OOC: B/C of Krayzikk's post in Ko-wahi, I wrote appropriately as promised.
IC: The Hapaka (The night after Casa Juturna’s arson, the death of Greed, and Anthyn’s Sandwhich.)
Ishi stumbled across the dividing line between corridor and records room as Labelle gave him a curt push on the back through the open door. The floors on the upper stories were all made of tightly woven reed mats, no doubt supported by the latticework of plantlife seen on the ground floor. Ishi couldn’t help but recognize the skill Ga-Koro’s natives had at organic architecture. The three virtues surrounded by a spiraling nautilus shell were woven into the center of the otherwise yellow-green floor; the silver insigna of the Marines. Ishi found himself lost in the wicker and driftwood furniture, the armrests and backs of chairs lined in old rigging. Everything had a coastal and nautical feeling, down to the letter opener on the desk made from a navigational tool. Four large windows looked out at the darkened gardens and training ring in the center of the compound below, closed jars of light bugs gently strobing with yellow dazzle for illumination. The guard on duty stiffened as she saw the two beings enter, her trident placed rigidly with the butt digging into the floor.
“What do you want?” The guard asked with a gruff voice, her tone made it obvious they weren’t expected.
“I need to... Question this criminal and file a report on his booking, so I thought I’d kill two Gukko with one stone. You mind giving us some privacy?” Labelle rattled out as it were standard procedure. Ishi decided to play cheeky.
“Yeah, and what sort of questioning requires being GRAAAOOOW!” Ishi shouted as Labelle viciously squeezed his wounded shoulder. He dropped to a knee, panting as the pain rushed to his head, temporarily mangling his vision into sharp bursts of red. The guard barely flinched, and continued her dialogue with Labelle as Ishi attempted to regain composure, taking deep breathes through clenched teeth. Once the door closed and the two were alone, Ishi let the manacles fall to the ground in a jangle of chain, the key still damp from having been under his tongue.
“That was... Painful,” Ishi said as he rose to his full height. “I’d advice not doing that again. I shouldn’t have to remind you you’re still a wanted conspirator in the Mark Bearer fiasco.” Ishi strode into the room, right hand stretching and contracting to release the remnants of the pain. I can’t get distracted, not right now, Ishi thought to himself. With a sweep of his eyes, he quickly gathered his surroundings into a mental picture. Pointing towards the rack of records behind a large desk, Ishi said; “Labelle, why don’t you point your currently ugly face that direction and read some scrolls. I’ll start with the bulletin board,” Ishi finished as he walked towards a wall of damp clay, matoran letters indented across its surface haphazardly.
IC: Kriigata (Pre-Nokama’s Funeral
Moonlight pierced through clouded horizons murky grey, the southwestern bank of the Naho River cast with an eerie illumination in the late hours of the night. Kriigata’s cautious footsteps across the river rocks was broken with a quiet splash as she slipped for a moment.
“Raxvit,” She whispered forcefully as her body was caught in the grey illumination of the moon, silver tattoos lacing across her armour glittering in the ghost-light. She shrank away from the moon as if physically pained by the encounter, feeling a blanket of darkness wrap around her body as she retreated further up the bank. Cautiously, she moved forwards, keeping her stance light on the bank. The roar of Naho Falls boomed through her skull, pulsing through her body as the raging torrent of her element fought for control. Kriigata hated it. As the falls grew closer Kriigata’s memories overtook her mind. With each creeping step towards the edge Kriigata felt the power of being pulled off the deck and thrown into black, frothing depths. Her body involuntarily shivered from the cold spray of the river dashing off the edge. She crouched, fingers curling over the edge of the monolith carved into the falls. Kriigata was on the forehead, water rushing on either side like long flowing hair. The granite surface had grit. Wind buffeted the young toa of water, but never once was she pulled off the rock.
Below was Ga-Koro. The city of lilpads spread out like a virus from the edge of Naho Falls, overtaking the beaches and bay with glittering lightstones and the sounds of sea chanties. Sailing vessels lined the edge of the spreading community, their propellers lulling with a dull thrum barely audible above the sound of breaking water around her. Kriigata stared deeply for a long time, taking in each street and watercorner with the yellow eyes of a predator. Tonight she had business in the city.
IC: Riaril (Nokama’s Funeral in effect)
Riaril’s world was empty and black, devoid of anything but her immediate surroundings. Riaril’s hand glided along the dark iron railing of a spiral staircase, metal rail polished and smoothed from countless use. Above was a doorway, bright luminescence filtering down to where she was. Try as she might, Riaril could move no faster than a leisurely pace, each footfall seeming to take minutes. Every so often a single water droplet the size of her head would fall down through the center of the spiral. Drip. Riaril took pause, noting how perfect the droplet was. The orb had no deformities, a perfect sphere mirroring her face as it passed, showing the tears she shed on an unmasked face.
“What is going on,” Riaril asked. At first, only a deep chuckle responded, until finally the basso voice of one she knew all too well replied in a loving tone.
“You’re sad,” He said, voice floating down like a cloud from the doorway above. “You may not allow yourself to feel it, but your heat is breaking. All you once knew is lost. It’s time to build something new Riaril.”
Riaril’s breath came out in a long woosh of air. Her heartlight was beating rapidly, called almost magnetically to the voice above. Her pace increased until Riaril found herself sprinting up the stairwell, which swelled in width the farther up she went, until before her was the massive doorway stretching an eternity in either direction. Golden light enveloped her, and in an instant she disinegrated into a new vision: him. Her face pressed deeply into his chest, feeling the muscle of her unarmored champion. A hand descended and gently landed on her shoulder, digits reaching all the way to her spine. He was here with her. The two stayed in embrace, letting their heartlights speak all.
She blinked, feeling the silver scars across her left eye squirm. Riaril pulled herself up in the chair, peeled her face from the dinner table with a yawn. Brilliant golden light flushed through the kitchen window, making her remaining eye squint. Sleep still passed through her mind like a drug, dulling her senses. Her tongue felt thick and useless. Beneath the kitchen window the faucet prepared to loose another droplet of water.
“You stop that,” Riaril muttered, her glare causing the water to crawl back into the pipe like a frightened animal. Leak fixed, Riaril leaned back and stretched, arms reaching above her head with the crackling of realigning gears. She rolled her neck a few times, feeling the tension leave her body.
“Stupid dreams,” She muttered and pushed herself onto unsteady feet. Outside the kitchen window, Riaril saw fishers and sailors hawking their wares on the Nokama Docks. The calls of avarian rahi looking for hahnan crab shells pierced the midmorning air. With a dull voice, she commented; “Welcome home, Riaril. Yup, just you again.” The smell of ocean wafted through the house from the open pool in the center of the floor. The smell of salt was refreshing after so long in the land of smoke and sulfur. It’s a wonder I ever took that job, Riaril thought, remembering how naive she had been those years ago. Back when Team Kanohi Dragon was the best medical ensemble on the island. Dragons don’t exist, that’s what Taki said. Oh the irony.
With a sigh, Riaril removed her kanohi from the kitchen window. Brushing her hand against a fern growing freely in the wall, Riaril smiled sadly. It was deepest green, but the tips had become golden from lack of water. Closing her eye for a moment, Riaril felt the power of the sea beneath her feet, and summoned a light mist around the withering plant. Her smile became one of content as the fern responded with a flush of color. “Everything just needs a little care, huh?”
The silence was stifling. Riaril realized she was talking to a plant. I need conversation with a protoderm, for Mata-Nui’s sake. Grabbing her medical coat, Riaril slipped the whitened flax garment on with practiced ease. She buttoned the front up to her chin, feeling the rewarding fit as the handsewn coat fit to her figure. Stepping out the front door, a light ocean breeze swept the bottom half of Riaril’s coat about her knees, billowing like a sail from below the waist. Beautiful day, Riaril thought as she gazed at the world, the sunlight livening her mood. For security’s sake her right hand floated to her thigh, causing relief at the metal sai held in place by its leather sheath. Chuckling softly, Riaril set out across Nokama Docks.
OOC: Riaril open for interaction. Yes, that’s right: Riaril.