[As Viktor's peripheral shudders and shifts from the change, the Matoran keeps his hands up -- a slight give of relief in his expression when he hears the push back, that same flicker back to Toa, on his knees in front of a suffering Viktor.]
You will. You... have worked too hard for this to end here, my friend.
...It will be all right.
[--how are we supposed to--
--you call THIS all right???--
The sounds of others crawling to unsteady feet seems to echo. In pain. Confused. Horrified.
Furious.
Moving away, further and further.
Not from Viktor, for Viktor will find that foreign hands twist against his pale frame, urging him backwards. Stay with the group. Stay together.
It is Vakama that is left to stand alone.
As his form flicks back from Toa to Matoran, he still tries to break the distance, a sharpness in his distress as he scrambles to try and grab for Viktor's arm.]
No - No, I won't repeat this. I can't. Not like this.
[The hold reaches. But something gets to Vakama first.
You know that isn't how this works.
The pain flashes. A twist of the space, the light, and a disformed figure drops down from the webs with frightening speed, snapping gnarled fingers onto the Matoran's skull, hoisting him up off the ground as he yelps.
no subject
You will. You... have worked too hard for this to end here, my friend.
...It will be all right.
[--how are we supposed to--
--you call THIS all right???--
The sounds of others crawling to unsteady feet seems to echo. In pain. Confused. Horrified.
Furious.
Moving away, further and further.
Not from Viktor, for Viktor will find that foreign hands twist against his pale frame, urging him backwards. Stay with the group. Stay together.
It is Vakama that is left to stand alone.
As his form flicks back from Toa to Matoran, he still tries to break the distance, a sharpness in his distress as he scrambles to try and grab for Viktor's arm.]
No - No, I won't repeat this. I can't. Not like this.
[The hold reaches. But something gets to Vakama first.
You know that isn't how this works.
The pain flashes. A twist of the space, the light, and a disformed figure drops down from the webs with frightening speed, snapping gnarled fingers onto the Matoran's skull, hoisting him up off the ground as he yelps.
Familiar enough, and yet not - twisted painfully, stalking like some great cat against the ground.
With incredible violence, the Matoran is tossed aside past rock and web, rolling to an unresponsive stop against the ground. And the voice that rolls out falls heavy on unnatural breath and predatory rumbling under every syllable, slipping right back into cover.]
You of all people should know.
[It's almost incredulous. So incredibly bitter. Animosity building, amplified.]
Intention. Atonement. [Spat out, pained.] What good does it do when we destroy all we touch? When we're destined to fail from the start?
[--who have you been TALKING to, who's put these thoughts into your head--
A breath rolls out, a rolling growl. Ignoring the voices. Uncaring.]
...Clarity. Things you only see for the truth at the end, with your eyes unclouded.