Happy Hearts Day, friends and fiends!
Disclaimer: I don't own Bionicle, if I did, there'd be a lot more romances, not all this friendship stuff.
The Card
By Magdalan-Saiyan-Toa
Twas a normal day on the Island of Metru Nui, in no way extraordinary. Everyone was going about their business. Eroker was one Matoran with an easy, laid-back job. He was out in the fresh-air, getting plenty of exercise. He was a mail delivery Matoran. Today was no exception. Like any other day, he went about his regular routine. But, unlike normal days, he was to deliver an unusual object: a card.
Eroker blinked at the folded piece of paper. It was a red little card with a perfectly cut out heart glued in the direct center. On the heart was a name. Vakama.
Vakama?
Eroker blinked and shook his head in disbelief. Vakama the Mask Maker was one Ta-Matoran with many admirers. He never knew anyone actually sent him something.
He shrugged it off and headed towards the forge. The building was almost, length wise, as the Coliseum. Many Ta-Matoran worked there for a living. Finding Vakama shouldn't be that hard, it just take a while for him to get to Vakama's forging room. The Mask Maker rarely left the inferno of a room nowadays. There were rumors about him making a mask for Turaga Dume; but those were just rumors… weren't they?
He sighed and made his way up the winding steps. He breathed deep, enjoying the scent of molten protodermis; Eroker felt at peace here, in the forge. Secretly he wanted to be a mask maker, like Vakama, and not a delivery Matoran.
His amber eyes scanned the names on a doors. Eroker chanted: "Vakama… Vakama…" as he wound the way around the building. He stopped at the door and knocked. A few seconds later a tall Ta-Matoran answered.
"Vakama?" Eroker asked.
"No…" the Ta-Matoran said, somewhat sadly. "I'm Vekama. Vakama is further up."
"But it says Vakama on the door." Eroker said, pointing to the door.
"The sign must've fallen off again. I'll fix that later. Goodbye." Vekama closed the door. Eroker sighed and kept walking. He continued scanning until he reached the last door at the very top. No name was readable for anyone to know who worked there.
He wrapped at the metal door, waiting for anyone. There was a clatter and a yelp, then a shuffling scuffle. The door opened revealing a sweating and startled Ta-Matoran.
"Yes?" he asked.
"Do you know where Mask Maker Vakama works?" Eroker asked.
"I do."
"Can you lead me to him?"
"Um…"
"Well…?"
"I am he."
"Oh! Well, here, Vakama." Eroker held out the card. A confused Vakama accepted the piece of decorated paper. Eroker turned to leave and said over his shoulder, "You know? An escalator would be nice. Maybe I'll suggest it." Vakama shook his head and closed the door.
He studied the front of the card, reading his name: Vakama, written boldly in glittering red. Who would send such an odd object to him? Who would send him something at all? He opened it and read.
"Ta-Matoran are red,
Ga-Matoran are blue.
You make me blush,
Because I'm stuck on you."
Vakama blushed at the words. It was a sweet poem, childish but very sweet. He read it a few more times. He made someone blush? Who would blush because of him?
Touring far below on the ground, a group of young teachers-to-be listened as they were told about the forge and all sorts of things crafted by the Ta-Matoran. One of the students' minds was somewhere else. She looked up at the building with longing, blue eyes. A blush found its way upon her cheeks.
"Vakama…"
It's not very long but it gets to the point… and it's cute! I wrote it during one of my classes. I was really bored. Creative writing is one of the easiest classes I've ever taken (next to Theatre Arts).— Amy.