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“I like that shape, actually. Simple but striking,” Greta said.
He and Greta, the Gerudo woman who owned this secret club, were alone in her shop. They were positioned in front of a large vertical mirror, with Link on a sitting stool and her standing behind him with a basket of makeup supplies. The feel of the shop was the same as it had always been - musty and hidden. The grandeur of the armor sets that were displayed around the walls felt almost too bold for a space this small.
Despite himself Link felt a flush coming to his cheeks, and he carefully put the lid back onto the eyeliner ink-pen. “Thank you,” he said quietly. Link had just accomplished a thin line along his lids - he’d seen plenty of people, mostly Gerudo women, throughout the town with incredibly intricate eyeliner designs, but he wouldn’t have ever trusted himself with anything complex.
“Normally I don’t ask questions of my clients, but I have to admit curiosity at you coming back and asking for makeup.” Greta muttered. “I think we should try blush next,” she added, rooting through her basket of various jars and brushes.
Link was sure he was plenty pink enough by now, but he still nodded his consent. “I just wanted to try it,” he said simply, hoping that it would be enough of an explanation. It was crazy to think that this had all started with a pair of sand boots.
Getting the boots, along with the customary pair of ventilated leggings from Bozai had been easy enough, albeit a bit awkward. It was only after Bozai had commented on how shapely Link’s legs looked in said leggings (the man sounded a bit sad about it; Link couldn’t fathom why), that the thought bubbled its way into his head.
He’d come into Greta’s shop late that afternoon, asking if he could use the dressing room to change into his sirwal. The Gerudo vendor, never one to ask unnecessary questions, had merely shrugged and gestured towards the changing-room door with a graceful wave of her jeweled wrist.
And looking in the mirror, Link had found that Bozai was weirdly correct. Not only were the leggings silky smooth and easy to move in, but upon further observation he saw that they hugged his ass and thighs quite nicely. He felt a bit silly, hiking up his knees to get a better view, but he began to appreciate what he saw more and more. He tilted his head, looking at the boots, which as an addition to the leggings admittedly made the look even more...ladylike? The boots as a whole were practical, but the way they hugged his calves weren’t anything to sneeze at, and the aquamarine jewel at the toe added a dash of dantiness.
However, after staring at his legs for a few minutes longer than necessary, Link realized that he wasn’t sure why he was so satisfied about all of this. He supposed it was a hint at his success, the ability to blend in with other vai in Gerudo Town.
Was that actually it, or?
How he’d thought of trying makeup, he wasn’t sure. There were certain things about his features, those not hidden by the silk veil, that were noticeably more masculine: his eyebrows, the angle of his cheeks. Maybe he could experiment a bit...
And so, he’d asked Greta if she’d had any makeup that he could try. In reality he’d asked the question very slowly and carefully, as if the words would rush past Greta and out the door, to display themselves for the whole town to see.
And after Greta had scoffed, something along the lines of “he thinks I don’t have makeup, what a fucking voe,” the two of them were left in front of the mirror he had pulled out from the changing room.
Greta handed Link a brush that was bigger than others he’d seen, with thicker bristles. “This is for blush,” she said, then handed him a flat jar full of a pink powder. It was an unspoken ask that she teach him as well, and Greta seemed to find this amusing.
Gingerly, Link took the brush and dabbed it carefully against the packed powder. Greta nodded to him in the mirror. “Right, you don’t want to poof it everywhere.”
Content that he was at least doing that right, he picked the brush back up, but then held it awkwardly in his hands. “How do I...?”
Greta took one of her slender fingers and stroked the apple of her cheek. “Here,” she said. “Gently. You best be careful with those, they’re foxfur brushes.”
He swallowed. “Is that true?”
Greta raised a perfectly-waxed eyebrow. “Of course it’s true. Necluda animals have the softest fur...perhaps it’s the humidity.” She seemed to be saying this to herself.
And so he continued, taking the blush-brush and swiping it up his cheek. What resulted was a faint, glittery pink flush that colored his tanned skin. “Hm.”
“What, is something wrong?” Greta asked pointedly.
“No, I just...” Just what? “I’ve never done this before. There’s a lot to it.” He said this as he took the brush and glided it along his other cheek.
“It’s just blush, voe. You did two strokes.”
“...I guess.” What was he reacting to, then? Why was it it hard to pinpoint what he enjoyed about this? Was it how he looked? Maybe, though it would be weird considering he hadn’t thought about it much before today. Was it just the childish joy of decoration?
Greta rolled her eyes. “Although you’re often hidden under the veil, you should still learn to wear lip paint.” She then took out several small clay pots, with thick stripes of varying colors circling the lids. “Pick a color.”
This to Link was the most overwhelming part of it all - the lip paint. He wasn’t sure why, but maybe it was the amount of colors that were suddenly available. There was a stunning violet that caught his eye first, but then a rich cobalt, a few pots to the left. Oh, but, there was a bright scarlet, too, and another jar seemed to hold a mysterious, ebony black. Link stared at himself in the mirror, at a loss, and in his mind’s eye he could imagine each color painted upon his lips. Some of the colors lingered in his mind, like the shades of magenta and emerald. He could suddenly imagine walking through Gerudo Town without his veil, drawing eyes to his face, similar to the way he secretly admired (and he really did) the Gerudo women and their makeup.
But then, for a brief moment, he imagined walking into the hall of Chief Riju and startling her. Because she knew him. Was this even him?
His hesitation was not lost on Greta, who gave an impatient huff. “If you can’t pick, just chose a random one and see how it looks.”
“I’m—“ Link stuttered, and he met his own eyes mirrored back to him. His veil was off, and he could see all of his face here - the gentle but beautiful lined eyes, shining an admittedly striking sapphire blue, framed by a smooth black. For the first time, he noticed that his eyes matched the earrings that he wore. He took in his cheeks, pleasantly dusted pink, highlighting his cheekbones in a way that was quite pleasing to look at. Link’s face had never looked this way before.
He looked at his sand boots, covering the ankles of his leggings. Paired with the silk top, he actually looked very pretty.
And that’s when Link remembered: he, as a person, did not exist. He only held a scrap of memory from his life before the Calamity, and even with that, he had no impression of what kind of person he was. He had essentially been reinventing himself over the last few months, going on frivolous adventures and dancing around responsibility.
Maybe Chief Riju would laugh, amused but entirely accepting of it, instead of being weirded out by the Hero wearing makeup.
As he thought of this, Link’s eyes wandered to another jar, one that stood out significantly less against the vibrancy of the others: a pale, petal pink. A gentle tone.
Silently, shyly, but sure of his choice, he pointed to the jar of pastel-pink paint.
Greta simply nodded, and Link wondered if she’d gotten tired of waiting for him to choose a color and had gotten lost in her own thoughts. She handed him a small brush with bristles that appeared very malleable, and an even smaller brush that must have been for—
“That small one is for the edges of your lips,” Greta said. “Use the bigger one first to fill in the space before using the finite brush to make neat edges.”
Link nodded dutifully, opening the clay jar and dipping the thicker brush into the slick paint. Then, carefully leaning forward and hyper-focusing on his lips in the mirror, he began to paint them in.
The thin paste felt strange against his mouth. It was almost smothering, and Link furrowed his brow, completely unused to the feeling of it. Behind him, Greta chuckled. “It’s not that bad.”
“It isn’t.” Link mildly agreed, and he realized also that talking with lip paint felt weird, too. But it wasn’t bad. Just different.
He continued tracing the main shape of his lips, careful not to actually look at his whole self, fearing he would again become too self-conscious.
He noted, as he switched to the smaller tracing brush, that the paint had a slight sheen to it, making his lips appear not just more pink but more full. More likely to sparkle in the sun.
Despite his newfound confidence, Link could feel his blush return, though this time it wasn’t out of embarrassment - it was almost out of flattery, pleasantly surprised at the sudden allure of his lips.
Startlingly, though perhaps predictably, unsavory images began to fill his head as he continued to delicately trace the shape of his mouth. He blinked, trying to flick them away. What would Bozai think of me now, he wondered, the voice in his head almost smug.
When he finished, he pulled back, and his mouth remained slightly open, gazing at himself completely differently.
“I like that shade.” Greta said as she collected the jars and brushes to put back into her basket. “It’s subtle, but it suits you. A good choice.”
Link couldn’t help but agree. He looked...
“It’s gorgeous,” he murmured.
Greta picked up the makeup basket and moved it back behind the store counter, replying absently, “If by ‘it’, you mean yourself, then yes.”
He supposed that is what he meant. He stood up, looking himself up-and-down.
Walking over, Greta eyed him. You done?
Link nodded. When she took the mirror away to put back into the dressing room, however, he suddenly felt exposed, unsure. How exactly do I look with the eyeliner on? What if I put too much blush on one side?
Greta, ever the intelligent teacher, muttered from the dressing room, “You look fine.”
He stood rooted to the spot, twiddling this thumbs awkwardly as she finished resetting the mirror. Walking out of the changing room and back behind the counter, she said, “You could almost pass as a proper vai, but I wouldn’t take any chances. Some of the nighttime guards have actually seen a voe before. They’ll be able to find you out.”
Link nodded as she went back to counting rupees. Despite Link having never seen any other customer in here, it appeared her business was as lucrative as ever.
“Thank you,” he said.
Greta looked up from her counting, and for once, she actually smiled. “Mhm. You learned pretty well.” She sighed. “Now get out. I’m closing in fifteen minutes.”
“Sure,” Link conceded, and hooked his veil back on as he walked out.
As he stepped out into the cool air of dusk, he realized how secure he was with the veil on, but also how mysterious he felt, with the eyeliner now being the only visible makeup that he wore. Still, he felt an urge to feel the breeze on his face, to expose himself, if only a little. To really wear it outside.
He began to walk swiftly, turning left and walking to the west-most alley of Gerudo Town. Ducking into a corner, near a few containers of cargo, he unhooked his veil.
“Ah! Hello, little voe.”
Link looked up, spotting Muava on her usual blanket by the statue of Hylia. Muava was an elderly Gerudo, who tended to hang out in this area of town, alone. Link tried to visit her at least once whenever he was in town, although this time he seemed to have wandered over accidentally.
“Hi.”
“Come over here, would you? This old lady misses her friend.”
Link walked over to her, fiddling with his veil. Would she be able to see the makeup in the glow of the street’s firelight?
Turned out, yes, she could. “Experimenting with makeup, I see,” she hummed.
The feeling in his chest was getting too wishy-washy. He may as well just own it. “Yes.”
Muava gave him a toothy grin. “You look lovely, my dear.”
The blossoming of pure joy that he felt in his chest was almost too sudden. Despite himself Link gave a bashful smile. “Thanks.”
She gestured for him to sit. He did.
“When I was young, I knew my way around those pots and jars. It was easy for us Gerudo to focus on the simpler joys in life.”
“That so?”
She nodded. “Indeed. We were far from the Calamity. I did not live during it, but my mother did. As her daughter I knew of its horror but never experienced it firsthand. Living in the desert made all of us feel separated from it, in a selfish way.”
Link nodded solemnly. Her words did in fact strike a strong chord with him.
She laughed faintly. “Regardless. Makeup was one of my small joys. I was one of the prettiest.”
Link had heard plenty of Muava’s young life. He chuckled. “I’m glad I did okay. It’s my first time wearing this stuff.”
“Good!” Muava barked another laugh. “The first time wearing makeup is always the most fun, the most exploratory.” She clenched her fist. “Enjoy it, voe.”
This whole conversation, Link had been twisting the veil in his hands - a nervous tick. When she finished speaking, however, he put it down next to him on the thick, dusty carpet. “I will,” he said.
He deserved some small joys as well.