#hes sooo. bitter and resentful and an awful person i need to throw him down a flight of stairs <33 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aerialflight · 7 years

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Moana Snippet

Well, I did it. I wrote a Moana thing. I haven’t written anything in a while, so I just wrote a little snippet on how Maui could’ve possibly met our favorite sentient Ocean. Hope you all enjoy! Comments and reblogs are everything.

The burning, scorching sun was the first thing to greet Maui when he first woke up. Blinking away the familiar feeling of sand latched onto his eyelashes, he got up, grimacing when he felt gritty sand irritate the back of his neck.

Impatiently brushing away the golden grains from his rumpled curls, he glanced around and felt dread start to pummel in his stomach.

Rocks. An island of stones and not a single coconut tree in sight.

Te Ka sure knew how to pick them.

“Perfect.” He grunted, dread twisting into anger and indignation. “I try to help mankind and what do I get? A vacation house made of pebbles? No boat, no fishhook-”

Everything suddenly screeched to a stop. Fear made its way down Maui’s spine along with denial.

The gods can’t be that cruel-

He bolted, trying to find the magical gift in vain, desperation fueling his need to search. The one thing that made him worth anything, his ticket to escaping, his reason for being. Hours blurred as he fruitlessly tried to find the familiar tool that was an extension of himself. It didn’t even cross his mind that Te Fiti’s heart was gone until much later.

Nothing. Nothing but a deserted island he’s been exiled to unfairly.

He dropped to his knees, unable to stand anymore. He glanced up, seeing the night sky with its vibrant stars twinkling back as if mocking him. A map he knew so intimately that it was seared into his mind, the knowledge completely useless to him without having any way to leave. Another method of torture, a reminder of how trapped he was.

He curled into himself, burying his head into his knees and wrapping his legs up like a lost child.

It was the longest night he’s ever faced.

Solitude was a slow, creeping thing that snuck up on him.

It was a fact he didn’t accept immediately.

At first, he howled until his voice got hoarse at the sea, a volcano exploding at every syllable as he cursed the gods and the damn Heart for having him stranded here. He threw rocks, ripped apart shrubs and tossed shells far into the water just to send the message much more thoroughly. It went on for weeks, months, (he wasn’t sure how long to be honest) before all his fury eventually depleted itself and left him frantic.

He begged like never before on his hands and knees with his head resting the sand. He bargained like the trickster he is, admitted his crimes as if it would absolve him, honest pleads stumbled off his tongue, yet nothing happened. The gods weren’t listening.

The fact sunk in and left him colder than the sea’s abyss.

He laid on his back by the beach, completely listless as hopelessness and depression ate away his usually gregarious personality. He stared up at the blue expanse, longing to fly his way out and feel the breeze flutter his feathers as he glided above the glittering ocean. The best of both worlds at his fingertips, a free spirit in every sense of the word.

Now, he was a literal caged bird, wings clipped by the gods who gifted it to him in the first place.

It was a fitting punishment.

It left a lingering, bitter taste in his mouth.

This phase, however, was a passing thing. He wouldn’t have survived this long if he let something like this stop him. Resourcefulness and making the best out of his circumstances was practically his origin story if you think about it.

He eventually got up and started to explore the sorry excuse of an island, noting dryly that there was absolutely nothing he could use to build a boat or any means of leaving.

After that, there was unfortunately not much else to do.

Boredom became an issue really, really quickly.

Time may pass strangely to a demigod – one time, he sailed at sea for an entire decade without resting and wouldn’t have realized it if it weren’t for the fact his boat started breaking apart from constant use and his heavy bulk – but it seemed to crawl after he ran out of things to do.

He wasn’t used to being this antsy, usually always on the move to explore new islands or battle monsters that terrorize helpless mortals who later tell stories of his heroics and deeds. It always left him feeling accomplished, the praises making him more daring to prove himself even further that he was worthy of such legends attached to his name. Worthy of being loved.

(But the starstruck expressions so full of awe and thanks only partially filled up that loneliness that has haunted his every step, leaving him craving for more.)

This overwhelming isolation has led him into the habit of talking to himself.

Well, technically his tattoo, but it was the same difference really. He only noticed the miniature cartoon version of himself coming to life when he felt an unnatural tug pull his bicep that completely startled the daylights out of him.

And no, he did not scream like a little girl, thank you very much.

Turns out he created his own companion. Which was pretty sad even by his standards. The fact it has quite an attitude and apparently liked to nag him a lot was something he was not going to inspect closely. It said things about himself that he created someone like that out of his longing for any form of interaction. It didn’t help that he was irrationally jealous of the fact the little guy has its own fishhook.

He was evidently losing it.

With nobody around, he found himself narrating his actions, bickering with the expressive Mini-Maui who disapproved of his tendency to use bad words when he stubbed his toes on rocks or hollered at the sky like a crazy person whenever a storm rumbled above and left him drenched.

It kept him busy when he told himself his own stories that people have created about him, as if he needed reminding on how awesome he was. It was amusing to watch the miniature tattoo figure dance and whack monsters on the head whenever he did, following the story with zealous enthusiasm.

Most of the time, he did this near the ocean during the day, the sight of the sea always calming the restlessness inside him. It was a comforting view, and he could almost imagine himself sailing across the great blue if he closed his eyes, hand touching the water to test its temperature and hear the crashing waves. His voice unconsciously grew deeper whenever he spoke, as if whispering secrets to the water as he wove tales that weren’t just about himself if he ran out of his own adventures – a rare occurrence – and describing terrible sea monsters parents told their children as bedtime stories.

(Not that he knew. He never knew his own.)

There were times he swore that the ocean was listening, an attentive presence that left him feeling comforted and less alone. By this point, he was accepting the probability he was going insane.

So slowly he didn’t even notice, he formulated a routine. He was coping to the best of his abilities, telling himself he’s biding his time and waiting for an opportunity to escape.

And when he fell into deep slumber that stretched on for what felt like months, he dreamed of flying.

It happened on an ordinary day that turned his world view upside down and left him hanging there continuously.

He was having one of his bad days, brooding by the shore with cynicism poisoning his heart. The cheerful sun irritated him and the sea breeze was incredibly annoying with how his hair kept slapping him in the face and leaving him wishing for a stronger hairband that didn’t consist of braided plant stems. They were snapping far too quickly, much to his aggravation.

Pint-sized Maui was looking up at him anxiously, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to sit down and do nothing, delve deep into his pondering thoughts and bury himself in resentment that was becoming more familiar to him by the day.

“Oh who am I kidding.” He was muttering to himself, scoffing. “Escaping? There’s no escaping this place. I’m just going to waste away here and all anyone’s going to say about me is,” he raised his voice into a falsetto, batting his eyelashes for effect. “‘Oh, Maui? You mean the demigod who screwed it up and died on a rock from utter boredom? Wow, he sounds sooo amazing!’”

He sighed, his spirits plummeting even further. “Yeah, real amazing. Amazing you’ll be remembered at all.”

That, more than anything, terrified him beyond anything the gods could throw at him. What if hundreds of years pass and everyone forgets him? What if he really was stuck here forever and slowly be driven insane until one day he won’t be able to take it anymore and drown himself?

It was a gloomy line of thought.

He was so busy frowning down at his lap that it took him a few minutes to realize that something was shading him from the sun. He looked up, expecting to see clouds in the sky even though he was pretty sure the sky was spotless the last time he checked, and was met with something completely impossible.

The ocean lifted itself up and was looking at him.

“Aaah!” Maui’s screech did not resemble a squawking chicken as he scrambled away from the shore so vigorously, he didn’t even notice how he scraped his hands and feet on the gritty gravel.

The towering wave – Head? Arm? What in gods name? – jerked back like it was startled by Maui’s very understandable reaction to an animated ocean. The two beings that existed beyond mortal comprehension went into a standoff, staring at each other for a very long moment before Maui registered the stinging hurt on his palms and soles. He winced, holding his hands up to see them angry red with little cuts all over his fingers and the insides of his wrists.

He glanced up from his inspection and barely managed not to back away again, heart jumping into his throat when the ocean wave came impossibly close to him by stretching itself ahead of the shore line.

By Papa, he never connected the word sneaky to the ocean before now. You learn something new every day.

Heck, he swore that the ocean was nearly hovering in worry with how intently it was focused on the angry, red lines that were starting to slightly bleed.

Maui was briefly struck with an absurd thought. Has it never seen blood before? But people have died at sea, impaled by their broken boats or eaten by monsters or thousands of other scenarios more serious than something this minor.

He was giving himself a headache.

“It’s no big deal.” He found himself saying. He didn’t know if he was telling this to himself, or attempting to reassure the blue, apparently sentient sea that may or not be a figment of his imagination. “This is nothing to the great Ma-aaa!”

He yowled as a blob of water suddenly consumed his feet, the salt bringing needles of ratcheting pain. He involuntarily curled his toes and tensed his shoulders from shock. The ocean quickly retreated, releasing its watery grip at his shouting.

“What was that for?” Maui yelled, flailing his hands with all the refinement of a jumping jellyfish. All his frustrations at his general situation, inconvenient injuries, and constant black mood bubbled to the surface and was now targeting itself at the overcasting water. “Is this a pastime of yours? No wonder people say you’re a sadistic-Hey!”

He lurched back his hands, dodging the wave that was determinedly darting towards his appendixes like a fruit fly to a rotting banana.

“Would you just-Why are you so-Son of a-”

He didn’t get to finish when the ocean literally splashed him hard on the cheek, momentarily stunning him from the unexpectedness of it, and victoriously engulfed his hands with sea water.

Maui hissed, a hundred piranhas biting his tough flesh before the sensation disappeared as abruptly as it came when the ocean withdrew. His eyes widened when he realized rather stupidly that all the sand that had been irritating the injuries were cleanly gone, a much smoother process than if he had done it manually.

“Oh.” He voiced out, the word uncharacteristically small. He looked up and felt any sense of gratitude die a ghastly death when he sensed smugness practically radiate off of the ocean’s head.

Scowling, he instinctively tried to shove the water away, which was kind of senseless in hindsight. He ended up getting his hand stuck in the suspended water with the associating pain of his wounds already something he was getting used to.

He half expected the ocean to let go or pull some sort of mischief over him. Instead, it slowly bobbed up and down with his hand following the motion, a strange gesture that bewilderingly resembled a gentle handshake.

Hello. It seemed to be trying to say. Or even, Nice to meet you.

And then just as gently, it let go of its hold and sunk back, becoming a small unnatural hump above the lapping waves, akin to a child peeking at him with a cautiousness that made guilt latch onto his conscience. He didn’t have to glance down to know Little Maui was looking up at him expectantly to make a move.

Maui sighed and rolled his shoulders, bracing himself.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you.” He tried not to look down or cross his arms defensively. Pride and a lack of sustaining conversations made him unpracticed in the art of apologizing. “You didn’t deserve it.”

The sea seemed to go completely still, which was unsettling in how deliberate its lack of movement seemed to be. Maui’s not used to seeing the waters not be in constant flux, especially when he’s travelled across the waves countless times before. It finally rippled when a sudden stream of seawater hit him right in the face, breaking the tension effectively.

“You little-”

In the end, Maui had streaked into the ocean and spat out angry expletives in the water, uncaring and not noticing how much his feet stung for thumping on the sand so many times until afterwards. In response to his justifiable rage, the ocean kept dumping buckets of water on top of him or aimed at his ticklish armpits the moment he let his guard down.

When the rather one-sided battle was over, his hair was a mess and salt was permanently imbued in his scalp and locks, making it frazzled and smelling like fish. His feet and hands ached and itched, and he only got warm once he set a fire going as the skies darkened. Whatever brought the ocean to life had waded off and left him alone again, doing whatever it is annoying, lively oceans did.

He refused to think about the fact that not once did his sorry situation cross his mind during the entire day, having been fully distracted the whole time.

And hey, at least he learnt that the ocean was a mischievous brat instead of the wise, old revered force of nature everyone thought it was.

Who knew?

#Fanfiction #Snippet #Disney #Moana #Maui #Ocean #aerial snippet

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