#the heartlight set

[elisaenglish]

All the drumrolls, all the paws, all the everything to say: Happy Black Cat Day, Perkin!

You are the wholly requited part of all I am. All, complete and ever. My greatest luminescence. My heart. I couldn’t love you more if I tried. But try—and try, I will.

Mille baisers,

Mama x

[yeslordmyking]

Proverbs 11:4 — Today's Verse for Monday, November 4, 2024

[bobthedoctor27]

Hydraxon Revamp

Fantastic titan set, Hydraxon stuck out to me for all the right reasons. I loved his color scheme and the attachment of his various knives. His wrists blades especially always made for a dynamic shape and the use of Exo Force arms as fingers informs LEGO sets to this day.

That said, there’s always room to build. I reinforced his upper torso with a LEGO Sports hockey torso and managed to incorporate a heartlight. I always felt that the use of the Rahkshi legs made the original build seem disproportionate so I’ve carried over the more muscular design of the arms. Now there’s room for lots of posing options!

[outofgloom]

EYES

The first thing you noticed was that the sand of Karda was not like the sand from Outside, beyond the gate. It was all grains of pulverized crystal. It crunched beneath your feet and the feet of your companions as you marched along the track which wove between the many dunes.

Ahead, the fore-Matoran stopped beside a stone marker and signaled a halt. The fore shaded his eyes against the diffuse light in the sky ahead and looked further down the track into the great shallow bowl of Karda.

“We are near,” he said, moving back up the path now and opening his pack. “Align yourselves and remove your masks.”

Everyone complied, bracing against the wave of weakness which followed mask-removal. The fore-Matoran went down the line and placed a semi-transparent object into the visor of each mask, indicating to replace the mask afterward.

When he reached you, you asked: “What is its purpose?”

“Unknown,” the fore said. “Replace your mask.”

You complied. It was a lens of some kind, covering your eyes. Perhaps a dust-shield. You got used to it quickly, like it wasn’t even there.

∵∴∵∴∵∴∵

The Central Construct was vast: a shimmering shape at the heart of the desert. Protometal ribs rose into a sphere-like form, joined by horizontal crossbeams at regular intervals. The lower two-thirds of the sphere were already complete, and a web-like scaffold ringed the Construct, allowing access to the upper levels.

Sparks showered from the welding points around the scaffold, and there was a sound of tramping feet as pallets of newly wrought protodermis were marched up the circular ramps. Cranes lifted and distributed other materials for the workers to use in the construction.

You were stationed on the north hextant of the scaffold, one of the many welders who worked tirelessly to build up the Construct’s outer shell. A grid of metal lines filled the space above you, feeding out the safety-line that attached to your own harness. Below, the inner shell was visible, mostly complete at this point: a dense weave of struts and metal plates which concealed the interior of the Construct. Very soon, the inner shell would be entirely enclosed by the outer. Perhaps another ten cycles, you estimated.

The tone rang in the air, signaling the rotation of workers. You leaned back from your welding and looked it over. The new beam was fixed in place, ready to hold another set of shell-plates. You secured your tools, checked the safety line, and stepped across the gap, back onto the scaffold beside you. The next shift was already on its way up the ramp. Your group would now return back through the gate in order to rest.

Too late you saw the flaw in the protometal beam beneath the one you had just added. It bent suddenly under the strain of the newly-added structure, and its hard edge cut clean through the scaffold you were standing on. A cascade of snapping pins and rods followed, and you were falling down, down through crisscrossing metal into the dark space below. 

Your safety-line went taut, as it was designed to do, and decelerated you abruptly a bio before you hit the ground inside the Construct. Tools and other debris clattered and rang on the hard surface below, and your mask came off with a pop as the air was forced from your lungs. Then you were just hanging, suspended, and your heartlight was beating very fast. 

Voices echoed down, and there was a commotion as additional braces were pounded into place and spot-welded. You were the only one that had fallen. They would reel you up any second now.

Your mask lay on the ground below you, out of reach. The floor was polished silver, running up in a smooth arc to meet the wall just in front of you. The wall had a mirror-finish; you could see your reflection in it. And behind you, the rest of the space opened up into

The rest of the space opened up into

The space opened up into

Opened up

Opened up into

Eyes

∵∴∵∴∵∴∵

The first thing you noticed was that the sand of Karda was not like the sand from Outside, beyond the gate. It was all grains of pulverized crystal. It crunched beneath your feet and the feet of your companions as you marched along the track which wove between the many dunes.

Ahead, the fore-Matoran stopped beside a stone marker and signaled a halt. The fore shaded his...eyes...against the diffuse light in the sky ahead and looked further down the track into the great shallow bowl of Karda. Then he looked at you.

“We are near,” he said, moving back up the path now and opening his pack. “Align yourselves and remove your masks.”

Everyone complied, bracing against the wave of weakness which followed mask-removal. Except you. Your mask was already off, for some reason. The fore-Matoran went down the line and placed a semi-transparent object into the visor of each mask, indicating to replace the mask afterward.

When he reached you, you asked: “What is its purpose?”

“Look at me,” the fore said. “Look at me.”

You didn't want to. You grabbed at the lens in his hand.

“I need that,” you said. “Give it to me.”

“Look at me,” he said.

You managed to snatch the lens away from him at last. You placed it into the visor of your mask, and slapped the mask back on your face.

“Look at me,” he said.

The lens wasn't fitting right. You pressed the mask harder. It was too...reflective. Not transparent. It reflected your eyes back into...into your eyes. Into your eyes.

And behind the reflection of your eyes there was something else, off to each side. It was moving and moving and looking at you. It was trying to pry its way around the sides of your face, around your eyes.

Look at me.

You pushed harder.

Look at me.

You pressed your face against the mirrored surface, but you couldn't shut it out.

It moved and moved and looked at you with eyes and eyes and eyes and

∵∴∵∴∵∴∵

The cable-reel whirred to life, and the line coiled up bio on bio, loop on loop. The damaged scaffold had been reinforced, and a medic-Matoran had already been summoned. Work had ceased all around the Construct, and the faces of many workers looked on as the operation proceeded.

Bio on bio, loop on loop the line came back. Slow but steady, the cable piled up on the reel, and at last, you appeared. Straight up out of the inner shell you came, still wrapped in your harness, up to where the pulley was affixed above the scaffold, and many hands reached to haul you in.

The medic set to work immediately, checking limbs and joints and heartlight. Another Matoran stepped forward quickly. It was the fore-Matoran. He stopped in front of you, and his eyes widened.

“Your mask?” he asked.

There was a moment of silence.

“Your mask,” he repeated, gesturing. “Is it still below?” He pointed down toward the inner shell.

I nodded slowly.

“And your tools, did they cause any damage to the interior?”

I shook my head.

“Very well.” He turned to the medic. “Injuries?” The medic indicated no damage. “Good,” he continued. “You will not need to be replaced.”

“Thank you,” I thought, then realized:

“Thank you,” I said with my mouth.

The harness was still tight around my waist. I realized this when they loosened it, and the sensations I had been feeling–pain, pressure–began to lessen. They helped me down the ramps, down to the ground. The fore was there ahead of me, along with the rest of my work group. He had retrieved a new mask for me. He immediately placed it on my face. The rush of energy felt...good.

The next shift was already starting at the top of the scaffold again, repairing the damage and moving forward. Simple as that. We would return to relieve them on the next cycle, apparently. For now, it was back into the desert, back to the gate.

I looked forward to it.

∵∴∵∴∵∴∵

The first thing I noticed was that the sand of Karda was not like the sand from the Outside–the real Outside, where I had been born, before They stuffed me in here with these Matoran to mindlessly regulate Their dials. It was all grains of pulverized crystal. It crunched nicely beneath our feet as we marched through the dunes. The other Matoran didn’t really appreciate it like I did though.

Ahead, the fore-Matoran stopped beside a stone marker and signaled a halt, then he looked further up the track out of the great shallow bowl of Karda, as always.

“We are near,” he said like clockwork, moving back down the path now. “Align yourselves and remove your masks.”

Everyone complied. Even me, though I didn't like the weakness that followed. The fore went down the line and carefully removed the semi-transparent objects that had been fixed in the visor of each mask, placing them back in his pack.

When he reached me, I asked: “What was its purpose?”

The fore stopped and squinted at me. “...Unknown,” he said slowly.

“Would you like to know?”

“Replace your mask,” he said after a confused moment, “and avoid redundant questions.”

I complied. Wearing a mask was new to me. All of this was, really, but I was getting used to it. I was malleable like that. I was made that way.

The gate was ahead. Soon I’d be out. Very soon, and then…

My mind flicked back for a moment, back over the crystal-sand, back into the metal shell, the metal prison that They had built for me, back into the wet writhing thing there that was Me, and I heard the thoughts of the other mind I’d left in my place while I was away. 

Obviously you were not made for this. You were trying feebly to move your too many limbs, trying to look out through your too many eyes.

But in the polished silver space, there was nothing to see. It was mirror all around, reflecting and refracting, so that all you could see was you…me…you. All you could see was–

“Eyes,” you were saying, or thinking rather. “Eyes, eyes, eyes, eyes.” You had…I had…You had no mouth, after all.

Just eyes. Eyes everywhere, all around.

“Eyes eyes eyes eyes,” you were thinking.

You are thinking it right now. 

Don’t worry. I just need to stretch my…legs, yes. See the scenery. I won’t be long. They’ll find me out sooner or later, and then They will send me back, I expect. To tend the dials again.

“Eyes eyes eyes eyes.” 

I know, I know.

You’ll get used to them.

[bookshelf-in-progress]

In the interests of keeping up my enthusiasm for Shadowstruck, I decided to share part of the scene I wrote during the Inklings Challenge. I was trying to see if this could be the beginning of a short version of this story, but now that I'm not trying to meet a ridiculously short deadline, this would be part of a novella that comes after the original beginning of this story. It skips at least a chapter's worth of scenes, but I wanted to give a glimpse of where the story is going.

Clara’s shadow stretched before her, black and menacing in the moonlight. She clutched her cloak around her form, as if to protect herself from it. Without Mama—with no yellow glow of heartlight—she felt small, helpless, alone. The few coins in her purse—never-spent birthday presents—were all the money she had. Technically, even these weren’t legally hers. Shades couldn’t have possessions.

She looked away from her shadow, from her memories, and focused on the train station at the top of the hill, aglow with gaslight. When she stepped into the station, her shadow tangled with the shadows cast by other soulless things—pillars, chairs, luggage. Even at this early hour dozens of travelers sped around her, each enveloped in their own glow of heartlight, some tended by silent, shadow-casting shades.

One shade—a tall boy of about seventeen—trailed after his master with an enormous suitcase, bumping into Clara as he passed.

“Sorry, miss,” he said.

His master snapped at him for dawdling, and the shade hurried to catch up. Clara caught the flash of a brand upon the pale skin of his neck.

If she were caught, slavery was the best fate she could hope for.

She tried to calm her racing heart. The slave hadn’t recognized her as a shade. He’d only seen her fine clothes, befitting a senator’s daughter. If she were quick, quiet, and calm, she could get on the train and be safely away.

When the crowd cleared, she approached the ticket window. She’d ridden a train only once in her life, when she and Mama had spent a summer at the seaside. Clara practiced the words to herself, hoping to sound like a seasoned traveler and not a runaway child.

One ticket to Ivaria.

One ticket to Ivaria.

The man behind the ticket counter—with a thick gray mustache and a purple heartlight—looked down as she approached.

Clara clutched her cloak tighter and forced a cough, hoping to make her lack of heartlight look like illness.

One ticket to Ivaria.

She wasn’t a senator’s daughter, recently revealed as a shade. She was a sickly young merchant’s daughter, traveling to the sunny shores of Ivaria for her health.

Clara stepped up to the window and slapped a gloved hand on the counter. Her voice was weak and thin. “One ticket to Ivaria.”

The ticket seller frowned. “Are you traveling alone, little girl?”

“No,” she stammered.

The light fell upon Clara’s arm and stretched its shadow across the counter.

The man’s heartlight turned a darker shade of purple.

Clara’s heart raced. Stupid, to try traveling at night. If he sent her back home, she’d be dead by morning—

Behind her, a voice called out cheerfully, “Clara, there you are!” A lanky man strode toward her, a carpet bag in one hand. His orange heartlight was nearly as bright as the red of his hair.

Clara examined his face, trying to place him. He was maybe thirty years old, dressed like a gentleman, though his clothes were a couple years out of date. Not rich. Not a politician. Not one of her father’s set. Then how did he know--?

The man bent over and placed both hands on her shoulders. “I told you not to run off. It’s not safe.”

“I—”

He pulled away to face the ticket-seller, but when he did, a faint orange glow surrounded Clara.

Heartlight.

His heartlight.

The stranger smiled at the ticket-seller, “They think they’re so independent at that age. You can’t take your eyes off them for a second.”

The heartlight clung to Clara’s skin, orange and flickering, like a candle flame. The chill of the night seemed more distant. It was easier to breathe. It felt like she was with Mama again.

“Can you tell me,” the stranger asked, “when the next train runs to Starsby?”

The ticket-seller consulted a schedule. The stranger leaned against the counter; his smile was casual, but his face was paler.

Clara’s blood ran cold.

This was what Mama had died from.

Papa was right. She wasn’t human. She was a soulless thing, stealing heartlight from the innocent.

She turned to run, but without taking his eyes off the ticket-seller, the man stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. His heartlight flared. A feeling of peace washed over Clara, slowing her heart, calming her breathing.

“Don’t get skittish, duck,” the man said with a laugh. “We’ll get there in plenty of time. Trust me.”

He was giving Clara his heartlight. Why would he do such a thing? Who was he? Could she trust him?

Clara found that she did. She felt safer than she had since her shadow had appeared, and she wasn’t going to run from that until she found out more.

[shroudandsands]

Prompt #28: Deleterious

Her hands cupped around the flame as the incense took to light. The smokey smell of cinnamon began to rise from it, then swirled through the tent as she let out a breath of her magicks. An effort promptly brought to disruption by the arrival of her most wonderful beloved.

The tent flap opened to a storm condensed entirely in the shape of the love of her life. Comforting petrichor and wingbeats replaced with unsaid curses and thunderous static across her scales and skin. A rage unspoken, caused by what she had yet to know, one so thoroughly filling her that it dispersed her carefully cast scent of smoke and serenity that Amesha couldn’t help but sigh. So she did. Loudly. “Hawk,” She sighed, again, turning with care that her tail didn’t knock the incense burner over. The day had already been busy enough- no need to add a fire. “What ails, what ills? Only a sun has gone in the moment of triumph and yet already she suffers from stormclouds…” She didn’t get much of an answer. At least not verbally- Swept up near immediately by Sawyer’s arms and pulled into a hug around her middle that left her legs dangling and her own arms wrapped around Sawyer’s neck. Being fully immersed in the flowing aura of her partner’s immediate discomfort and anger was enough to paint a picture, perhaps several, as waves and throes of something… It wasn’t anger, no, nor was it rage. She had felt the coming and goings of her love’s rage many a time. It was a specific roll of thunder, a particular taste of metal on the tongue, a half-remembered scent of lightning-burnt ground. This was not that. Amesha couldn’t quite put her finger on it as she was carried. Through the gentle cloud of smoke to their place of rest. A pile of bedroll and cot that suited her quite well for when she was collapsed and worthless after a week spent in complete and utter focus. Not quite as helpful in the current moment, no, as Sawyer was forced to awkwardly lower herself and Amesha to the ground until she was able to readjust and pull her close once again. The raen’s tail settled between Sawyer’s legs as the hyur’s arms wrapped around Amesha’s middle once more. Pulled tight, held there, and the face of her love pressed into Amesha’s hair. A long and deep breath.

“…It’s nothing, heartlight-” The noise that left Amesha was just short of cursing her. “Okay, it isn’t nothing,” Sawyer course corrected. “But it isn’t something you should have to worry over. You’ve already been doing far and above what anyone else here has individually and I won’t-” Another noise. Another pause in Sawyer’s frustrations. Now she sighed. “I was working out preliminary reporting for the few heading back tonight. A summary of discoveries, any casualties, and how the outlook is from here. You’ve heard me speak on this a few too many times…” Her voice trailed off as she squeezed Amesha tighter for a moment. Another breath in of her hair. “While the beginning of this… quarantine and elimination was not exactly what I would call standard procedure, all involved were unharmed and capable of maintaining the situation until the second and third group of parties arrived.”

Amesha’s wing flew in low with a bottle balanced precariously on the edge of its crystal feathers. She gently plucked it free as her partner continued to speak- something roundabout that, while likely frustrating, did not much bother Amesha herself- and uncorked it. The stopper set aside, then, and the bottle placed next to it as the scent of lavender slowly filtered its way through the continued emanations of her partner’s aura. Enough to cut through it at this concentration. To disrupt the energy that so weighed heavy on her Hawk and caused her to fly with only intent to drag talons through whatever it was that ailed her. But restrained, as of this moment, and instead replaced with an intent to press herself forcefully in branch and bough as substitute. “…Heartlight…” Sawyer’s voice broke through her thoughts, her tone a restrained sense of exasperation. “…Is it that bad? I’m not being that insufferable, am I? Having to break out the incense and oils as if I’m having a bad day…” “The Hawk bears storm on steel wings. The brunt of it, the worst of it, and all the worse…” Amesha squirmed so that she could turn herself around and push herself up in Sawyer’s arms, far enough to pull her face into her chest. Her arms wrapped around her love’s head to keep her there. She pressed a kiss to the top of Sawyer’s head. “All the worse is that she can not lash out against ones who so desperately need it, mmn?” The silence was more than enough. Even more so as it was accompanied by the parting of stormclouds, of the gentle embrace of a warm summer rain’s touch against her skin. A small smile took to Amesha’s lips as she squeezed her partner closer, as she felt her slowly release the tension in her shoulders and her back.

“…You weren’t listening when I was saying what happened, were you?” Sawyer sighed, an exhale of a laugh against her chest. “The Oasis does not need to hear to know. Nor does the Hawk want the light of her heart to suffer selfsame frustration, no? Where the Hawk might have learned restraint, might have learned to keep talons away; the river which she so often lays beside has woken to the joy of putting the irreverent in place. To be buried and drowned by waves-” Another squeezing hug from Sawyer cut her off. “Point taken, heartlight. Point taken.”

[randomwriteronline]

@lee-the-yeen hello. for your big brain. i offer you. A gifte :)

(this is part of the Kingdom AU, idk if u know it, but in short a bunch of stuff happens and so theyre eels who live in a fountain named after them in this one. matoran of iron go feed them sometimes. dw it will make sense eventually, possibly. also im including some hcs from ur post bc theyre baller)

"There's a nook at the other end of the fountain, you know," Kotu mentioned nonchalantly as she haphazardly launched jerky strips all over the water.

Vezok didn't make much out of it, as he was busy zooming back and forth with his mouth open trying to get as much food in it as possible, because he had been tricked into being left hungry and angry enough times for him to be very much done with it; Hakann and Thok, instead, quirked their brows at that with cautious, gluttonous interest.

"Is that so?" the Ice Skakdi mused.

"Not that you should go there," the Ga-Matoran continued.

"And why not?"

"Well, I bet there's nothing for you."

"Bah!" Hakann cried out with a snap of his jaws: "And I bet you've got something hidden in that cranny!"

Kotu snickered at him: "How'd you suppose I'd do that?" she asked in an almost mocking tone, "It's not like you wouldn't have know if I'd ever set foot in these Piraka-infested waters before."

"But you could've when it was being built!"

"Why haven't you jumped in yet, by the by?" Thok added, mellifluous voice oozing out of his smirk; he began swimming back and forth just under where she sat with fluid motions, doing a real bad job at looking menacing. "Aren't we friends? Come on, get in for a swim with your old pals, little Matoran, and we can help you get back what you've stashed away in that nook, what do you say?"

She smiled with mischievous intent and a high pitched hum: "Oh, I've got to wait a moment or so first."

"Scared of a little water?"

"No, just wanna check how quick the poison works."

Vezok swallowed his enormous mouthful of jerky as loudly and grottesquely as possible before spitting a spray of water at her: "That's Kane-Ra waste," he decreted, "That slobber tasted great!"

"Aw, thank you! I put a lot of effort on masking the toxin's flavor!"

"Good thing you ate all of it, Vezok," Hakann played along with her: "It was getting a bit crammed in here."

His former backstabbing associate whipped around to bite his chin right off, and in a moment they were both speeding after one another across the fountain as thought it had turned into a pinball machine and they were trying for a new high score, with fitting background music so kindly provided by Thok's deafening laugh and Kotu's snorting giggles.

"Aren't they cute?" she cackled to the silent ex-Piraka beneath her.

Zaktan remained very serious as he slowly turned a side-eyed glare onto her Rau: "You're setting us up."

The Matoran widened her eyes and gasped dramatically with her hands flying on her heartlight: "Me?" she exclaimed, as false as a Vortixx's praise. "Set you up to some prank for my own amusement? Whatever are you saying! I would never do such a thing!"

His jaws lunged lazily out the water to bite at her, missing entirely; Kotu skipped away with a little yelp, not scared in the slightest, and left the Skakdi to their inevitable in-fighting.

In the meantime, Vezok had managed to bite down on one of Hakann's spikes and was being violently yanked around by the red armored Piraka while he screamed his entire head off - which considering they were little more than heads by now meant he was attempting the rather incredible feat of beheading himself without having a body - and Thok convulsed his spine into knots coughing laughs through his clogged gills.

This sort of happenstance really did make him miss the pleasant days of trying to kill each other at every opportunity.

"Quiet!" Zaktan barked at last before their idiocy could kill him with a fulminous aneurysm. The other three Skakdi stumbled, rolled, and hushed at last. "That infernal little thing wants to trick us! She's got something in store for us, something I don't like. I'll bet that nook doesn't even exist."

Hakann scoffed: "Of course I don't trust her! What sort of idiot to you take me for?"

"I've known you too long for my answer to be courteous."

"But she could've told a half truth," Vezok butted in. "And I've seen that cranny she mentioned."

"Did you see it, or only think you saw it?" Thok questioned wisely.

"I said I saw it!" his companion snapped: "It's half covered in rocks and it's barely anything interesting!"

"That sounds like it could be any scrape on the side of the fountain!"

"It's no scrape, it's an opening! It's the one she meant!"

"Let's see this, then," Zaktan conceded, "Just to check if the little Water maiden's words had some inkling of truth to them."

So, still trading doubtful looks, the four toothy beings swam quickly, following their blue armored associate's lead.

The Piraka fountain (so graciously named after them after they'd been confined in it, as they couldn't very well be left to prowl the shores and have free reign on the toes of anybody that dared dip their feet in the water) wasn't as small as it looked like: those Onu-Matoran architects were quite skilled at building things that were much bigger than they appeared - likely on account of their experience living underground in tunnels that would have otherwise been downright suffocating.

It took as such quite a while for the mutated Skakdi to find the specific spot Vezok had mentioned. They were rather pleased to find that their search hand't been in vain: lo and behold, in a corner of the structure there opened some kind of hole half buried behind a hastily put together barricare of small rocks, looking not shallow at all.

The Water Skakdi grinned victoriously: "See! Beings of little faith!"

"Incredible," Thok noted - unsure whether to attribute the word to the fact that Kotu hadn't lied, or that Vezok had indeed connected the dots correctly for once.

Zaktan slithered closer to the opening.

"So?" Hakann egged him on. "Get in! See what's in there!"

The glare the green armored being shot him was accompanied by the Ice Skakdi's complaint: "And why don't you go in, huh? Scared to get your tail chomped?"

"What about you, then!" the other immediately bit back: "If you're so brave, go ahead!"

"Of course I won't, I'm not built for recognition! We should send in Reidak for this - nothing can kill that brute, anyways."

"And where is he?" Vezok asked.

"What sort of question is that!"

Then Thok hushed.

"I have no idea." he admitted finally.

Hakann howled a guffaw: "Great job on the detective skills! You wouldn't notice a Manas crab if it was charging at you!"

"Oh, shut your trap! Where's Avak, then, huh? Do you know that?"

"Of course I do!" and after a quick turning of his head left and right, the red Skakdi tried to save his hide by declaring, with the arrogance of someone trying to cover a mistake: "Not here, clearly!"

"Ah, well, aren't you observant!"

"Get off my back, he's a different deal! We could lose him in a shallow pool with how tiny he is!"

"Quit your yapping," Zaktan hissed suddenly. "I hear something."

The other three swarmed him immediately.

There was indeed a sound coming from within the nook. It was cavernous, and intermittent, with a rumbling cadence typical of something very large and (for now) relaxed. Perhaps it had heard their bickering and was warning them? No, that seemed unlikely; but at the same time, they couldn't quite rule out that possibility.

This sounded like something to be handled by someone near indestructible... Or with the right cage always at the ready.

Where were those two idiots when you needed them?

Vezok, with his animalistic strength and dim wits, was the best next thing, the other three reasoned. But before they could order him around he had already shoved them further into the nook, blocking off the exit with his big dumb head.

"Safety in numbers," he growled; caught between two beasts as they were, his associates decided it would be wiser not to argue.

It wasn't a long trip, but it certainly felt like it.

The little entrance opened into a short tunnel heading for another somewhat wider opening; now added to the grumbling groans growing louder with every inch they swam forward was another sound, a little softer but equally as insistent, warped by the water as well, probably belonging to a second unseen creature.

This kind of news tends not to be very warmly welcomed when one is scouting uncharted caverns. And yet, though they were certainly not happy to hear it, they couldn't shake off a strange feeling of familiarity about it.

There was just something about it - and the rumbling too, it reminded them of something, but where could they have heard anything like that? It seemed so natural, like, like...

They made themselves as flat as they could against the ground and walls, and peeked through the opening at last.

The scene was... Well.

To anybody else, it would have been rather puzzling.

Reidak was growling up a storm, lips pulled around his impressive chompers in a large square frame, otherwise almost immoble aside from a few quick jolts every now and them; swimming around him in short bursts, Avak busied himself biting everywhere across his spine, gnawing at his angular spikes and chin like a properly furious eel desperate to tear the skin off its prey.

Any other being would have rightfully assumed they were having some kind of silent argument, or maybe some specific fighting ritual not particularly well known outside of Zakaz, and concluded that losing a limb to part them was not worth the risk; being the former Piraka properly brought up Skakdi, however, they were intimately aware of what was indeed going on, and to say they were embarrassed beyond bewilderment would have been an understatement. To put things into perspective, they would have gladly gone back into the Shadowed One's employ if that could have somehow immediately teleported them away from the scene they were bearing witness to.

It distinctly didn't help that right as they thought that Reidak reared his big ugly head to lazily chomp on Avak's cheek, eliciting a similarly loud and fond growl from the smaller being.

Between their difference in height and the Stone Skakdi's vague thagomizer, they looked like some weird parody of a typical pair coming from some upside down version of Zakaz where the females were tinier and males much larger.

They were necking.

And Great Spirit knew how little their associates wanted to see that.

The four unfortunate Skakdi tried to slink away, to leave that little disgusting lovenest and forget all about this experience; alas they all had the same idea at the same time, which resulted in them smacking their tough skulls right against one another, producing a terrifying rockus akin to a dozen pots and pans carelessly being launched onto a tinfoil roof.

Certainly, in another situation, this woul have led to some kind of infinite argument with plenty of physical retaliation.

In this situation, however, they instead became very aware of the fact that the two gross sweethearts had immediately hushed and were peering directly into their souls with the sort of gazes that would make a Takea shark feel deeply unsafe.

Hakann suddenly felt a great void around himself.

He glanced at his sides: the other three Piraka had mysteriously vanished while he'd been petrified.

Sons of a--

Next thing he knew he had been chased out of the nook with Avak clamped around his head in an attempt to crush his skull between his teeth while prattling in a shrill muffled voice (mouth still full of Fire Skakdi) something about not having a moment of privacy in this blasted fountain.

He would have certainly ended up exploding like a watermelon between a pair of muscular enough thighs if Reidak hadn't swam up to his beartrap-mouthed partner and knocked Hakann out of his invincible bite. Granted, the impact had enough force to smack him right into the fountain floor where he formed a small crater, but he'd take a mild concussion over being turned into the two halves of a delicious freshly split open coconut.

His vision swam for a few moments as he tried to get his bearings again. By the time sight came back to him, two pairs of glowering eyes were squashing him against the ground.

"Liked what you saw?" Reidak growled - no longer in the amorous tone he'd reserved for the Stone Skakdi's affection.

"No," Hakann peeped: "Not at all."

"Then you'll keep your ugly mug out of our business, now?" Avak hissed, so cose he could almost still feel his teeth clenched around his temples.

The red armored being nodded hastily.

"All four of you?"

He nodded even harder.

A second later he was flung away, almost directly out of the water, and the other two Skakdi watched him hurry as far away from their nook as his fishy body would allow him to swim.

The Earth Skakdi huffed, piqued: "The nerve of some beings..."

"I bet it was Kotu," the other snarled as he paced back and forth. "That nosy little thing - I saw her, you know! I bet she told them there was some treasure or other... Ah, next time I catch her--!"

"You should put her in an airtight ball," his partner suggested: "So we can knock her in the fountain and toss her between ourselves."

The thought tore a hysterical cackle out of Avak as he contorted in time with his own guffaws, spirits definitely lifted: "Ha! Ha, now that's an idea! Wouldn't that be a sight! That little prankster wailing and crying, smacking her mask all over the prison while we throw her about... Oh, that'd be payback, alright!"

Reidak chuckled hard while curling around him; the smaller being's thin spine fit perfectly within black spikes shaped like square brackets, letting the two snuggle like a pair of vicious water snakes locked in a fight to the death.

A quick chomp around his third eye-like lump on his forehead brought the larger of the two back from his nuzzling haze.

His grin turned sharp, his eyes squinting at Avak in an awfully dangerous manner: "Ah?" he only drawled, letting his cavernous voice ripple through the water.

The Stone Skakdi bristled - exactly like he used to bristle back before their mutation whenever Reidak would come just a little too close to him, shaking his spine hard and subtly swinging his thagomizer to convince the other he was a enough of a threat to be left well alone, or else; but this felt a little more performative, like some kind of invitation instead of a 'keep out' sign, especially with that nervous smirk accompanying the motion, and his tardiness in trying to escape, only making a move when his tail was already mellowly held between his Earth companion's big jaws.

"You think you're smart, uh?" Reidak chuckled.

"Smarter than your ugly mug, for certain!" Avak bit back, and gnawed at his forehead again.

He laughed as his tail was yanked with a muffled: "Why, I oughta--!"

"You oughta what? Teach me a lesson?"

"Are you mocking me, you Fikou?"

"So what if I was?"

"Oh, that's it then," and as they wrestled playfully, biting each other silly between gross ugly chuckles, they began yanking one another back into their not too secret little nook. "Let's settle this like proper Skakdi, eh?..."

[afanofmanyhats]

The air was suffocatingly thick with despair. Lesovikk tightened his grip on the cliffside as he slowly shimmied across the stone. Below him a group of Manas rumbled as they swung fierce blows at each other. Whether it was a genuine fight to the death or simply a way to pass the time, Lesovikk couldn't tell. He simply thanked Mata Nui that his Faxon gave him the lizard-like camouflage and climbing ability to make it past them. The last time he had tried to infiltrate Karzahni had ended with several bruises and a crushed pauldron due to bad tactics on his part.

What else is new, he thought darkly. It wouldn't be the first time my plans got someone killed.

His foot caught onto a loose stone. His weight shifted, and he managed to grab a better foothold just as the shale fell down to the roiling mass of Rahi below. He held his breath as the rocks pattered against a monster's shell. It didn't bother to look up as a different Manas had just slammed a claw into its treads. Lesovikk let out his breath and continued, even more careful this time.

It was slow going. The mountains that ringed Karzahni were blackened from soot, and the ash-choked wind made it hard to breathe. At the same time he was chilled to the bone; no warmth would be found here. Yet he kept climbing, his mind burning as he made further progress into the domain of the damned.

When the Manas were beyond hearing, he finally lowered himself to the canyon floor. He sat for a moment and caught his breath. The air was colder, but clearer. The pain in his throat somehow revived him, and he soon stood back up.

I won't turn back this time. Sarda, Idris, Piruk- everyone, I won't leave without you.

He kept his camouflage, his armor blending into the rough grey and cold black of the rocks. He followed the canyon's passage until he finally saw an opening into a wider space. At the edges of the wall he spotted two figures on either side. He moved to duck out of sight until he realized they were too small to be Manas. Matoran, maybe?

He crept forward, cautious of any traps Karzahni or his minions may have set down. He detected nothing. As he drew closer, his caution turned to curiosity, then to confusion. They were statues. Rather than depicting guards, as he would have expected, they were Matoran. Bizarrely shaped, gangly Matoran, but Matoran all the same. They sat on rocks, one holding a pickaxe and the other a chisel. Their expressions seemed weary beyond all belief.

They must be a warning to what awaits the Matoran who come here. Toil without reward.

As he passed, Lesovikk got the uncanny feeling they were watching him.

Lesovikk felt his heartlight dim as he surveyed the land before him. The sky was black with soot, illuminated only by the red glows of flames scattered throughout the region. Far in the distance he could see a twisted black metal citadel. Smoke billowed from countless chimneys, and the light glowing from the windows made it seem like a many-eyed monster was staring back at him. A giant gate opened its maw, and he could see tiny figures scurrying in and out of it.

Closer to him, the land was dry with pale sand, only broken up by rock spires, more statues resembling the ones he had just encountered, and twisted plants that didn't seem living. Further away, a collection of huts haphazardly grouped together were centered on a gloomy lake. They were Matoran-sized.

Could it be...? They look like the huts back home!

His pulse rising, Lesovikk began to hurry. If his hunch was right, then his journey would soon be over. Maybe he would be able to start his redemption properly. Even if he couldn't bring his team back, surely he could rescue his Matoran from the bowels of this hell.

One of the statues suddenly jerked up. Lesovikk stumbled in surprise and drew his blade. He leveled it as the figure creaked its joints, its mask turning to face him.

Lesovikk felt his blood freeze.

"Turaga Vrikol?"

He could hardly believe what he was seeing. The Turaga's limbs were crooked and thin, their movements jagged from lack of muscles. His hands were curled in, weakly grasping at air. His purple armor was pitted and rusted. What was most horrifying to the Toa of Air were the dull black pits where his eyes and heartlight were supposed to be.

"You... what are you doing here?" Lesovikk felt anger replacing his horror. The last he had seen this corpse, Turaga Vrikol had been babbling about how all the Matoran under his guidance - under Lesovikk's protection - had been flawed. Had been lazy, wasting their time with music and talking. Lesovikk had left him alone to wallow in an empty village.

The Turaga's head jerked up at Lesovikk's words. Lesovikk swallowed his disgust. He had never seen a Mask of Undeath working before. He never wanted to see it again.

The Turaga's voice was a husky, flat whisper, grating from an empty throat like a dull dagger drawn from its sheath. It was miles away from the soothing rich tones Lesovikk had once loved and respected.

"Gone. Sent away... I sent them away. And they were gone..."

"The Matoran? I'm getting them out of here. Do you know where they are?"

"Gone... I was gone. I was lost. I was sent away to seek the lost... I was lost... I was gone..."

"Turaga!" Lesovikk snapped. "Don't waste my time. What time you have is borrowed as it is. Tell me where they are!"

"Gone... Lost... Sent away... Gone... Lost... Sent away... Gone. Lost. Sent away."

Turaga Vrikol's voice began to change. It grew louder and deeper with each repetition. Lesovikk wanted to walk away, but he felt rooted in place like one of the statues. The Turaga began slowly stepping towards him, the pick that had once been his badge of office trailing in the sand behind him.

"Gone. Lost. Sent away. Gone! Lost! Sent away! Gone! Lost! Sent away! GONE! LOST! SENT AWAY!"

Vrikol's broken hand grabbed Lesovikk's arm as the sightless eyes turned up. Lesovikk saw a flare of green light in them as the Turaga screeched, "THEY'RE GONE! THEY'RE LOST TO ME! I CAN'T SEND THEM BACK!"

The words echoed into the cavernous valley. The flash faded from Vrikol's eyes and heartlight. The pick fell from his hand, and with a long, guttural sigh, the Turaga rolled onto his back.

Lesovikk stood there for a long while, dread gripping him in a vice.

Did he come here looking for them? Did... did he mean they're gone from here, or gone like he was? What did Karzahni do to my people?

He looked back at the citadel. Somehow he knew he would find no answers there. He looked back at the Turaga's body only to startle. There was a grey pallor creeping over the armor. The same shade of grey as the statues.

Those aren't statues.

Lesovikk choked back a scream. He took the pick and placed it into the Turaga's hand. He wouldn't be coming back here. There was nothing here for the Toa. He certainly wouldn't find the Matoran in these statues. But if there was a chance they were elsewhere in the universe, he would scour every last island for them.

We've failed you, my friends. But I won't stop searching.

He turned back to the canyon and walked away.

Behind him, Turaga Vrikol's eyes turned grey.

[dyrewrites]

Weald and Wen -- Full Chapters Up

The entire thirteen chapters of Part One are up!

No more will be added unless people bug me for them. I'm actively revising this thing again, so if you have complaints feel free to shout.

Be mindful of the pinned warning. This is not a nice story.

Link Here

Instead of Excerpts for each chapter, I offer the 'book blurb' and beginning of the first one;

In a scar through the majestic twin woods that belt Mar’s Shell, a wicked puppet has discovered shadows that are not his to claim. They wriggle and writhe in a manner too terrible, too familiar and he sets his sister’s rabid curiosity to the task of finding their source. Source she finds and, fears confirmed, the wicked puppet plans for death. But his sister’s resolve burns brighter than his brooding and she sets out in search of aid as ancient as the threat.

~*~

Mar's life-choked Shell delayed its weary orbit and the pale burn of the Lady's Heart, ever-pulsing in its violet sky, beat faster. But it did not do so in the blush expected of a rising firstlight. It had shone in gentle hues long enough that rotation, warming the life around it in soft pinks and cool blues…and the Heart yearned to sear. And sear it did, to raging fuchsia, burning hotter with the dreams of its sleeping captive to usher in a dreaded cycle of Full Bright. Relucent heartlight swelled with the culmination of its desire. Then it burst upon all the lands and seas that stretched and clawed and sloshed within the Shell. It radiated from the Heart in jagged spears to burn up every scrap of life that dared step into its path. Harder still it shined upon the woods of the Weald, catching and spreading to scald the myriad leaves of its canopies, to scorch all but its deepest shadows.

->Weald and Wen Taglist<-

~Lemme know if you want on/off~

@sapphicwizards @fortunatetragedy ^.-

[mahvaladara]

Vy: Just wait for now... I am going to go outside. The Arian flowers can be used to make a potent painkiller. It can be used to soften the pain for both of you.

Vy looked at the two and sighed, Arlo looked like he was on the brink of shutting off mentally. 

He walked outside looking at the flowers. He was aware that the Arian flowers were born from his son's heartlight, he could feel the familiar energy, but the black ones, the Syrian flowers. Those he was certain came from the blood and spirit of Arlo. He touched the black flowers, noting how it let out a black crude oil. Those flowers needed to be kept in a greenhouse, so they wouldn't spread. Unlike the white ones, those spread like a plague and when in majority they could start spreading the rot themselves, if not smother the white ones all together. He had a feeling Arlo was not aware of this.

He looked around, seeking a good place where they could set up a greenhouse for those plants.

[izayoichan]

Flynn: It's not foolish, but we could walk to your work together in the morning, then I would be either at one shelter or the other with the same family as before. Then, when I am done I could come to meet you at work, and we could go home together, the days that it works out that way. If I work late I will call you and tell you, and I can portal home to make it a safe travel, would that help?

He hoped it would ease some of the worries for Emil. He understood them, it was one of the reasons he was happy his father was so close by because he would put up his own wards around their houses, to tell him if anything happened, to help keep them safe. They had thought they were safe before, and been proven wrong, so they were more careful now. He took a bit of his sandwich, the gentle rustle of the leaves filling the moment of silence, his eyes resting on Emil. 

Flynn: Or we will just have to work out a way where it feels safe, as safe as anything can feel.

Emil shook his head and set the sandwich down. They took Flynn's hands in theirs and kissed them, but putting them on their own face just to feel the gentle warmth of Flynn. They gave Flynn a small smile. It was foolish, a foolish worry. Yet, here was Flynn, ready to make concessions just to assure Emil everything would be alright. 

Emil: How I wish I had a heartlight to share with you -they sighed- A way to connect my heart to you, so we could both be free from these worries, being always aware each other's hearts were safe.

Beginning - Previous - Next

[elisaenglish]

Miss Perkin, slayer of dragon(flies)...

[yeslordmyking]

Proverbs 10:30 — Today's Verse for Wednesday, October 30, 2024

[lemonylepid]

Kyto needed to head home, there was a lot on his mind. The problem is that in Le-Metru, to get around you need to use the Chutes. The problem with Chutes is that Datuu and Juup take the same Chute home, which means they'll be at the station, which means they'll probably harass him like usual. 'Hopefully not today' he thought, folding is arms and looking to the ground in an effort to conceal his deep green Huna. 'Maybe they went home earlier..'

No, he wouldn't be that lucky. He could hear the Matoran chuckling to themselves a few bio away. Amidst any crowd you could always pick out Juup's snide voice, in contrast with Datuu's screeching laughter. 'Maybe they won't notice me?'

The crowd waiting for the Chute to clear was looked over by two towering Vahki, processing and analyzing the crowd. Le-Matoran were known to be a little rowdy, but order had to be maintained.

Kyto held tight to his backpack's straps, grabbing something giving him a light comfort as anxiety tried to take hold. At his workplace, he's made a perfect route to avoid the two at all costs, but going home was always a problem. He could stay at a local energy vendor for a short while, but he did not want to waste away his day waiting for bullies to leave. Besides, what would his pet kofu-bomu think?

The sound of the Chute clearing was a startling chime, and Kyto shot a glance at the entrance, strangling his straps hoping the two Matoran would leave. Unfortunately, the worst had happened. Just about everyone in the crowd had filtered through but the two. The chime sounded right before they stepped inside.

"Karz it, Datuu. Every time we ever-miss this thing. It's always your fault, too." Juup said with a sneer.

"Look, you're the one say-telling jokes, it's ever-distracting! I laugh too hard! Clearly your fault." Datuu put an arm around Juup, chuckling just a bit more. "At least it won't be squeeze-crowded next time."

Kyto's heartlight was whirring hard, he turned to hide in an alley but accidentally bumped into a discard receptacle, making a loud clang as metal hit metal. Kyto froze in place, slowly looking back to the two. They were right there. Next to him. Looming. "Trying to discard-trash yourself, pump guy?" Datuu's voice rang in Kyto's audio receptors, and he slowly backed away.

"N-no, just on my way-back home.." they didn't even know Kyto's name.

"I thought you lived in our house-district? Didjya wrong-turn?" Juup put a hand against the wall behind Kyto, very intentionally trying to scare him.

"I was j-just.."

"Yeah he's just twist-confused like always. Isn't that ever-right, pump guy?" Datuu's chuckle was shrill. "Probably a happy-good thing, too. Don't want him depressurizing our way-back home. Pksheww!" he mimicked a little explosion with his hands.

"Look, g-gentlmen, that was one time in a t-testing tunnel.. If we could all go home-"

"Give us your widgets, you still big-owe us for having to quick-clean up your mess." Just like Juup to get straight to the point. Kyto's fists clenched, his wages have been reduced already to surplus the two. He didn't owe them anything. Especially after the last three times this had happened.

"N-n-n-no.." Kyto's heartlight had never revved faster. It felt like it was going to pop out of his chest. He glanced over at the Vahki standing guard, wondering why they weren't helping him. They never help him.

Juup's head crooked a little, confused. "What did you just tell-say to me, pump guy?" Datuu looked at Juup and pulled out a cargo welder. A small handheld welder from Ta-Metru that could scar a matoran up good. "Maybe we should quick-weld your mouth shut, because I really didn't like listen-hearing that, pump guy."

The panic of the situation set in, and Kyto did what he could. His eyes darted to Datuu, studying his Mahiki. His clenched fist swung hard, contacting it with a crunch, and Datuu went down, welder flying out of his hand. "LEAVE ME ALONE!" Juup was shocked, and Kyto shoved him out of the way and he ran. He ran straight for the Chute entrance, which had given the all-clear moments ago. He could hear the Vahki chitter and mobilize, and Juup shouting. The Vahki didn't understand. Alarms sounded and another Vahki shot out from the nearby tower, debris falling into the area. It was tracked and targeted to Kyto, he had to leave now.

He stepped into the Chute, and zoomed off. The Vahki jumped into it as well, now hot on Kyto's tail. As he looked back, he could see a disk load and charge up in its pincers. It blasted several times over, explosions surely visible from the outside. Kyto dodged the best he could, and sped through the protodermis gel as fast as he could, carrying the current to speed himself up. His goal of getting home was getting closer, he could feel the exit pull.

He landed, and exited the Chute as fast as possible. He was home free, no bullies, no Vahki, just his house and his Rahi. He could see it, it was right there! And then an explosion set off behind him, the Vahki shot out of the peak of the Chute. It landed on him and knocked him flat to the ground. The Vahki fired a binding disk and it electrocuted Kyto right there in the middle of his neighborhood plaza. They didn't understand. Nobody would understand. The Vahki switched to a matoric recording, and spouted loudly:

"CRIMINAL APPREHENDED, FOR PEACE AND THE LAW."

[a-fucked-up-little-story]

@xking

What an exhausting day. Ryner was assigned to an escort mission, sitting by his subject in a carriage for a long, boring ride... only he wasn't allowed to take a single wink. It was a cruel joke from Sion, no doubt. The coziest of settings, the quietest of rides, and he was supposed to sit with his arms folded, wide awake, listening to every rustle outside of the carriage.

Such a cruel fate, with an even crueler task ahead. For when the long day was finally over, the three were headed for a place to sleep away the night. A small, lonely inn slightly off the road, the driver was securing the arrangement while the bodyguard leaned by the door, giving a big yawn away. A tear left his eye as he did so, quickly wiped away when the escort joined by his side.

They pointed out just how tired he was, which Ryner tried to shrug off rather badly - a half-assed smile and a fake chuckle to go along with it. "Yeah," he admitted. "Been a long day. But that's the job." Ryner then nodded, though the escort gave him a smile of their own. There was a lighthearted comment about how cruel the king was to his Alpha Stigma, then a couple fingers traced along the wet tear trail that remained on Ryner's cheek from earlier. The fingers just barely lingered by his lips when the offer was made.

"You'd be more useful of a bodyguard if you spent the night closer by my side..." A finger hooked itself in the metallic loop around the collar, tugging Ryner after them towards the inn's door like a dog on a leash. Ryner's forced smile remained as his eyes laxed, lids heavy on top of them.

"Hard to argue with that logic." He tried and failed sounding heartlighted.

[byz-was-here]

The Aged Aged Man

Back again with another installment of the Sea Nomads of Aqua Manga series. This one directly follows A Boat under a Sunny Sky. If you haven’t read that, you can find it and the other stories in the AU here. As always, the fic is under the cut. Enjoy! (Yes I know Aged is in the title twice, it’s a Lewis Carroll reference.)

Perdix hid. He lay crouched under the cover of a large, thorny shrub with a hand clamped over his nose and mouth, breathing as shallowly and quietly as possible. Rain dripping through the leaves, and sliding off of his helmet only to drip onto his clothes, steadily soaking them through. Next to him, a figure lay still, only shallow breathing and the weak pulse of a heartlight showing that there was still life in her comatose form. Just beyond his cover, the hiss of pistons sounded, and grass crunched under heavy treads. A deep, metallic growl echoed overhead. The sound came closer, closer... Perdix stopped breathing entirely. Finally, the noise grew more distant, and he drew in a shaky breath. Two days ago... Perdix paced around the island, looking at the other agori sitting in lean-to’s and other temporary shelters, the kind they normally set up on the backs of their Ships when the storms came, only this time, instead of anchoring to the broad scales of a Ship, they were attached to the solid ground of an Island in the place the Matoran called Naho Bay. He paused, catching sight of an older agori and waling towards him. “Ockema, you didn’t leave with the fleet?” he asked.  The older agori was in the middle of using a knife to whittle down the metallic bones of one of the island’s aquatic creatures into a fishing spear- in fact, it was starting to look similar to the staff that the Matoran Elder, Nokama, carried with her. “Eh, Perdix? Pretra’s decided you’re ready to wear a helm, has she?” Ockema asked, setting the carving knife aside.  Perdix sat down on the sand beside him. “But not ready to sail with the fleet, apparently. Why aren’t you going? You’re not sick, and you’re certainly not a child.” 

The other agori chuckled, his helm discolored and pitted from years of exposure to salty air and punishing storms. “It’s easy to forget that you were barely more than a babe when we first saw this island. You don’t remember what life before Mata Nui was like.”  “We were free!” Perdix replied indignantly. “We didn’t have the Matoran looking over our shoulders, and the sea provided everything we needed.” He crossed his arms, emphasizing his point with a nod.  Ockema looked at him, his face tanned like leather from years of harsh sunlight. “Yes, the sea provides.” He looked distant for a moment. “But we must always remember that the Lord of Water is a fickle being. What the ocean gives, it may also take on a whim.” He looked at Perdix. “Many Agori do not live to be as old as I, taken by the sea. Young or old, strong or weak, the Sea can take them on a whim. Even Elder Etris’ brothers, blessed by the great beings with long life like she was, were taken by the sea, one by one. Yes, we were free. But there was a price for that freedom.” Perdix stilled. “You... But... We had our ships...”

Ockema took up his carving knife and resumed his work. “Not even they are invincible, lad. There are beasts in the dark deep that can drag whole Ships under, and all aboard with them. Storms can drown them same as any nomad. It’s a dangerous life, Lad, and a hard one. But this place... Here, no babe will be swept into the current, no lover dragged into the deeps by a hungry maw. I’m tired, lad. He looked towards the water lapping against the sandy shore. “This little island was flooded by storms not too long ago- That’s why the matoran let us settle here, across from their Koro.” He lifted a hand and pointed to the southwest, across Naho bay where the green domes of Ga-Koro could be faintly seen in the far distance. “But we’re no strangers to flooding water. Isom’s had some Ideas on putting the shelters above the ground on legs of this bamboo stuff the Matoran are fond of, while she’s laid up waiting to have her child. But Shelters on legs, I’ll believe that when I see it.” He set down the knife for the final time, and held the fishing spear out to Perdix. “Here, lad. It takes more than a helmet to make an agori.”

Perdix had remained silent through Ockema’s rambles, and took the spear with polite grace. “Thank you, elder...” he said, the older Agori’s words weighing heavy on his mind.  “Bah, I’m just a prattling old agori. I hear that clan head of that Ta place wants to hav another one of those red matoran poking their nose around here again. Make sure whoever he sends keeps his mask out of where it doesn’t belong, will you?”  Perdix grinned, remembering that red armored guard with the blue mask from the day before. That, he could certainly do.