IC: Reordin (Company Safehouse, Ko-Wahi)
"Seven Chosen, one already a Toa. Six Essence Stones. Any ideas?"
Reordin and Stannis had spent the last ten minutes away from the group, tossing around various interpretations of the prophecy, the roles of the Chosen Ones, and what Joske's transformation into a Toa before the rest of them, and without an essence stone, could mean, what his purpose was, and how it tied into their purpose. Was he to lead them? Were they to help pave the way for his goal? The two hadn't been able to properly define an answer yet, and Reordin repeated, for the tenth time in as many minutes, his "any ideas" line. Stannis merely shook his head.
"There is darkness in you, yet you fight against Makuta. Why?"
He had given some long, idealistic speech about black, white, and grey and what it meant to fight for each, but in the end, those words meant nothing, nor did the intentions behind them, if he couldn't put his head together with the leader of his team and then figure out one simple riddle. His head pounded, not from cold, like the other team members, but from frustration and pent-up tension from Joske's sudden arrival throbbing in his temples. Then, again, for the hundredth time, Takua's final words to him when he was recruited for the Wanderer's Company, all those months ago in the Le-Wahi jungle after the roughest day of Reordin's life, echoed back to him:
"I was worried, before, that I was wrong about you..."
"We'll work on it, I guess," Reordin said, simply, with a shrug. "Dinner's ready. Get it while it's hot. I don't know when we'll be able to chill for breakfast."
He moved to walk away with a small smile at Leah and a nod at Stannis: the prophet and the soldier's eyes met briefly, and something passed between them, long and solemn and a lot more telling of the Ko-Matoran's current indecision than he'd like to admit, before turning on his heel and walking back to the safe house. Oreius and Sulov were busy tending to the now-unconscious Joske, and Reordin stopped to survey the scene. Leah's bed was totally trashed, and it was by a small miracle that Takua's satchel hadn't been--Takua's satchel. What was that blinking?
Slowly, with a growing flutter in his chest that Reordin registered in the back of his head as anxiousness, the lieutenant bent down to the satchel and picked up Takua's journal...