IC: I was crying by the time I was near enough to see what had happened. Y'know, if I ever settle down, I might just become an author; 'Crying In Different Environments And How That ###### Feels.' Le-Wahi you mightn't even notice at first; it's humid enough that you might even get away with it. Ta-Wahi it dries before it even reaches your cheekbones (and trust me guys, I got pretty high cheekbones, this is for real here). Ko-Wahi it stings. It's bitter and cold and you get scared that every tear is gonna freeze on your skin, crystals of ice that give away your vulnerability to everyone around you, your weakest moment frozen in time so that no one can miss it. ######, I'm depressing. Hi, I'm Nikarra, and I'll be your host for today. I wasn't crying because of what had happened. A Toa was dead. Dor was in front of him, obviously broken by the experience. I'd heard the gunshots, the sound of the fight, Dor's shouting, and I'd tried to speed up. Back in the day, I was fit as ######. I could run across ###### rooftops if I wanted to. I killed people -- bad people, but I still killed them, and I did it fairly well for a non-professional. In that moment, I forgot how much I had changed. I guess I expected that kind of adrenaline-powered rage that everyone says you're meant to get at times like this. But after months of barely moving, while I barely ate and my body and mind rotted away, even adrenaline couldn't carry me through. I thought I was getting better, but I guess it's easier to fall out of shape than to get back into it, y'know? I was already lagging behind everyone else by the time Dor sped ahead of the rest of us, my heavy breaths clouding in front of my mouth. I wanted to cry. I wasn't even sure why. Like, yeah, I was exhausted, but it wasn't just that. It was something deeper. Sometimes it feels like that feeling is always just below the surface. It's just that I only notice it when I'm tired. I went from trying my best to catch up to trying my best not to collapse, and that's when the tears started flowing. Because even though I know I could contribute nothing to any fight where Dor could get that thoroughly thrashed, it felt like he needed me, and I was failing him. I wasn't good enough. I don't know what I've signed up for, but... I don't know if I'm good enough to be here. So many thoughts flashed through my mind -- is this how it's gonna be forever? Moving from good to evil, too ###### for the good teams, not ###### enough for the evil ones? Am I that ######? Dor's friend is dead. And I used to be so good. That's what really stings. I lost myself along the way to the point where I'm not even recognisable as the person I was before Dor. And, in a weird way, I don't want to be that person anymore -- I don't kill now. I have a perspective I never had before, I see people in new ways. I'm a better person. I don't want to be the girl I was before. This is his moment. I just, like, wouldn't mind having her body. Stop thinking about yourself for once. I was caught as I saw Dor sitting there, that other Toa's hand on his shoulder, in front of the body I could only assume used to be his friend. Still was his friend. For a second, it wasn't my tears that were frozen, but me -- should I step forward? Should I walk over to him? What do I say, what do I do? Am I important enough to be that close to him right now? Nikarra walked slowly over to Dorian, her breaths shaking, her tears far subtler than she thought they were. She stood slightly behind him, but in line with him, and the gesture was clear -- she wanted to be close to him, but she was also trying to give him space. When he got up, whenever that was, he would see her, maybe even turn around to her; at that point, the choice of whether or not he let her in was entirely his. A tear stung her cheek as she watched him on the ground, a tear shed for his sake rather than hers, as her introspection died away. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out, and she closed it, frowning as something akin to regret made its way across her face. She didn't know the Toa that lay dead on the ground, or even the living one whose hand was on Dorian's shoulder. She didn't know anyone in the team Dorian had assembled. She didn't know what they were trying to achieve. But she knew Dorian. I'm so sorry, Dor.