SHORE, SURF, TIDES
An unprecedented knock sounds from the other side of the main door, grounding all of the various conversations from flowing rhythm to a rather abrupt halt.
Exchanging bewildered glances or just shrugging in absolute confusion; Ty Lee was the one to answer the random visitor.
It’s Clockwork, so not completely random.
However, this only adds to our mounting curiosity, of course we didn’t know what he wanted from us, I mean; coming into the common room either means that the outcome for our group being there is ready for the merge or some obscure details need to seriously be rehashed.
Ursa voiced as much.
Nodding in acknowledgement to the former Princess and Fire Lady; Clockwork turned to Moana, asking to speak to her privately.
Caught off guard at the sudden request, the sixteen year old awkwardly made her way out of the room.
Back in Blacksmiths’ Workshop, Moana noticed there were a few more additions to the layout of said space; not previously existing before.
Doors.
Two to be precise.
One, she noticed, had light and chatter spilling from it, with the voices belonging to the various deities whom she and the other chosen had all met; in being brought to this place.
What caught her eye at the second, was the whakairo on the front of the polished wood.
Her heart skipped a beat, because she knew that whakairo, that carving, on the door.
Knew it like her own heartbeat.
It was an image that hung on a tapa cloth in her family’s home; their Fale.
An animal that spiritually is a symbol of intuition, emotional intelligence, and balance.
An ocean dwelling animal that serves as a totem of protection and guidance.
This same animal totem also was tattooed on the back of the person most close to her.
Her beloved Gramma Tala, whom upon her passing; the elder woman’s spirit reincarnated by the rite of Toatoa Mo’na receiving a blessing to leave with her grandmother leading the way past the reef surrounding Motunui; starting the journey in restoring Te Fiti’s heart.
Toatoa Mo’na: where ancestors can return as animals after passing, if they choose to do so.
Swallowing past the lump in her throat, with great difficulty, eyes welling with tears.
A Whakairo.
A Manta Ray Whakairo.
Taking a deep breath to calm down, shakily wiping stray tears away from her eyes; turning to the figure beside her.
“Just what exactly is behind this door?”
“Not ‘what’ but rather it’s ‘who’.”
“Meaning?”
“You will meet someone who knows you as well as and better than you know yourself.”
“That literally explains nothing, not to mention it’s confusing as hell.”
A genial hand wave to the door was her answer.
Moana responded with an unimpressed deadpan stare as she walked up to grab the doorknob; turning she angled herself to face her host.
Heh, Ghost Host.
Sighing the islander said as she twisted the doorknob in her hand; still eyeing Clockwork.
“You just love infuriating people with your formidable cryptic ways; don’t you?”
Clockwork gestured to the Common Room door. “When your visit is done; both of you feel free to rejoin the others.” On that note the Master of Time floated towards through the deities’ door, closing it with a smirk directed at the teenager.
Guy really knows how to be an aggravating jerk; while remaining cordial.
Turning back towards the entry of her destination, the girl brushed her free hand over the intricate artwork; so much bubbling just under the surface.
Roiling, writhing; fighting to burst free.
Heaving a sigh to try and rein in the tsunami of everything she was feeling.
The doorknob burning like freezing water in her grasp.
Moana of Motunui:
Chief.
Daughter.
Master Wayfinder.
Opened the door and being apprehensively brave passed over the threshold.
Closing it behind her.