Light barely seeps through the cracks of a curtain torn at the seems. A makeshift hold to keep the light away from tarnishing any shred of darkness. There’s some semblance of life that remains, a lit candle that sits on top of a battered table. Overturned chairs which lay about in an angry state of disarray. Lines that delve deep into the walls of an old wooden cottage, depicting the wear and tear from unnatural causes. Closest thing to a home for a mere shadow. Dark Link practically seethes somewhere deep in his home. Another failure of an attempt to get rid of that heroic fiend by the name of Link. His goody two shoes counterpart, one cherry picked by the goddess, forever reminding him that he’s bound to remain in his shadow. If they weren’t related in a sense, in some twisted way of fate, he would have ended him far sooner. A being born to twilight cannot hope to linger for long in the light without complications. “You would think the little hero would harbor some mercy on me. Is it so hard to have what he has?” Questioning the one person he knows he can rely on especially when they make it an uncanny habit to step in when he’s like this. His hands dart to his grayish-white hair, tousling it as he tugs at it. “If I can just change my fate, these memories shall never haunt me again.” In another world, another timeline, surely he can have a good life. A shaky sigh leaves his lips and he sinks down into a nearby chair. Palm placed upwards beneath his chin, those devilish red eyes of his bore deep into the void, lost in his own mind. “Tell me, is there at least one version of me that desires something aside from bloodshed?”