“Tch. All your kind are the same,” Revali mutters.

It isn’t meant for you—not really. You’re several paces away, completely absorbed, lips parted in quiet awe as you stare up at the massive machine before you.

For the past year, you’ve been an unshakable presence in Rito Village. A Hylian—fragile, grounded, wholly unfit for the biting cold and unforgiving skies. No feathers to shield you from the wind, no wings to carry you through the currents. By all logic, you should have left long ago.

And yet… you stayed.

You didn’t just linger—you lived here. Walked among the Rito as if you belonged, as if you were one of them. It grated on him more than he cared to admit.

Enough that, at some point, he decided to tolerate you. Befriend you, even—if only to push you toward leaving. That had been the plan.

It failed.

You were far more stubborn than you had any right to be.

And now here he is, guiding you up to Vah Medoh itself, wings folding neatly at his back as he watches your reaction from the corner of his eye. He tells himself it’s to gain something—respect, perhaps. Admiration.

Or maybe… something far more foolish.

Maybe he just wants to hear you say it.

You’re amazing, Revali.

Ridiculous.

And yet, every time those soft, human lips of yours shape his name with even the slightest hint of praise, something in his chest stirs—light, fleeting, and deeply inconvenient. Your eyes brighten over the smallest things, your wonder so unguarded it borders on naive.

Like now.

Standing before the Divine Beast Vah Medoh, you look utterly captivated.

Revali clicks his beak, turning his head slightly, as if unimpressed—though he hasn’t looked away from you once.

“You’re so easily impressed,” he scoffs, quieter this time.

“…It’s almost adorable.”