who vision & zelda what first encounters in person! where the diner she works at when 6/6 warnings doubtful! status complete upon posting!
Having kept a low profile during the recent vampire debacle, Vision had turned up in various places outside of his job to help with the cleanup. Looking after his fellow man and woman was in his nature, ever the severely charitable soul. He couldn’t turn a blind eye on anyone in need, particularly those who didn’t even realize they might need or even want a helping hand.
However, sometimes he went out simply looking for a meal and not an opportunity to lend a hand. Stomach driving him to the nearest diner, he happened by one with yet still busted out windows and an otherwise dour exterior. Ignoring his stomach in favor of that impulse to help, he spied a lady inside tending to the mess.
Letting himself in through the broken front door, he paused at the threshold to survey the interior in visibly mild concern. This place had been hit badly, he noted. Some places went unscathed and others were almost shadows of what they were. Vision suspected the caliber here fell somewhere between the two extremes.
When the woman’s face came into apparent view, he lifted his eyebrows in recognition. Hadn’t they spoken somewhere before? Over the network, he deduced swiftly as he approached her with a smile in greeting.
“Hello,” he started. “I believe we’ve spoken before, but more importantly--could I lend a hand here?”
Volunteering to help clean up the place some was something she felt like she could at least do. It’s not like it suffered any severe architectural damage aside from broken windows, but the mess was extensive enough anyway - shattered glass, dust, tables and chairs that had been broken during the altercation. They’d just gotten rid of the, ah, demonic carnage that had stained the retro-tiled floor, and Zelda helped douse the place with enough bleach to eliminate the stink.
Still, there was still that scent of something hellish amiss.
Now it was a matter of making sure all the little pieces of glass had been properly swept, for obvious safety purposes. Doing an inventory of what they had, what they needed to replace. A lot more tedious than it looked, and quite a bit to do for free, but the owners were elderly and this was their life investment. Not helping would just seem...heartless, she supposed.
Someone approached, a person she didn’t quite recognize - and her brow quirked with caution. A seat for food wouldn’t be available, honestly, but did some stranger just volunteer to actually help? “Um…” Zelda glanced around briefly, then her eyes settled back on vision. “Who’re you, exactly?”
Having poor social skills didn’t help him the slightest. Vision could be unintentionally blunter than necessary, and also come across as a bit more forward than he intended. His nature was simply to help. When met with confusion in that regard, he only ever smiled and reasserted himself in that regard. Not everyone in the world was that way, of which he was aware, and so didn’t mind being questioned over it.
“A hungry citizen, I confess,” he responded warmly enough. “But, not in as much as I am a local samaritan. My name is Vision, have we… spoken before?” He squinted at her a moment, attempting to connect some dots, then failed. No matter how reminiscent of a computer his mind could be, he had to resign himself to the fact that it simply was a regular brain blessed with an almost innate understanding of computer science.
“I apologize,” he added hastily. “If I have startled you from your work, but this mess appeared to be…” Vision paused to survey the interior again, “...demanding.”
Oh! Oh! Recognition lit up those crystal eyes, and Zelda visibly beamed. “Oh, hello! It’s a pleasure to meet you in person - though I’m going to profusely apologize for the, um, state of this place.” Time for that bright smile to turn into something a bit more sheepish, because this place was a bit of a catastrophe, even with the work put into it. And she herself was a mess, sporting shorts and sneakers and a loose top smeared with generic diner dirtiness from the clean up attempts. Not the best state of appearance for a first meeting, unfortunately.
“You’ve startled me from nothing, though, it’s just been...a bit hectic,” she confessed, brows furrowed. “But I can’t ask you to help. Unless you’ll accept payment in the form of actual food, but unfortunately not from...this place.”
Her smile was infectious and gave rise to his own. “It is no problem for me, but a large one for you,” he noted. “You were…” Squinting at her, searching his mind, recognition came. “The regal Miss Zelda, is that correct?” He had enjoyed his conversation with her, and to chance upon her offline was a treat. That it happened under the present circumstances didn’t appear to bother Vision the slightest.
“No need to ask, I have offered without need for payment,” Vision assured, surveying the diner once more. “Only some direction as to where I can best assist you would suffice, it is really no trouble.”
“You’re being too kind in that description,” she insisted, a brow poking up in amusement. Regal wouldn’t be something she’d describe herself, especially at the moment - did her princess-isms carryover? Better than elven ears. Those would be a bit more difficult to disguise. Making sure her hands were actually clean, she offered one to shake. “But yes, Zelda. As for the assistance, weeell…”
The owners had gone for the day, too frail to carry on. Some of the employees had come in to help out, some completely disappeared (like her waitressing colleague that had performed the art of a blowjob by a dumpster while the establishment had been ransacked, for starters), but Zelda had enough energy to continue. “We’re picking up the fallen silverware, kind of...trying to salvage what we can - a lot of the tables can be fixed, same with the chairs. New ones would be too expensive, unless the insurance company goes through…”
One of those big, big brooms were procured, handy when pushing up remaining debris into the corner. “And mostly sweeping. We’ve done enough, but it seems like there’s always stuff left over. I need it cleared to give the floor a good proper bleaching. Demon tentacles were all over it.”
“Am I?” His brows lifted incredulously, but with an inherent gentleness. “I found it rather fitting when we first spoke,” in a good way. She was something of an old soul. Vision gravitated to sagely sorts, believing wisdom discoverable in people regardless of age. So, he meant it without any ill-will or shred of negativity, and hoped as much would be conveyed in the way he spoke rather than the words themselves.
Taking her hand in a firm enough shake, he focused on her as she spoke until attention was drawn back to the condition of the store. It must have been an ordeal managing what happened during the thick of the hellmouth-related attacks. Lamenting a wonderfully simple diner drew the edges of his lips downward, he mulled over its condition and what more he could do to help remedy it.
“I see,” he responded, shuffling away from her to claim a broom for himself. “Then, I shall help with the floors. Perhaps after the fact, I can also help repair some of the broken fixtures whilst you… bleach the remnants of demonic entrails. Pity it came to all of this, my sympathies, Miss Zelda.”
“Well,” Zelda began, breathing in deeply. “If the shoe fits, then I’ll take the compliment gladly while looking like a hot mess.” Someone calling her regal was a hefty statement, not something she heard every day, so she might as well accept it proudly!
Some stool legs needed to be re-attached, and there were tools on the breakfast bar displayed in the open from the previous person that’d been working on it. As for the things that were made out of wood and splintered, it was a mess that was still up in the air to discuss so all Zelda could do was what was in her ability to do. Clean, gather things that’d been originally lost in the fray, so forth.
“It’s alright,” she chuckled, shoulders lifting into a shrug. “Nothing we could have done aside protect ourselves, which we did. Something better usually tends to rise from the ashes. Unfortunate things don’t last forever.”
Instantly deemed her acceptance of his reasoning as an admirable, kindhearted trait, Vision smiled evenly at her. He had enjoyed their initial conversation, now he was enjoying it a second time in person. Socializing wasn’t his strongest suit, what with most finding him a little bit left of center, but he didn’t actively avoid it. He only didn’t make extra time to try and meet with others.
When he encountered genuine sorts of people like this, Vision always found himself lamenting that life choice. Remaining hermited would provide less chances such as these, yet he felt unconsciously compelled to abide by it anyway. Bit by bit, he knew he’d get better. He was optimistic, the only way to go was up.
Noting optimism in her dismissal, he nodded. “You have done your best, survival is the most important thing.”
Sweeping near her, he focused on the task at hand with earnest. The mess may not have been his problem, but he appeared to be legitimately at ease with assisting anyway. “It is no gift horse, but I do like your suggestion that it is, instead, a phoenix awaiting transformation. Not all has been lost, indeed.”
Zelda was somewhat wrapping her mind around the fact that people like Vision actually existed. Now, she didn’t blindly trust just any schmuck that walked up and complimented her and offered a hand - sometimes others wanted a form of ‘payment’ (something typically skeevy) in return, and she was very adept in sniffing that kind of intention out. Bullshit was a very unique reek. She knew the signs.
He, however, did not ‘reek’ of anything suspicious. All of it was awfully genuine, and very rare for someone she’d just personally met. Nothing was odd about him. And to her, his social skills were fine. “Gives them an excuse to fix everything that needed fixing before this - not that they have much of a choice now,” she mused with some exasperation. The owners were stubborn, elderly, sometimes too frugal to dish the funds out for major fixings but considering most things were in shambles, some were easy fixes and others, well. Others needed a definite replacing.
“But, enough about this! You managed to stay out of trouble during the whole thing? I also know you wanted to experience the whole dream thing,” she said, standing her broom up and plopping her chin on top. “Any yet?”
Not everyone were equipped to handle what could be perceived as tactless observations. Vision in his less than infinite wisdom could be a bit more direct than the average joe, a trait that had been glimpsed in the way he offered praise for Zelda. The opposite could be displayed just as well, if not that much quicker, particularly in the presence of his boss, Tony Stark. In some ways, he got a little kick out of putting the man on the spot. Perhaps one day he’d find out why that was.
Nevertheless, he liked to believe he wasn’t the worst sort of person around. So, when someone took to him readily in the way she did, he felt infinitely more gladdened to lend a hand. As she recalled their conversation, he smiled, albeit faintly, her way as he carried on sweeping the remaining debris into a dust pan.
“It is a rare occurrence for me to leave the flat,” he confessed. “My sole purposes for leaving would be for work, which often I can do from home, and to buy dinner, as it were. So, to answer your question: yes, I avoided danger. It is lucky to some degree, I would say. I would not have fared well against the undead.”
Shuffling to a larger bin to dump his progress into, he paused as though contemplating her question of his dreams. “No,” he answered simply, then resumed his task. “I am not pessimistic, however. And you, Miss Zelda? Have you dreamed again since last we spoke?”
Staying inside to survive was quite the smart move, and Zelda herself would have done precisely that if she weren’t forced to handle the situation head on. Running was, perhaps, an option, but not when there were customers - innocent people - getting attacked, and Jonathan had proven himself to be a capable demon slaying friend to fight the forces of evil with. Of course, she indulged in a single cigarette and a drink or two after to help the reality of it all sink in, but in the end, experiences like that could be chalked up to building character. Or something of the sort.
Might have been that she had never killed anyone either, and these creatures did have almost a human air to them. Zelda had issues even hurting insects, didn’t matter what kind, so general killing was….well, she didn’t think it was something she could get used to, and would rather not do it again unless the situation was absolutely dire.
“It’s merely been…” she clicked her tongue in thought. “More of elaborations, actually. Dreams with knowledge. About the world, the locations, the races, the history. Dreams about….precognitive abilities, limited telepathy - odd but interesting nonetheless, and people do say those kinds of things tend to bleed over eventually.”
It was something to look forward to, anyway. If it didn’t, oh well. If it did, splendid!
Intrigued by the notion, Vision fell silent as he absorbed her words. Sometimes he was quick with a word, other times he replayed the facts over and over so much that one might question whether he thought the task exhausting. For him, it was a learning process. He did not lurk on the network a terrible amount of time, and overlooked many people not for lack of interest, but for information regarding their dream lives.
He was terribly curious to learn more about the way it all worked.
“Yes, I recall now hearing tales of the lines blurring between the realities,” he finally said. “I would not doubt it will be the same in your case. What a gift that would be, telepathy.”
Where some might have deemed it a curse, he thought highly enough of her already that he doubted she would find fault in the ability. Zelda struck him as the sort of person to feel inherently compelled to do good, a wonderful trait. He would be the last to ever call it naive in another, though recognized the degree of it in himself happily.
“What is this realm in your dreams called, if I may pry?”
With every gift came a fault, was Zelda’s assumption - but it was all about honing those gifts, wasn’t it? Making sure they were controlled and used responsibly, though she honestly couldn’t see herself doing anything otherwise. Despite having every reason to be bitter about a couple things in life (her father’s assasination, having everything that was hers taken away - even some sort of multi-millionaire company that would have been hers), she usually wasn’t. Vengeance wasn’t her song. She held no ill will towards anyone. But who knows; people did change with time.
“You’re not prying, don’t worry,” she grinned. “The kingdom itself is Hyrule - the realm is the Realm of Light, so to speak. Almost a little too flowery for my tastes, but there’s a good balance kept thus far. And someone usually always want to ruin that balance at some point.”
And that someone was particularly large, his armor looking like it was welded by shadows. Sickly green skin, fire-red eyes, burnt orange hair - he couldn’t look more evil if he tried. Why her father trusted him there was beyond her, but that may have been a universal flaw for him in both versions. Too trusting, too blind. Zelda loved him, but that mistake cost him his life here. Maybe even his life there if things didn’t go as planned with the boy and his fairy.
A second hand to help brought them good progress, though. The floors looked better, cleared from the debris. Some powdery dust that could be wiped off with some cleaner and bleach and mopped, so Zelda went to retrieve just that. It helped with the phantom stench hell carnage. “Anyway - I try not to get too swallowed up in it, no matter what it might bring. Otherwise it makes it a little difficult to live this life, if I’m so concerned about one whose course I can’t change.”
She was such a good sport. From the get-go, he thought of her as an inherently good person. The more Vision spoke to her, the more he believed his initial impression. She was a well-spoken, kindhearted soul, and no amount of necessary violence against vampires or demons would convince him otherwise.
With the floors in a manageable state, Vision moved on to put away his broom and grabbed the closest broken chair to him. Settling down on one left unscathed, he shuffled through his pocket for a Swiss army knife to assist in repairs. Her wise opinion on the dreams gave rise to an appreciative grin.
“Well said,” he praised, fidgeting with the chair leg. “In the end, however vivid they may prove to be, they remain simply dreams, do they not?” He asked the question genuinely, not having any history with dreaming from which to base his assumption. What little he knew could hardly be used to form a concrete deduction, he believed. “They create external disturbances, that much is clear, but fall back into a fantasy realm bound by slumber.”
“You have such a way with words - has anyone ever told you that?” Zelda’s smile beamed across her face. Really, if she didn’t have things to keep her moving, all she’d do is sit and listen to him talk and talk. Ricochet back views about things, the kind of philosophical talk one might have over a glass of wine and tiny little cheese cubes. Most people viewed the world with cynicism and cracked lenses. Vision could possibly dissect most bad things and find something good with it.
A gift itself.
Splash, and the cleaning mix hit the floor to spread and sanitize. After this, they were done for the day, and she’d be able to feed this hungry citizen that came with the hopes of finding sustenance. “You’ll have to let me treat you to lunch, by the way. Anything in particular you’re craving? I know a couple places by the boardwalk, if you want something by the beach.”
“I don’t believe so,” he said, attempting to recall a time when that had been something said of him. “Not to my face,” a fact that didn’t seem to bother him at all. It was as simple as that was the way things were, nothing more, nothing less.
What he found to be new was the appreciation she showed for his behavior. Plenty of people had dismissed him as strange, perhaps a touch too optimistic for the average person. Negative views tended to roll off his shoulders, they had no place in his life. People like Zelda who accepted him and shared in conversation were the sorts he wanted to be around.
It was quite nice--relaxing, even--to preoccupy himself with helping her clean up and repair the diner. Glancing at her as she insisted on treating him to a meal, he detected protesting being treated would be foolish. Not because he thought she might be cross with him if he tried to offer to treat her instead, but because preventing someone from doing something kind wasn’t his cup of tea. So, Vision smiled and nodded gratefully.
“I would not object to that,” he responded. “Do you have a favorite place? I would like to try the food you’d recommend.”
A protest would be most foolish, actually, and Zelda wasn’t the terribly loud, stubborn type but her head was known to be particularly hard when it came to certain things. So treating the man that willingly spared his free time to help out with this interesting mess definitely deserved a token of appreciation - even if it was something as simple as a meal.
“Let me surprise you.” Her smile may have possibly widened. “Won’t be anything too fancy, but there’s some hidden gems here and there, and I tend to appreciate the more local kind of businesses. Must be because of this place, I suppose.” Some of the very best meals came from little holes in the wall, not something extravagant with bottled water poured into a wine glass before you. Grabbing a rag, she wiped her hands and dusted the bits of dust and debris from her shirt - though unfortunately, that developing bleach stain on her shirt would remain. “So if you’re ready to go - I am. I know you’re hungry, if you came here directly for a meal!”
“A surprise?” He questioned, turning the idea over in his head. Concluding it the most ideal scenario, Vision rose from his completed work happily. Regardless of rewards for his efforts, he would not object to spending more time in the ease of her company. The number of people he called friends were few, so he was ever glad to find himself making brand new ones with such promise.
Hands dusted off, Vision gave a nod. “I am ready, anxious, even to see what you have in mind. I confess to being rather uncultured when it comes to food, a creature of habit, if you will.” He kept things simple most of the time. It must have been time to really change things up.
“Thank you for the opportunity to break that,” he added, making his way to the door to hold it open for her. “Lead the way, Miss Zelda.”