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BZPRPG - Le-Wahi


Nuju Metru

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IC Luten:

"Should I dissipate for a little bit? If I'm out when you go in, they might charge extra...."

IC:

 

Lannon thought it safe to assume that dissipating meant reverting back to her original "mask" form.

 

"Uh sure, go right ahead. That's very kind of you."

 

He felt the weight of her suddenly disappear from his shoulder. The pleasant tingle of a bell resounded as he entered through the inn's front door. The innkeeper's eyes flicked up from the pages of a book. He was a Le-Matoran, with slightly plump features and round crystal spectacles.

 

Lannon cleared his throat. "Hi I'd like a room for one please. Just for the night."

 

"Sure thing," the man said. "That'll be 7 widgets."

 

The Toa of Iron nodded and retrieved the amount from his wallet. He counted each piece out on his palm before handing them over.

 

"Thank you sir. Room five, up the stairs and to the left. Breakfast is served at eight o' clock. I hope you enjoy your stay." He passed Lannon the key.

 

"Thanks," the Fe-Toa replied with a quick smile.

 

The room was easy to find. He had to jiggle the key in the lock a bit, but made it inside without too much trouble. He locked the door behind him. It was a quaint little space. The bed frame appeared to be hand-carved, along with the chair that sat in the corner.

 

He set the mask down on the bed. "Well, I think the coast is clear."

Edited by Requiem
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IC Luten:

 

A small flash of purple light brought the tiny crystal being into existence again, sitting daintily atop the mask.

 

She looked around the small room, and cautiously clambered down onto the bed.

 

A few experimental steps later and she flopped onto the soft surface.

 

"A bed! A real bed! It's so soft!"

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IC: 

 

 

The Fe-Toa couldn't help but chuckle at her obvious excitement over such a simple pleasure. It was easy to forget that this was her very first day alive

 

He took off his drenched jacket and hung it over the back of the chair to dry, grateful for the warmth of the room's interior. He watched as raindrops snaked their way across the window pane. 

 

Something suddenly dawned on him. 

 

"Say... What should I call you?"

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IC:

 

 

Thank Artakha she has a name. I couldn't even name a pokawi if my life was on the line.

 

"I'm Lannon," he said, extending his index finger for her to shake. He smiled. "It's a bit serendipitous that we're both L's, huh?" 

 

Wow that also sounded really dumb.  

 

The entire situation was quite peculiar really. The day had definitely not turned out the way he'd expected, and he was still unused to her presence. She was like something out of a storybook that a mother might read to her child. 

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IC:

 

A look of bewilderment took ahold of his features, and an awkward pause ensued.  

 

"Huh..? .... Oh! I'm sorry, my head wasn't in the right place." 

 

He knelt down and opened up his palm as if he were about to shake someone's hand. "This is a way people greet each other sometimes, especially when you're meeting someone for the first time. I only held out my finger to you because your hand is a bit.. uhm.. small."

 

He tentatively took her dainty little hand between his thumb and forefinger. "See? Like this." He shook it carefully, but firmly.

Edited by Requiem
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IC (Lannon):

 

"Ga-Wahi, actually." he replied quickly, blushing slightly at the "mister" part she had decided to add in. He scratched the back of his head and cast his eyes anywhere but towards her. "At least that's where I washed up. Everything before that is a little fuzzy."

 

He missed the ocean. The white sands of Naho Bay, the crystalline sky, the fresh salty breeze against his face... It was the only place he knew as home. 

 

"What about you?" he asked Luten. "Do you remember anything before you were uh... born this morning?" 

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IC Luten:

 

Her glow became more blue momentarily on the word Ga-Wahi.

 

"Before...?"

 

She had come into being so suddenly that she'd never had the opportunity to consider 'before'.

 

She dissipated, her focus taken from maintaining a physical form.

 

She reappeared a moment later.

 

"I'm not sure. I had some knowledge when I...became me. My name, what I was, how to talk, that sort of thing. But I don't remember a before..."

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IC:

 

His gaze remained on the floorboards, focused and unwavering. In many ways, he missed those simple days in Ga-Koro. He missed the boisterous laughter of the fishermen, and the way their sails fluttered in the early morning breeze, perfectly in tune with the morning rays that speckled the waves with iridescent light. It seemed like a time long past, and the memories themselves seemed almost alien, as if they were those of another person entirely. 

 

He observed Luten's form flicker out of existence, only to reappear a second later. The movement pulled him sharply from his daze, but he shook his head a little for good measure to rid himself of any remaining reminiscent thoughts. 

 

"I see.." he replied blandly. There clearly wasn't a whole lot that she did know about herself. He almost felt sorry that she had been tossed into such an unfair place of existence, marooned on an island with a swarming population of belligerent, elemental-wielding freaks. It seemed as though all one had to do was walk twenty paces to find oneself in some kind of predicament. 

Edited by Requiem
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IC: Trudan

 

You'd think I'd be bored of this by now. That would make sense - but The Song needs none. Pure instinct, rhythm, life calls me. I know and want no other life than that I live.

 

My fingers dance in time with the flapping wings of my audience of Fishing Birds, my flute with those who rejoice as I do in the waters of The Song. There is no interruption, there rarely is. I've found that few who dwell in the world of complication remind themselves of beautiful places. It is solitude, yet I do not feel alone.

 

Still, a part of me fantasises, craves that somehow, the Rahi would turn to me, offer some of their dirty, raw fish, and I would fly and frolic in blissful ignorance of all beyond my survival and my senses. It is this part that spills from my chest to my lips and into the flute. It is a tear from the Well of Song, heard not as a tear but as melody, pain turned to beauty.

 

This is why I'm not bored. Music is my only friend until the end.

 

OOC: Anyone care to deprive Trudan of his excessively flowery internal monologue?

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IC:

 

 

"Uh, yeah I'm good," he answered. "Just thinking about Ga-Koro. I've been away from home for a while now, it seems."

 

He sighed and plopped down onto the bed, which was indeed unexpectedly soft and comfortable for an inn mattress. He wanted to ask Luten about the things she had experienced over the course of her first day alive, but guessed it was probably too soon for her to talk about. He wasn't intent on making her cry again, that much was for sure, but he couldn't help but be curious. 

 

"Have you seen the ocean yet?"

Edited by Requiem
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IC: Genju

 

Hello! Hello! Anyone here?

 

*Genju sees on the ground a little Po-Matoran, sleeping soundly.*

 

Hello little friend!

IC: Poraku

 

Poraku stirs and wakes up. He had been sleeping for who knows how long.

"Oh, my head. There was a fight. Here. And there were Skakdi and Toa...ooooh."

Never use LEGO and Megabloks in the same build - Me.

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IC: Trudan

 

You'd think I'd be bored of this by now. That would make sense - but The Song needs none. Pure instinct, rhythm, life calls me. I know and want no other life than that I live.

 

My fingers dance in time with the flapping wings of my audience of Fishing Birds, my flute with those who rejoice as I do in the waters of The Song. There is no interruption, there rarely is. I've found that few who dwell in the world of complication remind themselves of beautiful places. It is solitude, yet I do not feel alone.

 

Still, a part of me fantasises, craves that somehow, the Rahi would turn to me, offer some of their dirty, raw fish, and I would fly and frolic in blissful ignorance of all beyond my survival and my senses. It is this part that spills from my chest to my lips and into the flute. It is a tear from the Well of Song, heard not as a tear but as melody, pain turned to beauty.

 

This is why I'm not bored. Music is my only friend until the end.

 

OOC: Anyone care to deprive Trudan of his excessively flowery internal monologue?

 

IC: Trava (Jungle)

 

It had been a strange couple of days.

 

At least, it definitely felt so, going over what had actually happened in her head. The whole thing had started with that party in Le-Koro. You know how it goes, you meet a cute boy, chat him up, share some drinks, and boom. You have yourself some nice company for the evening.

 

Then there was that other guy, or man rather, because that was pretty much the only apt description Trava would consider for the mysterious, yet ever so captivating, wildlife bruiser she only knew as Hammerlock.

 

She had no doubt Hammerlock was still alive. A few measly Rahkshi getting the better of him? Pshaw.

 

Moving on from that (but he gets me, you know?), just a few days later, she was chatting and getting to know the elder brother of mr. cute boy from earlier, and him finding out about that was... kinda underwhelming, actually.

 

Trava stopped, just stopped. She sat down on the branch she had landed on, and looked around her. The green canopy, filling almost her entire field of view, was an inviting and comforting sight. It was the place she knew best, though she preferred to tell people that the whole of Mata Nui was her home, she couldn't deny that Le-Wahi in particular had a certain appeal to it. The somewhat muffled sounds of air rustling the tree crowns, the chirping birds, the creaking branches, it was a sound she felt glad to have around her. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and let it... just fill her, she felt her thought processes slow down a little, her mind settling, calming.

 

She just remained there for an unknown time, letting the sensations around her fill her up, whisk her mind away on completely inconsequential, but enrapturing, flights of fancy.

 

Some ferocious leaf rustling nearby, two widgets says it's a Brakas looking for food.

 

Buzzing somewhere far off in the distance... too far to tell wether it's a Kopen or a Rama.

 

Smooth, melodious tones filling the air with a graceful comfo- wait, what?

 

Trava opened her eyes, and fired up her Kanohi. No, she wasn't hearing things. Or rather, she was, she was hearing music, not too far away, either.

 

She returned to standing on her feet, and speedily took off across the branches in the direction of the sound.

 

It didn't take long to find out where it came from. A Toa was sitting by his lonesome, playing a flute. Trava smirked widely to herself when she noticed his attentive avian audience, they definitely had good taste. The Toa himself seemed to be completely wrapped up in his playing, his face looked serene, utterly peaceful.

 

The scene was actually very pleasant to look at, Trava found herself thinking. She sat herself down at a branch covered in shadow a little ways off from the unknown musician. By using her mask, she kept a good, pleased eye and ear upon him as he played.

Edited by Geardirector

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IC:

 

"Well it's quite the sight to behold. Maybe we can go sometime." His voice trailed off to a murmur. 

 

He leaned backwards and laid his head in his hands. The ceiling was made up of plain wooden planking, but there was more to him in the swirling grain patterns. He saw churning waves and the gentle sway of a sailboat adrift in dark waters.

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OOC: ayyy

 

IC: Trudan

 

Abruptly, the jaws of a great beast of the freshwater lake snap up from below the surface at my viewership. Too alarmed to continue my playing, I halt, my power over the Fishing Birds lost instantly. Even so, one of their number is torn to shreds before my very eyes, the rest dissipating into the air like steam.

 

For a moment I am tainted with anger, but that is rarely the wisest emotional course to take. Besides, it was my music that led to the death of that bird. Such is the way of the jungle, and she yearns once more for The Song.

 

I continue.

 

Before long, time passes. The sun has changed its position in the sky and in my solitude I begin to woe my duty to the jungle and the lake. "Le!" I call, as I always have in times of sorrow. "Le! If you have words to say, then speak to me!"

 

Barely a gust of wind comes as a response. Never before this time have I felt so detached, so isolated, by the world I have always called friend. Where now, is the spirit of the jungle? Where is its soul? Always I have prided myself on my calm, yet my frustration now drives me to cast my flute into the lake.

 

"What use is a song with nobody to hear it?"

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IC: Trudan

 

Barely a gust of wind comes as a response. Never before this time have I felt so detached, so isolated, by the world I have always called friend. Where now, is the spirit of the jungle? Where is its soul? Always I have prided myself on my calm, yet my frustration now drives me to cast my flute into the lake.

 

"What use is a song with nobody to hear it?"

 

 

IC: Trava (Jungle)

 

"What is a life lived, if it isn't considered, reflected upon and chosen?" came the mellow reply.

 

Trava stood up on the branch she sat on, hiding her self-satisfied, smug expression in the shadows and in the blur of her light, quick movements as she got a few strides closer to the Toa. The line she was about to deliver was one that once inspired her to make some pretty drastic life-choices herself.

 

"Nothing, nothing at all. At least it wouldn't be much fun"

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IC: Trudan

 

"Nothing, nothing at all. At least it wouldn't be much fun"

 

The voice of another startles me out of thought. Often others pass me in the jungle, but always I am heard and not seen. Who, then, is hiding in the brush to be heard and not seen by Trudan? I dare not speak, or move (save my cursed involuntary jolt), as if under the hope my hidden listener will simply disappear if I don't pay them with a response.

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IC:

 

"Mata Nui is the name of the Great Spirit. Many believe that he created this world, and all of us who inhabit it." He continued to study the nondescript ceiling. His eyes remained oddly focused, but his tone revealed that he was uninterested in the existence of such a spiritual entity. 

 

"The elders who discovered this place named it in his honor, I guess. I'm not exactly what you would call a believer, but I think it helps some people to believe in Him so that the horrors and burdens of this world are easier to deal with."

 

He glanced at her briefly. 

 

"You've landed on a pretty diverse island though. People here tend to believe in a lot of different things."

Edited by Requiem
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IC Luten:

 

"....I wonder if the Great Spirit made me, too..."

 

She flopped back on the bed, barely making any disturbance in it's surface.

 

Her eyes fluttered.

 

"I wonder why he'd do that..."

 

Another flutter, then they closed fully, and she vanished with a slight sound that was reminiscent of a chime.

 

Her day had been quite an ordeal, and it seemed she'd fallen asleep with the relative safety of the bed.

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IC:

 

Lannon watched her disappear.

 

Something tells me it's going to be a while before I get used to that. 

 

A soft tickle of a smile lingered on his lips. He pulled back the neatly made bed covers, and placed her Sanok gently against the pillow. It seemed odd to tuck in a mask as if it were a small child, but he wanted her to be as comfortable as possible. 

 

He tip-toed over to the chair and plopped down with a breathy sigh. The rain was finally beginning to let up outside. From his position by the window, he easily spotted the waning moon as it peered down at him through the clouds. 

 

He didn't resist the enclosing darkness as sleep overcame him.

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IC: Trudan

 

"Nothing, nothing at all. At least it wouldn't be much fun"

 

The voice of another startles me out of thought. Often others pass me in the jungle, but always I am heard and not seen. Who, then, is hiding in the brush to be heard and not seen by Trudan? I dare not speak, or move (save my cursed involuntary jolt), as if under the hope my hidden listener will simply disappear if I don't pay them with a response.

 

IC: Trava (Jungle)

 

"You, uh, having trouble thinking of something to say there, pal?" a jovial, still bodiless voice asked out of nowhere.

 

Trudan didn't need to suffer without a face to put to the voice for long, though. From behind a large tree-trunk, a smiling woman appeared, striding nonchalantly through the underbrush below where he was seated.

 

"No shame in it. Happens to me, too"

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  • 3 months later...

OOC: I'm still here after all

 

IC: Trava (Jungle)

 

"Alright"

 

Trava slowed to a stop, quietly breathing as she regarded the flute-player with evident curiosity. Her outward appearance gave off an impression of contented familiarity, as if she was sitting in the middle of her own home, enjoying a moment that was fully hers and no one else's.

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IC: Kunitu

 

"So you do this everywhere?"

 

IC: Silene

 

"A girl has to look her best, even when apprehending criminal scum." She replied casually as she finished with her makeup. 

 

IC: Kunitu

 

There was an instance of silence as the other woman mulled over Silene's opinion.

 

"Fair enough," she said finally.

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