Alana
Admittedly, navigating something familiarly unfamiliar is not something he's had to do in some time.

The map provided in the parchment did help plenty though, as strange as the form of communication was. The landmarks were clear, and Link's sense of direction handled the rest of it fine enough. Though inevitably you meet twists and turns, they managed to keep on track and continue further nevertheless. It certainly wasn't the worst thing they've had to navigate- no. She's certain nothing would hold a *Candle* To that.

Though it had taken some time. It is lucky in some part that their stamina does not wane, and their curiosity stays strong. He finds himself taking note of everything he passes, all the sights and sounds that had been muted for his eyes and ears for so long. Interesting rock formations, trees, whatever may prove useful for navigation later all sequestered into the back of their mind for later recall. She's certain she'll need it, traveling on her own two legs is something that must be relearned. Now, the sta-

... Ah. His eyes track up from the page to the large, almost animal head like structure above. Then, they track down to the tents and tables below. It certainly was a stable were the banners imprinted with horse shoes to say something, but certainly not like any he's seen before. It does provide a clear landmark though, that is something more than useful. Perhaps it's common in this day and age, he cannot say for certain. That's what exploring further would prove useful for. Issues come first though, and even from here she can tell issues there have been. Dirt kicked up, faint scratching, it speaks that something occurred yet didn't get too far. Luck, certainly, on their side. For how long, though?

Link gently stows his parchment away into the pocket at his hip, stepping into the stables while offering a sharp knock on the wooden post outside. Three, evenly spaced, heavy things. Hopefully that draws attention well enough, a signal of arrival.
Vincent
Coincidentally, Alore had briefly fallen asleep in said stable at one of the tables. The knocks had effectively woken the man up, to which he starts with an immediate yawn. The last "Raid" As it were had truly taken it out of the man who was unused to combat. It was simple unheard of for things of these natures to be... Well, existing. They were terrifying. ... Though Alore supposed if they weren't constantly hostile, they may be a bit cute. Like a pig, really. 

But that's neither here nor there. The blue-haired gentleman glanced about, blinking sleep out of his eyes. He vaguely noticed that the person who ran the Stable seemed to... Not be in the usual spot? Maybe they had somewhere to be. Instead, leaning into the doorway of the Stable was a shadow of a person. Truly. Red eyes, grayish skin, white hair— though vaguely familiar... Yes, this person almost looked like what Link might grow up to be if you squinted! 

As far as what Alore though about this newcomers appearance? Well, he is not one to judge. Perhaps an unfortunate curse had befallen this person! But either way, instinctually, this felt like the Link he had met on the parchment. 

So he rose to his feet with a smile, eyes mirroring the smile on his lips. 

"Hello there! It's good to meet you. Are you Link?"
Alana
Ah, this must be the mentioned "Alore" Approaching now.

A judgement that comes easily. After all, they had stated themself that many of those in the stable prior had left due to troubles with the monsters. An understandable fact, the things could be fierce to fight at the best of times- deadly at the worst. Most would abandon what is considered to be unsafe, and certainly this falls under that category of thought.

Though- hm. His fingers curl into the leather of his gauntlets as the man speaks, and Link finds himself tilting his head ever so slightly. Something about their speak, in specific. It drew her to become alert, focused on the one before them. In an odd way, she's certain she'd know where he was even without eyes lying upon him. Food for thought to come, when considering the circumstances upon them.

Link offers a nod in response to his name, raising a hand up in a simplified wave, before extending it forward in an offer to shake. Though- now that he considers, he's not sure how the expression was taken across time. They suppose there's many things to account, not just landscape... He will learn, inevitably. Trial and error to come.

For now, to account what he can tell. Alore appears to be of the unruly sort in some ways, wild hair across their face tied back as best as could. A simple fashion of clothing with a cloak pinned around, odd blue hair, and a thinner physique. The appearance is not what Link makes note of- the other holds a certain presence. One that retains attention, though he can't quite pinpoint the source. A strange one indeed, though polite so far as can be said. No reason to make assumptions as of yet.
Vincent
The man moves to approach, figuring it would be rude to speak all the way by the table inside of the stable. Alore can't help but keep himself trained on the eyes of the other. Both out of, well, politeness and the other out of just how mesmerizing the person's eyes were. *Like inset rubies...* 

Alore blinked and smiled, pausing for just a moment to notice that... Well, yes. This person doesn't... Have a mouth. He can't help the way his brows knit in concern for a moment before he produces a simple sheet of paper and a bit of charcoal for writing smoothed into a stone. 

"Here! This might help you, in case you didn't have any!" Alore tilts his head just so slightly, humming. "I hope the journey wasn't too terrible. I thought I smelled rain on the horizon." A pause. "Oh! Did you see any of those terrible things on your way here?"

This man has the look of a knight. Like, one who has seen a bit of battle! But he's never seen a Hylian quite like him... *Perhaps these are the Hylians of the future? Is that what they were talking about in the scroll?*

"Oh, apologies, Link. Perhaps we should sit down, first?"
Alana
Ah, a perceptive one. They take the offered paper and charcoal graciously, edges of their eyes raising every so slightly in lieu of a polite smile. It would certainly make things easier on them both, though Link was still working on his legibility in broad.

The other offer was taken in kind as well. The stables, now that he had a look, were quaint. To them they resembled something like attached inns, with tables and quarters not just meant for horses. Perhaps that's why they were so roadside, so that those traveling on horseback could stop off for some rest or supplies.

Allowing herself to inside, she takes the seat at the offered table. Near the moment she's seated does ahe begin to scrawl on the page in order to answer, strokes quick and some edges blurred with no clear reason as to why. It is legible though- answers, and some of their own polite additions. After all, it was a kindness in the first place. Most do not take his appearance well, in the very scarce few that have seen it. Namely, well, himself.

- Thank you for allowing me inside. These stables are quaint, an admirable thing.
- I encountered none, thankfully. My trip was smooth, if there were any they were not causing me trouble.

Simple thank yous and replies, the shadow-like Link pulling his hands away from the page in order to give a clearer view.
Vincent
Alore had quickly found himself fond of the stable and the life within. Seeing people enter and exit at a whim, rest for a moment. Though there have been a few who have cleared out after hearing about the unfortunate monster attacks, for the most part there were still at least three people (including himself) still around! 

But the man seats himself in front of the other. Which... Actually, looking a bit closer... He should ask how to refer to this person. After all, he himself usually has to correct people. Hence the fluffy and obscuring hair— harder to tell a person's face through it. 

Alore waited patiently while the knight wrote what was needed, and leaned forward to read. 

"Oh, well, it isn't my stable. All are welcome here. And I'm so glad that you did not encounter them, even if you can handle them." Alore shivers, a frown on his face. "Oh, how should I refer to you? I would hate to presume you to be a sir or a lady."

Alore leaned back and shuffled in his pack, producing a small piece of wood and a whittling knife. He just... Began absentmindedly whittling something. But his attention was still mostly on Dark Link.
Alana
Admittedly, they had to pause to think about that question.

It's not something they ever quite recall being asked. Certainly she'd taken most forms of address just fine, picky was not a word she'd particularly use to describe herself. Though asking how to be addressed, or rather how he'd prefer to be addressed- well, that was an interesting one. Admittedly she had to tap her sharply nailed finger on the table for a moment as she thought, before returning the charcoal to her hand and scratching down more.

- All terms of address. I am fine with all.

That seemed to fit them best. Admittedly, he was not partial to one nor the other. All elicited the same general response; if it were referring to him, then he would simply answer it. It did not need to be any deeper than that, nor quite was it. They simply were, and so she would be.

What actually interests him far more than any thought on his own address, was the carving. Distantly she remembers doing the same action herself, the Kokiri lived and thrived in the woods. Therefore, she'd learned to whittle what was needed when such the need had arised. Cut off from other society, everything had to be hand picked or hand made. They pull themselves from those thoughts quickly, lest they find themselves falling into a spiral of thought about *Them*, returning their focus to scrawl something new.

- I take it you whittle? It's been some time since I've carved much myself, a pleasure to see it.
Vincent
A simple, relatively innocuous looking wood piece began to take a very vague shape as he carved into it— nearly clipping his thumb several times. The movement was automatic, almost fluid as the waters of a quiet river. He turns the relatively cylindrical piece around in his hand now and then, creating a peak or a crease of some kind. 

Eventually, he glances back up again. Alore reads the text produced on the paper with a nod of understanding and a simple smile. "I see. Okay! I'll keep that in mind." Alore's brain hums with questions he desperately wants to ask. If the person in front of him were some kind of ethereal Hylian new to the future, or if she were a demigod, or something of the sort. The brightness of his eyes contrasting with the shadows surrounding, the white of the hair— curious, curious. Even the pointed nails were noted. *Different. New.*

Unconsciously, he can feel where his carving is going. He moves it to a different direction. *A duck, maybe?*

"... Ah, yes! It's one of my main crafts. Woodworking and claywork are my best handiwork. You carve too? A painter and a carver..." Alore smiles, a bubbling laugh erupting from his lips. "If my hands are idle, I tend to... Ah well, it's fine. Usually it's best if I have something to do with my hands before my mind wanders. Ah but— yourself! It was very kind of you to come. Ah, if you'd like, I could repay you somehow?"
Alana
- I understand that, crafts help keep the mind and hands busy.

Admittedly, they do it for a similar reason. She has- so, so much time throughout the day. When you do not sleep or rest like most must, it leaves endless time for the mind to pick at you. Pick you apart, your actions apart, and well... What would she be if not a being with many flaws to pull at? Certainly, any time spent doing anything else was better.

Oh- payment. Immediately at that he raises a hand and shakes his head, no that would not be necessary. This was his job, it's what gave some meaning to their rather boring life. Besides, the company alone was- it... Was nice. They'd been just an observer for so long that getting to just talk to someone- ah. Don't get lost in your own head, they'd just mentioned that one.

- No payment needed. I'm happy just helping.

It might come off as hollow, but truly they don't need much. They don't need shelter, they don't need anything supplied as they have their own items, they don't need health- truly they can't think of anything. A payment would just be over the top... She's quite fine as is. It's just expressing that sentiment that's hard.

Though she does eye what Alore is carving with curiosity. What can they say, it's almost nostalgic in a way. He's been away from home for a very long time, even as much as the thought of those woods stir anger and nausea.
Vincent
Alore nods in response at the writing, glancing back up. He's realizing that he has a rather fast way of talking, which is not ideal when you are speaking to someone who must write to communicate. *Maybe a type of... Nonverbal communication not involving paper and charcoal or quill could be made... But I would not now how... I know hunters use hand signals but... Hm...*

Blinking a few times, he refocuses as he sees movement— looks to be the person shaking her head in response to payment. Alore's jaw sets for a moment, a small frown working its way onto his lips. "... Hmm... How about I give you what I am carving now as payment? Or if that does not sound good, it is a gift instead." Alore nods, as if this is a good compromise. His smile returns relatively quickly, small and gentle. 

With that plan in motion, he begins wto work with a focused vigor. Methodical and careful yet at a moderate pace. Whatever he is carving is taking shape with practiced ease. And he settles into a comfortable quiet. 

The craftsman does notice, though, that the other is rather interested in the work. So, he makes sure to stay within view of the other as he peels pieces of the wood off of itself. An easy thing. A soothing thing. 

The... Events of the past few days melt behind him. The feeling of gross, stinking blood splattering across his clothes and the scent of iron. The moment of panicked gasping he had upon realizing the nature of what he had done— even if the things were going to kill him if Alore had done nothing to protect himself. *It's unusual for the Stables to be attacked at all*, the hero in the parchment had said. 

... It all fades out of view, to the sounds of birds and the gentle carving of wood.
Alana
There was a moments hesitation. They did not want to make it seem as though they wanted a reward- desired one, even. Though Alore asks her, even presents it as a gift, there's a part that stirs at the thought. He doesn't want it to seem as though it's necessary for later, that it's something that needs to be continued.

Then she looks at the item, and nods.

She knows she'd also feel bad were she to decline, and she cannot help but admit that she wouldn't mind the trinket. Link owned so little, everything that was on them simple copies of everything he had before. Everything practical at least, things that were truly just his? Well, never. That's what happens when you and your very being are mimicries, all you own is just the same. Nothing unique. It can't... Hurt, can it, when offered so kindly?

He allows himself to shift his seat too, so they don't have to turn to look. Admittedly, it's one of the most peaceful moments they'd had in years. There's something dreadful about having to watch on- a secondary view of your own time marching forward without you. No matter how long she was there, no matter how long she had to grow used to it, it hurt nonetheless. Muffled voices and a hazy world as though underwater, all passing with no thought to him.

... Now it's clear. It's passing with him rather than without him, even if it was not his own era. Birds sing, wood carves, and they are here for it. They can have that peace now. They're even... Happy to have it.

How strange.