VootCaboot

Kraata's Birthday

VootCaboot

The Makuta took panting breaths. No, her body mimicked the motion of panting, but she had no lungs anymore. She gave those up many years ago, when she was even less evolved. Antidermis, the gaseous substance inside her that made her into a sentient being instead of an empty suit of armor, was a blessing like no other. After all, it sustained the life that was inside of her.

That life had gotten restless. Now fully-formed, the Kraata inside of the sickly green sac in the chest cavity that Tridax so generously innovated for warfare’s purpose thrashed. It wanted to be out, badly. And what kind of a mother would this Makuta be if she did not tend to her offspring’s wants?

The thrashing within the sac was mildly painful, the nerve endings she had shapeshifted within warning her of the Kraata’s desire to be out - she had learned they were an important feature when the potent disintegration specimen that became the empty Guurakh she steadied herself upon decided it would make its way out without her. She began to shapeshift the sac again, this time into a hardened, glassy shell, the nerves and veins pumping antidermis for the Kraata to grow that connected it to her body starting to dry up into striated patterns.

Her steps were wobbly, her body unstable from the severe lack of antidermis in her. It was not without a purpose, as it all was pumped into the now-dried sac that held the Kraata, made into a viscous liquid suspending it while it finished growing. Her body was difficult to animate, her thoughts loose and disconnected, but she made her way over to the table of her workshop, given to her by Miserix a hundred thousand moons ago. Two clawed hands planted themselves upon the table’s surface, holding her up while her legs threatened to collapse. It was time.

The Tridax pod launcher in her body began to move, the claws holding the now-disconnected sac of antidermis beginning to twitch in living anticipation. All it would take was one push, one launch, but it was a struggle. She took a deep breath - mimed taking a deep breath - and focused all of the effort on the otherwise-trivial task of triggering the launcher in her frame.

With a metallic ping and a wet, disgusting crack, the pod left her body and shattered upon the surface of the table. The hardened substance that held the creature safe was now cracked like an eggshell, all protection from the world ceased, and the liquid antidermis poured over the table’s edge onto the floor, ground and afterbirth mutually contaminating one another, hissing as it evaporated. The Kraata squirmed, free, free! From her bleary vision, the Makuta could finally see it.

The Kraata had a head with a single eyespot, darting around and gathering more information about the world it could now explore - the third stage of Kraata development. Tolerant, too, for allowing itself to stay submerged in the antidermis and grow. That head was orange, with a mottled black spreading to its tail, displaying it wielded the power of magnetism. It used its powers in quick order, immediately snapping itself to the Makuta’s armor and crawling upon it, winding its way up her arm and to her shoulder, ducking under the glowing tubes that pumped antidermis through her.

✴        ✴        ✴

She smiled to herself, her mask twisting unnaturally to display her pleasure. As her creation crawled all over her, she got to her feet, retracting her Tridax pod launcher with a click, and walked over towards the shattered piece of glass she could see her reflection in.

She was weak, undeniably so. She could see it by the way her reflection quivered. But the beast that just emerged from her crawled over her shoulder, making itself able to be examined in the mirror. Her pride swelled at the sight of it. It was strong already, and it would become stronger. She would not cast it into a Rahkshi shell like its siblings. No, it was going to pilot a Rahkshi of Magnetism proudly.

Her eyes glanced down to her chest, watching the sac reform. She needed time to rest. Her body demanded it. But when she glanced over to the Kraata upon her…

What could one more hurt?