Shades of Blue

Prince Sidon

A young Prince, he remembers not

The time before the Castle's rot

Of course, he was there, as many were

But all he knows is the loss of her

Spirit unbroken, he waits for one

Through whom the Goddess's work is done

The ceiling was a much more greenish-blue, when he opened his eyes this time.

It wasn't as if he expected to see the Shrine of Resurrection's painfully bright blue lights when he woke, but the comparison jumped to mud-addled mind almost immediately. The blue of that light was all but etched into his mind, and with how frequently he came into contact with that particular shade—in shrines and towers and beasts not to be mentioned—it came as little surprise that he compared other colors with it quite often, especially given how much pain that blue had caused him. Mentally and physically.

But to meander back to the original point, the blue of this place was not at all similar to the blue of ancient Sheikah technology. As stated, it was much closer to green than blue, more akin to the eerie glow of luminous stones than the harsh blue-white of ancient energy. In fact, it was almost identical to the shifting glow of luminous stones, and he would know it, seeing how often he used them to light his way, rather than a torch.

He blinked, and the blur of softly glowing green-blue solidified into a carved stone ceiling, vaulted and ribbed by lighter stone, as if the color had been washed out as it was shaped. The design was quite intricate, he noticed vaguely as he blinked again, the world coming into a more proper (if still muddied) view.

Most importantly to his ever-wakening mind was the fact that this ceiling—beautiful and pleasantly colored though it may be—was not at all familiar.

For some reason—and it wasn't a pleasant feeling—he couldn't seem to panic about that. He felt...numb. Rather floaty, to be honest, and still a bit further outside himself than even his distorted sense of "mental health" could consider, well, healthy. His arms were more weighted rocks at his sides than arms, at the moment, and even if he wanted to sit up and try to make a break for it out of...wherever he was...he doubted his legs (which he couldn't feel, even in the slightest) would have budged.

So he simply laid there, tracing the patterns of the ribbed ceiling for who knows how long, until a gasp of some kind brought his attention down and to the right.

And found himself staring at...a fish.

A Zora, his blurry thoughts supplied, along with a few vague inclinations about what that meant exactly. In the typical fashion of his fragmented memory, this meant he knew that the woman staring at him with wide, sharp eyes was a Zora, that her size and color meant she was likely still young by their standards, and that he was most likely in Zora's Domain, if he was seeing a Zora.

That would explain the unfamiliar ceiling, then...

The unfamiliar Zora regained her composure after a few seconds, made an aborted hand gesture implying he ought to stay where he was laid out—as if he could move if he wanted to, weighed down by rocks for arms and legs as he was—and then turned and disappeared through an archway. His eyes trailed after her for a few seconds in a hazy sort of curiosity. He couldn't see much beyond the arch. Only more of the same greenish colored stone, curving off somewhere, like a long hall.

Fatigue came over him quickly, however, and he soon found his eyes weighed down by the same rocks in his arms and legs. Oblivion swept him under a heavy blanket, and the world went quiet for a little while longer.