I saved this one until last, because I had a feeling it was going to be one of the long ones. So I figured I’g get rid of the short ones first. No luck, they decided they wanted to be long too. Anyway, calling him the spirit of the earth hits me as kind of like the ocean spirit, or the sun spirit, an Earthbender spirit. So the Avatar is the spirit of life.
Ozai’s line was the line of the old Fire Lords. Every member of every Fire clan left knew that, but none of them cared anymore. Zuko picked his way over the rocks, the sea spray lashing his body and face. His eyes darted into the pools between the stones, his knife in hand. “Ha!” Falling to his knees on the slick stones, Zuko shoved his arm into one of the small pools and pried loose a clam-mussel to throw into his skin bag. Once, before the Avatar had disappeared and everything had easy, clam-mussels had covered the beach. Uncle told him that once, there had been other people to gather them, people who were paid with money. Zuko had never seen money.
It was so hard not to eat them, crouched among the sea-slicked stones instead of carrying them away to share with Uncle.
~*~
The sun had gone down behind the clouds by the time Zuko made it back to camp. Uncle had his pot on the fire already, full of cricket-moths frying with oily Huangyou seed pods.
They hadn’t eaten in two days. Zuko’s stomach cramped with hunger, and tonight, he was going to be full, actually full.
Uncle pulled the pot off the fire. People killed for good steel knives and metal pots.
Nobody cared anymore that Ozai’s line was the line of the old Fire Lords. What they cared about was that his clan held the old capital city and all the wreckage inside, with all the odds and ends, and good steel knives and metal pots. What people talked about was that he had two children. Ever since the Avatar had disappeared, one child born was a wonder, two was a miracle. What people talked about was that he had kicked one of his children out of his clan. People wondered out loud what kind of person would throw away a miracle, what was wrong with him.
Or wrong with the child.
Uncle handed him the waterskin, and it tasted slimy, like the water had been in there too long. Uncle sometimes talked about something called tea, that he had drunk when he was still a child, before it had gotten really bad. But he said it didn’t fill up his stomach, so Zuko didn’t see the point.
Zuko picked a moth-cricket out of the pot and popped it into his mouth, eating as quickly as he could so he could put the clam-mussels into the pot while they were still alive. “If we’re going to search the southern Air islands, we’re going to have to leave now.”
Iroh nodded, mouth full of moth-crickets and glanced at the outrigger canoe carved from one of the big, dead jungle trees from the Fire islands, its main hull packed with nets and sail. People killed for those too.
When Uncle had been young, he had travelled the world searching for the Avatar to capture him for the Fire Nation. Back when there had been a Fire Nation. Zuko needed to find the Avatar so there would be a Fire Nation again.
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branchandroot
Life Spirit: Zuko and Iroh
Date: 2010-10-05 07:24 pm (UTC)Ozai’s line was the line of the old Fire Lords. Every member of every Fire clan left knew that, but none of them cared anymore. Zuko picked his way over the rocks, the sea spray lashing his body and face. His eyes darted into the pools between the stones, his knife in hand. “Ha!” Falling to his knees on the slick stones, Zuko shoved his arm into one of the small pools and pried loose a clam-mussel to throw into his skin bag. Once, before the Avatar had disappeared and everything had easy, clam-mussels had covered the beach. Uncle told him that once, there had been other people to gather them, people who were paid with money. Zuko had never seen money.
It was so hard not to eat them, crouched among the sea-slicked stones instead of carrying them away to share with Uncle.
~*~
The sun had gone down behind the clouds by the time Zuko made it back to camp. Uncle had his pot on the fire already, full of cricket-moths frying with oily Huangyou seed pods.
They hadn’t eaten in two days. Zuko’s stomach cramped with hunger, and tonight, he was going to be full, actually full.
Uncle pulled the pot off the fire. People killed for good steel knives and metal pots.
Nobody cared anymore that Ozai’s line was the line of the old Fire Lords. What they cared about was that his clan held the old capital city and all the wreckage inside, with all the odds and ends, and good steel knives and metal pots. What people talked about was that he had two children. Ever since the Avatar had disappeared, one child born was a wonder, two was a miracle. What people talked about was that he had kicked one of his children out of his clan. People wondered out loud what kind of person would throw away a miracle, what was wrong with him.
Or wrong with the child.
Uncle handed him the waterskin, and it tasted slimy, like the water had been in there too long. Uncle sometimes talked about something called tea, that he had drunk when he was still a child, before it had gotten really bad. But he said it didn’t fill up his stomach, so Zuko didn’t see the point.
Zuko picked a moth-cricket out of the pot and popped it into his mouth, eating as quickly as he could so he could put the clam-mussels into the pot while they were still alive. “If we’re going to search the southern Air islands, we’re going to have to leave now.”
Iroh nodded, mouth full of moth-crickets and glanced at the outrigger canoe carved from one of the big, dead jungle trees from the Fire islands, its main hull packed with nets and sail. People killed for those too.
When Uncle had been young, he had travelled the world searching for the Avatar to capture him for the Fire Nation. Back when there had been a Fire Nation. Zuko needed to find the Avatar so there would be a Fire Nation again.