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Ohmeni, Toa of Lightning, and Pysie, Toa of Water, the protagonists of my fic A Gift the Great Spirit Left Unnamed!
Ohmeni is a world-weary, nomadic Toa, and Pysie is the healer at Gavo-Koro, the small village where she she seeks refuge. Together, they discover something that they don't have a name for, but find important all the same...
Pysie wears a great Amana, the Mask of Healing, and wields a harpoon, but... not very well. Ohmeni wears an Arthron, the Mask of Sonar, and wields dual Voltaic Hatchets as her Toa Tool.
A nomadic Toa of Lightning takes a stop at a small village on the coast of the Southern Continent in order to recover from her wounds. She quickly realizes that she got more than she bargained for when she meets the village's healer...
A love story from a world where there is no word for "love".
I breathed a heavy sigh of relief when I saw the village over the horizon. Being a nomadic Toa, my home and tribe long broken and scattered, getting respite was more important than ever. As I stepped up the hill, my lungs struggled through shaky, haphazard breaths, trying to avoid touching the shattered Rahi talons that embedded themselves in my flesh after the beast tore through my armor. I couldn’t remember the exact name of what struck me, but it had a venom on its cruel, shedding talons, and the throbbing pain of that poison in my muscles was impossible to ignore, slowly spreading to more of my war-torn body. The pain was worth it, though, always worth it, no matter when it happened. Saving three Matoran researchers, pinned in that cave by the Rahi, was worth it.
The pain had put me on autopilot, and I was quietly subsumed by the dull state of mind that always comes along with pain. I had hardly noticed that I had arrived, but when stimuli overwhelmed the doldrums, I heard a rash of small sounds, followed by a curious stir. The sun was a few moments away from setting, and it seemed that I had interrupted their preparations for night. The soundscape was full of quiet whispers, which I didn’t have anywhere close to the concentration to focus on and interpret. Matoran turned from their paths or put their things aside, some sticking their heads out of their leaf-and-wood homes, all focused on me. Except for one.
A Matoran in armor in a few shades of natural blues and painted highlights of orange, rushed up to me, panting a little as she did so. While I could see that other Matoran had painted armor in the village, hers was elaborate, and in patterns that were rare to see, with swirls and lines covering her as if she were a decoration herself. Her mask was no exception, with broad, flat bands running across the mask’s surface, with beautiful orange painted patterns upon them, like waves in sunset. She straightened herself before moving into a stiff, clearly unpracticed stance of respect, gently bending her knees and back, with her head pointed straight at the ground.
“W-we welcome you, Toa of Lightning!” she said, a small nervous stammer in her voice. I was surprised she recognized my rarer element from my colors, something unusual for Matoran on more isolated settlements like this one. “On what occasion have you come to our humble Koro?” She looked up to me with a clear sense of anxiety mixed with a desire for approval, neither hidden by her unfamiliar, but beautiful mask.
“I’m… just passing through.” I chose my words carefully, my pain giving me little mind for the rituals of respect that Matoran show for their guardian Toa, as much as I recognized and appreciated them. “And I need a place to rest.” My voice was marred by the shake of poorly concealed pain, and the Matoran before me’s expression changed from a nervous search for approval to sudden, knowing concern.
“You’re hurt,” she said, matter-of-factly, all desire to continue the tradition of respect for Toa seemingly evaporated. “Please, come with me.” She took my hand in hers, only a tiny bit smaller than my own, and pulled me in the gentlest manner towards the village. “My Teacher and I can heal your wounds, at least for tonight.” She pointed to a larger, farther hut, and started to walk, guiding me like she was teaching a freshly built Matoran.
I didn’t protest, any help to get the painful debris and venom out of me sounded like the greatest thing in the universe at that moment. But others in the village spoke in whispers again, the ornately-armored Matoran's behavior seemingly catching their disapproval. Usually, so-called "good Matoran" had respect for their Toa and didn't drag them around, but I found her abandoning politeness for the sake of my safety to be far more important, at least right now. Before reaching the hut, I saw a Turaga step forwards from her seat, a look of concern and confusion behind her mask, but little more as I bent over to fit under the door’s hole, talons twisting in my flesh, digging in and causing sharp, shooting pains I had to endure, a quiet hiss of pain exiting my mouth. I closed my eyes as I pushed into the hut, only opening them when it hinted at slightly subsiding.
When I opened my eyes again, I was shocked to see another Toa. The first thing I noticed were her eyes! Softly glowing a piercing yellow, they were full of the same wondrous surprise that I had seen on so many Matoran’s faces before, but never on one of my equals. She blinked a moment after I did, before our locked gaze broke and she looked me up and down. It took me a few moments to even consider doing the same to her.
“A Toa...” she said, her voice quiet, but still full of the same wonder. When I finally was able to look at the rest of her, I saw a similar mask to the Matoran that led me to her, but somehow softer, smoother, with thin inset lines and gentle curves giving her an inviting appearance. The smooth blue mask was painted like the Matoran who guided me, a warm, sparkling copper pattern traced over it. “What brings you to our quiet little Koro?” She asked, as I slowly moved from a squat to a kneel.
“I was protecting some wayward Matoran.” I said, her question snapping me out of my entrancement. “I won’t be staying long, so I won’t burden you.” I urged, hoping I wasn't imposing on anything at all. I knew firsthand that resources were often hard to come by for villages like these, and hated feeling like things were wasted on a traveler like me.
“You can stay as long as you like,” she said, reaching a hand out to me. “We’re a quiet village. You’re the most exciting thing to grace us in a long time, Toa...” She trailed off, a soft tone waiting for me to answer hanging in the air. It took me a moment to catch it, as my eyes were studying her hands, the metal worn down and painted over.
“Ohmeni,” I said, hastily, as if I were rushing to catch pottery falling from a table. “Ohmeni, Toa of Lightning.” I completed my introduction, properly, the sense of haste dissolving, as I took in the room around me, consciously trying to avoid distraction and remain stoic and measured, as all good Toa should. And yet... something about the presence of this pair, Toa and Matoran, both clad in cool blues and warm oranges and beautiful patterns, put me at ease, and something felt unnecessary about that emotional front.
“It’s good to meet you, Ohmeni.” My eyes couldn’t help but be drawn towards hers, where I saw the corner of her eyes scrunch into a warm, welcoming smile – and I felt mine do the same, involuntarily, but I didn’t even think of stopping it. “My name is Pysie, and in case she hasn’t properly introduced herself, this is my apprentice, Ghavialia.” She took my hand in a gentle embrace, more a preliminary inspection than a greeting, but one that immediately sucked in all my attention. She gave a quiet, contemplative “hmm”, as she ran her fingertips over my armor. Finally, she looked up and spoke, while inspecting the rest of me that she could see. “You’re clearly quite the warrior.”
“How could you tell?” I asked, before silently wincing at the foolish question. She ran a hand over my arm, tracing a large, patched gash. The signs were all over my body. Scratches, cuts, and dents covered my armor from head to toe.
Pysie chuckled, a little sadly. “Your armor looks like a mess.” She pulled away from me, now kneeling close. “I’ve seen Toa hurt before, but... well, when’s the last time you got your armor fixed up?” She said, tilting her head a little. “I mean, really fixed it. Not just emergency patches.”
I started to open my mouth, but closed it again just as quickly as I realized that I... didn’t really remember. I took a deep breath in, until the sudden shooting pain cut it short, and the air left my lungs as I gasped suddenly in pain. My vision went blurry for a few long moments before clearing as the Matoran held a pot underneath my face, a spiced aroma wafting through my mask as I breathed in. After I took a breath of the stuff, my head started feeling clearer, if a little dizzy, from whatever herbs were in it. “Th... thank you, Ghavail, Gha-” I stammered, struggling to pronounce her name before I was politely cut off.
“You can call me Gava for short; everyone does.” She used the same matter-of-fact tone she had before, no resentment or judgment, simply a focus on her patient, who was, unfortunately, me. After a few seconds of me breathing it in, Gava took the pot and lidded it, placing it on a small wooden shelf, the top bumping against the wall of hardened, layered leaves. I looked back to Pysie, and realized that in my brief moment of panic, I had tensed up, taking a protective stance. My body had decided that I was under attack, but Pysie placed her hands on my shoulders, and gently guided them into a relaxed position, before lifting my back up, unfazed by my reaction to the tiniest moment of vulnerability.
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Ohmeni wakes up, tells stories, and gets put back together.
I was used to snapping awake. I had to when I was out in the wild in case of danger. But instead of danger, all that woke me was the clatter of pottery. My eyes shot open, scanning the room for any threats instinctively, but only finding Gava hastily righting the pots on the rickety shelf in a panic.
“Gava!” Pysie’s voice came out as a hissing whisper. “You’ll wake her!” Pysie sat cross-legged on the floor, now wearing an undecorated blue Kiril, with similarly smooth shapes to her Amana. It was clear which mask she preferred, but my first thought was how either mask looked fine on her, suiting her the same way the legendary Lhikan’s Hau suited him.
Gava looked at me, a frown forming behind her mask. “It looks like I already have,” she mumbled.
“It’s fine. I need to be up anyway,” I said, shifting into a sitting position. Once I had my weight down on the ground, I stopped. The motion was smooth, and easy, with practically no effort as I tucked my legs in and sat. I felt... amazing. I looked at my arms, moving them, wiggling my fingers, noticing how different everything felt. It was as if I had left the water and the ease of motion returned, which was wonderful — if a bit ironic, given this newfound weightlessness was given to me by a Toa of Water.
“Are you okay?” Gava asked, watching me marvel at my own movements. “…And I’m sorry for waking you up.”
“I feel… amazing,” I said, my voice almost sparkling with wonder. “I haven’t felt this good since I was first made a Toa.”
“I’m glad,” Pysie said, her voice full of relief. “And it’s no wonder, too. You haven’t given yourself rest in a long time, have you?” As I turned to look at her, the smile formed again, the corner of her eyes lifting behind her mask.
The question made me feel a little silly to admit, even though normally it was a point of pride. “Well, to be honest,” I said, frowning a little. “I haven’t. How could you tell?”
“You were… wracked with scar tissue,” Pysie murmured. “You hadn’t let yourself properly heal from many wounds.” Her voice dropped into a tone of concern. “That’s reckless. If you don’t take care of yourself, you can’t help other people.”
“I never really had the opportunity.” I said, not lying, but only barely. I had opportunities to relax, to rest and calm down, but I chose not to take them. That way, I could help more and do more good. It was my duty as a Toa, after all. “I’ve been too occupied with surviving.”
“You should take the chance to rest more,” Pysie said, sincerely. “And you really should let me fix the rest of your armor.”
“No, no, I can’t," I said, quietly, taking a look at the nearly-mended piece of armor that once covered my back, laid across her lap. As Pysie returned to it, I watched the metal knit itself back together, sealing its own damage. It still had dents and scratches, but it looked strong and dependable once more. “I don’t want to impose.”
“You wouldn’t be imposing!” Gava cut in, now sitting on the floor next to us and carving into a small stone tablet. Her hands etched quick, somewhat messy circles and lines into the slab, taking note of... something. “We’re glad you’re visiting. You’re the most exciting thing to come to our village since-”
Pysie cut Gava off. “Do not bring up the Mukau incident,” she groaned. “That was horrible!” One of her hands went to slap the top of her mask with a muted clunk while the other continued the repair, reforming my armor with her softly glowing fingers channeling the power of her shimmering mask.
“I’m sure I’ve seen worse.” I chuckled softly, my hands instinctively reaching towards my back, wanting to fiddle with the flax that covered me. “I’ve seen a lot.”
Gava stopped what she was doing, and looked at me, with an inquisitive gaze coming from behind her mask. “...Where have you been to?” She asked, her voice barely hiding her wonder.
“No, no.” I said, doing my best to be kind. “She can ask. I have to wait for you to finish anyway, don’t I?” I said, still watching Pysie. “I don’t get to talk often, anyway.” Gava looked to Pysie for approval, her glance shooting back to me for a moment as she barely hid her excitement.
“Alright then.” Pysie conceded, nodding a little. Gava quickly sat down in front of me, looking up with inquisitive, wonder-filled eyes.
“I’ve never been off the Southern Continent, and barely ever outside of this village. What’s the rest of the world like?” She said, giving me her full, undivided attention. “What’s on the other side of this continent? Have you been there? Oh, have you seen Metru Nui?” She bombarded me with questions, her excitement overflowing.
“Yes, I’ve been to Metru Nui,” I laughed a little, appreciating her excitement. “At least, to Le-Metru. The Moto-Hub is big, way bigger than you’d think just looking at the carvings.”
“Is it true that everything in Le-Metru is fast? The Le-Matoran traders I’ve met are all really impatient, and say that we’re really slow. Their boats are super fast too!” Gava rattled off responses faster than I’d ever seen, her enthusiasm making me smile. "And why do they talk so funny?"
“Well, the tubes sure are. But if you want to talk about fast…” I talked and talked with Gava, telling her three words of my experiences for every ten words of her excited questions. She grabbed another tablet and started scratching things into it, taking notes about everything I said, forming messy circles in the stone as we talked. Then another, and another, until she ran out, to which Pysie reacted with soft disapproval.
Before we knew it, a long time had passed. Neither of us had noticed until we had been talking for so long until she looked at the lopsided pile of tablets on the floor, each with hastily carved, jagged shapes.
“...I took up a lot of your time with that.” Gava said, clearly a little embarrassed once she noticed what had happened. She started to gather up the pile of tablets, only knocking them down more with a soft clatter. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” I said, warmly. “I don’t get the chance to talk about my life that often.”
“You have more important things to do, Toa.” She mumbled, retreating into the fearful respect she was supposed to have, piling tablet upon tablet into a pile that was almost too big to carry. Just then, we all had our attention caught by a sound.
“GHAVIALIA!” A scratchy yell came from the outside of the hut, muffled by the walls of greenery.
“Oh no, Turaga Puigren needs me!” Gava panicked, hastily shoving her things in the corner of the hut with a loud clatter and scrambling out of the door. Pysie shook her head in quiet disapproval.
“I… probably ought to go,” I said, quietly. “I don’t want to take up any more space than I already do.” I became aware of my stature making things… difficult, to say the least.
“Not without this.” Pysie said, holding up the plate of my armor. It looked incredible. The wear and tear on it was now near-nonexistent, as if it were only days old. The color had returned, the desaturated blue shining in the dim light of the hut, and the shape had returned to the form it took when I was made a Toa. I couldn’t help but marvel at her work for a time, before speaking absentmindedly.
“...Yeah,” I said, feeling my jaw hang open, and immediately feeling like an idiot. “You did… really good.” Any sense of eloquence had left me once more, turning me into a stammering mess of amazement at the healer's talent with both masks.
“Well, come here and let me put it on you.” Pysie said, a stifled giggle coming from her, no doubt at me. I did as she asked, turning around and moving towards her so she could unwrap the flax that still covered my torso.
When her hands gently gripped the fabric and began to unwind it, my body shuddered softly. As the layers came off, my muscles were bare to the world once more, vulnerable, but strong again. I could feel her hands close, but not touching me, not yet, hovering around my exposed back. Every motion she made, only a Rahi hair's-length away from me, built a quiet tension. Her fingers barely traced my spine, before moving along the muscles connecting my arms, and finally arriving at my sides. Then, suddenly, her finger made contact with my muscles, and three things happened.
First, I felt a tiny wave of relief, letting out the buildup in my body and feeling a fraction of weight lift off me. Then, I heard a quiet “eep!” coming from Pysie. Finally, I had processed what had happened. My heart jumped as I realized that she completed a circuit, and my power had given her a tiny shock.
“I-I’m sorry!” I stammered. “I didn’t mean to, I didn’t even know-” My panic was cut off by the feeling of her delicate fingers touching my flesh again, this time to no sudden, involuntary discharge.
“It’s alright,” She said, reassuringly, but her voice had the faintest tone of being startled from the sudden electricity. “I’m alright.” Even when I had inadvertently hurt her, she retained her excellent manners. “It was just a little shock. I’ve felt worse, after all,” As guilty as I felt, the care I had for her caused me to hope in the back of my mind that tiny shock was the worst she’d ever been through. “Now just relax so I can put this on.”
I took a deep breath. My lungs filled painlessly, no longer having to work around a foreign object shredding me from the inside. It felt good, and like I was whole again for a moment. I breathed in and out a few times, letting my body relax before I filled my lungs again, waiting for Pysie to affix my backplate, softly nodding to her in approval.
As I held my breath, Pysie gently pressed the armor to my body. I started to exhale, the air slowly pushing out of the sides of my mask as the slightly warm metal touched my flesh. A shiver, but not one like the cold, shot up my spine before calming down. She was closing me up, finishing me, sealing my weak parts off from the dangers of the world, and yet I somehow felt vulnerable again. It wasn’t a fear of her hurting me, I wasn’t even sure that it was a fear at all, but it was almost overwhelming for what should be routine. Something in my heartlight surged, some deep emotion was stirring, but I couldn’t possibly explain what. It was like happiness but heavy, my soul being pulled like gravity, a…
“Relax and take another deep breath,” My thoughts were interrupted by her voice again. At first I wanted to say I am relaxed, I did take a deep breath , but before those thoughts could even be said, she spoke again and offered a quiet, polite rebuttal. “You’re shaking.”
“I’m sorry, Pysie,” I said, before taking that deep breath again, and consciously stopping my trembles. I didn't even know why I was shaking, but I did my best to put it out of my mind. It was only a tiny push before the plate locked in, fixed and securely sealed on my back. All of the air left me this time, freely, and I felt my body finally restored, whole again. It was right once more. “...Thank you.” My voice was filled with a deep sincerity, and I know I couldn’t mean it more.
“It was my pleasure.” As I turned to Pysie, I could see that smile behind her mask, her yellow eyes warm and appreciative as I could see them through the eyeholes. “And if you ever need help, don’t be afraid to come back here again.”
“I think I will.” I smiled to match hers, before I leaned over to grab my bag and my handaxes. “But I have a job to do for now.”
“I’m glad,” Pysie said, stifling a tiny giggle at my self-importance. "Come visit me when you have some time off from being a hero." She took my hand and gently squeezed it in gratitude, the metal covering it warm against my cool armor. After holding it for a moment, just long enough to feel that warmth start to seep into my own hand, she released it, and sat back down in the hut.
“I’ll see you again.” I turned, starting to exit the hut, and shooting one final, thankful glance at Pysie. I waded through a small crowd of Matoran, watching Gava help a wounded peer to the hut, shoulders together as she balanced their limp. I waved goodbye to her, as well as all of the Matoran who shuffled around to make way for me with a quiet clamor of goodbyes and noises of amazement, before finally meeting eyes with the Turaga.
The Turaga - Puigren, if I remembered Gava correctly - met eyes with me through her noble Pakari. I took a moment, getting down on one knee, showing her respect. She said nothing at first, and when I lifted my head, she gave me a sagely nod. Her armor was a tarnished silver over blue and… white. She was like me, a being of Lightning.
“Did our Koro treat you well, Toa?” She said, a voice weighed down by time and scratched from years of probable overuse.
“Yes,” I said, quietly, returning to my feet. “Pysie and Gava were excellent hosts. I couldn’t have asked for anything more.” The Turaga made a soft noise, a quiet, creaky mumble of approval and pride.
“I’ll make sure they know that.” She gently tapped her walking stick, her Badge of Office, a tree branch with a shining blue gem entwined in it into the ground to signify her point. “And where will you go next, Toa?”
“I don’t know,” I said, honestly. “Wherever the Great Spirit calls me.” I hoped that answer wasn’t unsatisfactory, hoping that I had earned the respect of my kinswoman, a sister in my element. I was met with a warm, almost rattly chuckle.
“An excellent answer!” She said, before stepping aside, thumping her staff on the ground once more, and pointing it towards the wide coast. “Go on, then. Go where you’re needed. And continue to do great things, Toa.” I thought to myself that I must have earned her respect, and felt the tiniest bit proud of myself. I nodded, and smiled behind my mask.
I stepped out of the village, trying to bring myself back into the mindset of the wandering Toa who entered it. As I began to wander, looking for a new path, I could barely stop thinking about my experiences with Pysie, telling the stories to Gava, and experiencing the respect of the Turaga. A piece of that feeling I felt with Pysie putting my back together came back. I couldn’t tell what it was at first, again. I walked, and I walked, thinking little of where I was going, until I found a place to rest for a small time.
“Where do you hurt?” Pysie asked, softly, as my eyes drifted over to Gava, who was gathering things off the shelf. “You’ve been through a lot. What needs the most help right now?” At first, I didn’t know what to say. Or maybe it was that I didn’t allow myself to speak, afraid of something. After a few long moments that I hoped were shorter than they felt, I spoke.
“My… back,” I said, trying to maintain a neutral tone despite the toxins making my flesh feel as if it were simmering. “I w-was fighting a Rahi, and something broke off inside me.” Saying it felt like an admission of guilt, but it somehow fell out of me, shame only creeping in with the seconds after I spoke. “I think it poisoned me, and the pain is spreading.”
“Your back...” Pysie said, thoughtfully. She asked me to turn around, and I did, turning to show my back, complete with gashed armor and the tattered remains of what used to be my cloak covering it. “It’s a very good thing you came to me,” she said, her voice suddenly grave. “If you’d waited a day or two, it could threaten your life.” She pulled the shroud off of me, which almost made me jump.
My mind instantly rushed to the Matoran I had saved, and the relief I felt when I had saved them. I was a Toa, I could handle a little poison. But what if it had happened to them? My mind raced, worrying what could have become of them until her hand touched my armor, and I gasped in pain again. “I’m sorry!” Pysie said, quickly, before gently removing her hand. I looked up towards Gava, who nodded towards Pysie before suddenly leaving, with just us two Toa left, alone.
“Why’d you... Send Gava out?” I asked, still reeling from the sharp pain. I felt Pysie’s hands return, but this time nowhere near my wounds.
“Because I need to remove this, and I figured you’d appreciate the privacy.” She said, before pressing her fingertips into the seams between my armor’s plates.
“M-My armor?” I stammered, as her fingers slowly, gently probed the plates that protected my muscles from the outside world. She traced the shapes forming the shells, as if she was trying to understand how I was put together. “Is that... necessary?” I hadn’t had anyone remove my armor since I was a Matoran, my Turaga fixing me up when I snapped my leg. And yet, in the presence of this stranger, I felt… almost like I could let my guard down. I asked if I had to, yes, but the fact that I could allow it at all felt almost nothing like the usual detachment I was accustomed to.
Pysie didn’t react to my apprehensiveness with hostility. Instead, she spoke with a measured patience. “If I don’t do something about the poison, it’ll spread and get worse. If we wait, the damage could be too much for me to repair." Even when talking about my impending doom, her words were putting me at ease somehow. I nodded. I had troubles enough, and if I could avoid one, then maybe this would be worth it.
A moment after I nodded, she spoke again. “Can you relax your muscles?” I hadn’t even realized they were tense, but I certainly felt it after she reminded me. I took as deep a breath as I could manage, struggling to put the tension in my body aside while not breathing too deeply and feeling the talon twist in my body. As I did, her fingers effortlessly ran underneath the seams of my armor and released them. In an instant, my back’s muscles were exposed, and I reflexively tensed up again, before she moved her hands to my still-armored shoulders, and gave a gentle, soothing shush.
“Shh.” She let out a calming sound as I struggled to regain the relaxation in my muscles, bare and vulnerable. “Let me remove the claw.” She murmured, a hand hovering close to my back, awaiting my compliance. I breathed in again, my shoulders high and tight, and slowly struggled to release my muscles, and let the stress inside them go. “It’s okay,” she whispered, her hand now touching my flesh, far from my wounds. I could feel some of her fingers, but not others, sitting atop scar tissues. “It’s okay,” she calmed me, her touch slowly becoming something that my body would allow. “It’s okay.” A third time was enough to make me stop thinking. A soft sense of relief, but the kind that only papers over pain, started to creep in. It almost felt like I had finally dropped a heavy weight after a long day.
Suddenly, that thin layer of peace was shattered when, without warning, Pysie snatched the talon pieces that had sheared off inside me from my flesh. I let out a tiny, startled gasp, only to be met with another calming admonition from her. “It’s over now.” She said, slowly running a hand down my less-harmed muscles. Her touch was gentle enough to not even cause my muscles to tense. “Now, I need to use my Kanohi’s power on you.”
Her mask! I was too busy looking at the beautiful copper upon it earlier – and who was behind it – to even think about what it was. “What is it?” I asked. For a moment, I had forgotten that I was vulnerable, my back open to her, and felt a rush of embarrassment. My jaw clenched underneath my mask, not from the pain of the poison, but from my foolishness.
“It’s an Amana,” she said, her seeming unbotheredness providing a tiny rush of reassurance. “A Mask of Healing.” I heard her take a deep breath, and a soft blue glow began filling the hut. I watched the shadows that the blue light cast move as her hands moved towards me, finally touching my bare, vulnerable muscles.
Nothing could have prepared me for the sudden feeling that rushed through me when her hands made contact with my body. A soothing feeling, cool but relaxing, coursed through the pathways that the poison took through my flesh. It was as though every problem my muscles had ever had, every complaint they had when I pushed them too far, dissolved from her touch. I let out a soft, involuntary gasp, before my breath slowly fell from my body. My eyes closed, and my body surrendered itself to her soothing, gentle touch, every bit of it open to whatever she pleased. But instead of the pain I was so used to, the only thing she provided was respite and healing, the peace coursing through every inch of me.
The last time anyone had me open was when I was a small Matoran, my leg twisted and broken when my work went awry. He took me apart, replacing hinges and plates and then rewiring my muscles around them. It was long, not necessarily painful, but not comfortable, and it took many days for my muscles to finish returning to their proper state. Pysie’s healing, though? It felt like the comfort of sleep while awake, the warmth of a campfire without the heat, the feeling of satiety without having eaten. Was it a few moments I was lost in, or an hour? It felt like it could go on forever, but in turn that it could leave me in a single second, which I would accept, gracefully. Either way, I...
I...
I slowly came back to reality. The same aroma that was used by Gava to calm me despite the pain wafted through the room, and it awoke me. When I opened my eyes, I expected a usual bleariness to occupy my vision, but instead, I found my vision clear, with my mind matching. I moved my hands, only to find them relaxed and tensionless, each movement having a long-lost surety and ease return.
“Did I...?” I asked, still trying to comprehend what had happened. My thoughts were clear, but the memory of the sensations I had felt were another story.
“Fall asleep?” Pysie said, with a chuckle. Her voice had a weight to it that was formerly absent, as if she was deeply exhausted. “Yes, but not for long.” She sighed before coming into my vision, her mask shimmering in the dim light from a hanging lightstone, now the only illumination in the room. “You were a complicated job.”
I wasn’t sure whether to apologize or thank her, my first instinct being to stammer three different contradictory things, but ultimately saying nothing. I simply looked at her, the tiredness in her eyes now clear behind her mask. “Did it take a lot out of you?” I asked, my hand slowly raising almost on its own.
“More than I’m used to, yeah.” She chuckled, her voice weighty. “But I’m alright.” She smiled, and I smiled too. I hoped she didn’t notice and ask about mine, or at least I tried to make myself think that. “Your armor needs a lot of work.”
“It does.” I admitted. “You were right about it not being fixed in a long time. I patched it up a long time ago, but not since then.” With it off, she could tell that it was scrap metal that I had arc welded onto my own body. How utterly embarrassing.
“Mmm.” She gave a knowing noise and nodded. “I can fix it in the morning. I need... time before I can use my Kiril.” The Mask of Regeneration, I remembered. That was a Kanohi I was familiar with, and I knew that could repair my armor. Was there anything Pysie couldn’t do? This Toa was amazing!
“You don’t have to do everything.” I said, suddenly remembering the fact that I was a visitor to her village. I stammered, praying I wasn’t overstaying my welcome. “I-I don’t need you to.”
Pysie smiled and shook her head. “It wouldn’t feel right to send you off with some armor with a big hole cut in it. But I need some sleep,” She said, gesturing to two nearby beds, presumably where she put her patients when they had more complex problems. “And I think you do too.” She was right, unfortunately. The leafy beds didn’t look the most comfortable, but I couldn’t care less about that at the moment. “I’ll cover your muscles so you don’t get hurt overnight.”
“Thank you.” I said, softly. “I... can’t possibly repay you. I have widgets, but barely any.” She grabbed a folded length of what was probably flax, and positioned herself to wrap it around my torso. Before I noticed I had done it, I lifted my arms to let her.
“Nonsense.” She said, tying it off before gently patting my back to verify my comfort. Sure enough, there was little more than a momentary dull impact, the pain of the wounds having left me. “As long as you protect others, the fact that you’re still around is worth enough on its own to me.” She then sighed, stretched, and sat down on one of the beds, barely big enough to hold her, clearly built by a Matoran. “And you seem like you’ve been doing that a lot, Ohmeni.”
“It’s the only thing I ever do.” My tone made it clear it wasn’t a brag, simply an acknowledgement of the duty I’d taken on. “Thank you,” I said, again, as I gently lowered myself onto the corresponding bed, and realized it clearly wasn’t big enough for me.
“Are you going to be comfortable there?” Pysie giggled. I was quite a bit taller than her. Last I checked, I was around 1.7 bio, and she could be no more than 1.4.
“I’ve slept in far worse spots.” I wasn’t exaggerating at all. Being a nomadic Toa offered its own challenges. “This is at least soft.” I said, with a chuckle. “It’s nice, actually.” I slowly laid down and tucked my legs in, and only when I was situated and let myself relax did I notice that she was watching me the whole time, her eyes tracking my movements. Her gaze on me felt... nice. Nice, and safe, and…
A soft silence hung in the air for a moment, the gentle relaxation mingling with the slow cover of the night sinking in. Her gaze suddenly turned away from me, as if she had suddenly realized what she was doing. “...Goodnight, Ohmeni.” She said, quietly, but sincerely.
It was a shame she wasn’t looking at me now, seeing my smile. “Goodnight, Pysie.” I said, softly. As the night slowly covered us, I felt safe. And as I fell asleep, I hoped that she knew how thankful I was.
