Aang (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
actually112) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2014-10-03 12:00 am
actually112) wrote in thecapitol2014-10-03 12:00 am
Entry tags:
I have regained my breath
Who| Aang and YOU
What| He's fresh out of the arena and he's a little ball of sad.
Where| Training Center; Roof, D4 suite, and everywhere else
When| Late 11th week of the mall arena.
Warnings/Notes| Sadness, references to child death, references to fictional genocide
D4 Suite
Aang woke up being able to hear again. There was no hole in his chest, and he could breathe.
He felt dead inside.
Dying was horrible. He could feel it--his soul, the Avatar spirit battering his chest, trying to escape, but trapped. He could feel himself dying in a way he wasn't meant to, without moving on to someone else. Would the Avatar cycle have been over had they let him stay dead, or would the Avatar spirit escape again once his body rotted and split open to allow it out?
Maybe it had moved on after the darkness overtook him. Maybe, for the briefest moment, he had been a waterbender baby. And then maybe he had died in his new mother's arms.
He staggers into the common area, blankly looking around, not looking all there. His legs feel wrong. His arms feel wrong. His lungs and ears feel wrong. Everything is wrong.
The Roof
It didn't take him long to realize that the autumnal equinox had come and gone. He was 113. It had been 101 years since the Air Nomads were wiped from the earth. Here, in this place of color and strange machines, after watching people die and suffer, without even the wind to whistle in his ears and guide him, he has never felt so alone.
He goes up. He finds stairs, and he goes up until he can't go up anymore. To the roof. The wind blows around him, but it doesn't speak to him like it should. He sits on the ground, overlooking all the towering buildings, buildings full of people who had laughed as they observed his suffering.
He sits down, hugs his knees, and lets tears flow silently down his face. Nothing. His struggles had been for nothing.
Aang takes a deep breath as the wind blows away his tears, and begins to sing. Those who observed him humming on Zuko's chest as he died would recognize the melody, but none of the lyrics are translated like everything else is. That is because there aren't lyrics--he lets out noises from deep in his chest, from high in his throat, making sounds that humans can't make without practice. He's imitating the wind, with its wails and puffs and whistles and moans. The lyrics are nonsense, and yet they mean everything to Aang.
It's the wind. It's all he has left of his people now.
Everywhere
After his grieving, it hits him that he's alive. And so will everyone else be.
His face is a little blotchy, but to hell with that. He's exploring, getting lost, getting found again, wandering into random districts and finding the common area and climbing onto dummies in the training area.
He is looking for friends, old and new and potential.
He doesn't have the Air Nomads, but he has them.
What| He's fresh out of the arena and he's a little ball of sad.
Where| Training Center; Roof, D4 suite, and everywhere else
When| Late 11th week of the mall arena.
Warnings/Notes| Sadness, references to child death, references to fictional genocide
D4 Suite
Aang woke up being able to hear again. There was no hole in his chest, and he could breathe.
He felt dead inside.
Dying was horrible. He could feel it--his soul, the Avatar spirit battering his chest, trying to escape, but trapped. He could feel himself dying in a way he wasn't meant to, without moving on to someone else. Would the Avatar cycle have been over had they let him stay dead, or would the Avatar spirit escape again once his body rotted and split open to allow it out?
Maybe it had moved on after the darkness overtook him. Maybe, for the briefest moment, he had been a waterbender baby. And then maybe he had died in his new mother's arms.
He staggers into the common area, blankly looking around, not looking all there. His legs feel wrong. His arms feel wrong. His lungs and ears feel wrong. Everything is wrong.
The Roof
It didn't take him long to realize that the autumnal equinox had come and gone. He was 113. It had been 101 years since the Air Nomads were wiped from the earth. Here, in this place of color and strange machines, after watching people die and suffer, without even the wind to whistle in his ears and guide him, he has never felt so alone.
He goes up. He finds stairs, and he goes up until he can't go up anymore. To the roof. The wind blows around him, but it doesn't speak to him like it should. He sits on the ground, overlooking all the towering buildings, buildings full of people who had laughed as they observed his suffering.
He sits down, hugs his knees, and lets tears flow silently down his face. Nothing. His struggles had been for nothing.
Aang takes a deep breath as the wind blows away his tears, and begins to sing. Those who observed him humming on Zuko's chest as he died would recognize the melody, but none of the lyrics are translated like everything else is. That is because there aren't lyrics--he lets out noises from deep in his chest, from high in his throat, making sounds that humans can't make without practice. He's imitating the wind, with its wails and puffs and whistles and moans. The lyrics are nonsense, and yet they mean everything to Aang.
It's the wind. It's all he has left of his people now.
Everywhere
After his grieving, it hits him that he's alive. And so will everyone else be.
His face is a little blotchy, but to hell with that. He's exploring, getting lost, getting found again, wandering into random districts and finding the common area and climbing onto dummies in the training area.
He is looking for friends, old and new and potential.
He doesn't have the Air Nomads, but he has them.