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tiredspacedragon · 6 months

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Kulbok sat in his hut, rubbing his still-aching head. It had been almost two days since the Toa Inika had freed him and his fellow Matoran from the effects of the Piraka's Zamor Spheres, and though he felt mostly recovered, his head still sometimes pounded with fleeting traces of strange, dark thoughts. He recalled little from his time enslaved, only a ringing blankness, broken occasionally by flashes of a universe in ruin, dark ocean depths, and a pair of lidless, red eyes hanging in the night sky.

A knock at the doorway drew the Bo-Matoran from his reverie, and he looked up to see a white mask peeking through the entrance.

"Widget for your thoughts," said Kvoleni, hovering on the threshold. Normally she wouldn't bother waiting for an invitation to make herself at home, but recent events had left all the Matoran of Voya Nui uncertain. Kulbok motioned for her to come in, and the Vo-Matoran joined him on his cot. They sat there saying nothing for a long moment.

"How are you feeling?" Kvoleni tried again. This time, Kulbok sighed.

"My head's still kinda funny, but I'm managing," he finally answered. "You?"

"Better," she said. "Not great, but better."

"Yeah. I think that's pretty much everyone right now." The way he said it, it was clear Kulbok had intended the words to be light, but the strain in his voice, and the truth of the statement, undermined his attempt at levity. Still, Kvoleni graced him with a chuckle.

"We've certainly been worse!" she said.

The two Matoran allowed silence to settle over them again. Even on happier days, their conversations often had a similar rhythm. One would speak, then the other, then a pause. To laugh, or think over each other's words, or simply to allow the quiet its turn. It had been a habit of theirs for several hundred years now.

Eventually, Kvoleni spoke again. "I heard some of the others say the Toa have returned from underground. They were headed to the bay, from what I can tell."

Kulbok's head shot up. "The bay? What would they want there?" He hesitated a moment. "You don't think...?"

Kvoleni shook her head. "No. They were chasing something, I think."

"Right. Of course," Kulbok said. "They're Toa. They surely have more important things to do than..."

"Chase ghosts?"

"Yeah."

The two Matoran were silent again.

"I mean," Kvoleni started, "we could try asking them to look. I heard--"

"No," Kulbok cut her off. "We shouldn't bother them. Besides, what would there even be to find?"

Kvoleni started to say something in response, but seemed to think better of it, and said nothing.

The sound of a commotion outside suddenly drew the Matoran's attention. They glanced at each other before hurrying out into the village square. A small crowd had gathered there, whispering and murmuring amongst themselves as they watched a huge being, clad in thick red-and-silver armour, tread slowly towards them.

That must be Axonn, Kulbok thought. He had heard Balta, one of the only Matoran to have evaded the Piraka's clutches, mention the armoured titan. Supposedly, he was an ally, but the grim look in his eyes brought Kulbok no comfort as Axonn entered the village.

The tall figure stood before the Matoran, towering above them. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, a strangled shout rang out from the back of the crowd.

Kulbok jumped back in surprise at Kvoleni's cry. She darted forward, pushing through the crowd towards Axonn with a desperate urgency. Kulbok followed, confused. What had possessed her to run straight for this powerful-looking stranger? As Kulbok approached, he was able to see the armoured warrior more clearly, and noticed that he appeared to be carrying something, cradled in one of his massive arms.

Breaking through the crowd, the Bo-Matoran saw Axonn kneel to meet Kvoleni as she reached him. He held out his burden to her, and finally Kulbok saw

* * *

The Ta-Matoran's name was Ranta.

Long ago, an injury had resulted in him being sent to the realm of Karzahni for repairs, where, like many others before and after him, the ruler of that land attempted to rebuild him into a stronger form, and failed. Though his injury was healed, Ranta's new body was smaller and weaker than his original form, hunched and misshapen. Disgusted with his work, and unable to bear being reminded of his failure, Karzahni had given Ranta and his fellow "repaired" Matoran weapons to defend themselves, and shipped them away, far from his isolated kingdom. Eventually, they had settled in the center of the Southern Continent, in a barren region around the volcano known as Mount Valmai. The Matoran called the region "Voya Nui," meaning "Great Voyage," after the long journey it had taken them to reach this place where they could live in relative peace.

It was there that Ranta had become close with two of his companions, the Bo-Matoran Kulbok, and the Vo-Matoran Kvoleni. Ranta was a quiet sort, but unflinchingly courageous, and his subtle brand of intensity had balanced out Kvoleni's more impetuous energy, while also letting the more reserved Kulbok feel comfortable enough to come out of his shell. Though the three of them were all originally from different lands, they quickly became all but inseparable. They lived, worked, and laughed together, and comforted each other when memories of their old homes and lives overwhelmed them. Even when the Great Cataclysm had struck, sending Voya Nui crashing upwards, killing dozens and leaving the new island adrift in the endless ocean above, the three Matoran stuck together.

But then came the city of Mahri Nui. Runoff from Mount Valmai had cooled into rock, resulting in the formation of a new landmass protruding out into Voya Nui Bay. The Matoran saw the new land as an opportunity to expand their settlement, and constructed many new dwellings there, where they lived for many years. All was well, but Ranta was uneasy. He was not a volcanologist by trade, but he had taken an amateur interest in the volcano, and over time became familiar with its workings and the makeup of its lava. Though he, Kulbok, and Kvoleni had remained in the Matoran Village on Voya Nui, in no small part due to Ranta's urging, the Ta-Matoran came to spend much of his time in and around Mahri Nui. He was convinced the cooled lava was unstable and unsafe, and regularly scoured the area for signs of faults or fractures. Most ignored or laughed at his concerns, and indeed for 700 years, Mahri Nui prospered.

It was on one of these scouting trips, that he was finally proven right.

The deafening sound of cracking stone echoed all across the island. The first split was small, but more quickly followed. Gaping crevices and yawning chasms spanned the length of the bay. Ranta ran screaming through the city streets, calling out for everyone to evacuate before the entire city was lost to the sea. Indeed, some heard his warnings in time, and safely made it back to the shores of Voya Nui, but most, including Ranta himself, did not. The rock heaved and broke, and Mahri Nui sank beneath the waves, down, down, to depths unimaginable, far below where any light could reach.

Since that day, the Matoran of Voya Nui would gather twice a year to throw offerings into the bay, in memory of their lost friends. For some, this brought comfort, though others, like Kulbok, never truly found closure. They knew there was no hope that Mahri Nui had survived its descent, but the loss of hundreds of lives in only a matter of minutes was too much to accept. It felt unreal, like a dream from which they'd never quite managed to awaken.

For the Matoran of Mahri Nui, the gifts from above were also like something out of a dream.

Against all odds, the city had survived, landing on an underwater cliff and disturbing a field of Airweed, which released massive air bubbles that surrounded the settlement, saving the inhabitants from drowning. The shock of the catastrophe damaged the Matoran's fragile memory, and while many had vague recollections of where they had originally come from, none could recall their lives on Voya Nui, or how they came to reside in the Black Water.

Ranta was bothered by this gap in his memory more than most. All the Matoran of Mahri Nui knew they were missing something, but Ranta felt compelled to seek it out, that there was something he had to return to, but he could not remember what. He lived a mostly innocuous life in the underwater city, never joining the Mahri Nui Council and preferring the less public work of a sentry. He made a few friends, but none of them seemed to share his drive, and he often spent his free time exploring the caves at the base of the Cord on his own.

The Cord was Mahri Nui's only link to the surface world, a narrow, hollow tube made of cooled lava from Mount Valmai that connected the sunken city to Voya Nui, though neither Matoran population knew this. The Matoran of Voya Nui were not aware of its existence at all, and the Matoran of Mahri Nui could not see how far up it went, and did not dare leave the safety of their air bubbles long enough to find out. If the threat of drowning when their personal air bubbles ran out was not enough to deter most, the Black Water was infested with deadly sea creatures, bizarre, twisted Rahi and other beasts the Matoran did not recognize.

Ranta, however, was not so easily cowed. He did not enter the Cord itself; enough Matoran more foolhardy than he had tried, and none had returned; but he did swim alongside it, up and up, further with each trip. But he always turned back. He knew that past a certain point, he would not have enough air to make it back to Mahri Nui, and he still had no idea how far away the surface may be. So he would turn back, and tell his friends that maybe he'd make it to the surface next time. They teased him each time he did, feigning disappointment at his failed "surface runs," but in truth, they thanked the Great Spirit each time he returned.

He was missed the day he did not.

As the waters around Mahri Nui grew more dangerous with each passing year, with unseen threats pressing in from all sides, Ranta risked fewer and fewer trips along the Cord. He spent more time on guard duty, keeping watch on the city borders for whatever monsters may slink out of the darkness. But he still felt the pull, the compulsion to seek out what he was missing, and one day, he made his final trip.

As always, he pushed a little farther than he had before, but this time, before he turned back, he caught sight of a glinting object falling through the water, illuminating the gloom around it. He watched it for a moment, entranced, before he noticed a tall figure swimming down after it. For a moment, Ranta was elated. He had seen a Toa before, many many years ago, and recognized the figure as one immediately. Perhaps with her help, his city could be saved. And, if she was here, than he must be near the surface, closer than he had dared hope. But his hope quickly vanished as the Toa began to thrash.

Her name was Toa Inika Hahli, and she was drowning.

Just as he had 300 years before, Ranta spared no thought for his own safety, and charged forward. He grabbed the Toa around the waist and kicked upward with all his might, fighting his way up towards the steadily growing light, until at last he broke the surface, and felt the light of the setting sun on his armour for the first time in centuries. And for the last time.

Had he run out of air lower down, Ranta would not have perished as he had always thought he would. The mutagenic effects of the Black Water would have transformed him into a water-breather, and he would have become a creature of the sea, able to swim wherever he wished. But the Matoran had forgotten how the water had begun to change them when Mahri Nui first sank, how it had undone the work of Karzahni and restored them to stronger, fitter forms, and Ranta's air ran out well above the level the mutagen reached. The seawater that filled his lungs would do nothing to save him. And while the body of the Toa of Water he carried was more durable, and naturally more suited to rapid changes in pressure, his was not. Combined with exhaustion from carrying the weight of a being nearly twice his size, and Ranta never stood a chance. He collapsed on the beach, barely managing to beg the other Toa who received him there to help his city before his heartlight faded to black, and he was gone.

The mighty warrior Axonn, agent of the Order of Mata Nui, carried Ranta's body back to the Matoran Village after sending the Toa Inika on their way down the Cord to Mahri Nui. No sooner had he set foot in the village square than Kvoleni and Kulbok were at their friend's side. His armour and body were different, but they recognized him immediately, and wept at the impossibility. Ranta had come home to them, and they would never see him again.

* * *

Grief, the being noted as he watched the memorial service. Burial and associated ceremonies had never been programmed into the Matoran, but those who dwelt on Voya Nui had developed them independently after the crash once it became clear the bodies of the deceased would no longer simply disappear as they had before. The being made a point of observing them whenever they occurred. He found the ways in which the Matoran behaved after the loss of another whom they "cared" about to be fascinating. Such an accurate facsimile of mourning.

As the crowd dispersed, the being turned his gaze to the two specimens who had led the rite. A Bo-Matoran, designation Kulbok, and a Vo-Matoran, designation Kvoleni. They stood huddled close together before the grave of the deceased, a Ta-Matoran, designation Ranta. Exactly how the Ta-Matoran had survived for this long after the sinking of Mahri Nui, and how he had attained his stronger form were mysteries to the being, though he suspected they would not remain so for long.

The two Matoran stood together for a long time before they finally turned to leave and saw the being watching them.

"Velika, right?" the Vo-Matoran asked with surprise. "We're sorry, we didn't notice you there. Did...did you know him too?"

The being cocked his head. The two were clearly uncomfortable with his presence; the Vo-Matoran's motions and words were hesitant, and the expression the Bo-Matoran wore was a marvellous reproduction of anger. Perhaps they saw him as intruding on a private moment.

So he turned and left. He would allow them their privacy. There would be time enough to study them later, and there was still much else to do.

#tsdwrites #bionicle #bonkle #i wrote something!#only fanfic but it counts!#my brain hates it but i am ignoring it #it's here and i did it #that's what counts #also yeah this is all angst lmao #lots of trauma #sorry 'bout that #anyway #had fun playing with different perspectives here #i imagine in an audio setting all three parts would be read by different people #enjoy!

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necrotic-nephilim · 2 months

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What's so fun about BruJay as a ship is Jason's sheer obsessive devotion to Bruce. Jason is possessive over Bruce, to the point he doesn't care about the deaths of others so long as he has Bruce's attention. A part of the UTRH arc this isn't talked about enough is that Bludhaven fucking explodes mid-way and Jason won't let Bruce see if Dick is alive.

batman (1940) #650

A lot of discussion about UTRH paints Jason as this anger-driven cold, calculating machine up against Bruce when it's so clear that his love for Bruce is what drives him at his root, even if he won't acknowledge it. He says it himself, he would've done anything if it was Bruce who'd died instead of him and his anger is rooted in that possessive devotion not being reciprocated.

batman (194) #650

BruJay as a ship always to be, to some level, unrequited. Even if Bruce loves Jason back in that way, he'll never be that obsessed with Jason. Jason will always view Bruce's love for Dick or Tim to be a distraction, proof that Bruce isn't dedicated enough to him. Jason has the need to always have Bruce's attention, even when it could come at the cost of Bruce's other loved ones. Something something cannibalism as a metaphor for love in how Jason wants to consume Bruce's whole existence. He can't let Bruce leave him again, can't let Bruce love or grieve anyone else. Forcing Bruce to choose between Jason and the Joker isn't just about confronting Jason's killer, it's about confronting the other person who exists as this duality with Bruce and consumes so much of Bruce's life. That's the role Jason wants to fill, calling himself Red Hood and forcing Bruce to look at what he's become. But still loving Bruce and wanting more than anything for Bruce to reciprocate that love in the way that Jason understands. I just think it's good soup and rife with Dynamics that are underexplored with them.

#necrotic festerings #brujay #jaybruce #jaybru #jason todd x bruce wayne #batcest #i've had this thought in my head for a while #i was just weirdly shy about posting it? like convinced myself it's not as verbose as some of my other thoughts #also GOD why is the art of this arc SO BAD.#i can't take it SERIOUSLY #i hate looking at it.#the faces. why are the faces like that.#brujay needs more love bc jesus #gotham war had some good brujay content but i am still too bitter to discuss that shitshow. so. ignoring it for now.#bruce changing jason's brain chemistry as an act of love is the most FUCKED UP brujay thing ever tho #it's so Them.#sorry that is just peak brujay. they are incapable of meeting in any middle and always trying to change each other.#maybe this meta should've been about that.#but then i'd have to use new-52 and rebirth panels so eh. nvmd.#this page makes it seem like i hate post-flashpoint comics. i don't i swear #they just interest me less for batcest.#like oh yay everyone's getting along and working together.#it only came at the expense of throwing away decades of character work. small sacrifice.#i need to stop posting meta at fucking 5 am.#no one is going to see this bc i can't be a normal person.#wrote this while watching invincible #which is pretty good so far but man the ending of ep1 clocked me. i was absolutely bamboozled.#i had something else i was going to say in the tags but i lost it.#anyway most of this is a ship post and projecting shit as per usual and yk. not serious comic media.#i'm just silly and gay.

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