BZPRPG - Ga-Wahi

[Palm]

IC: Tuara Drigton - Ga-Koro - Cael's Hut

Tuara gave Agni a look while they all turned around the face the door. Judging by the intensity of the knocking, and all of the day's events already leading up to now, it seemed the universe really didn't want this trip to Ga-Koro to be a simple check-up. Tuara was closest to the door, and so she took two long steps, and pulled it open to reveal Korero Maru, looking a bit antsy. It must have been a funny look to see two Toa of fire, a Toa of Ice, and a Toa of water all staring at him through the doorway.

"Korero Maru," Tuara greeted him, "Do you need a hand?"

OOC: @Vezok's Friend @Eyru @otter @Ghosthands

[Vezok's Friend]

IC: [Agni - Cael’s house]

Seeing just who was waiting outside, Agni’s hand dropped away from the small of his back and his shoulders relaxed. He’d spun with a start upon hearing the sudden knock and was now mentally chiding himself for overreacting.

But beyond that, it didn’t take him long to put two and two together.

“I assume you’re here for your sister?” he asked, then looked over to Praggos and Cael. “Did she say where she was headed?”  

 

 

IC: [Leah - Ga-Koro harbor, aboard the Yukanna]

“Judging by your commodore, he won’t be the only one remaining any longer than he needs to be.”

The words may have seemed presumptuous coming from anyone else, but when the Rora looked at the Maru again, the Toa’s face projected nothing but kindness, reinforced by a quiet confidence in the way she bore herself. Then, carefully returning to the matter at hand, she asked: 

“Sado…is that where the sword key was used?”

 

  
IC: [Rhow - Inner Port]

“What you want!?” a voice challenged the notion. Not Rhow’s. One of Skakdi apparitions in the mist.

“What about us? We’re starving!”

Rhow’s eyes squeezed shut. When she opened them again they looked at the Menti with resigned despair. The fight had been one thing. There would be no rest. What followed would be worse.

She squeezed Yukie’s hand in turn. You sure you wanna do this?
 

OOC: @Ghosthands @Palm @Eyru @Mel @otter @EmperorWhenua

Edited March 12 by Vezok's Friend

[EmperorWhenua]

IC Yumiwa | Ga-Koro, the Yukanna

Maru's question caught me by surprise. "Lady Toa," I ventured gently, "could it be true that, despite my people's representatives being among you for some time now, I am the first Dasaka to tell you about our home?"

@Vezok's Friend

[Ghosthands]

IC (Korero) [Cael's Hut, Ga-Koro]

Korero's eyes widened briefly as the door was opened not by Cael but by an unfamiliar Ta-Toa, but his surprise waned just as quickly when he glanced past her and recognised the faces of not just Cael but also Agni, whom he knew as another close associate of Joske. There was fourth Toa in the room whose appearance seemed to ring a vague bell, but he couldn't place it (and had more pressing concerns on his mind).

He'd barely opened his mouth to ask about Leah's whereabouts when Agni, ever the detective, successfully pre-empted his question.
 

11 hours ago, Vezok's Friend said:

“I assume you’re here for your sister?” he asked, then looked over to Praggos and Cael. “Did she say where she was headed?”  

Korero looked to Cael and this 'Praggos' (the name rang a bell too) in impatient anticipation of their answer.

OOC: @Eyru @otter @Vezok's Friend @Palm

[Vezok's Friend]

IC: [Leah - Ga-Koro harbor, aboard the Yukanna]

“Not quite the first, no.” Leah replied. “Your people have shared much with mine, but my duty has often kept me from being with them. So I know less than I would like.”

A beat. A sideways glance. Just a hint of mischief.

“Definitely noticed a deep affinity for all things draconic. That much I know.”

“But back to the point: The swords are keys that open locks. The lock for ours is deep-buried right in Makuta’s lair. It’d be good to know where it’s counterpart is on the archipelago.”
 

OOC: @EmperorWhenua

[Mel]

[Ga-koro, Inner Port(Yukie)]

Oh.

On 3/12/2023 at 6:19 PM, Vezok's Friend said:

You sure you wanna do this?

As he looked out on the assembled faces, his mind flickered for a second, and the faces of skakdi were replaced with dashi and dasaka.  Gazes apprehensive, unsure.  His little sister’s hollow eyes.

:̸̯̀:̶̞̒Ť̸̲h̷̫̓ë̷́͜y̸̺̕ ̵̻͝w̵̘͊i̶̱̋l̵͇̒l̵͇̈́ ̷̪͌n̴̝̚ḛ̷̎v̶̻́e̷͓͝ř̵̝ ̴̃ͅl̸͇͋o̷͈̍v̶͈͐ȇ̷͖ ̶͎̋ẏ̷̳o̶͈̽ũ̸ͅ.̶̨̋:̷̦̔:̴͖͂

He squeezed tighter, and for a moment he almost felt the scarred, strong hand of Rhow’s in his own.

::I am very sure.::

Edited March 14 by Mel

[Keeper of Kraata]

IC: Raiko - Docks

Raiko's mask flushed. "Uh, yes ma'am. I mean, no, I-I mean... I'll go get us a cart." With a curt bow, she pivoted on her heel and started weaving through the crowd towards land. It struck her that this wasn't just an elaborate dock; she was in Ga-Koro, where all these strange beings lived, and she still wasn't on solid land. The Dashi clung her bag to her bag, feeling the subtle outline of the cleaver she had inside it. It was a small and empty measure of comfort, but she felt slightly safer in the crowds.

Her feet sunk into the sand on the beach, and she felt a weight on her shoulders lift. The first time on actual solid land since she left Sado. The forest, distant due to the development along the coast and strange as it was, seemed to be calling her; its similarities to Oki were comforting, its exoticness alluring. But Raiko didn't let herself get distracted for longer than a moment; she had a shaky grasp of the round script the Matoran used, but fortunately, a pictogram of the crab... service? pointed the way.

"Excuse me," Raika said to the attendant dark-colored matoran, "I need to book passage. For... four? To Ko-Koro."

The onu-matoran glanced her over. "You're one of the Dasaka. Whatcha got to pay?"

The Vilda dug out an Imperial Dragon from her satchel. "Two of these each?"

The Ussal tender took out a lightstone and held the coin in front of it, examining its facets. "I guess that sounds fair, I was going to take some cargo to Onu-Koro anyway, its a different tunnel."

Shortly after, Raika had stored her sparse luggage with the Ussal crabs and made her way back to the elders. "I'll take your bags, Toroshu."

OOC: @Mel @Endless Sea (Alaki Nuva) @Geardirector

[Mel]

IC: [Ga-koro, Docks/Inland Thoroughfare (Pradhai)]
“Oh I’m far from a Toroshu. No need to wear yourself out, Dearie.   I’m sure I can get some help in securing the creature comforts.   After all, I certainly can’t let Laka get too chilly—ah there we are.”

A coterie of young Vilda menti emerged from compound, carrying the elder’s bags, along with an absolutely massive amount of blankets.  Pradhai’s massive serpent companion wound between their legs, as if it was making sure they wouldn’t be messing up.

—

The next hour could have best been described as “a controlled tornado” as Pradhai directed the packing of the wagons, much to the distress of the ussual driver.   He warmed up significantly however, when the crabs seemed unusually well behaved.   Well, that and the three bottles of premium Vilda-made distilled sochū that Pradhai passed over.

When it was all over, one cart had been stuffed full of luggage, the other with blankets and heatstones for the comfort of the riders.   Pradhai took a seat with a contented sigh, while Laka curled into a massive pile at her feet. “Now, this is what I call an expedition.  Just a few minutes more, a little bird told me we might have a surprise visitor.”

[Ga-koro, Inland Thoroughfare (Shuuan)]
Wool clothes. Bow and quiver. Enough expensive-looking fabric and plum wine to bribe the locals.  Right.

That old-biddy had anticipated my arrival, no doubt, with her prattling away to the local wildlife, but an afternoon of crab thoughts was enough of a price to pay for an entire city of quiet.  I took a seat on the back of the cart, as far from anyone else as possible.

“You’re leaving for Ko-koro today, right?   I’ll be coming with you.”

OOC: @Geardirector @Endless Sea (Alaki Nuva) @Keeper of Kraata

 

[Geardirector]

IC: Vilda Mako (Ga-Koro)

The cold I'd felt during my brief excursion to the region called 'Ko-Wahi' when I last went up there had not been easily forgotten. This time, I was going to come prepared. Under Pradhai's strong direction I made sure I was ready to wrap up warm the moment we reached the cold wastes.

Kama was a trickier matter. For once, she would have to be satisfied with staying somewhere other than on my shoulder while she was travelling along with me. Not very spacious, being tucked into a smock I strapped to my chest with her head poking out, but she was gonna be warm and that was the point now.

I thought for a moment about weapons. I still had my usual pair of Chakrams, meant for a Mindarm to swing around and cause some havoc. I had decided to peruse the shops I could find, and haggle my way to handing over some dragons as a novelty bargain for something that the locals said would be perfect as a throwable. Get it right and it comes back, they said. Alright, bamboo disks seemed like a reasonable way to get something reusable that I could fall back on if there was no need for lethal force. If there really was going to be some action, that might suit me just fine honestly.

I took a seat and proceeded to plie Kama with some helpings of birdseed.

OOC: @Keeper of Kraata @Mel @Endless Sea (Alaki Nuva)

 

[Vezok's Friend]

OOC: Content warning: Some heavy implications regarding survival extremes in this one. 

Mood

 

IC: [Rhow - Inner Port]

The mists closed in again. And Yukie found the hand he held had disappeared. As had Rhow. He was alone, standing on rough gravel ground. A feeling crept in along with the mist - utter and complete desolation.

Finally, after what could have been seconds or an eternity, he spotted her silhouette in the fog again. Moving closer, more Skakdi resolved out of the haze alongside her. All strange - and familiar simultaneously. The crowd around the throne. 

We tried to make it work. We had hope. Thought we had what we needed, too. But it went bad. Fast.

The image cleared up just long enough to catch a glimpse of them arguing. A cavernous space. Crates of supplies. Dwindling before his eyes. Not enough to go around. Not for all of them.

Wondered how we’d managed before. Maybe Hyrak;dii knew things we didn’t. Secrets. Kept my own too. Prevent a panic. Tried to defy the odds.

Mists roiled as the scene changed. Torn up ground. Earth. Dirt. Crouching figures, Rhow among them. Planting seeds. The air grew cold and dry. Not exactly freezing - but enough to make it clear nothing could ever grow on this soil. 

Shadows circled. Eventually the assembled Skakdi turned, dejected, shouldered their farming tools and marched into the mist. When the Menti caught up again they were on a ridge, prone in the mud. Fewer this time. Sometime later. They were holding weapons. A hunting party preparing an ambush. One of the Skakdi jumped up and charged down the slope, even as Rhow hissed for them to wait. Too soon. They all followed. He did too. Only to find himself falling into the mists.

The next instant he was face down in the muck, the spined fallen figures dotting the landscape in his peripheral vision. Barely moving - but still alive, crawling away into the fog again.

Kept sending hunting parties. Further each time. No luck. Soon everyone knew about the supplies.

Another crowd. Agitated. A shouted challenge. Flashes of steel. Red specks on rocks.

I tried to keep them working together. Keep them in line. Punishing rulebreakers, thieves. Worse each time.

More red droplets stained the barren ground. Dripping from Rhow’s blade as he walked beside her. Yukie could hear voices echoing all around now. Some clearly, others just hissed whispers. They all said the same thing:

Hyrak;dii.

Hyrak;dii.

Hyrak;dii.

I heard the name more and more. They cursed it before. Now they revered that monster - but they hadn’t faced starvation back then. We were all hungry. We wanted to live. Then, just as we had come for him, they came for me.

Yukie found he was alone again. Just the crimson trail showing him where to go. At its end he emerged into the stronghold’s courtyard - with yet fewer numbers of Skakdi occupying it. There was a clear division: Those standing tall and menacing with weapons - and Rhow and a handful of others at their mercy, their hands tied. They were beaten and cut. Rhow looked up at him with sunken eyes.

Said if I couldn’t bring in food or loot all I was good for was prey. Then they told us to run.

They hurried out of the gate, back into the fog. He followed. Saw them run as far as their legs would carry them. Heard the distant shouts of their former allies mocking them as they hunted them across the barrens. Saw Rhow’s allies collapse, one by one. First they tried to carry those too weak to walk on their own. Then when they got too weak to carry them in turn they were forced to leave those that fell where they lay. Their bodies disappeared into the haze behind them. 

Yukie followed Rhow’s silhouette. Her pace had slowed notably. Each footfall heavier than the last. She wanted to stop, to avoid whatever was coming next, but knew she couldn’t.

When their vision cleared again, they found the last three other survivors huddled around a fallen fourth. They were emaciated. Hunger and sickness had taken hold. Before he could see more, Rhow stepped into Yukie’s line of sight, blocking it. He heard her shout. Voice raspy. Urging them to stop. They argued an impossible choice. Angry. Driven mad. Frenzied expressions on stained faces. Suddenly, the voices of the hunters closed in again in the distance, much closer this time. They all stopped, stood up. Rhow took a step back. Another one. Then she spun, seized the Menti by the arm once more and dragged him back into the mist, chased by the mad cries behind them. He could see her face was just as stained as the others’.

She kept moving, dragging him along with her relentlessly, away from the sounds of struggle and pain and the sudden silence that followed.

It was just me in the end.

There was a familiar sound in the air now. Half remembered and half real, he could hear the crashing of waves on a beach. Rhow had brought them back to the coast again. Night had fallen, but the moon was out, making the shore dotted by spiky rocks look even more alien. In the distance, Yukie could occasionally spot movement. A glint of moonlight caught on armor, or of the hunters’ eyes as they searched the area. Slowly, methodically.  Meanwhile, Rhow and him were sneaking between the rocks, evading their stalkers. Occasionally she stopped, picked up pieces of debris that had washed ashore over time. It wasn’t a lot - just barely enough for a raft for one. Crouching together in the shadows, Rhow began to assemble the pieces in front of the Menti.

Suddenly there was a cry. Rhow’s head snapped up, briefly looking to where one of the pursuers had spotted her. Then she turned to Yukie once more.

I knew what’d happen if they caught me. Also knew what most likely waited for me out there.  Didn’t wanna give them the satisfaction. So…

The Skakdi, little more than her skin and bones, got to her feet and staggered out into the surf. By the time her pursuers had all made it down to the water as well, she was too far out, finally beyond their reach. Their eye-beams cut through the night, but missed, sizzling out in the waves. Their cries of impotent rage faded into the noise of the sea. Then the image itself faded out as well...

 

 

 

They were sitting across from each other, on a bench in Ga-Koro.

 

OOC: @Mel Thanks for your patience!

[Endless Sea (Alaki Nuva)]

IC: Cephala (Ga-Koro docks)

It was a little while before Cephala finished packing and returned to the group.  There wasn't much more for her to get- she tended to travel light, and they'd all probably need to stock up in Ko-Wahi anyways- but what alcohol was still in her system was having a rough time letting go.  One of the little Dasaka Matoran-ish fellows actually had to help her into the cart, and she'd made it through a good chunk of her (rather sizeable) repository of expletives by the time she was done being seated.

Pretty classy way to travel, though.  Wagons were a new experience for her; closest she'd gotten in the past was renting out a Ussal.  She wondered if it might somehow be possible to nap all the way to Ko-Wahi; they were certainly stocked up on more than enough heatstones and blankets to be comfortable, but then, she was also sharing the wagon with two particularly saucy elders, a snake, a birb, and...

“You’re leaving for Ko-koro today, right?   I’ll be coming with you.”

Curious.

"Oh?  And who might you be, little one?"

OOC: @Mel @Geardirector @Keeper of Kraata

[Emzee]

On 2/16/2023 at 7:47 PM, Void Emissary said:

"Not really many chairs," Daijuno said, going through the theatre of looking around, turning quickly to a vision of embarrassment. "No, not many chairs, are there.... Zyla, maybe you could stand for a bit."

OOC: Special thanks to @Void Emissary for this jam session!

 

 

 

IC: 

 

“We don’t need any chairs,” Wokiya said with assurance, “What matters is that you’re comfortable!”

 

Indeed, Wokiya and her team prided themselves on being able to interview anywhere and in any position. She hunched down on one knee and faced the two Dashi (Dashi? Wokiya hoped her scarce sources were credible), appearing true to her word: perfectly at ease. 

 

She really had done this a lot.

 

“I appreciate you both taking the time to speak with me,” Wokiya said, while Vera continued to sketch. Scryne had also resumed his scribbling, knowing the Ga-Matoran’s cues like muscle memory. 

 

“How are you both doing…” Wokiya asked. She tilted her head slightly to her right as she said, “For real?” 

 

Neither responded for a moment, until Daijuno pointedly looked over to Zyla, a cocked eyebrow and tilted head an indication for her executive assistant to begin the line of answers. In truth, Daijuno had only the vaguest sense of how Zyla was doing; she had ever-been somewhat enigmatic to her employer, even in the best of circumstances — which a months’-long sea journey most certainly did not constitute. Far be it from her to put words into Zyla’s mouth.

But Zyla’s sudden pallor and imperceptible shake of the head turned the tables back onto Dai and, with a shrug, she turned back to Wokiya and smiled. 

 

“We’re doing great, Wokiya, thanks for asking,” she said. Her voice slowed fractionally and pitched down just a touch, the way that she would with a client. “Mata-Nui is a wonderful island with wonderful people, really wonderful, just so inviting. And it’s a real relief to be reunited with Zyla once again, after so long apart — although I wish that it had been under better circumstances.”

 

“Yes,” Zyla chimed in, her voice cracking in the middle, so that her ‘yes’ came out in two fractured syllables.

 

Wokiya gave a warm and affirming smile – with no ounce of trite pity or condescension. It was easy to put strangers in a corner of helplessness, to paint them as nothing but victims because that sells more stories. But doing so often infringed upon the agency and resiliency of the people being interviewed; if the Dastana were so hapless, they would not have made it to the shores of Ga-Wahi. 

 

“I’m happy to hear that. I can’t imagine making such a long and perilous journey myself,” Wokiya “Even just crossing the Motara desert nearly killed me once time”

 

Wokiya continued, “You arrived here from the Kentoku Archipelgo, am I correct?”

 

“Yes,” Zyla squeaked out again.

 

Once she received affirmation, Wokiya continued. “Many of our readers are not familiar with that land, or any lands in the Endless Ocean besides this one. Can you tell me a little about your home village on Kentoku? Is it similar in any way to Ga-Koro… or any other settlements on Mata Nui?”

 

Wokiya looked at Daijuno when saying that last part, remembering that the Dastana woman had been well-traveled. 

 

“Village, I think,” Daijuno replied, “isn’t maybe the word I’d use. Kentoku is set up a bit differently from what I understand Mata-Nui to look like. We’re rather more split up along clan-land lines— bits and pieces of property owned by various ruling families and worked by their vassals. Those families reside in their castles and compounds, and their vassals live and work in relation to them— mostly in whatever configuration best suits the resident toroshu— er, hereditary akiri.”

 

Daijuno cleared her throat— the saltwater nearby wasn’t making all this talking easy.

 

“Sado is probably the most comparable place on Kentoku to one of your Koro,” she continued. “It’s our capital city, built into the island itself — hard to say where one ends and the other begins. It’s, ah… Zyla, how would you describe it? I’m not sure I’d do it justice.”

 

Zyla nodded, swallowing hard — she knew what her employer meant. She meant that she was liable to say something inflammatory if she talked about where the royalty lived for too long.

 

“O-oh, yes,” she stumbled out. “It’s a glorious city. Its towers rise high above the ground, until you have to crane your neck to even begin to see the top of some of them. And they are built of purest crystal, mined by Clan Mamoru, shaped by Clan Mashtet, raised by Clan Roku. Each district is more beautiful than the last: the Markets and the Wards, the Gardens and the Towers of Knowledge. And in the centre of all is the imperial palace, as fine and beautiful as the rora herself!”

 

At that, Daijuno could barely contain a snort of disbelief. She immediately prayed that Wokiya hadn’t caught that; but she knew that Zyla had, and Zyla immediately blushed, looking away and down at her knees, mumbling, “But I’ve always preferred to walk along the beaches of Sado….”

 

Huh.

 

Daijuno hadn’t known that before.

 

Wokiya had noticed Daijuno’s expression, but in handling the deluge of new names, places, and facts, the journalist had to compartmentalize and give priority to the most important points of her story. The history between these two Dashi was deeper than Naho Bay, that much she could tell.

 

So what to expand on? Wokiya thought for a moment and then proceeded.  

 

“That’s amazing; it sounds like such an arrangement allows for a lot of integration and understanding between your, er, clans,” Wokiya said, “If only Po-Koro, Ta-Koro, and Ga-Koro were as federated… though we are making progress here, thankfully”

 

“I wanted to dive deeper into the leader of your people, the one you call the Rora. Such a concept is a bit foreign to us. We have our Akiri, and beyond them is the Great Spirit himself,” Wokiya continued, “How do your people decide who is the Rora? Are they born into the role? Or is more like our Akiri where they are chosen by the people?”

 

Wokiya decided to leave it at that and let the Dastana women talk. She knew readers would be intrigued by such an arrangement – and more importantly – how Daijuno and Zyla felt about it.  

 

Daijuno felt her teeth begin to grind.

 

“The Rora is a—”

 

“Woman of the highest esteem in all of Kentoku,” Zyla interjected, practically tripping over her words. “She is our empress, and the grand ruler of the Dasakan Empire. We are currently under the reign of the rora Yumiwa of Clan Umbraline, who is daughter of our previous rora, Yusanora of Clan Umbraline.”

 

“It’s a hereditary title,” Daijuno added, crossing her arms. “Although it doesn’t have to be an Umbraline. Just that no one’s been able to kick them off the throne yet— er, can that last sentence be off the record?”

 

“If you really want to,” Wokiya said, her face implying a restrained laugh, “Personally, I have a lot of regard for those willing to speak truth to power. However, I can imagine if it’s hereditary… I don’t know. Leaders that aren’t elected by the people… well…l”

 

For the first time in the interview, Wokiya had briefly stumbled on her words. She was tempted to agree heartily with Daijuno’s assertion, but she contained herself with two facts: one, Wokiya was not a Dasakan, and had far from any right to give an esteemed figure the criticism that a native could give. Two, it wasn’t even half a decade before that the villages were “ruled” by the Turaga; no elections. 

 

But to Wokiya, it never felt like they were being ruled. And the Turaga certainly weren’t universally loved when they were alive. Perhaps the Rora was a similar kind of figure?

 

“Let’s just say, with our Akiri, it is easy for us to forget that we had our benevolent Turaga guiding us. I still miss Turaga Nuju, myself,” Wokiya said. She would not forget about their feelings on the Rora, but Wokiya decided to pivot; letting them build themselves up would (hopefully) make a more interesting case against such hereditary rule without directly challenging Yumina (note to self: get an interview with Umbraline Yumiwa). 

 

“You have mentioned many clans: from the ruling Umbralines to the mining Mamorus and the well-cultured Dastana clan,” Wokiya said looking at both of the Dashi, “Tell me about your clan. I’d love to know how you all came to be, well, Clan Dastana. And do you have guiding principles or things that make your clan truly unique among Dasakans?”

 

“The Dastana are the coffers of the Empire,” Daijuno said, leaning back in her makeshift with just a touch too much smugness for Zyla’s comfort. “We’re the merchants and the artisans, the moneychangers and the inventors. Sure, Mamoru might mine and Ageru might farm, but we’re the ones making sure that those products are getting out of the storehouse and into the hands of the people.”

 

Stirred, suddenly, by her own answer, Daijuno leaned back forward, jabbing at her open palm with a finger.

 

“The Dastana, well, we’re less of a family than a movement, you see? Cultural shift. A band of saihoko, lowest of the low, who bought their way into nobility with just their brains and their business acumen. Not another one of these royal dynasties who just had to be born to have a silver spoon in their mouth. Real grit, you see? From real people.”

 

Wokiya nodded, a knowing smile making its way across her face. So the Dastana people were not like the other clans in the Kentoku archipelago. They rose above their station and charted out their own destiny. 

 

Now that was a story. 

 

“Tell me more about that,” Wokiya prodded. “Surely there was… resistance to such unconventional means of rising through your society, even with money and wits. People in power tend to be infamously protective of it. How did you win the people – and its rulers – over?”

 

Zyla tried to open her mouth to head her employer off at the proverbial pass, but Daijuno was on a roll.

 

“Well, the benefit of coming from the mercantile and manufacturing castes is that you control the largest share of currency flowing through the Archipelago,” she said, barely suppressing a smile. “Whatever the other clans may think of us — and they think of us, let me assure you, miss — they can’t move against us without causing an economic disaster for the empire.”

 

Scryne and Vera were scribbling feverishly, while Wokiya’s expression remained placid and welcoming. 

 

“So you realized your worth and used it to become a keystone of Dasakan society. Brilliant,” Wokiya said. “The Matoran of Mata Nui could learn from your grit and guile. And that leads me to my final question”

 

The Ga-Matoran had spoken at a measured rate, giving her two colleagues ample time to journal everything that they could. Once Wokiya had sensed that the scribbling had slowed, she continued. 

 

“What are your plans now that you’re here on Mata Nui? You’ve worked for so much on the Archipelago, and it seems you left a lot behind. Do you plan to rebuild anew? Or perhaps use your experience to enrich the Mata Nuiian culture?”

 

That was a new thought, for Zyla and Daijuno both. For Zyla, between running from a burning home and trying to survive on no food and little water for nearly two months, she had not had a chance to consider what it meant for the Archipelago to be gone, gone forever. And for Daijuno, who had always assumed those hated islands would last into perpetuity, with ever-faithful Zyla keeping the torches lit at home, a life exclusive to Mata Nui hadn’t seemed likely.

 

But Sado burned, and demons had arisen from Karz, and now the whole world balanced on this little island paradise. And Daijuno still needed to answer this journalist.

 

“That’s… an excellent question,” Daijuno said, her bravado fading, her smirk melting into a thoughtful look. “And while you, or your readers, might take this as some sort of cynical wordsmithing, I certainly consider Mata Nui a home. It’s a good place, with good people, and it’s been more than generous to every Dasaka who has come to its shores. To repay that generosity somehow….”

 

She stroked her chin, looking at Zyla, and then to Wokiya, and then to the Ryuu moored in the distance. She thought about Zafin Umbraline, and her empress’ alleged maturation, and Zafin’s stories of her maturation, unsubstantiated… 

 

And Zyla thought about the power of presses— and who would wield it first.

 

“Of course I will,” she said firmly. “Of course I will repay that generosity. Whatever I can do to assist Ga-Koro, and Mata Nui as a whole, I will. You have my word as a Dastana— and as a Ga-Koronan.”

 

Wokiya raised an eyebrow as she smiled. For whatever reason, Daijuno’s ardent response surprised her and lifted her spirits sky-high. But she did not forget that the Dastana were also clearly ambitious, skillfully climbing the social and economic ladders and willing to do almost anything to continue their rise. 

 

An intrusive thought broke past Wokiya’s defenses, and for a moment, the twifaced chill of the Cultured Gentry ran through her spine. She hoped that the Dastana were earnest in their declaration of solidarity and that they would become a sorely needed force for good against Makuta’s worshipers and benefactors. 

 

“I couldn’t be happier to hear that,” Wokiya said. “Thank you so much for taking the time to speak with me. I truly hope we meet again – and in much happier circumstances!”

* * *

Ga-Koro – Public Library

 

The cool breeze focused Wokiya’s mind as she arranged the manuscripts and illustrations and prepared them for her supervisor, Catarix. She knew in her heart that this was one of her best interviews yet. Catarix could sometimes be shrewd with his plaudits, but the Akiri’s office would be the ultimate say: Wokiya was still aiming for that grant which would enrich the independent press and free Wokiya from the corporate whims of the Mata Nui Daily. 

This interview would be a crucial step towards that goal. 

 

“Wokiya, it’s almost noon!” Vera whispered, her voice barely louder than the ocean waves, “Ready to meet Mr. Vint-Rasque?”

 

Wordlessly, Wokiya wrapped up the papers with twine and lifted the manuscripts. She nodded, and the group made their way back to the town square.

[Mel]

[Ga-koro, Inner Port(Yukie)]
Yukie did not say anything.   What could he say, that would not ring hollow?  His clan, for all its struggles, had lived in the abundance of jungle, where sustenance was assured, if not health.   Famine had been a list of old war reports, or the domain of folktales of the ancient past.   He had known, intellectually, that people could be driven to terrible things in the name of hunger, but seeing and experiencing it so vividly was another matter.

He settled on the only thing he could think to say, a question that felt altogether too intimate.

“What will you do now, Rhow?”

Now that I’ve dug up so many old ghosts.  I’m sorry.

[Ga-koro, Inland Thoroughfare (Shuuan)]
I squinted at the dull-colored not-datsue.   Huh, so maybe these foreigners weren’t all impressively hued.  Some jaanu bird she was.

“I don’t recall asking your name, Granny, so why would you be interested in mine?”

OOC: @Vezok's Friend @Endless Sea (Alaki Nuva) @Geardirector @Keeper of Kraata

[Endless Sea (Alaki Nuva)]

IC: Cephala (Ga-Koro docks)

"Really?  We're taking a wagon all the way to Ko-Koro together and you don't find a little round of introductions to be prudent?  My, my, whatever do they teach you Toa in Kentoku?"

OOC: @Mel @Geardirector @Keeper of Kraata