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Link drains the last of the tea with a mental sigh, watching the dregs wobble at the bottom as he sets the mug down. Yesterday had been rough on all of them; regrettably more so on himself, the Sailor, and the Veteran. A dull ache still persists in his head and neck where a lucky moblin had sent him sprawling, and the wounds beneath his bandages still throb slightly with his pulse.
Across from Link, the Sailor sports a couple bandages of his own, but still fidgets with a restlessness that reminds Link of his better days. Now when he gets injured he feels slow and sluggish, like his body protests any activity that could possibly aggravate it more.
Finally, the Veteran. Maybe Link should have been surprised he'd elected to hang back from town today, as the knowledge-hungry hero was usually their most meticulous about information gathering. Perhaps, though, the opportunity to spend a quiet morning-in still appealed to the Vet after a tough battle. His merchant friend, Ravio, was also here, though after that display yesterday Link certainly isn't surprised he's made himself scarce.
"We should ask Ravio to come with us."
"No."
"But he held the master sword!" The Sailor protests, the chair he sits on squeaking as he shuffles forward, "And he has the triforce mark on his hand, even if it is upside-down."
"Ravio is Lorule's hero; an incarnation of the hero's spirit chosen by Lolia, not Hylia. So drop it." Tactfully scooping up the empty mugs on the table the Veteran attempts to escape the conversation via the kitchen. The cups barely rattle, despite the others' frustration. It is a skill of combat not to let anger bleed into motion, Link thinks; almost all of them have extensive practice with it.
But the Vet's efforts to leave are largely ignored by the Sailor, who adopts a frown of his own at being shut down. "Why?"
Link readies himself for an argument. Between the Sailor's bluntness and the Veteran's short temper, one of them often blows a fuse when they conflict. But he has to wonder why the Veteran won't even consider asking Ravio to join them on their adventure. The merchant is somewhat timid, sure, but he must have merit to be able to wield the master sword. Whatever Link thinks of the blade itself, he knows its standards are reliably high, at the very least.
Seeing an opportunity when the Veteran doesn't answer the Sailor's question, Link steps in, "I must admit, he has a good point, Veteran. We aren't much closer to the end of our journey than we were weeks ago. An extra blade would do us good, and he could always say no."
"Just leave it alone." The words take on a barbed edge; a warning not to test the waters any further.
The Sailor, true to his name, pushes forward anyway, "What, you don't think he can handle it?" It's no secret the youngest of their number is sensitive to such misgivings, "Just because he was chosen by a different goddess doesn't make him any less worthy."
The atmosphere turns sour in the Veteran's cozy home. Link is overcome with the sensation that conversations about worth and heroics shouldn't be heard by the quaint trinkets on the windowsill, nor the neatly pressed tablecloth and rickety chairs. The home is such a far cry from their first visit, transformed from a hoarder’s den to a (somewhat) regular and well-loved abode after the merchant had been allowed to stay here.
It's so peaceful, and yet every time the Veteran comes home he invites his violent life back in. He must hate it.
The Veteran turns, and with venom argues, "Of course he's worthy, but he's got his own world to worry about, alright? He doesn't need to be dragged around on some Goddess-damned shadow chase because it'd be convenient.”
Link mentally sighs to himself. Of all the people he could accidentally imply were just a convenience, it just had to be a friend of the Link who felt the most used. Still, the sharp attitude is infectious. "You know that's not what I-"
"Stop it!" The Vet hisses, "Ravio did his part, okay? His world is safe. Hyrule is not his responsibility."
The Sailor pushes his chair back. "But he could help!"
"He shouldn't have to! See this fucking house?" The mugs rattle discordantly as the Veteran gestures to the room around them, "Someone with an actual life lives here. You want to ask him to drop everything and run off to goddess knows where because we aren't doing enough?"
It's different for the Vet, than it is for most of them. They saved the land once, twice, maybe three times, and then they went home. When they killed ganon - or whichever threat - that threat typically stayed dead until the next incarnation of the hero came along and took up the mantle. When the Veteran wins, he isn't done. The aptly nicknamed Veteran puts his feet to the road more often away from home than towards it; he's said so himself. Who'd want the same life for someone they care about?
"You're protecting him." The words slip out unbidden. Link almost doesn't realize he's said them out loud until two faces, one curious and one shocked, turn to him. It's a rare moment of emotional clarity, for Link, and he intends to use it. "It's admirable to look out for your friend, Veteran, but shouldn't Ravio be able to decide for himself whether he wants to join us or not?"
Softly, softly. Link has learned to be softer on this journey in a different way than he had done being with Malon. She taught him patience with himself, and how to trust other people. These boys have taught him nothing but patience for other people. He remembers how, at the start, he'd constantly berate. That incident with the Smithy's shield and the Like-Like comes to mind, as well as their first dungeon crawl together. They've all grown to work around and with each other a bit better, nowadays. They've learnt each other's temperaments and ticks, as well as the bounds of the danger they face.
The Sailor's gaze flicks back over to the Vet, whose whole body is a picture of frustration. Link worries for the mugs.
The Veteran knows that Ravio is his own person and more than capable, but he doesn't want to see his friend in danger. He knows that those with courageous hearts and triforce marks never say no to an adventure.
Predictably, the frustration bubbles over, but with nowhere to direct it the Hero of Legend reaches his limit. He won't shout up a storm in his own home, and finally makes an exit, turning sharply on his heel and out through the doorway with a murderous expression. Link sighs, and the Sailor tuts, annoyed.
The conversation is over for now.
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