[The burnt treeline dips deeply into sloped, ashen pathways that lay heavy with soot. But even with the air obscured and the light diffused, Viktor will be able to see two figures approach.
One is another Matoran with a mask of an oddly familiar golden yellow, spear in hand, pace and posture far more rigid and professional than his slow red counterpart at Viktor's side. His eyes are sharp and cautious towards Viktor through the dissipating clouds of ash, his mouth thinning into a frown.
The other, behind him, stands slightly taller but only just so - armor in shades of orange, the mask of a complete stranger with an elongated chin and no visible mouthpiece, steps steady but weak and posture stooped as though aged. One hand stays tucked behind the noticable curve of his form, while the other supports his weight acainst a wooden staff with a familiar fiery fixture embedded into the top - that of a firestaff tool which has been rendered unusable in Chicago.
Where the Matoran's gaze stays harsh, the elder's eyes are familiarly warm in contrast, too similar as they trace the figure in front of him with a rapid recognition.
The red-masked Matoran gives a delayed salute to the one in yellow.] One from the sea, Captain. He listens.
[The Matoran in yellow blows out a breath dryly as he picks up his pace to start to circle Viktor, getting a better look.] Yeah, well, don't forget that's what the last one said, too. Aki still hasn't gotten over the headaches from hitting that wall. [Viktor will get a few choice squints as he's circled, especially at the claw, before The Captain guestures back to the elder, who still remains completely silent.] You have our Turaga's ear. So. Out with it, traveler. What does the sea want with Ta-Koro this time?
no subject
One is another Matoran with a mask of an oddly familiar golden yellow, spear in hand, pace and posture far more rigid and professional than his slow red counterpart at Viktor's side. His eyes are sharp and cautious towards Viktor through the dissipating clouds of ash, his mouth thinning into a frown.
The other, behind him, stands slightly taller but only just so - armor in shades of orange, the mask of a complete stranger with an elongated chin and no visible mouthpiece, steps steady but weak and posture stooped as though aged. One hand stays tucked behind the noticable curve of his form, while the other supports his weight acainst a wooden staff with a familiar fiery fixture embedded into the top - that of a firestaff tool which has been rendered unusable in Chicago.
Where the Matoran's gaze stays harsh, the elder's eyes are familiarly warm in contrast, too similar as they trace the figure in front of him with a rapid recognition.
The red-masked Matoran gives a delayed salute to the one in yellow.] One from the sea, Captain. He listens.
[The Matoran in yellow blows out a breath dryly as he picks up his pace to start to circle Viktor, getting a better look.] Yeah, well, don't forget that's what the last one said, too. Aki still hasn't gotten over the headaches from hitting that wall. [Viktor will get a few choice squints as he's circled, especially at the claw, before The Captain guestures back to the elder, who still remains completely silent.] You have our Turaga's ear. So. Out with it, traveler. What does the sea want with Ta-Koro this time?