his mouth far too many times for most people's comfort, apparently, but life's all about trial and error and adventure! Survival is a game, and by Hylia has Hyrule been winning at it. Like, supremely.
He's got all the skills for it. He's fast, he's quick on his feet and quick to decide, and he's always one step ahead of his enemies. He's suspicious and friendly in all the right places to garner support and avoid being stabbed, and he's got more magic than he knows what to do with. It's safe to say that he is very equipped to keep himself alive in his Hyrule.
In the others' worlds, though?
Hyrule winces.
Legend winces.
Everybody winces. It's one big collective wince, a group effort.
The learning curve of the others' Hyrules has been steep to say the least. While he knows how to navigate his dungeons expertly, and he knows exactly what sort of puzzle or monster calls for what, whoever's Hyrule this is did not appropriately warn him not to bleed on the fragments.
Now, one might call this common sense.
Normally, Hyrule might be called commonly sensible. Probably not, actually, but he does usually keep track of his blood. With the imminent threat of Ganon from every papercut, he's generally described as being obsessively paranoid about keeping all of his red inside his body. Hell, he'd cauterized a scraped knee before.
The point is, he knows better.
Or, he knew better, before the others' worlds went and ruined him. The curse doesn't take hold anywhere but his own Hyrule and, upon learning this, things had changed. Slowly, but they did. And, since then? It could, quite possibly, be said that he's been slacking a little bit about it. Just a hair.
Still, how was he supposed to expect this to happen just from bleeding a bit on some glass?
Hyrule stares and regrets his choices.
"Fuck," the Smithy's Dark hisses, scrambling up to their feet. Their head swivels around, taking in the dungeon room with a growing look of dread before stopping on Hyrule's glowing form.
"A fairy?" Dark Four says, their head tilting to the side like Wolfie might. It would almost be cute, if it weren't actually terrifying.
Hyrule swallows nervously. The scar above his hip bone aches.
The Dark starts forward with a broken, uneven gait. Hyrule darts back, as much as he can dart back, what with his half-clipped wing and probable concussion. You know, maybe he can blame his stupidity and slacking off on that. The chime that crawls out of him is as alarmed as it is pathetic.
Dark Four jerks back a step, their hands half-raised in surrender.
"I'm not--" A complicated expression twists their face. Resolutely, they try, "I'm not gonna hurt you."
Hyrule very much doubts that. Like, snowball's-chance-in-hell doubts it. The Dark must be able to tell, because their expression crumples in on itself. Instead of laying bare the true, twisted look he'd been expecting, it's frustration and a raw, desperate sort of hurt. Hyrule winces.
Yikes.
"I won't," Dark Four tries, and they sound honest. As much as a Dark can, he supposes. "I swear. I don't fuck with fairies."
Honestly, it's a good rule to live by. The fae aren't exactly known for being charitable to people who mess with them and theirs. Still, Hyrule doesn't move to close the space between them, and neither do they.
Dark Four rocks back on their heels, their eyes wide and expression twisting. Their focus flicks around the room rapidly, as if searching the shadows for something.
"I just--hah--it's dark in here." Their voice takes on the subtle undertone of a humor that edges close to hysteria. "Isn't that funny? A shadow. Scared of the dark!"
It's ironic, maybe, but Hyrule wouldn't call it funny. It's honestly a little sad.
Dark Four laughs quietly under their breath. It isn't a happy laugh, or even a terribly crazed one. It almost sounds like a sob.
Hyrule's resolve melts like an ice chunk lying in the mid-day sun. He moves closer cautiously. Very cautiously. He's still well out of grabbing distance--despite popular belief, he doesn't actually have a death wish, Legend--but he lets his glow light up some of the area surrounding the Dark.
It takes energy to maintain the glow, energy that could be better spent on something else like healing one of his brothers or snapping a round of Thunder at the Dark when they inevitably lunge for Hyrule's throat. Still, if it's a ploy to drain his energy, it's going to take hours or maybe even days before that happens. It's maybe not the smartest idea, but neither was (accidentally) bleeding on the weird glass, and if he's going to be chewed out either way…
They have Four's face.
In the end, it's as easy as that.
If it means he can't change back until later, so be it.
The Dark's ears flick, their peripherals tracking his painstakingly slow approach. He can see the effort they put into staying relaxed, half-turned away from him. They ignore him, but their relief is palpable as he closes the distance between them. Again, it's kind of sad.
"You don't have to," they say lowly, suddenly. Their voice wavers like the wind.
Scratch that. It's definitely sad.
Hyrule quells his surprise and quickly chimes an affirmative. He's well aware that he doesn't have to do anything for a Dark. He…he's going to anyway. Maybe it's the hero's spirit in him. Maybe it's the idiocy. It doesn't really matter either way.
The Dark is a Dark is an enemy. Hyrule of all people should know better than to be fooled by something's face, but seeing the Smithy's eyes twisted with nerves does something to him. He continues to approach the Dark slowly, cautiously. He inches forward, hovering more than he is flying until he's just outside of the Dark's reach.
"I won't hurt you," the Dark says tentatively. Their expressions are easy to read, every emotion completely unmasked like they don't know how. Depending on how long they've existed for...it's entirely possible they don't.
Hmm, yeah, that's a tragic thought.
Hyrule wonders, not for the first time, how alive his Dark had been. If they'd lived a life before, or if they'd been pulled from the darkness into the living world without a word of advice or a single comforting touch. If they'd been lonely. If they'd ever even wanted to fight him.
Hyrule certainly hadn't.
Dark Four's wavered breathing evens out the longer Hyrule's light lingers until, eventually, they stumble forward a step with a shuddering breath.
Hyrule doesn't flinch at the sudden movement, but it's close.
"We should probably get out of here, huh?" Dark Four tries.
Hyrule chimes his agreement. It is a dungeon, and just because they've been left alone so far doesn't mean it'll stay that way. More likely, it guarantees they won't. Hero's Luck, and all.
"How--" Dark Four shifts on their feet. Their voice is hesitant, a mask of indifference failing to obscure the desperate plea for what it is. "Did you want to come with me?"
Well, he's certainly not going to stay here. There's only one way out, of the room and the dungeon at large, and the chances of him reaching either exit on his own in this state are almost as small as he is.
Hyrule chimes another affirmative.
"Okay," Dark Four agrees, trying and failing to sound casual about it as they move toward the massive door, "You--uh--you can sit in my pocket or something if you want."
Hyrule snorts.
As pleasant--read: horrible--as being in someone's pockets is, he doubts his glow would provide much light surrounded by fabric on all sides.
"Yeah, that's fair," Dark Four says, "I wouldn't wanna be in someone's pocket either."
Hyrule isn't surprised. Dark, small, and cramped doesn't really seem like their style, even if--by all accounts--it should.
Dark Four takes a shuddering breath.
"Okay. Let's get the fuck out of here."
Yeah. Let's.
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"Shadow?"
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