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[snoip lion]

IC: Tuara - Ta-Koro Chapel

Tuara looked from the Iden to Dorian. She'd seen her fair share of magic tattoos. But this was new.

She pointed, "You didn't make those yourself."

Dorian shook his head.

"And nobody else put them on you?"

Dorian shook his head again.

"Well than," her shoulders slumped, "This is new," she crossed her arms, biting her lip. For a moment she just thought. What was she supposed to do? Dorian might simply be too far from redemption at this point. If he was going to make up for what his rap sheet says, he wasn't going to be doing it outside a prison. He'd be in one for the rest of his life. But if it brought him peace...

But it wasn't exactly like Tuara was in a good position to help him.

She had enough of her own problems.

"I'll help you," Tuara pointed, "But It's going to have to be on two different sides of the bars," she shook her head, "Unless you want both of us to go to prison, in which case, we're both screwed."

Edited by snoip lion, Jan 19 2013 - 02:19 PM.

[Dallas Winston]

IC:

 

"Can I keep the sunglasses and the scarf?"

 

"Well, I mean, if it makes you comfort--"

 

"And I get out at breakfast, lunch and dinner, right?"

 

"...Do you know how prison works?"

 

To be honest, I wasn't really sure how to answer that one. I had heard stories about prison, spent maybe a day or two in a jail cell, but I was always too good at my job to really be contained in one place too long. I had no clue how prison worked, what went down, what they really did to guys like me behind the bars...I was clueless. Tuara being solely responsible for my well being, to boot...yikes.

 

"Alright. Fine. I'll bite the bullet just this once. For you."

 

And, though I didn't say it aloud, kind of for me.

 

-Tyler

Edited by Marlon Brando, Jan 19 2013 - 02:30 PM.

[Vezok's Friend]

IC:

 

The thing is, when you are in a volcano, it doesn't really matter how loud you can roar. The fire-spewing mountain is usually louder in the end. Rhow had expected that more guards would show up to see what the loud Skakdi on their doorstep wanted, but none showed up. Was it opposite day and nobody had told the Horde? The Turaga was dead after nobody had guarded him, the killer escapes and making a scene actually diverts attention away from the shouting Piraka. The guard behind the counter was looking at Rhow. She looked back at the Matoran and just snarled. "We'll show ourselves in." she said.

 

The matoran wanted to protest, but saw that the other guards in the room had already left, or were leaving in the direction of the cell-block. Rhow and company walked past the guardsman and into the headquarter properly, finding it strangely empty. Only when they passed an open doorway that had a broad flight of stairs leading down they realized something was up.

 

"Trouble in the holding-cells?" Iraanus asked. Rhow shrugged. "Looks like it. Come on, writing on the wall says we need to go upstairs." She pointed at the nearest corner. Indeed, the words "captain's office" were written there in matoran lettering, along with the information of where one would need to go if they wished to see the now de-facto leader of the village of fire.

 

They followed the directions provided by the helpful letters and soon found themselves on a staircase leading up into a tower. At the top the Skakdi found a door. Which made finding the office as simple as knocking. Which Rhow did. There was an annoyed grumble on the other side, followed by the rustling of papers and the sliding of tablets on top of each other, before a voice said: "Come."

 

Rhow gave a single nod to Viloz next to her and the Skakdi opened the door. The Captain sat behind his desk, files piled high on it and around it on the floor, the Matoran with the yellow Hau almost disappearing behind the piles, except for a gap that he had left to still be able to do normal business. He didn't look up at first, just saying. "Whatever it is you want to say, say it and be quick about it, I have a lot to do." Only when the heavy footfalls of the eight Skakdi shuffling into the room after another made his table vibrate did he lift his head and after a second's surprise started to frown. This was not the regular everyday-business visit.

 

"Yes...how can I help you?" he asked, rather coldly, apprehensive. Rhow stepped forward and got to the point. "You heard about Pala-Koro and Le-Koro?" "And Xa-Koro." Viloz added.

 

Jaller nodded, standing up. "A messenger brought a report from Kongu."

 

"Did the report say exactly what happened?" Sookus asked. Jaller nodded again. "All the facts are there."

 

"Just the facts, huh?" Rhow repeated, scoffing. "Alright captain, better sit down again, cause I got a story for you that goes beyond facts." Jaller reamined stoically standing, completely unimpressed, he just leaned his head a little to the left, a gesture that was pure sarcasm, seemingly saying 'oh really, I can't wait to hear this'.

 

Half an hour later the captain knew everything that had happened in Le-Wahi, from what the Skadi had been through, to what the Toa Aitua had told them. When they finished, Jaller stood with his back to them, looking out the window. After a few moments of processing the tale, he turned around. "And you are absolutely sure that's the truth?"

 

Rhow nodded. "I don't have time to pull some crazy story like that out of my...yeah, it's true."

 

Jaller crossed his arms, then shrugged. "There is little I can do about any of that now...but I'll inform the men." He walked back to his desk. "Now was there anything else or are we done here?"

 

Rhow chuckled and nodded at the other Skakdi to turn back to the door. "We're done here. Good day, captain."

 

 

---------------------------

 

Several minutes later they were back downstairs, heading back out to the streets. As they left, Rhow noticed a Toa of fire hauling another Toa who wasn't wearing a mask for some reason along by the neck. The woman looked fierce.

 

That guy is so whipped. Rhow thought, before the Horde stepped back out into the heat and dust of the main-street. "What now?" Oraanus asked, a bit disappointed in the short meeting with Jaller. Rhow grinned a trademark Zakaz grin and said. "We're going to the beach."

 

OOC: Horde to Ga-Wahi.

[ZHX]

IC: [Elysi]

 

Elysi spun around, barely holding back the sword with her gauntleted hand. She winced as the flames and heat rushed up her arm - she was losing her touch, usually she could be able to react faster, or at least get further away from her opponent before he had slashed.

 

"I'm not religious," she replied, biting back the pain, and promptly swung an electrified hatchet into the Skakdi.

[JL v2]

IC: Flay

 

Flay slumped back onto the couch, tension leaving. Although Tuara had left the guard, for some reason, she still did her job better than anyone else.

 

Perhaps it was because Dorian and Tuara knew each other. Wasn't hard to figure out.

[snoip lion]

IC: Tuara - Ta-Koro Chapel

Tuara nodded, "Alright."

She sighed, looking down to finish her nod, "Let's go."

"Can I have a moment?"

Tuara nodded, turning away. She stepped to the door pushing it open once more before taking her place outside.

[Dallas Winston]

IC:

 

"Dear God."

 

Well, it's a start: Tuara had walked out of the chapel, leaving me alone with my thoughts and any misgivings I had about this self-help thing. Believe me, there were a lot of them, so I guess you could argue that I really wasn't alone in the first place. That was a new one, I supposed - not being alone. The very concept of spending my life flitting around like a butterfly, carefree and witty and definitely a bit fruity, had been ingrained into my soul for as long as I cared to remember back to. Now it was just me, my thoughts, misgivings.

 

And God. What a joke.

 

I snorted in laughter, my hands still clasped in prayer, and closed my eyes again, taking a deep breath or two and having another go at it. Maybe God would listen; maybe he wouldn't. I'd never pretended to be an expert on theism, or on atheism. I left that to the Four Peers, to Bad Company, to a life I was now attempting to let rest in the annals of history. All I had to do to make it happen was pray. Pray, Dor: you will be free, you will be unshackled, and everything from there is a downhill battle. Believe in me, Shaddix, and you will live, forever.

 

"Dear God...###### ###### it. This is going absolutely ###### nowhere, isn't it. Amen."

 

-Tyler

[Mr. Peanuts]

IC: "Dear boy, I believe that's the most eloquent prayer I've ever heard," A familiar whisper floated into Dorian's ears from behind. A slight pause halted further speech.

 

Then the whisper came again, a smirk nearly audible in its drawl. "Though I must say, I've yet to understand how, precisely, you were able to pray in such a place as this. I was of the inclination that entrance into Mata Nui's territory would result in a divine bolt of lightning incinerating that body."

[Dallas Winston]

IC:

 

No.

 

You died. I know you died. You were in Xa-Koro, just a couple days before I helped level Xa-Koro with a flick of my hand and a wink of my eye. I know you died, because surely no one who's spent so much time around me and wormed their way so totally into my heart could still be alive after all this unless they were just as lucky as me or were capable of killing me with a flick of their wrist.

 

...

 

Both of those were probably true, come to think of it. Either way, my mouth flicked up into a grin, and my hands unclasped with a muttered "Thanks, God" as I moved my head lazily in the direction of Naara's voice.

 

"If I were a lesser man, I'd make a joke about something divine being sent my way after all."

 

-Tyler

[Mr. Peanuts]

IC: "If I were a lesser woman," Naara replied, "Then I wouldn't have been sent your way in this condition."

 

She smirked again at the quip, this time visibly, and met Dorian's eyes with her warm hazel gaze. But her lips seemed oddly drawn. Her eyes seemed slightly distanced somehow, a little dazed. Physically, Naara was aesthetically appeasing as ever. She was slender and luminous, radiating her typical otherworldly beauty. Yet little portions of her demeanor--the tight lips, the thousand-mile stare, a stance shrunken like a wrung sponge, slight unease permeating her relaxed limbs--clued Dorian in to the fact that something was up. Naara was clearly not herself right now. Anxious, her usual snark had been reduced to a timid attempt at a joke before Dorian's eyes. There was something about her he was missing, a piece of the puzzle left out of position as the others fell in place, but what?

 

"What do you mean 'this condition'? Why, your tongue is as barbed as eve-"

 

And then Dorian realized that Naara's legs stopped at the knees.

 

There was silence in the chapel for several moments.

 

Naara's eyes had been cast downwards at the statement. Slowly, ever so slowly, their gaze rose to meet Dorian's again. She bit her lip before repeating the aversion of a locking of stares.

 

"Yeah," She said lamely, low and utterly lacking in the sarcastic edge regularly attached to her speech. "That condition."

[Dallas Winston]

IC: 

 

Ha.

 

Hahaha.

 

I couldn't help it. I laughed.

 

Laughing was, of course, the last thing I wanted to do, but even as I burrowed my head into Naara's collarbone like a beaver would its dam, all I could do was laugh. I wanted to do so much more than laugh. I wanted to destroy everything. Everything about me, everything that had ended up leading to everyone I knew getting royally dicked over in an incredibly unfair cosmic fashion, I wanted to ###### burn it.

 

I wanted to scream symphonies into the ears of the Mark Bearers until their ears bled and deep, dark crimson ran from their heads all the way down their shoulders, over their tattoos, and my voice was crackling and raw like burnt chicken flesh. I wanted to smother the Four Peers with oil on canvas abstract paintings of lovers kissing on a cobblestone road. I wanted to cut the throats of every member of the Toa Daedra with a master's in psychology.

 

I would hang Mata Nui from a black cashmere scarf until he choked, and then I would saw off his legs at the knee, all in the name of my REAL deity, and then I would hold the scarf by the trdangle his corpse for the world to see and scream out, there.

 

Are you happy now, that it has come to this? Because ######, man.

 

I know I am.

 

"Alright, listen," I chuckled drily, into the smooth skin of Naara's neck. "Just...just listen, just take it easy, because...I am going to get us through this, together. I will fix this, alright?"

 

"Dear boy, I knew you were a botanist, but I had no idea that you also knew how to grow a lower leg tree."

 

"No, listen, alright, no time for jokes. I promise you, I swear to you, that this is gonna get fixed, you know why? Because we're more than Toa, Naara. You know what, I'm tired of trying to pretend that I'm not, tired of trying to pretend that I'm a normal guy, because you know what, I'm not, and things like this only prove it, because Naara, love...we  persevere. All the cark we've been through, all the adversity in our path, we have bulldozed over it because we are more. I'm tired of pretending I'm unkillable, because the truth is, I'm not. Any Tom, Dick and Crime Lord can be unkillable. Naara, me, and you...us...we're more. We're untouchable. Alright?"

 

I reached out and hugged Naara, gripped her tight like a child pulls her stuffed animal from the floodwaters that overtook her home and her family, like a man grabs for the last dosage on earth of the cure to his terminal illness. I held Naara like there was nothing outside the space occupied by me, her and her wheelchair in the entire cosmos, because there wasn't. The cosmos existed for us, and if I said that it didn't matter, then by God, it didn't matter. This was my island, now, my universe, and all those old timey cops and robbers and robber barons and criminals living on God-forsaken islets in the middle of a dead sea, those people  were dead and gone if I wanted them to be.

 

"We'll get through this. I swear."

 

-Tyler

 

 

Edited by Marlon Brando, Jan 20 2013 - 12:19 AM.

[Geardirector]

IC: Baranx

 

"Well, that was that, I suppose" Baranx quipped as he emerged from behind the rack he was hiding behind.

 

"So, what do we do now?" he asked Flay

[Norik The Blood Elf]

IC: Feran
Feran got up. He was still trying to stifle a laugh from Dorian's flirty actions.
That's why I'm so different. I just can't be suave enough to do that, he thoughts.

[JL v2]

IC: Flay

 

"Um.....we...still need our orders."

[Taka Nuvia]

IC: Myka (Inn, Ta-Koro)

 

"Well, I suppose we'll find out soon enough." Myka grinned.

 

IC: Zyron (inn, Ta-Koro)

 

"Mhm..." Zyron nodded again, not feeling really enthusiastic about all of this. On the contrary, the more he thought about it, the less he didn't like what he'd gotten himself into. Like so very often.

 

"I guess we better ought to get going then, hm..."

[Mr. Peanuts]

IC: Naara hugged Dorian back for all it was worth, powerless to stop his wrath but attempting to soothe it anyway. She patted him on the back and rubbed circles into him gently. He had dove into her clutches, desparate and raging at the world, and she didn't resist at all. She hated seeing him unhappy like this. But all the same, she had known that he would be unhappier if she never saw him again. And so she had stumbled, tripped, and wheeled her way from bloodstained mire hundreds of kio away to this chapel in search of him. Now she'd found him. She just had to make sure he was fine.

 

"We'll get through this," She repeated softly, too inarticulate for much else at the moment. "Yeah."

 

Presently it came to Naara that a foreign object had entered one of her eyes; they stung bitterly, pricked by an invisible thorn. She tried to blink the pain away. But her eyelids were scalded by salt, only furthering the irritation. What could this object be?, she wondered. Maybe a tiny bit of chipped wood from a pew. Yet the pews nearby were pristine and without scarring. Perhaps, she mused, Ta-Koroan smog. But no smog was in the chapel. The great stained glass windows refracted light and broke it into a thousand hues on the floor, beautiful reds and greens and blues all scattered across the ground, like so many pieces of a broken porcelain cup. Figures formed in the light, not of broken porcelain, but of shattered people and their fractured lives, of a thousand dreams brought to ruin. She watched them idly. The fragments cut her sight, and her eyes stung again, but she blinked and ignored the salt's burn. She looked away. Naara did not want to be reminded of the broken right now, lest more smog injure her eyes. She needed to remind herself and Dorian of putting the broken back together.

 

So she said nothing more. The two of them just sat together. If Naara's eyes became irritated again, she just blinked and continued holding Dorian, rocking him gently in her arms and never letting go.

[Dallas Winston]

IC:

 

To whom it may concern,

 

Do you think you're cute? Do you think that somehow, what you've done is justified? What could justify such an act against a goddess: money, perhaps, or maybe revenge? Some form of misplaced bitterness, jealousy, even? What possesses a man - or maybe a chick; I'm not prejudiced - to take a sword and slice off the lower legs of one of the most active, beautiful, astoundingly divine creatures you could ever lay an eye on? Has your soul truly bottomed out, like a canoe that has taken on too much water? Have you scraped at the lowest edges of the basin of your conscience yet, tried and failed to achieve some sort of peace over the despicable consequences you've wrought on my goddess, and, as such, me, her high priest?

 

Good. You don't deserve it. But I will tell you what you deserve, and I hope that, wherever you are, whenever you receive this message, you pore over every detail, you dart glances over both shoulders every time you so much as notice a punctuation mark, and then I want you to get angry that someone dare speak to you in such an insolent tone as I am about to use in this communique. Now that the question and answer session of this letter is over, I'd like to start this next portion out with fact, cold and beautiful and logical and unforgiving like the sword you used to lop off Naara I'Rohu's legs.

 

You are now officially amongst the walking dead.

 

You don't know this yet, and that's good. I want you to think that you have gotten away with the act that you've committed, an act worse than murder. I want you to think that the reparations for this crime are minor at best, that when all is said and done your deeds will be no more than a blip on the cosmic scale, unable to tip the balance one way or the other. This is the most gilded of lies, and I want you to drain that lie of every ounce of the decadent pleasure it's worth. And then, someday, when you've had your fill of ecstasy, you will see me. Perhaps it will be at a gathering between friends, a place where you feel safe amongst your own kind - such sweet irony that would be, confronting you there, inside the gilded lie itself. Perhaps we can arrange a more private liaison, maybe at a cafe as you drink your morning coffee. Maybe even at your own abode, your own little fortress, your chapel, so you too can know what it's like to lose the best parts of yourself inside a house of God. 

 

That is when I will strike. For every crime you have wrought upon me and my beloved, I will make you pay in turn. As Naara's lips are held together, tightly, fearfully, in turn I will sew yours shut so that your screams bounce off your closed mouth and into your throat like a child's ball against the wall of his bedroom. In exchange for the blank stare in her eyes, I will douse your eyes with chemicals so that you can feel the burn of tears half-shed that can never truly fall. I will leave you shriveled and alone like a raisin dropped from the kitchen table and left for the family pet to nibble on, and then I will give you a vestige of hope, however unworthy of it you may be. I will destroy your legs; there is nothing you can do to stop this, nothing you can truly try to do that will blockade the retribution you have earned about your person, and so I say with the utmost certainty that I will destroy your legs.

 

And then I will let you go. You will have one hour - sixty minutes - to crawl away, make your escape, try and find a way out of the dank heII that I have you marked down for, and then, at the end of those sixty minutes, I will hunt you, and then I will end your life slowly and agonizingly, just as you have ended any hopes of a normal life I may have retained. As for who "I" am, let me tell you.

 

I am the saint, assigned by my goddess to hunt down the sin incarnate that I truly believe you to be with all my heart. I am a priest, as previously stated; I am also a killer, trained and true for decades before I even shed another living being's drop of blood. I am everything you truly believe to be wrong with the world: I am the sudden throes of death that take a child away from its crib before it can even truly begin its existence. I am the driving wedge in a good marriage that shatters entire families. I am a random shark attack that kills three of your best friends on vacation and makes you never want to so much as look at the beach again. I am around you in all the ways that you least suspect me to be, and though for now I bide my time and hold the girl that I love and whisper words of comfort in her ears, know that I am coming for you.

 

Just remember: you asked for this.

 

Sincerely yours,

 

???

 

-Tyler

[CAPUA]

IC: Ta-Koro Guard HQ

 

I had come to a realization.

 

I was slightly less awesome than I had been yesterday. The reason behind this was that I had finally someone who I considered an equal. No, who was I kidding? That guy wasn’t my equal. He was my superior. Maybe once I had been on his level before I had gotten stuck on the wall as some kind of grunt, but now, I had sold out. I wasn’t the heroic rebel that I saw myself as anymore and that saddened me a little. I prided myself on my abilities, my looks, and my charming personality since they made me more unique then the other bland people on the island. Dorian no longer made me feel unique. Staring down at my hands and my feet, I started to walk my head hanging down. I had come to her ask for a raise, but I no longer felt like arguing with Jaller. No, I felt like going back to my rarely used apartment in the village and shining my armor to make myself feel a little better.

 

I said nothing to my fellow guardsman; I just walked by them without even casting a glance. I felt kind of bad since I knew I was those little guys’s hero and all, but who was I kidding? I’m not the super suave heroic figure that I envisioned myself as. The walk back to my apartment was long so I’d have plenty of time to be alone with my depressing thoughts. But then, something hit me as I was exiting the HQ. I thought of that Dorian fellow and how he had nabbed Tuara with ease. It was just the other day when I had thought that all benchmarks had been passed, but no, there was still stuff to do, still stuff to achieve. I hadn’t reached my peak yet. No, I was just getting started. I stopped in my tracks and raised my head.

 

Thank you, Dorian.

 

With all of your tall, dark and handsomeness you had motivated me. You had inspired me to get back out there. To push myself and become the awesome guy I knew myself once to be. Suddenly, I found myself turning back and jogging back to the HQ. The thoughts in my head were simple. If I don’t get that promotion, I’m done with the guard. They’re cramping my style. I thought confidently and I entered the HQ once again. This time though I wasn’t distracted by prison breakouts, no my mission was straight forward. I stormed through the place, pushing aside anyone who got in my way. I felt eyes on me as they wondered where I was going. I myself knew exactly where I was going though. When I reached a door, I suddenly stopped and slammed my fist on the door. “Jaller! It is Toa Amellus! I need to speak to you immediately!”

 

Why did I even announce myself? He would no doubt recognize my voice for this was not the first time I had spoken with Jaller. Besides nearly everyone in the village knew who I was. I was Toa Amellus, slayer of babes and champion of the light. Or at least I was supposed to be. I intended to rectify that little problem right here and now. It took a while for him to open the door and I even considered just melting the door down, but that wouldn’t exactly help me. So I waited and finally the door opened. I looked down to see Jaller, eyes weary and a tired look to him. I shrugged.

 

Boo hoo, Jaller. Managing a village couldn’t be that hard. Once my days of rescuing princesses and defeating Rahkshi were over, I might even consider running for village leader. They’d be crazy not to accept me too, for I’d be an amazing leader. Free booze and women for everyone!

 

“Come in.” He said exhaustingly, beckoning me forward. I rolled my eyes in irritation for I hated how Jaller always treated me like some servant. Just because you were higher then me in rank by like what? Three ranks? I wasn’t quite sure what my rank was and I didn’t really care. I just knew that I was a member of the guard and I’d be ###### if I let some little midget boss me around. I did step in the room though and Jaller walked behind his desk, formerly the Turaga’s desk and took a seat. “Toa Ame… What was it again?”

 

Huh.

 

Why was he playing like that? He knew my name. Everyone did. It was a name that they feared and respected. Or at least it should be. I crossed my arms and glared daggers into his eyes, “Look. I’m not here to play games, boss man. I’m here to discuss my promotion.”

 

Jaller placed his hands under his chin and his eyes seemed to go off to the side for a moment. “Ah yes, Toa Amellus. And according to my memory… you’re a sentry. I don’t see anything wrong with promoting you to-“

 

“I want to be the Deputy.”

 

“W-what?” Jaller said, stuttering as if I had asked something crazy. I basically did.

 

That was why I put on one of my best grins to show him that I was completely serious or at least that was the intended effect. “That’s right.” I told him, getting closer. “Tuara’s gone and I know you need somebody to replace her. I don’t care about whoever the Captain is. Paperwork is not my style after all.” I then kicked my feet on the desk and lean backed in the chair. “So when I can move my stuff in?”

 

Jaller seemed to be trying to form words to my response and then finally, his eyes narrowed and his form became stiff. “Sorry, Amellus. I’m afraid that your request cannot be granted. While I do appreciate your efforts to the Guard, there are other guardsmen who have already been selected for these positions. Now-“ Yeah, that wasn’t cool. So I cut him off before he could drawl on about some other opportunities which I wouldn’t settle for.

 

“No. I’ll just save you some air. I don’t want anything else besides that job.” I said and then I did something that seemed to surprise him. I ripped the emblem off my side and disrespectfully tossed on the desk in front of him. “You can have my badge.” I then turned on Jaller and let him get a nice view of my backside. He could kiss it for all I cared. My talents could be used somewhere else, where they’d be more respected and appreciated. Hey, I heard Po-Koro was nice and their commander was kind of cute I heard. Stroking my chin, I reached for the door knob but I was surprised when Jaller said something.

 

“I’ve got a quest for you, Toa Amellus. Now it might not be deputy… but it is something that I’m sure will interest you.”

 

Now that’s more like it. I turned around and raised an eyebrow, interesting in hearing what this ‘quest’ was about. Perhaps I would travel to the Makuta’s lair and punch him in his face. That would certainly be fun. Or maybe I’d be sent to battle against a dragon. I started to get excited as I anticipated what it was. I didn’t want to seem too eager, though. So I stifled my joy and simply say, “A quest?” In the best bored tone I could conjure. I wasn’t sure it worked for Jaller smirked, walking out from behind his desk and walked over to me, shutting the door and then turning to me.

 

“Yes, a quest. It’s more like a mission, though. You see the Guard is in somewhat of a predicament. We need men. The attack by that Toa of Ice has left us with only a handful of men. You and your brothers on the wall are the only ones left, along with those who were outside of Ta-Koro at the time of the attack. Now we’ve managed to recruit a few more men, but we are in a desperate need of soldiers. I can’t ask to borrow men from the other villages either. However, there are many heroic Toa wandering around without a purpose.” He explained and as he did, I kind of phased out. I wanted him to get the heroic quest part. So yeah, until he told me what dragon I was slaying and what direction to go in, I would keep staring off into space. “I need you to give them a purpose. I need you to recruit new warriors, fresh blood, and bring them back to Ta-Koro, where they can join the Guard.”

 

Seriously, a recruitment mission? That was all? I mean it was better then being stuck on the wall and playing chess with a bunch of old geezers, but it was hardly a real step up. I was about to walk out of this office like I had planned to do earlier. But then Jaller said the right thing.

 

“If you succeed, you may very well be on the way to a promotion. Maybe even deputy…” He muttered, turning his back on me and going to grab the badge. He then handed to me and says, “I need you, Toa Amellus.”

 

Now that was more like it.

 

In response, a grin formed on my face. The leader of the village was begging me to stay on the guard. Nice. “While the promise of promotion does sound enticing… I take this badge not for the pay raise or the glory. I take it because I love this village.” I said in my cheesiest voice, taking the badge from his hand and slamming it on my shoulder.  I then saluted Jaller which looked kind of awkward since he was several feet below me, but I did not care. Truth be told, the only reason why I was even considering this was indeed the job. I deserved it and I finally had my chance to prove it to him.  

 

“I will gather my supplies and leave for my quest tomorrow morning.” I told him proudly and quickly as I had entered the room, I left.

 

-----

 

Jaller sighed, sitting back on to his chair. He was thankful to have Amellus leave his office since he had bigger things to worry about then Amellus’s glory seeking. He was still looking for the honest and capable officers he needed to become Deputy and Captain. Currently, the Guard was technically leaderless. While he offered some guidance, his attention was no longer with them, but the village itself. Still, he needed as many men as he could on the guard. With Tuara quitting, even keeping Amellus on board seemed like a noble effort. It sickened him that he had to appeal to the Toa and sugarcoat him with words of praise, but right now, he had to do what was necessary. Maybe he’d even bring back some capable warriors? Jaller stood up and walked over to the single window that had been placed in the room. He looked out to see Amellus jollily jogging down the street without a single care in the world.

 

Mata-Nui, what had he done?

[snoip lion]

IC: Tuara - Ta-Koro

Tuara tapped her foot as she waited outside the chapel for Dorian.

She wasn't sure exactly how she was supposed to feel about all this. Everybody seemed to hate Dorian. And why wouldn't they? He was a criminal, a murderer, a theif, and a liar. The things Dorian had said to Tuara alone should be enough to justify hating or even killing him, depending on where you stand on the moral compass. Sure, the fact that he was impossible and probably insane was enough to make her dislike him. But no matter how hard Tuara Drigton tried, she couldn't hate Dorian.

Iris had shown her many things during her mental tortures, but one that seemed to be a favorite was what Dorian had shown Iris. Tuara knew about his past, the terrible things that happened and the terrible things Dorian had to do. And she didn't just see it, she felt it. That was a danger with her memorial conditions. Whenever she showed anybody anything, she had to be sure to keep it short and fairly general as not to imprint her feelings onto others. It could be powerful. She could make anybody wish to take their own life, she could make people hate the world as well as love it. She could make anybody love her. Tuara could make anybody feel anything.

And that's what Iris made her do. He made her relate. He made her feel distraught and powerless. Dorian felt like that once. He was a victim of circumstance. How could you not grow up to be like that when such things happened to you? There was simply no avoiding it. Tuara was lucky, even though she might've had many of the same problems, she had the support that she needed when things went wrong. Or, at least she turned to the support properly. She wasn't totally sure of Dorian's situation, only certain parts. But the relation was the part that scared her. Dren said it himself, they were too similar, but with only a single difference. Moral alignment. She could've ended up just like him, if not worse.

Tuara didn't hate Dorian.

She couldn't.

Not when she was Dorian.

Tuara Drigton ground her foot into the hard ground. Dorian had been in that chapel long enough. She turned on her heel, her head still pounding before pushing open the door carefully. Dorian wouldn't ditch her after that spiel, would he?

She stepped inside to see Dorian and a Toa Tuara did not recognize. She instantly drew a blade, suddenly concerned for the Toa's well being. Or Dorian's. The situation wasn't the clearest. Might as well be straight up about that, "Part, both of you," Tuara faltered when she realized the Toa did not have all of her lower body on her. She turned her attention to the Toa of iron, "Dorian, back."

[Indigo Individual]

IC: Myka (Inn, Ta-Koro)

"Yep." Myka smiled, before walking to the reception and handing in her keys. Once Zyron had done the same, they walked out, just in time for Myka to catch a glimpse of a light-grey jacket disappearing into the tunnel to Onu-Koro. Hi again, coincidence.
"Come on," she said, dashing after the Vo-Matoran, Zyron not too far behind.

OOC: Myka and Zyron to Onu-Wahi. Sorry 'bout the bunnying, but I really wanted to get this moving.

[Varren Rehn]

IC:

 

"Well," Nei said, not sure if she was about to say an understatement or not, "That was exciting."

[Mr. Peanuts]

IC: Naara was tired. Not merely in the sense that she felt more physically exhausted then she had ever in her life up to this point, but in the mental sense as well; she was fatigued and weary of a world that shattered dreams and had broken her in so many ways. Her mind was lethargic without prayer for a better future. Most of all, she was tired of hoping against hope that someday--somewhere, somehow--she could be in a place with just Dorian, and then finding repeatedly that she could not even see him.

 

Yet in spite of her overwhelming exhaustion, Naara decided to stick to other priorities than self-preservation. Maybe she wouldn't would quip further. Perhaps it would be that she would not even find a place to stay for the night. But Naara would rather burn forever in Karzhani than not provide some sort of defense to the most important in her view of the world, the one whom she wanted to be happy above her own self's wants and needs and the one friend and lover she had.

 

"It's fine," She said wearily, turning her gaze to meet the Ta-Toa with bleary hazel orbs. "He's done nothing to hurt me."

[snoip lion]

IC: Tuara - Ta-Koro Chapel

Tuara shook her head, "Sorry love, but even bringing Dorian to any place that isn't a prison cell is enough to put me into one of my own. Letting him stay here alone would be enough to double my sentence. Letting him stay here with another person who I know nothing about is enough to triple that sentence again."

Edited by snoip lion, Jan 20 2013 - 09:28 PM.

[Norik The Blood Elf]

IC: Feran

"Exciting isn't the way I'd put it, buit yes," Feran said.

He turned to Flay.

"So who do we take our orders from now? Since Tuara's not...well...full-time, or something," Feran asked.

[The Pale Rider]

IC: Ripley

 

"Sorry love, but even bringing Dorian to any place that isn't a prison cell is enough to put me into one of my own. Letting him stay here alone would be enough to double my sentence. Letting him stay here with another person who I know nothing about is enough to triple that sentence again."

 

Ripley heard them before she saw them thanks to her Kanohi, and sensed something was wrong. She stepped into the Chapel and looked around, seeing a group of beings together. She walked over to them, her steel claws twitching in case of danger.

 

"Is there a problem here?" she asked.

 

 

OOC: That's you, snoip lion and Jerry Renault.

Edited by The Pale Rider, Jan 20 2013 - 11:09 PM.

[Dallas Winston]

IC:

 

"Dorian, back."

 

"Dorian, back."

 

Kynaera sobbed dryly and clung tightly to Dorian's chest; every muscle in the male Toa's body tightened at the very sound of the voice, fatherly, sympathetic, but with a distinct cold tone running implicit between syllables, a cold that vaguely reminded Dorian of trying to run barefoot along the Three Brothers Bridge. It occurred to him again that literally no one knew the two of them were there: this slaver's base in the built into some artificial mountain in Ko-Wahi, no one would ever think to even look for him and Ky here. Not with Dor driven half-insane by various different torture methods and Kanohi combinations and Kynaera having retreated into her own thoughts, slowly regressing into a primal state and crying in her sleep and screaming for...

 

"Dorian, back. Please."

 

He didn't even have time to stand up: two men in full protective clothing, black and yellow so that no features could be distinguished, grabbed him by the shoulders and hefted him away, slamming the heavy iron door even as Kynaera's screams doubled and doubled and doubled some more until they had doubled tenfold, and Dor was being pulled down a long hallway, cursing and yelling for the man to turn around and look at him, give him the respect he deserved by looking him in the eyes before he killed Dor, and the man just kept beckoning for him to follow until they had entered a spacious room, void of any decoration or color except a dull gunmetal iron box with a small window for breathing in the front face of the cube, and on the top, a rectangular slot small enough that you couldn't even fit a Matoran's hand through it dead center in the middle of the room.

 

"You see, the rough part of my job is ransoming people, Dorian," the Boss explained as he sat down over the slot on the top of the box and grinned jovially; he had a nice grin, plenty of even teeth, though the wrinkles of age popped up here and there on his face when he smiled. Everything about him was starting to age, it seemed: he had the gait of a man years younger than he, but all the same, it was clear that this guy was running an eternal marathon, trying to outpace the clock even though it was always stepping on the backs of his heels.

 

"Because people are always telling me, no, sir, it's a mistake. Please, my family, we come from money, they'll pay for me and I can be home this time tomorrow. And then I give them the benefit of the doubt, because I'm a generous man, you see? But the money never comes, so I start to wait, and then I wait some more, and then even some more, and by now my goodwill starts to...wear thin, I suppose you could say. And then they have to be eliminated, because what good is keeping them going to do if no one else wants them?

 

"The thing that intrigues me about you is that you practically waltzed into my waiting embrace with your prettyboy face and your prettyboy sketch pad full of prettyboy drawings, and you had this lovely looking girl on your arm...and even though experience tells me that you'll be no different, after all that you've been put through in my loving arms, you still have the sheer sack to keep sneaking about after hours throughout my little corner of the sky, trying to build yourself a glider and soar free. I like that. No, you know what? I respect that. And it's why I'm gonna open your eyes."

 

He pushed himself off the slot and took a canister full of a thick, tarry black substance and poured it right into the slot as though it were just rancid drink he was pouring into a trash can. A low moan carried out from the few air holes there were in the box, and Dorian realized with a start that there was a real live person in there, and then he began to look at the box, and then he looked at the empty container in the slaver's hand, and a sick feeling began to broil over in his gut as he realized what exactly he was standing in front of.

 

"You see, my boy, I have been doing this since you were a speck. This has been my life's work since you were but a fragment of a concept in your father's mind, and when you've been doing this sort of business as long as I have," he continued, drawing a small parcel from his pocket, "you start to look at this canister as a tool for art, not destruction. Someday, you will look at an empty container like this the way that you look at a paintbrush now, and you will thank me for this lesson today. Say thank you, Dorian."

 

...

 

"Fine. Be that way for now, soon enough, you'll turn around. I want you to take this."

 

The parcel was pushed into his hand forcefully, and Dorian flipped it open with an iridescent blue glare that screamed bloody murder at the slaver as his fingers scraped against a single match inside a matchbook. The slaver's smile upped a notch, as did the cavernous wrinkle along his forehead: it was quite hard not to stare at, and Dorian repressed the urge to laugh welling up in him like a hot spring. 

 

"Light it, and toss it in the slot."

 

The spring dried up.

 

No.

 

"Do it, Dorian," the slaver continued, taking a step forward and resting a reassuring hand on the young Toa's shoulder, "or I will take my knife, drag it across the throat of your little ###### down the hall one little centimeter, and then I will keep on rinsing and repeating through this exercise with you every single day until she finally bleeds out. Do you want blood on your hands, Dorian, or do you want oil? Remember, this poor man is worth nothing to anyone, not even his family. No one will miss him; no one will mourn him. It's up to you to decide whether that kind of life is worth losing one so...promising...as your young lover's. Think about it for a second, Dorian: blood or oil. Like I said, I'm a patient man."

 

A slow glance at the wrinkle, creased with a growing agitation that belied his supposed patience. A lone match, its destiny just as predetermined as that of the poor man locked inside the gunmetal box. He was dead anyway, just another poor dead soul on an island where the majority of people were poor dead souls, just that half of them weren't exactly buried yet.

 

The walking dead.

 

Dorian deliberately closed his eyes as he flicked the match against his cheek and tossed the lit stick into the box, hardened his heart and his senses against the sudden sound of ear-rending shrieks, crackling flesh like wrapping paper being balled up and tossed away, the sudden acrid stench like burnt toast. His senses held out as long as they could before they were overcome, and with a loud gasp that sounded as though he had nearly drowned, Dorian's eyes opened to see the slaver, standing in front of him, arms open and face grinning. The wrinkle twitched in a grim, sadistic pleasure as the man's eyes beheld the newborn killer, still deliberately boring his ocean blue gaze into the face of his captor to avoid having to watch another living being burn alive by his own hand.

 

"Tell me, Dorian, what do you think a psychopath is...?"

 

The world warped and blended into a variety of newfound settings and people, and suddenly I was holding Naara again: Tuara was beside me, and approaching, some new chick. Wasn't that just fantastic.

 

More of a scene; more of the same.

 

"I'm coming, alright? Just give me a minute."

 

-Tyler

[snoip lion]

IC: Tuara - Ta-Koro Chapel

Tuara waved a blade in the general direction of the newcomer, "There's no problem," she diverted her warning gaze to Dorian, "We were just leaving."

When Dorian didn't move again, Tuara stepped forwards, speaking with much haste, "You have two options Dorian, you come with me this very instant and I might put a good word in for you one day, or stay here. In which case you will have no good words from anybody. Say goodbye and let's go," Silence, "Get up!" Tuara raised her blade again, "Dorian Shaddix, you get up right now or I'll never help you again."

[Mr. Peanuts]

IC: Naara gently extricated herself from Dorian's embrace. Her limbs nimbly moved with the experience of what few cuddles she had experienced with the Fe-Toa, unwrapping to fall at her side in their original position. Her gaze fell from the other female back to his Calix. Now her own kanohi had regained composure and her eyes a bit of their old luminescence. She smirked at him slightly.

 

"Dear boy, if you die, rest assured of the fact that I will kill you, so it's advisable you attempt to remain your regular pulchritudinous self lest you find Karzhani not to your liking. Farewell."

 

Naara spun her wheels so that her seat pivoted forty-five degrees to the left. Then she set its spokes cycling into a quiet exit from the pew and, shortly, the chapel.

[The Pale Rider]

IC: Ripley

Ripley looked at the beings in front of her.

"Look, I know something is going on. I can practically smell the tension. Now, I'm not usually one to butt in, but I don't think a chapel is any place for a fight." she said.

Edited by The Pale Rider, Jan 21 2013 - 12:19 PM.

[Ilyusha Blokfase]

OOC: Yo, Acey, I don't think you understand just how much you're butting into something they don't want to have butted into right now. I recommend you just pull your character out before she gets killed.

 

IC-Naria:

 

"So, wait, Cysero, weren't we going to go to Le-Koro a while ago?" Naria asked, even as she and Cysero stood at the place where Vakama's funeral had taken place. "And while I know it's a little crass to ask...how did we even get here?"

[Dallas Winston]

IC:

 

"You're not one to butt in," I replied, my face hard and impassive as I watched Naara roll away, "and yet here you are."

 

Naara was gone again, and this time, it was more than just a physical departure: though she'd tried to cover it up, tried to use her typical barbed wit and apathetic smirk as makeup for her pain, I could tell that she was suffering worse than anything even I could imagine. Her entire life had been a lesson, a repeated exercise of fluidity in motion. She could do more than just manipulate water, she was water, with all the unpredictability and the underlying softness that sort of moniker suggested. Anything that was liquid, anything even remotely damp, it was hers for the taking, and if that held any truth to it, then I might as well have been a puddle on the chapel floor, because I was completely and totally hers to command. Without her legs, she had felt as though she'd lost that power.

 

And yet, even as Naara's form disappeared, I knew that wasn't true, because something tugged - no, slammed - away inside my chest, urging to go after her. Tuara's blade was raised against my neck, and I could tell that she was losing patience, but even as I stood and the blade lowered, I felt like I wasn't exactly moving under my own power. My legs were numb, borderline immobile, and Tuara took me by the neck again. This time, it wasn't vindictive, or irritated, it was...soft, almost. Understanding? Maybe she just didn't wanna make a scene.

 

IC:

 

"We were looking for a black panther that I could skin and turn into a tuxedo blazer."

 

-Tyler

Edited by Marlon Brando, Jan 21 2013 - 01:03 PM.

[Ilyusha Blokfase]

IC-Naria:

 

"I thought you were taking me off to find whatever Naming-Day present you wanted to get me, after I got you that special Kolhii Staff," Naria replied with a smirk.

[The Pale Rider]

OOC: Ripley is kind of nosy. She's not going to give up so easily.

 

 

IC: Ripley

 

Ripley scowled at the comment.

 

"Look, I'm not looking to start anything." she said, and raised her hands, revealing razor sharp iron claws. "I just want to make sure there's no trouble here." she said. Using her elemental power, she make her claws grow, becoming half again as long as her forearm. Her armor expanded, covering the exposed areas, and allowed spikes to jut out of her elbows and knees. Talons grew on her feet, they clicked with each step.

 

"My duty is to defend this island. I will not stand by when there is clearly something going on." she growled, her voice muffled by her altered mask.

[Ilyusha Blokfase]

OOC: And Tuara is basically second in command of the entire Ta-Koro guard, and Dorian could disembowel your character with your own character's left nostril. I recommend you leave.

 

IC-Dendron:

 

"How did I...get here?" I asked, standing somewhere in Ta-Wahi, telerahkshi staff on my back, wooden baton at my belt, and thoroughly confused. "Because last I knew I was in a cell in Onu-Wahi..."

[The Pale Rider]

OOC: Oh...uh, sorry about that. My characters haven't seen much action in a while.

 

 

IC: Marda and Ripley.

 

Ripley was ready for battle, no matter what happened, but before she could do anything she suddenly felt weak. She looked to her left, and Marda was there, hand on her shoulder. Marda used only a fraction of her power, calming Ripley.

 

"My apologies, friends. This one is a little too nosy for her own good. We'll just be going now." She said, leading her disoriented ally out of the chapel.

 

Marda and Ripley, out...

[Sir Flex Nardius]

IC: [Elysi]

 

Elysi spun around, barely holding back the sword with her gauntleted hand. She winced as the flames and heat rushed up her arm - she was losing her touch, usually she could be able to react faster, or at least get further away from her opponent before he had slashed.

 

"I'm not religious," she replied, biting back the pain, and promptly swung an electrified hatchet into the Skakdi.

 

OOC: Isn't that an auto-hit? Oh well.

 

IC: Purgatory (Ta-Koro)

 

"Neither am I my dear, but I do enjoy to worship myself," he grinned as she held back his blade with her gauntlet. Suddenly she swung her hatchet, burying it into his shoulder. Purgatory roared in agony. He then attempted to ram the other side of his blade into her gut and fire one of his zamor's at her arm holding the hatchet.

[ZHX]

OOC: I never actually stated it making contact, you could have dodged, but eh.

 

IC: [Elysi]

 

Elysi stumbled back in pain, the sphere exploding on contact with her now bleeding arm, causing her to let go of the hatchet, still buried in her opponent's shoulder. Yet it did provide her with some benefits, the Skakdi's blade only nicking a line across her body instead of cutting through.

 

"Nobody ..." she coughed, pooling her energies, "... calls me ... DEAR!"

 

She thrust her hands out, the gauntlets channelling a wave of electrical power towards her opponent.

[snoip lion]

IC: Tuara - Ta-Koro

Tuara slackened her grip as she pushed open the chapel doors with her shoulder. She checked the street before stepping out again, Dorian no longer crouched over and wasn't nearly as uncomfortable as before. She still kept a steady grip on the Toa though, but more in terms of support than superiority. The beautiful Toa sighed as she led her gender-bent, alternate-universe version of herself to the nearby prisons, "Did you know she was going to be there? Is that why you asked me to leave?"

"Can we at least wait to be inside?"

Tuara gave a curt nod, repressing her desire to question Dorian as she pushed people out of her way.

Upon reaching the prison, she motioned to Dorian, "Dorian Shaddix. Turned himself in yesterday."

 

* * *

 

Dorian stood alone, maskless, watching Tuara. She seemed to be in a heated argument with a jailer. They were across the room, said room being a sort of administrative room. It was here that a new prisoner would meet with the jail-master, and it was here his things would be checked and taken to be held; given back upon release. Dorian didn't say anything; probably happy enough to still have his sunglasses, but the Guard that was fixing up his things for him spoke gruffly, "A placement dispute," Dorian looked to the Matoran Guard, a large scar across his face, "We've got only one spot for you right now, and Amazon over there doesn't like where that is."

"Whatever, fine. I'll take it. But I need daily visits if what I think is going to happen is going to happen," the jail-master, Traktre nodded. Tuara turned away, looping her fingers into her belt as she approached the linked wall between her and Dorian. Tuara stopped across from Dorian, his hands in cuffs, "I'm not going to lie, I'm not exactly happy with the arrangements we've got you, but it's the best we're going to be able to do. Especially when I don't run the show anymore."

[Nohiki]

IC: Fiera

"Whenever you need." I smiled, getting up and ordering a coffee at nearby stand. I grabbed it and immediately dropped it with a hiss. The cup broke and the coffee splashed on the ground. The cut on my hand felt like it was on fire. "###### it!" I cursed, rubbing the cut with my other thumb.

[Dallas Winston]

IC:

 

"No," I said suddenly, my deep blue eyes gazing right through Tuara and into something unknown, invisible, my elbow and temple propped against the wall as I leaned lazily against the side of the room. "I didn't know she was there. I just wanted to be alone for once."

 

I think, looking back, Tuara might've caught the irony in that half-truth, could have discerned the symbolism of that statement. I'm not sure, but then again, in that dark room, with no Kanohi and a pair of white hipster sunglasses dangling by one temple from my back pocket and handcuffs held tight around my wrists, I wasn't sure of anything. Wasn't sure of whether this would work, whether Tuara could bother to help, whether or not prison food would totally blow.

 

For a second, there, I wasn't sure of whether it was worth it to stay alive merely to be some political-minded cop's Sexibeasticus dorius or excuse for a promotion.

 

"I never pinned you as the kind of guy that has attachments. Never seen you stay in one place for more than a couple hours."

 

I looked up at that, met her crimson eyes with my flirty blues, and one eyebrow shrugged cynically. I didn't want to talk about Naara at the moment, and I'm not entire positive that I ever will; she is my boundary line, the sanctum in my mind no one else can ever enter, and betraying the holiness of that safe zone to anyone was a breach of everything that still believed it was decent in my heart and my head. Another picture, unbidden: a Toa of Water, in a wheelchair, tearing up and holding me as I laughed and ranted and promised the world, unable to turn my wrath into something tangible and slay it but willing to try anyway.

 

I knew Naara; I loved Naara. That woman in the wheelchair wasn't Naara.

 

A picture rose in my mind of Naara trying to walk on those little stumps of legs, sparring against me while she moved around on her knees, unable to stand at full height, and I started to laugh again despite myself; the sound wasn't musical, or soft, like most of my general chuckles. It was pained, like there was a hot iron on my chest that pushed into my heart with every push outwards. The sound ended with a crack that could have turned into a dry sob had I not steeled myself.

 

"So, this is it, then," I said quietly as the bitter ecstasy of my laugh died away.

 

"I'll be back tomorrow before you know it. Just try not to do anything stupid."

 

"Is that a note of trust I hear in Tuara Drigton's voice?" I replied sardonically. "I think the Guard over there confiscated my bucket list. You think I could get it back so I can cross off #46: Worm My Way into a Cop's Heart?"

 

Tuara rolled her eyes and went to move away, but with a speed that belied my captive and Kanohi-less state, I reached one hand through the bars - no easy feat, lemme tell ya - and squeezed her hand. When she turned, I guess my face must have looked at least somewhat sincere, because something in her eyes softened a bit, became a softer red as opposed to the typical driven crimson. 

 

"Uh, McHotty...thanks for pretending you give a ######."

 

Tuara sort of averted her eyes for a moment, not exactly sure how to respond. She gave her head a very small subtle shake before looking back up to Dorian. Tuara gave a little smile, "I thought it was about time that somebody did."

 

Incoming Tuara feels. Abort, abort, abort.

 

"See you tomorrow, then," I replied, letting go of her hand and leaning my forehead against the bars with a roguish, cute smirk that was only inches away from her face. "Don't worry about bringing breakfast. I'll take care of it."

 

Before Tuara could ask how I was going to possibly take care of breakfast, I'd winked at her and turned to follow the Guard. The cell wasn't really that long of a walk, and I was led into my new little slice of heaven a lot more gently than I probably would have been if Tuara weren't vouching for me. The door slammed shut behind me with a shuddering bang, and it had just finished reverberating through the air around me when another booming sound echoed through the cell block.

 

"So they finally got you."

 

What?

 

No. You're dead. I heard that you'd died: I'd heard you all died.

 

"If they'd got me, do you really think I'd be here?"

 

Another booming laugh: my God, it really was him. I'd recognize that laugh anywhere, because I didn't think anyone else I'd ever met could make that exact sound. It was melancholy, mixed in with disbelief, and it had the distinct undertones of someone who had spent a very, very long portion of the last few months moping. 

 

"No," Tank replied. "I guess you wouldn't be."

 

-Tyler