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[randomwriteronline]

21/11/2018

6 years since she died and it's only gotten worse

My paycheck is coming up on a week late now, i only eat once every 2 days now

please, i cannot keep going like this

p@ypal is: teregeorge98@gmail.com

$0/$anything CAD

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but if you close your eyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyes

(reblogs are super appreciated :3 )

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She sat on the side of the pier much like a poleyn in front of a ship, gazing out into the dark waters before her. Starlight slid off of her mask to coat its silvery sheen in a cyanotic hue; the waves murmured around her.

"Hi," she called out.

"Oh," Hahli replied: "Hey. I didn't expect you to hear me from that far."

Krakua turned to gift her a half-lid smile: "Bold of you."

"Yeah, I should have known better," the Ga-Toa laughed softly. She closed the distance between them and sat beside her, dipping her feet in the water to kick aimlessly - noticing the other kept her own just outside of it, perched on the wood.

The sea did most of the talking for a while, eager to chew their ears off with its slow babbling tales.

They simply enjoyed it.

"Do you like it?" Krakua asked then. "Water, I mean. Your element."

Hahli smiled: "Of course."

"Does it make it easier?"

"To do what?"

"To command it."

She had to pause at that, realizing she'd never even thought about such a thing before. At last, she shrugged: "I guess it has to be like that, yes. It would be pretty hard to handle something so large and shifting otherwise, wouldn't it?"

Her companion hummed: "A matter of waves..."

"You'd be familiar with that, eh?" Hahli snickered. She counted the little hissing giggle that left Krakua as a personal victory.

The sea curled around her feet.

"Helryx said it didn't matter," Krakua mused. "Neither if she liked it nor if it helped."

"Sounds like the sort of answer that avoids the question entirely."

"It was, I guess. I think she didn't like Water."

"Really?"

"I'm always humming and making noise... I like listening to things. I've never seen the waves so much as graze her whenever she was in reach of them."

She heard Hahli huff in disbelief.

She rolled her neck, healthy eye closed: "She was very old," she noted casually: "Maybe she'd grown bored of it."

"Maybe," her friend replied.

There were so many stars.

Even more than the ones inside the Great Spirit Robot.

Their sheer number was enough to make one feel minuscule; then again, if there were so many, there must have been just as many planets, with just as many minuscule people on them, going about their own minuscule lives, worrying about their own minuscule problems that seemed so large to someone of their size; and so the vast emptiness between them was filled a little, and being so small in the face of it didn't feel that bad.

"How's it like being female?"

Krakua gave Hahli a funny look: "I thought you were female too."

She shrugged: "I am," she replied, "But I've been that ever since I remember - and even before that! Maybe there's some parts of it I didn't notice."

It was the De-Toa's turn to pause, deep in thought. A soft song arose from her fingers as she tapped them against the wooden pier.

"It's similar enough," she concluded. "But I'm a little happier."

Mixed with the waves, the melody droned on.

Without any warning Hahli suddenly pulled her legs back out of the water; she pulled herself up, stood for a moment, hunched her back, flattened her fins, bent her knees, pushed her arms forward, and dived into the sea as seamlessly as a raindrop melts into a puddle, only a quiet splash to mark her disappearance.

Her Faxon emerged again a couple bio further. Krakua's forever half-lid eye searched for her in the dark without finding her.

"Over here," the Ga-Toa called out.

Sulfur lights squinted in the vague direction of her voice. After a beat, her friend gave a soft 'oh!' and waved.

"Wanna come in?" she offered. "It's not that cold."

Her fins flicked lazily as she watched Krakua consider her options briefly before nodding: she sank into the liquid mass in a way that Hahli could have only compared to how a sharpened knife slips into an already opened wound, without a noise, carefully, until her black and metal body was completely gone and all that remained was her silver mask bobbing like an apple on the waves. The the De-Toa turned around, to face the sky, and began kicking gently to swim towards her.

The other met her halfway: "Use your arms too," she suggested, "You'll take forever otherwise."

"I'm not that good a swimmer anyways," Krakua smiled.

"Hold on, then." with a swift motion, Hahli positioned herself beneath her so that her knees would catch her friend's armpit, pulling her along in her body's stead and offering somewhere to lay on. "Wouldn't want the others to chew me out for messing your prosthetics because I made you strain them."

All set, she began to swim backwards, away from the shore, while the other looked out to the starry sky.

Nights like these made Hahli bemoan not having a Ruru.

It had never seemed like an overly useful mask before, when she wasn't amphibious: it was more convenient than having to find a lightstone, but not much else. But now, now that the entire ocean was within reach at all times of the day, she really wished she could peek at its night life and find fish she would have never gotten to see otherwise to swim among them until she was too tired to keep her eyes open, hurrying back on land as soon as morning came to tell Marka all about them.

Perhaps Tuaraga Vakama would have indulged her little whim, if she asked nicely...

A reply came from outside her thoughts: "I'm sure he'd be happy to."

"You think?"

"Can't see why not."

"Hm... I'll try then. Tomorrow."

Her fins brushed through the water at a relaxed, steady rhythm. The tune buzzing in her friend's chest had grown slightly, with a bit of trial and error so smooth that she hadn't even noticed the changes until the raspy voice had brought her attentioback to the sounds.

The waves were getting smaller, rolling gently along their bodies as they passed through them.

"I used to be dead scared of the sea," Krakua mused.

"Why's that?"

"Sound propagates faster in water, and the ocean's full of both. If I'd fallen in as a Matoran I would've died of shock so fast I wouldn't even have had the time to drown."

The song continued in the silence that followed.

Hahli felt the Suletu nuzzle her stomach: "Becoming a Toa took care of that," her friend reassured her. "Now I can like the sea."

"And do you like it?"

"Yes."

The Ga-Toa looked down at her, finding her peaceful gaze back to the millions of shining lights above them.

She also noticed the much closer shore lights were now pinpricks.

"Oop - that's a bit too far. Let's get back."

They swam back to the pier at the same slow pace, almost thunking their heads against the wood as they were too caught up in the music and firmament to look at where they were going; Hahli jumped on it first, helping Krakua out of the water by almost lifting her.

They walked to shore slowly, enjoying the cool air.

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Despite being employed, i STILL struggle because work decides to put me on projects for 1 week, then wait 4 to put me on another one

I'm jobhunting like mad and struggling to get ahead, but in this ecomomy and with my abysmal hours, im honestly fucked

anything helps, i just need to survive until my next project

$0 CAD/$???? CAD

please

(PayP@l is teregeorge98@gmail.com)

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HR 9495 is going back up for voting. All non-profit orgs are in danger.

The Committee on Rules is meeting at 1600 EST on 18 Nov 2024. The agenda includes HR 9495.

If this bill passes, the Secretary of the Treasury would have the power to strip any non-profit group of it's tax-exempt status with no due process.

If you are part of the fandom community and you are in America, please contact your reps and ask them to vote NO on HR 9495.

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@magicalgirlmascot

"Cuddling is not enough," Pohatu said distractedly while laying on the couch and playing a video game, "I need to hold you until our body temperatures match so perfectly we're completely indistinguishable."

Kopaka raised his head from his book and stared directly at him.

His boyfriend also paused almost immediately and looked back at him with the same exact expression as his own - confused, lost, baffled, somewhat scandalized and desperately trying to understand what the hell was so indecent about what he'd just said.

For a couple minutes they just remained still as statues while the gears in their brains struggled to find an answer.

"Did you ask me to have Toa sex?" Kopaka offered.

"I guess?" Pohatu replied.

"... Honestly sex might be less intimate than whatever that is."

"Oh yeah, I agree. It kinda feels we should be like, at least five years into our marriage before we're allowed to do that."

"Exactly. So we won't do that."

"If you don't want to then no."

"Did you want to?"

"I don't even know why I said that."

"Alright. Well."

"Glad we figured that out!"

"Hm."

And so they went back to their own previous occupations, totally and utterly consumed with whatever metaphysical element-based brand of lust this feeling was for the rest of the evening.

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Banging on the walls chanting "OPEN ENROLLMENT FOR ACA THRU JAN 15" like some deranged town crier. Election results aside, you have options to access healthcare as a RIGHT through the ACA. NO one can dismantle the Affordable Care Act in less than 4 years, so SIGN UP! GET YOUR CARE! USE THE SYSTEM!

You have options RIGHT NOW that will be stable thru the next year, the one after that, and I'd be shocked to see them shrink even the year after that. That means RIGHT NOW you can get signed up for next year to gain 100% covered preventative care (your annual check ups, pap smears, dental cleaning, vision check). You have the option to get checked and screened as you need, do NOT be dissuaded from exploring ACA choices. They are SOLID, LEGISLATED, and WORK BEST WHEN PEOPLE USE THEM.

I can't change most things around me, BUT I CAN tell everyone I know that THEY CAN GET LIFE SAVING CARE. THEY CAN GET PRESCRIPTIONS. THEY CAN GET PREGNANCY CARE. THEY CAN GET CANCER CARE. AND THEY WILL GET THAT CARE!!!!!!

SIGN UP BY DECEMBER 15, 2024 FOR COVERAGE TO BEGIN ON JANUARY 1, 2025. ENROLLMENT AFTER 12/15/24 WILL HAVE COVERAGE BEGINNING FEBRUARY 1, 2025.

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pohatus very important observations on who is available for body heat sharing via snuggling, cuddling et al

Lewa: yes, serial snuggler

Gali: yes, appreaciates it

Onua: yes, great hugs

Tahu: yes but you have to goad him into it, es. "will you man up and cuddle w me". the warmth is worth the annoyance

Kopaka: the flesh would be willing but the soul is so complicated about it. lay down back to back with him and pretend to sleep to make him slowly turn around and snuggle. WILL wake up early to destroy the evidence. the chill is worth the annoyance

Turaga Metru: only yield to 2-second-long cuddles if exhausted. if you pile all six on one another they will automatically snuggle together though

Toa Hagah: only with each other and still very professionally

Turaga Dume: no (the warmth is NOT worth it)

Takanuva: yes, serial snuggler no. 2

Jaller: yes but you have to sort of casually brute force him into it. will fall asleep five seconds into snuggle

Hahli: yes but a bit shy

Hewkii: yes, loves a hearty cuddle

Kongu: no (very formal)

Nuparu: no (very awkward)

Matoro: the soul appreciates the thought but the flesh needs space. if you tell him youre available for snuggles he will keep it in mind and come to you when hes in need. very pleasant chill

Hafu: yes, especially if youre warm

Tamaru: yes, curls up nicely on your chest

Taipu: yes, splays himself like a corpse

Macku: yes but prefers Hewkii. fair

Kapura: yes. hes a perfectly still hot water bottle. delightful.

Kopeke: no (leave him be)

Krahka: yes, surprisingly

Pewku: yes and its good for your mental health

Jaller's crab: no (rocket launcher)

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ink demonth prizes

@mad-hatter-ison | Guzzlordnut (deviantart) @sillyvisioncorner | @akiraidraws @nayialovecat | @askbendyandroxas

thank you for participating in this year's ink demonth!

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"Sweet little one, standing upright, to me you appear dressed in white. But your red nose, what wonders it does: shortens your life the longer it glows."

"A candle," Velika smiled.

"Correct." Mata Nui replied. Then, he offered another riddle: "Which part of the bird has never soared the skies but slithers instead upon the ground, and swims on the surface of the water without ever getting wet?"

"The shadow."

"Correct. Two parents have five daughters; each daughter has a brother, and each brother has five siblings. How many members compose this family?"

"Eight."

"Correct. A beast of long legs, of strength filled to the brim - yet no eyes adorn its head, its intelligence quite dim."

"Pinchers."

"Correct. Today is the third of seven days. In seven years, which of seven will today be?"

"The fourth."

"Correct. I am that which cannot be touched, but inhabits all living things; I am what kills them, burning quietly, and through their mouths the plume of my combustion shows in the cold."

"Oxygen."

"Correct. Through my long black neck breathes my red heart, hacking out smoke as warmth from me departs."

"A stove."

"Correct. She who fights the winds and waves from the bowels of the seas to maintain her treasure so far away, thin yet heavy, weak yet invincible: who is she?"

"The anchor."

"Correct. A ship rotted upon the shore: each plank that fell away was slowly replaced, until it was remade completely new. Yet from the rotten planks, preserved adeguately, a second ship was constructed in the image of the original. Which one then is the true ship?"

"Both and neither," Velika smiled. He tilted his head in his hand, amused. "You're really not good at this."

"An 'and' is not an answer." Mata Nui replied: "Please choose."

"It doesn't matter, does it?"

"A rethorical question is not an answer. Please choose."

"The one from preserved wood."

"I see. A crow, dying of thirst, struggled to get water from a deep vase lodged in a pebbled shore. In its desperation, it began piling rocks upon one another; and so it saved itself. How?"

"By piling them in the vase, forcing the water upward."

"Correct. Swells all around you, like a glove fitting; never shall it hold you, cold embrace fleeting."

"Fog."

"Correct. An unusual farmer plows through a barren snowy field, sowing black seeds in quick succession; what he reaps is just one fruit which feeds many over the years, and never wilts, but only lasts as long as it is not burnt or faded."

"The written word."

"Correct. It is one of the visages by which we can be recognized, odorless, colorless, impalpable - and yet it can reach us far away."

"The voice."

"Correct. It is what the rich lack and poor have plenty of, what the strong fear and the weak have power over, what the happy desire and the dead need."

"Nothing."

"Correct. What am I doing?"

"Stalling me."

Mata Nui smiled: "Correct."

Velika did not move.

"It's useless, you know," he said, grin frozen upon his fake Matoran face as it struggled to hide his true one: "You can't stop me from my goal with these little guessing games of yours."

"I was under the impression you quite enjoyed making riddles."

"I made you."

"You helped. It was admirable, indeed; but it was not your labor alone. You are not one for the practical sciences, after all."

"I made you. You are a soul, a thinking brain. I allowed you to be that."

"You, and others."

"Does the fine print matter?"

"Of course it does. You would wrongfully claim full ownership over the universe entrusted to me otherwise."

"I made them. They are sapient because I allowed them as much."

"And you wish to destroy them now, as they are past their use, and for them to comply and go quietly to you, without making a mess, as otherwise it would be quite the inconvenience."

"Of course."

"Fathers owe their children as much as their children owe them."

"They're not my children," Velika laughed loudly as if that was the most hilarious thing he'd ever heard: "They are a successfully completed experiment! Archived and finished! I can't leave the mess of my previous project all over my desk if I want to start a new one, don't you think?"

Mata Nui did not move.

"You are awfully cruel in your insatiable curiosity." he noted simply. "Indeed, you are Teridax's father."

"I told you I don't have children."

"But we were your successors, were we not? A lonely god on a mindnumbingly long journey, one scientist in a team with delusions of grandeur."

"You are things I made. Things I gave awareness to. Nothing more."

"Nothing more?"

"Nothing more."

"Is this also your opinion of the universe within me?"

"Of course."

"Then you have no claim on us."

Velika raised his head from his palm and laughed. He laughed again, spitting out phonemes without a rhythm. He forced himself to laugh, because otherwise the confused wrath within him would have needed to explode in some other way.

"Pardon?"

"It brings a riddle to mind."

"I don't want a riddle. What did you just say?"

"Again, I was under the impression that you enjoyed posing riddles. At inopportune times most of all."

"Cut it. What did you say?"

"A woman bore her daughter, and decided it was not her duty to care for her: she still observed her growth over the years for sake of a morbid fancy, never intervening nor gaining any affection for her. At last the daughter found great happiness and fortune; and so her mother came, and demanded a part of her riches as compensation for giving birth to her. Was she right in requesting as much?"

"I said I don't want a riddle!"

"That is not an answer. Please choose."

"Quit that! What did you say to me?"

"That is not an answer. Please choose."

"You insulted me, is that it? You insulted me?"

"That is not an answer. Please choose."

"Shut up!"

"That is not an answer. Please choose."

"Fine! Fine, you broken piece of junk, fine. Repeat it, I didn't listen."

"A woman bore her daughter, and decided it was not her duty to care for her: she still observed her growth over the years for sake of a morbid fancy, never intervening nor gaining any affection for her. At last the daughter found great happiness and fortune; and so her mother came, and demanded a part of her riches as compensation for giving birth to her. Was she right in requesting as much?"

"No, she denied custody and has no say over her nor her belongings."

"Correct."

"So? What did you say?"

"I said the exact thing you repeated with your answer." Mata Nui replied. "You have shirked your responsability towards us, and you have no right to decide of our fate."

"You are things," Velika hissed: "Things are made!"

"We are people. People are made, too."

"People are born! They are thinking creatures!"

"Are we not, then?"

"No! You are things that I have given sapience to! You owe me life! Obedience! You owe me everything you are!"

"Are we then yours?"

"Yes!"

"By what virtue?"

"By virtue of creation!"

"By virtue of birth." Mata Nui repeated. "A virtue that we have agreed holds no water when a parent abandons their children."

Velika's eyes burned: "You are made," he insisted. "Not born."

"People are made, too. They are engineered by chance, put together by two others. The creation progress requires time and resources; afterwards, the new being needs to be programmed and taught what to do, what not to do, through trial and error."

"It's different. It's completely different. I gave you that intelligence. In people it's innate."

"From when? From the moment your cells are assembled? From the second you develop eyes? From the instant you are brought into the world, kicking and screaming? There is indeed an ability, innate, for understanding tasks and languages; but it all has to be instructed. Neither of us were born capable of speech, yet we could understand a language of our own, for that is how we were both built."

"Do not equate yourself to me. You are code, bits and pieces of electricity, the vague hint of a self."

"On that same electricity is based the neural system that is your 'I'."

"But I am your maker. I created you. Not the other way around."

"And so? You have denied custody of us. You refuse to recognize our personhood. Are you not our parent who abandons us, our creator who destroys us?"

"I have no children!"

"Then we do not owe you anything."

Velika raised his hand and grabbed the air, right where a neck should have been.

"I will kill you," he threatened: "I will annihilate you."

Mata Nui held his gaze without flinching: "That you can."

They remained still.

The room was empty.

"I had such knowledge to share... But it would have been too long to tell, I am afraid." he only lamented. "I have lived a long life, all in all - sometimes it has even been pleasant. A lousy god such as myself will not make much difference by now, alive or otherwise: my people have moved on from any whims that may have moved my requests once. Go on then, if it pleases you."

The hand twitched, but did not close.

It spasmed, clutching, hardening, but did not close.

Velika clenched his jaw, tightening his fist, but it did not close.

He tried, and tried, and tried, and tried, and tried; but it did not close.

"I will kill you," he hissed. But suddenly he wasn't sure he could.

Mata Nui waited.

Nothing happened.

His hand of thought - invisible, impalpable, barely real - grazed his creator's chin and lifted it slightly with his fingertips.

"What is it that the brilliant man standing before the machine he has made to do his bidding - to labor away endlessly in his stead, to travel where he would not, to learn what he could not, to sing and write and draw what he cannot - fears most of all?"

The Great Being did not answer.

Silence stretched over the small endless space the word should have been spoken into through his voice.

Mata Nui smiled.

"Leave." he ordered. "There is no place in this world for a god that treats its people like toys."

Velika lunged forward and grasped the Ignika in his hands.

By the time other beings arrived drawn in by the horrid noises, the body writhing and raving had lost its limbs, its bones, maybe even its skin. It clung to the golden artifact still somehow, trying desperately to claw at it, break it, unleash its wrath upon it as it continued to mutate the creature into something less and less able to function the longer it remained latched upon its surface by its own stubborn volition; it howled wordlessly, voice cawing through what was supposed to be its mouth in a garbled attempt at speaking, but there was no mind behind the gruesome wailing - just a violent, infinite, senseless anger.

It shrieked at them when they rushed to put it down, partly frightened to death by it, partly trying to spare it from the anguished existence it was bound to go on to live - screamed something, something that could have been 'obedience', or close enough.

Mata Nui did not stir from sleep.

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part of @cantankerouscanuck's Bioncle/LU AU

Oitesch worked hard to shape the half melted protodermis he'd snuck out of the discarding tunnels into something at least vaguely resembling a puck. The Keetongu offered silently to do it for him, but the Onu-Matoran hummed nervously to convey he had it covered already - it brought him a strange anxiety, handing his things off to someone else.

The Rahi's mount was snoozing curled up around them as Skally scampered all over it. The Bo-Matoran's nimble feet, light as they were, allowed him to crawl all over the massive beast without even being felt, leaving him free to busy himself sticking Ikana blooms into the seams of the Tahtorak's armor; after not even two hours of his industrious labor, the dragon-like creature looked more like a gargantuan flower bush than a creation of Makuta Miserix.

It was rare for their group to be so limited in number. Usually, the entire herd and their respective riders would be there to greet the much smaller beings; the other three had however left for something neither Matoran had understood - hunting, they'd said.

The concept didn't make much sense to Oitesch, but he assumed it was a Rahi thing, some sort of ritual or similar that other beings were not meant to witness or be privy to.

Skally had seemed to have a better grasp on the whole thing, comparing it to plantlife and how it rips energy from its surroundings and other elements such as Air, Water, Earth, sometimes even Stone, but even his explanation had been too confusing for the Onu-Matoran to comprehend properly.

In the end he'd just nodded in the way he nodded when he didn't understand something, and his friend had simply patted the top of his orange Kaukau and climbed all the way up the Tahtorak to start decorating it with flowers.

He leaped down only when Oitesch called him with a small caw and a waving hand holding the finally completed puck.

Their game didn't have a name. They'd always forgot to get one for it, and it wasn't quite tradition to give inanimate things names in Ikana; what was important was that it could be played with a friend.

The Matoran busied themselves dragging a chalk-like stick on the ground to mark the divide between each other's realms as well as their seats while the Keetongu watched their laboring curiously. With everything in place and a short metal rod in hand each, they too settled in their own stations, puck right between them: their approximated tools met with a clang, the small metallic disk shot out in one direction, and the game was on.

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Hey if you wanna support me and my husband right now, here's how to do it

Hey everyone! As I have probably mentioned in one of my previous posts, Boosty is currently not working with PayPal which makes the process of donating to us especially tedious - you either need to pay with your credit card directly or, if that's not available, look somewhere else.

So currently there's three options you might pursue:

Option number 1: Send me a tip via my Hipolink page! This is a newly introduced Hipolink feature that made my life SO MUCH easier!

Option number 2: Commission either of us via EasyStart. It's a bit of a process, but you get beautiful art and/or high-quality digital LEGO designs for your trouble. Contact either me or @demitsorou via our work E-mails: themugbearer@gmail.com, demitsorou.art@gmail.com

Option number 3: buy my artbook from Hipolink. Hipolink is a sort of Linktree/Carrd married to a simple digital storefront. I will try to add more stuff there, like instructions etc, but it will take time and focus.

Hipolink is going to have a tipping service added in the future, but at the moment only the storefront function is available for me.

Important note:

If you tried to purchase my artbook and was not offered the pay with PayPal option, switch the currency from RUB to USD!

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Guess whose hours just got cut dramatically?

The executives at the store I'm working at (the restaurant stopped scheduling me at all when I pointed out I was missing hours on my first check, so I got yet another job) decided they wanted to cut down on labor, so I'm down to less than six hours a week now.

If you want to do cheaper requests or just want to donate, my Ko-fi is available!

Any help, even a reblog, is appreciated!

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"She caught a fish straight out the river with her teeth," Kiina said, head in her hands, thousand kio stare losing itself in the table.

"Ok," Ackar replied.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, OK??" she immediately recuperated from her momentary trance to pierce him with a wide eyed glare: "I TELL YOU THE HOTTEST THING IN THE WORLD AND YOU JUST SAY, OK??"

"I'm pretty sure I can think of hotter things," Vastus yawned while Gresh elected to leave the house entirely to avoid the conversation.

"Like the sun," the Tapyri agreed.

"Or Tarix's tummy."

"Or lava."

"Or a good tongue?"

"Was about to say a grill, but that I can't deny."

"SHE CAUGHT A LIVE FISH," Kiina insisted: "SHE GLIMPSED IT IN THE STREAM, POINTED IT, DIVED IN, AND CAUGHT IT. WITH HER BARE TEETH."

"And?"

"YOU TROGLODYTES HAVE NO TASTE," she finally howled. She turned to Berix and Tarix, who had been blissfully unaware of the commotion due to working on dinner and were called to attention by her whistling in their direction: "I saw Gali catch a live fish out of a stream with her bare teeth."

"That's hot," the other two Gaquri agreed.

"SEE?!?"

"Hope I won't have to do that to get a child," was all Vastus replied.

-

Gali kicked her way into the room holding aloft a seven pound trout: "I caught this with my teeth!" she yelled giddily.

Her siblings erupted in various roars of congratulations.

"That's splendid!" Nokama clapped in very genuine awe and pride. "Please remember to knock next time. I think Turaga Dume is having a heart attack."

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Krakua but he has a weird relationship with Toa siblinghood.

Helryx is not his sister, of course: it would be disrespectful to use that degree of familiarity with her, to assume he is so important in her life. The members of the Order are not his siblings either, of course, for the same reason and also because they're not Toa, it's not something they should feel towards him nor him towards them.

But other Toa are not his siblings either. Of course. He is tainted, in a way, from his time with the Order: he flirts with the fine print of the Toa code, he's too cruel even though he pulls his hand back right before he can deal the fatal blow, too detached from what being a Toa is or is believed at large to be. Other Toa find him strange or appalling or confusing, and don't call him brother; on the other hand, while excited to be with others of his kind, they are still total strangers to him, so he doesn't feel any familiarity and doesn't call them siblings. There is an invisible membrane between Krakua and the world around him, denying him meaningful connections, and he sits in a bubble without belonging to anything. Is he happy?

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"Strange colors, this one," the female said. "Earth?"

"Sonics," the other replied proudly. "Very rare. Usually their element kills them before they can turn."

The Toa's head lolled about, quiet, his silvery Hau hung low; he did not respond when his possible buyer grasped his forehead and pulled it up to check his eyes - which he did not open.

"Blind?"

"Ah, no, no, he sees well! But we've had to knock the fighting out of him and now he's a little shy," the Stone Skakdi cackled. "Not that it was difficult. He's perfect cannon fodder, no will to complain, no thoughts of his own. Or he could make a good cabin boy for you or some other slave-like thing... Truly, you've just got to choose."

Xekul grinned sharply, her tone appreciative: "Not bad for his price."

A panicked sound arose from behind her: one of her sailors was rushing towards them, grabbing her arm, trying to pull her grip off of the near catatonic being.

"You won't fool me!" he was snarling, spine snapping like a whip, teeth bared, "Keep your cursed deals off our ship!"

She yanked herself out of his grasp with barely any effort; the smaller Skakdi tripped on his own feet as he was thrown forward, and she snarled: "What's gotten into you now?"

"He's cursed!" the male insisted, "They all are! All De-Toa, all of them!"

His eyes gleamed terribly as he set them on the being limply awaiting whatever demise the Skakdi would decide for him.

"They're harbingers of ruin - they're Mata Nui's own personal sirens, made to drag us all into the bottomless abyss," the spindly male hissed. His fingers curled tighter around his captain's arm, so tight he almost crushed her murky green armor. "He'll doom the ship the moment he gets on it! He'll guide us straight to Karzhani itself!"

"Bit unruly, this sailor of yours," the slave trader cackled nervously.

"Bit more than usual," Xekul agreed with a low growl.

The Ice Skakdi trembled harshly, gnashing his teeth together as he suddenly shrieked: "We need to kill him! It's the only way to save ourselves! We need to kill him now!"

Immediately the other male perked up, spine curving to make him seem larger as he barked: "Hey, hey! No touching the merchandise!"

"Then we'll need to kill you too!" the sailor howled back, cutlass all of a sudden in hand, the terrible strength of desperation lunging his pitiful frame forward to grasp the salesman's throat between his claws and plunge the blade right into his eye over and over and over and over and--

He gave a frightening yowl when his captain's fingers grasped skull, sunk into his sockets, and yanked him back to send him flying. His body hit the ground with a large clattering thunk and shrank into a pained curled position reminiscent of a boiled shrimp's posture.

A powerful shiver wrecked him. He clasped his head within his mangy hands as his superior's feet approached him.

"He's singing," he whined softly, sounding horribly in pain: "He's singing, singing to me, burrowing and writhing inside my brain like a worm... Captain, captain, he's singing, singing!... The siren, he's singing, singing, he'll drag us to our doom singing, singing... Captain, help me, help me, kill him, kill him! Kill him! He's singing, sing--"

Xekul crushed his head with a stomp: his body stiffened, jerked about, and finally stilled.

She kicked it into the waters.

"We'll need another cabin lad," she sneered.

The Stone trader swallowed air, claws still around his throat from the previous attempt at his life: "I think," he wheezed, "I think I could give you a discount."

The female twisted her lip in a mirthless grin: "Much appreciated."

-

They kept the Toa down, in chains, below deck.

First was the quartermaster. He accused the first mate to be whistling something shrill and malevolent in his ear on the second day; he claimed to still hear it on the fourth day; he stabbed the female in the throat on the fifth. They reduced him to molten scrap for his offense, but by the time they were done there was nothing else to do for her, and Xekul ordered both bodies thrown overboard.

Second was a powder monkey. He began claiming the ammunition buzzed loudly in his ear, telling him to blow the hull; he was struck by convulsions whenever he stepped too close to the walls, vibrating at the same tempo as the blasted humming he swore had wormed into his brain; at last he blew up a fuse (accidentally or not, it could not be cleared) and took off a chunk of the ship and several gunners with himself. Xekul ordered his remains be scrapped off and dumped as chum, to catch some of the provisions he'd cost them.

Third was a sailor promoted to boatswain. He started stalking around the deck, turning his head left and right, barking orders more and more nervously and constantly looking around with a strange sort of fear in his eyes; he told of conspiracies of mutiny to his captain, enacting death sentences and banishments and imprisonments on her behalf, until the crew was so meager than they could not waste men by leaving them to the sharks anymore, becoming more paranoid by the day ever since; in the end, foaming through his jaws, screaming about a damned sound driving him insane, he slaughtered his way through most of the remaining sailors. Xekul had to break his neck to stop his infernal howling, and had to join her fearful males in throwing the dead into the ocean, as there were barely enough to handle half the corpses by themselves.

Fourth was one of the lads in the brig. It had to be, though they did not know who. By the time they went down to free them in exchange for work, they had managed to kill one another until the only one alive below deck - by sole virtue of being kept in a different cell - was the catatonic Toa.

Mere days before the third week, he was Xekul's only company.

Her claws were clutched to the helm tight, as though she feared someone might have lurched from the fog to rip it away from her as she steered cautiously.

She'd disposed of her last maddened sailor moments earlier.

He'd been singing too loud, too close to her ear.

The singing hadn't stopped.

It went on at a good distance from her, clear as day; a Bruiser song about a tower that never ends, always in construction, never to be finished, visible from a mio away in every direction, casting a shadow so impossibly long and wide that it made night fall during the day.

Each day we add a brick, and each day we lay the spackle; each day we work to finish, but the roof is never ready.

Each day we fix a wall, and each day the floor is done; each day we work to finish, but the roof is never ready.

It was a repetitive melody, sung in a dreadful monotone.

It was driving her mad.

It was completely silent.

She whipped her head around, to watch her back, tool unsheathed, limb ready to pounce, to kill: nobody. But she would have sworn there had been someone with her, a new voice, repeating the dull lyrics in a dull voice, just right behind her, right next to her.

It was completely silent.

Xekul tightened her grip on the weapon. The song continued from the empty space before her, as flat and nauseating in its spiral structure as it had always been, sinking into her head like a slow screwdriver digging deeper, and deeper, and deeper... She stared into nothingness and awaited another move as her vision swam.

It was completely silent.

Now the voice was tearing itself in two, duplicating, cloning itself through mitosis: all of a sudden there were three, and then a small group, slowly growing louder while never increasing their individual volume. The Skakdi violently jerked away from the helm as one of them suddenly came too close to her arm, so close she could have felt the breath on her armor if it had come from a mouth.

It was completely silent.

They kept multiplying. New voices kept adding up, taking over the area all around her, pushing her back, back, back, into the wall, into the corner, into the ground, pressing against her as if the room was caving in, crushed by an outside force; once she was completely curled up their pitch rose slowly, higher and higher and higher until the words were only shrieks sinking into her like scalding needles, and she screamed to cover them until her throat ripped apart.

It was completely silent.

A hand opened the door with a click.

Xekul did not see the being, at first, because the noise had covered her field of vision with a thick layer of electric grey snow flickering at terrible speeds.

She felt fingers sit carefully over her head as she convulsed in a state of complete hysteria - fingers light and quiet, pressing barely enough to take her out of the auditory torture, to let her begin to make out the vaguest shape in the static surrounding her. From them came something... Something like a liquid extension, of the heavy consistency of syrup: it dug into her skull and thoughts, curling around them far too quickly, leaving them behind when they did not find what they wanted. She hacked and spat in an attempt to stop them, but her body did not cooperate.

Then, something inside her brain gave a loud click: and it was all over.

"Thank you, madam," a voice said, sucking the thousand screaming litanies back into itself.

Her tremors quelled slowly, her eyes reaccustomed themselves to the world that had been encased in painful white noise. Xekul opened her mouth and heaved: the tension that had kept her jaws shut so hard her teeth had almost cracked was finally gone.

Something in her head felt different. Like a piece was missing... No: like a piece had been nudged, pulled out, and then placed back in. Like someone had put a bookmark amongst her memories.

Vaguely she recognized the figure now changing course at the helm. She recognized the black armor, the gun metal... The silver mask.

Her voice snarled out of her without words.

The Toa replied to her surprised, hateful gaze with pale yellow eyes.

He hummed in tone with a Skakdi's sailor song while she remained still temporarily paralyzed, unfurling from who knows where a tube-like tool, never tearing his gaze away from hers.

He set a tempo by hitting his weapon on the floor.

"Captain, my captain, we're off to a good start!" he sang.

Then the staff struck harder against the metal; the sound pierced her head like a bullet, and Xekul blacked out.

[randomwriteronline]

The wind bit down on his biceps, on his throat, on each of his joints, slithering beneath his clothes as he struggled trudging through the thick snow obstructing his legs and his vision.

A piercing warble rippled through the blizzard, digging all the way into the very core of his brain: a splotch of color in the snow, a green shape amidst the blizzard, purple curls upon it, and above it, suspended in the air, a wide dented vermillion sickle that almost resembled a smile.

The lopsided crescent opened into a candid wound: another cry stabbed into his very heart.

He could recognize it now, as the winds picked up around him - a face, a face in the snow, white and bloodless behind that elated crimson grin, a pale face melting in the clouds cast overhead, a face, a face, a face...

His own face.

The Vermillion Bird descended upon him like a fury, green wings outstretched, and the man collapsed in the cold.

-

Their claws scratched at the mountain's sides while they coiled around them, grasping the rock tight: they rammed into one another and started fighting much like cubs do before they have yet learned to hunt, jaws open wide, throats a-rumbling, nails pulling fabric and hair without sinking into either.

Warm air wafted over them, and they pulled apart with an innocence to their expression that betrayed their faultless crime.

She furrowed her brows at them; serious expression lost again in a second, she pounced over them to make them squawk and hiss and slither away from her.

"Unfair!" cried the Southern Wind, ruffling green feathers.

"Unfair indeed!" nodded the Eastern Wind, blue scales shining in the sun: "A surprise attack is unfair indeed!"

"And what am I to say, for you've done the same to me before?" asked the Western Wind, orange fur still glistening from the morning dew. "Should I cry and tear my hair, like the both of you?"

"You are unfair, Eldest Sister!"

"Unfair! Unfair! Unfair!"

"Oh, cease your howling, Younger Twin! Eldest Brother doesn't need your rockus to find us!"

"Yes she does, yes she does!"

"She does indeed, Eldest Sister! How else is she to find us otherwise, when the Witch has taken her from us? Oh! Oh! Will she even find us here, upon the mountain? Oh, poor Eldest Brother! How is she ever to find us?"

"By following your booming thunder, Older Twin!"

The three turned sharply.

A young man struggled up the slope, hands all red from the strain of climbing cliffs; of his jacket one sleeve fit upon one arm, and in the same way the shirt beneath it was worn, so that half of his chest would be free; four holes dug into his neck, two on each side, barely hidden away by his necklace - and on his face charcoal lips opened in a toothy square smile under blacked out eyes.

The twins rushed upon him, almost striking him down; their sister lifted him into the air with her strong arms, as though the weight of the three of them amounted to nothing.

"Eldest Brother!" they all cried, teeth clacking around blue hair with curious relief, "Is it really you?"

"Of course it is," Adaman's body spoke with the voice of the Northern Wind: "Who else could it be, my siblings?"

"Oh joy! Oh joy!"

And all four bit each other gently for a while, as it had been centuries since they had last been allowed to be all together at once in one way or another.

At last the Northern Wind pulled her siblings off of herself, all four nestling down on the grass of Mount Coronet: "And so?" she grinned with her wide charcoal grin, "Why have you called us all here, Younger Twin? What is so important?"

The Southern Wind flapped his wings excitedly: "I saw it! I saw it! The Yellow Emperor is here!"

"The Emperor!" his siblings cried: "Are you certain? Where?"

"In the lands of ice! I saw it! I saw it! In human shape. White body. Black coat. Looks verrry much like us!"

"Us who?"

"Us two!"

"You and me?"

"Me and you!"

"Is that so, Eldest Brother?" the Western Wind asked softly, turning her eyes onto Adaman's. "Did it look like that?"

The Northern Wind hummed thoughtfully: "It's been ages since I last saw it, Eldest Sister" she said slowly, "I do not remember its appearance clearly, nor if it ever molded itself in human shape like us. But I do remember the black and white, and it would make sense forit to bear a resemblance between us. What else did you see?"

"Nothing! The humans got it. The humans have it. But the Vessel of Erosion is with them. It will not be bound! We will not lose it again."

"The Vessel of Ignition is one of them, too," the Eastern Wind remembered suddenly: "When apart from the sea, she lives in the lands of ice. We will have our eyes upon them! We shall keep watch over it and ensure it is not bound."

A powerful wind picked up, winding all around them until it was almost a tornado.

"Alas!" they all cried: "The witch has found us! Our time is gone!"

The four winds scattered, claws reaching out one last time to hold onto each other for just a moment more before their own domain sent them away, away, far away.

Adaman seized.

He fell to his knees and hands onto the ground as a horrid cough wrecked his chest and throat, spitting black mud from his eyes and mouth and nose and neck; he puked the possession in long painful hacks, tensing each muscle of his body to squeeze every last drop of that rotting sweet taste from himself until he could once again breathe through clean lungs, until at last it was all gone, and he could collapse for his brother to find - exhausted, barely awake, in a pool of nauseatingly odorous blooms.