Post by sugarland31 on Feb 8, 2006 20:13:31 GMT -5
Well, basically, this is the first in a series of four oneshots I'm writing, about four girls from each of the four nations. Obviously, this one takes place about 100 years before the events of the show.
Tao: Air Nomads
Meaning of name: Long life
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I’ll admit it. I was scared. When they told us that the Fire Nation was approaching, I mean. That we were to prepare to fight. But I have tried to put on a face of bravery for my friends and family. They believe I fear nothing.
I’ve spent the last four days preparing for them. The strange thing is, I don’t really know what exactly I’m getting ready for. Will they capture me? Will I escape? Will I die? Will my family survive? And if they do, will I ever see them again?
We are the closest temple to the Fire Nation’s boundaries; we really don’t know what’s going to happen. They are renowned as powerful, but that doesn’t necessarily mean cruel, does it? They are soldiers, not murderers; they will have mercy on us. We are merely a small, ragtag monastery, filled with monks and women and young children—we present no threat. No people are so inhumane as to kill a peaceful group such as us.
That doesn’t mean I can’t be scared, though. I see the adults’ worried looks—I am 15, not a child, and I understand what they mean. And it only makes me even more anxious to see this through, to be safe again. Once the Fire Nation takes over this area, things can return to normal. Yes, we’ll have to live under them, but how bad could it get? (My parents whisper of being split up—I must admit, that is my greatest fear. Not the battle, nor the Fire Nation soldiers, but being separated. My family, and the other benders, are my life.)
I am snapped out of my reverie when all the others around me suddenly look up, alarmed. A door opens, and an elderly man, one of the head monks, peers out, his eyes weary and anxious. At first, I do not realize what the cause for alarm is—and then I hear it, too: the gong. Our agreed warning that the Fire Nation was approaching.
Immediately, everyone packs up whatever they were doing and heads to find their families, rushing to see them before the conflict ensues. I leap up and dash down the hall, sprinting ahead of the others as I run to find my family.
I turn down the familiar hallways, instinct taking over as my conscious thoughts turn to war. By now, I am beginning to imagine I can hear the soldiers’ footsteps thunking outside the walls of the temple, and the repeated chime of the gong is thundering in my ears, making me believe I will go deaf. Blood is pumping through my ears as I throw open the door to my family’s compartments and run inside, calling out for my mother and father.
My mother is already downstairs, in the kitchen, her place of refuge, no matter what the storm. She turns when I enter, but her eyes are unfocused as she gazes at me. She looks through me, too busy with her preparations for the battle to really notice that I am there. It scares me, her glazed eyes and the way she doesn’t look like she’s even here. Her normally beautiful, lithe features are stretched and contorted; she looks like no one I know.
My father thunders down the stairs next, and, though he appears worried, he is not nearly in the state of my mother. He is a thick, rippling man, with muscular arms and shoulders, coupled with a heavy chest and torso. He flashes me a quick, nervous smile: it will be all right, he seems to say to me in that brief moment, before he strides to the mantle above our fireplace and lifts his staff off from the wall.
I nod, to no one really, and walk past both of them, to our small balcony overlooking the cliffs and the damp valleys below. A thick layer of fog lays over the rocky, craggy surface, a curtain for the Fire Nation to tear through and descend upon my home.
I feel a hand on my shoulder, and turn to face my father, his eyes seeming bleak and sad, a strange combination he has never worn before. “I told Jae-Sun that you would assist in leading the children to safety,” he says grimly, looking out over me, his eyes wandering, like mine, onto the fog outside.
Part of me is angry: my piece of this great battle has been stolen! My chance to be a hero, to face the heat of the battle, to be involved in my people’s glorious, heroic fall to the Fire Nation. After all, doesn’t everyone want to be a hero, for just once in their lives? Even if the cause itself is not victorious?
The other half of me appreciates his kindness. He only wants to ensure my safety, I know. He does not want me to be caught up in the great and powerful war machine that is the Fire Nation.
I nod meekly, being the good, obedient daughter I am. He smiles slightly, a tiny half-moon, and turns back to help my mother.
Even though he has not told me where to go to meet the children, I have heard, in the countless meetings concerning today’s invasion, where to go. Those evacuating the children are meeting in East Wing of the dormitories—a more run-down area of the temple, but close to our escape routes. From there, we shall be able to slip the children out through a chain of underground passages leading to the outside. These passages then lead to the edge of the expansive valleys bordering our home, to where we shall escape until a safe return is guaranteed. Also, this method of escape is much easier than exiting through the passages on the other side of the temple complex, as the Fire Nation will most likely approach from the northwest—they have been camped there for several weeks now.
My mind is blank as I head to the East Wing; I think only of my mission, of how to protect the children. I am only an amateur airbender myself, possessing no weapons such as the more experienced in the temple. But then again, from what I have seen and heard, the Fire Nation soldiers themselves mainly just firebend—they do not often use swords and staffs, according to our instructors.
I toss my thoughts aside as I reach the dormitory. There, some 20 or more children are being lined up and carefully counted by a young man. I note to myself that he is rather handsome, and perhaps just a year or two my senior. He notices me, glancing over his shoulder; I smile back, attempting to make my eyes shine in the way that they did before this horrible war. His eyes seem to smile back at me, and I grin to myself and continue walking.
It seems I have arrived just in time—another man gives a signal, and the children turn to face the door in the wall heading out into the passageway. Being nearest, I slide open the door and venture into the grimy underground hallway, wrinkling my nose at the smell of rot and mold.
The handsome boy appears next to me, seemingly vaporizing out of thin air, winking at me slyly. A middle-aged woman calls from behind us that we are to lead the children. Both of us nod and continue forward. No one speaks, and the only sound is the sloshing of the wet mud beneath our feet. Our tiny group moves forward like this for several minutes.
After a while, I wrinkle my nose again, but not for the smell of mold…there is another scent, hanging thickly in the air, and it is completely unfamiliar to me. Beside me, the handsome boy stops and sniffs, once, twice, his eyes suddenly widening in alarm. Far behind us, further back than the children, the adults have stopped as well, whispering alarmedly among themselves, beginning to glance around, panicked.
Smoke begins to creep into the passage. Then, I at last understand: the Fire Nation is here, in this passage, now. We have not fooled them with our clever strategy, by exiting opposite their camps; on the contrary, it appears that they have fooled us.
On our command, the children begin to retreat, hurrying back to the safety of the elders. The boy and I back away with them, more slowly, our arms raised, prepared to fight.
Suddenly, there is an explosion, and flames begin to burst through the wall on my right. Both of us are thrown back in front of the children, who by now are fleeing for their lives from the soldiers.
The boy turns to me. “Get back with the children. I’ll hold them off until you can escape from the passageway. It would be death to stay in these closed quarters.”
“But—” I begin, but a wrinkled, withered arm reaches from behind me and forcibly pulls me along, away from the boy and towards the children yet again. I stare back at him for a moment, then, composing myself, turn and sprint back towards the end of the passage, desperate to escape, to fight.
Though it was less than a minute, the run through the passage seems to take hours, perhaps even days. Before this battle I was not claustrophobic; now, however, the dank walls seem to be closing in around me, and darkness is enclosing me on all sides. Between this strange environment and my sprinting, I can barely breathe, and the air seems to be poisoned with smoke and ash.
Finally, there is a crack of light in the wall ahead of me, and we burst back into the East Wing, not pausing to catch our breaths as we practically fall back into the open room. Safety at last, we cannot help but think.
But our respite is to be short-lived; I hear shouts and boots behind me, and turn to meet a small band of Fire Nation soldiers head on. I give a small shout, and the others turn once again to meet the danger.
Flames lash out at me. I dive to the floor, scramble to my feet, and run, ushering the children ahead of me as the elders step in, sealing off the soldiers’ path from the doorway to me and the children.
It suddenly comes to me that only three of the original 20 are here—the others must still be trapped in the East Wing, where the battle between air and fire was raging. My haggard little group still dashes down stairs and more hallways, ignoring the loss of so many of our number, attempting to reach more airbenders. Eventually, I realize that no help is coming—all of my people must be locked in battle outside. They most likely do not even know that soldiers have already infiltrated the temple.
Unbeknownst to me, soldiers are already behind us, and I fall to the floor as a blast of fire cuts me down at my knees. I stand firmly, prepared to fight for the children, my charges. As they huddle behind me, and I hear one little girl’s quiet sobbing, and out of the corner of my eye I see them grasp each others’ hands, readying themselves for whatever fate awaited them.
Seeing this unwittingly renews my zest for battle, and I charge at the Fire Nation soldiers, knocking several down with a gust of wind. I turn rapidly and manage to kick another in the abdomen, hard. He grunts and falls backwards, into another soldiers. I summon yet another wind, more powerful than the last, and blow the remainder back into the wall.
A single, impossible thought flashes across my mind as they stagger up—I may win! I still have a chance at being a hero, at saving the few children still entrusted to me. I smirk at them, sending a cutting gust of air down the center of the floor, towards the heart of their group. Several leap out of the way; others, not so fortunate, are hit head on and out cold.
Four firebenders face me now, all shaken and visibly wondering how a teenager, raised in a monastery all her life, and not even so great an airbender, could defeat an entire battalion of soldiers.
Then, they step aside, suddenly and surprisingly. At first, I believe they are surrendering, and I lower my stance for one moment.
In that moment, another firebender lashes forward, and flames erupt from his hands, creating a massive fiery whip, blowing me back onto the tiled floor before the children. They whimper as I stagger to my feet, clutching my singed arm.
The man who attacked me steps forward; he is obviously far higher ranking than the mere privates I battled. His uniform is ornate and crisp, his face, though wrinkled with age, is sharp, and his eyes seem to blaze like the fire he wields.
No matter, though…I will still defeat him. I have a job to do, a duty to the few lives still with me. He deals me another blow, a flaming clout to my head, and I fall to my knees, the children clinging to my arms desperately. One buries his or her petite face into my back, crying in anguish. My head is throbbing, the skin on my arm and neck burning as if they were on fire, too.
The firebender then motions me inside—and I understand. They do not care for me, the weak, useless airbender. They want the children, the future of the Air Nomads. If they destroy them, my people’s future will go up in flames, literally.
I shake my head: no. In response, he steps forward, and withdraws a blade from his belt.
I then feel my first quiverings of fear. I have never been trained with or against true weapons, and only on the rarest occasion have I battled a man baring a roughly hewn wooden staff. He sees the flash of fear in my eyes; he knows that I have no chance against the sword.
But I will not die weak and shaking before this man; I draw myself up, power radiating from my eyes as I stare him defiantly in the face, daring him to commit the ultimate crime against me.
There is a glinting of metal, and the last thing I feel is the children’s tiny hands wrapped around mine and the cool blade stabbing through me.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Author’s Note: This will (most likely) be the only one-shot in which the main character dies. But we all know the fate of the Airbenders: there was no way around it, unless I wanted to write about Aang. But once again, we know what happens there.
Next, you can expect my Water one-shot. After that, fire, and then, earth. I can’t promise regular updates—this story will end up being centered around my hectic schedule.
Tao: Air Nomads
Meaning of name: Long life
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I’ll admit it. I was scared. When they told us that the Fire Nation was approaching, I mean. That we were to prepare to fight. But I have tried to put on a face of bravery for my friends and family. They believe I fear nothing.
I’ve spent the last four days preparing for them. The strange thing is, I don’t really know what exactly I’m getting ready for. Will they capture me? Will I escape? Will I die? Will my family survive? And if they do, will I ever see them again?
We are the closest temple to the Fire Nation’s boundaries; we really don’t know what’s going to happen. They are renowned as powerful, but that doesn’t necessarily mean cruel, does it? They are soldiers, not murderers; they will have mercy on us. We are merely a small, ragtag monastery, filled with monks and women and young children—we present no threat. No people are so inhumane as to kill a peaceful group such as us.
That doesn’t mean I can’t be scared, though. I see the adults’ worried looks—I am 15, not a child, and I understand what they mean. And it only makes me even more anxious to see this through, to be safe again. Once the Fire Nation takes over this area, things can return to normal. Yes, we’ll have to live under them, but how bad could it get? (My parents whisper of being split up—I must admit, that is my greatest fear. Not the battle, nor the Fire Nation soldiers, but being separated. My family, and the other benders, are my life.)
I am snapped out of my reverie when all the others around me suddenly look up, alarmed. A door opens, and an elderly man, one of the head monks, peers out, his eyes weary and anxious. At first, I do not realize what the cause for alarm is—and then I hear it, too: the gong. Our agreed warning that the Fire Nation was approaching.
Immediately, everyone packs up whatever they were doing and heads to find their families, rushing to see them before the conflict ensues. I leap up and dash down the hall, sprinting ahead of the others as I run to find my family.
I turn down the familiar hallways, instinct taking over as my conscious thoughts turn to war. By now, I am beginning to imagine I can hear the soldiers’ footsteps thunking outside the walls of the temple, and the repeated chime of the gong is thundering in my ears, making me believe I will go deaf. Blood is pumping through my ears as I throw open the door to my family’s compartments and run inside, calling out for my mother and father.
My mother is already downstairs, in the kitchen, her place of refuge, no matter what the storm. She turns when I enter, but her eyes are unfocused as she gazes at me. She looks through me, too busy with her preparations for the battle to really notice that I am there. It scares me, her glazed eyes and the way she doesn’t look like she’s even here. Her normally beautiful, lithe features are stretched and contorted; she looks like no one I know.
My father thunders down the stairs next, and, though he appears worried, he is not nearly in the state of my mother. He is a thick, rippling man, with muscular arms and shoulders, coupled with a heavy chest and torso. He flashes me a quick, nervous smile: it will be all right, he seems to say to me in that brief moment, before he strides to the mantle above our fireplace and lifts his staff off from the wall.
I nod, to no one really, and walk past both of them, to our small balcony overlooking the cliffs and the damp valleys below. A thick layer of fog lays over the rocky, craggy surface, a curtain for the Fire Nation to tear through and descend upon my home.
I feel a hand on my shoulder, and turn to face my father, his eyes seeming bleak and sad, a strange combination he has never worn before. “I told Jae-Sun that you would assist in leading the children to safety,” he says grimly, looking out over me, his eyes wandering, like mine, onto the fog outside.
Part of me is angry: my piece of this great battle has been stolen! My chance to be a hero, to face the heat of the battle, to be involved in my people’s glorious, heroic fall to the Fire Nation. After all, doesn’t everyone want to be a hero, for just once in their lives? Even if the cause itself is not victorious?
The other half of me appreciates his kindness. He only wants to ensure my safety, I know. He does not want me to be caught up in the great and powerful war machine that is the Fire Nation.
I nod meekly, being the good, obedient daughter I am. He smiles slightly, a tiny half-moon, and turns back to help my mother.
Even though he has not told me where to go to meet the children, I have heard, in the countless meetings concerning today’s invasion, where to go. Those evacuating the children are meeting in East Wing of the dormitories—a more run-down area of the temple, but close to our escape routes. From there, we shall be able to slip the children out through a chain of underground passages leading to the outside. These passages then lead to the edge of the expansive valleys bordering our home, to where we shall escape until a safe return is guaranteed. Also, this method of escape is much easier than exiting through the passages on the other side of the temple complex, as the Fire Nation will most likely approach from the northwest—they have been camped there for several weeks now.
My mind is blank as I head to the East Wing; I think only of my mission, of how to protect the children. I am only an amateur airbender myself, possessing no weapons such as the more experienced in the temple. But then again, from what I have seen and heard, the Fire Nation soldiers themselves mainly just firebend—they do not often use swords and staffs, according to our instructors.
I toss my thoughts aside as I reach the dormitory. There, some 20 or more children are being lined up and carefully counted by a young man. I note to myself that he is rather handsome, and perhaps just a year or two my senior. He notices me, glancing over his shoulder; I smile back, attempting to make my eyes shine in the way that they did before this horrible war. His eyes seem to smile back at me, and I grin to myself and continue walking.
It seems I have arrived just in time—another man gives a signal, and the children turn to face the door in the wall heading out into the passageway. Being nearest, I slide open the door and venture into the grimy underground hallway, wrinkling my nose at the smell of rot and mold.
The handsome boy appears next to me, seemingly vaporizing out of thin air, winking at me slyly. A middle-aged woman calls from behind us that we are to lead the children. Both of us nod and continue forward. No one speaks, and the only sound is the sloshing of the wet mud beneath our feet. Our tiny group moves forward like this for several minutes.
After a while, I wrinkle my nose again, but not for the smell of mold…there is another scent, hanging thickly in the air, and it is completely unfamiliar to me. Beside me, the handsome boy stops and sniffs, once, twice, his eyes suddenly widening in alarm. Far behind us, further back than the children, the adults have stopped as well, whispering alarmedly among themselves, beginning to glance around, panicked.
Smoke begins to creep into the passage. Then, I at last understand: the Fire Nation is here, in this passage, now. We have not fooled them with our clever strategy, by exiting opposite their camps; on the contrary, it appears that they have fooled us.
On our command, the children begin to retreat, hurrying back to the safety of the elders. The boy and I back away with them, more slowly, our arms raised, prepared to fight.
Suddenly, there is an explosion, and flames begin to burst through the wall on my right. Both of us are thrown back in front of the children, who by now are fleeing for their lives from the soldiers.
The boy turns to me. “Get back with the children. I’ll hold them off until you can escape from the passageway. It would be death to stay in these closed quarters.”
“But—” I begin, but a wrinkled, withered arm reaches from behind me and forcibly pulls me along, away from the boy and towards the children yet again. I stare back at him for a moment, then, composing myself, turn and sprint back towards the end of the passage, desperate to escape, to fight.
Though it was less than a minute, the run through the passage seems to take hours, perhaps even days. Before this battle I was not claustrophobic; now, however, the dank walls seem to be closing in around me, and darkness is enclosing me on all sides. Between this strange environment and my sprinting, I can barely breathe, and the air seems to be poisoned with smoke and ash.
Finally, there is a crack of light in the wall ahead of me, and we burst back into the East Wing, not pausing to catch our breaths as we practically fall back into the open room. Safety at last, we cannot help but think.
But our respite is to be short-lived; I hear shouts and boots behind me, and turn to meet a small band of Fire Nation soldiers head on. I give a small shout, and the others turn once again to meet the danger.
Flames lash out at me. I dive to the floor, scramble to my feet, and run, ushering the children ahead of me as the elders step in, sealing off the soldiers’ path from the doorway to me and the children.
It suddenly comes to me that only three of the original 20 are here—the others must still be trapped in the East Wing, where the battle between air and fire was raging. My haggard little group still dashes down stairs and more hallways, ignoring the loss of so many of our number, attempting to reach more airbenders. Eventually, I realize that no help is coming—all of my people must be locked in battle outside. They most likely do not even know that soldiers have already infiltrated the temple.
Unbeknownst to me, soldiers are already behind us, and I fall to the floor as a blast of fire cuts me down at my knees. I stand firmly, prepared to fight for the children, my charges. As they huddle behind me, and I hear one little girl’s quiet sobbing, and out of the corner of my eye I see them grasp each others’ hands, readying themselves for whatever fate awaited them.
Seeing this unwittingly renews my zest for battle, and I charge at the Fire Nation soldiers, knocking several down with a gust of wind. I turn rapidly and manage to kick another in the abdomen, hard. He grunts and falls backwards, into another soldiers. I summon yet another wind, more powerful than the last, and blow the remainder back into the wall.
A single, impossible thought flashes across my mind as they stagger up—I may win! I still have a chance at being a hero, at saving the few children still entrusted to me. I smirk at them, sending a cutting gust of air down the center of the floor, towards the heart of their group. Several leap out of the way; others, not so fortunate, are hit head on and out cold.
Four firebenders face me now, all shaken and visibly wondering how a teenager, raised in a monastery all her life, and not even so great an airbender, could defeat an entire battalion of soldiers.
Then, they step aside, suddenly and surprisingly. At first, I believe they are surrendering, and I lower my stance for one moment.
In that moment, another firebender lashes forward, and flames erupt from his hands, creating a massive fiery whip, blowing me back onto the tiled floor before the children. They whimper as I stagger to my feet, clutching my singed arm.
The man who attacked me steps forward; he is obviously far higher ranking than the mere privates I battled. His uniform is ornate and crisp, his face, though wrinkled with age, is sharp, and his eyes seem to blaze like the fire he wields.
No matter, though…I will still defeat him. I have a job to do, a duty to the few lives still with me. He deals me another blow, a flaming clout to my head, and I fall to my knees, the children clinging to my arms desperately. One buries his or her petite face into my back, crying in anguish. My head is throbbing, the skin on my arm and neck burning as if they were on fire, too.
The firebender then motions me inside—and I understand. They do not care for me, the weak, useless airbender. They want the children, the future of the Air Nomads. If they destroy them, my people’s future will go up in flames, literally.
I shake my head: no. In response, he steps forward, and withdraws a blade from his belt.
I then feel my first quiverings of fear. I have never been trained with or against true weapons, and only on the rarest occasion have I battled a man baring a roughly hewn wooden staff. He sees the flash of fear in my eyes; he knows that I have no chance against the sword.
But I will not die weak and shaking before this man; I draw myself up, power radiating from my eyes as I stare him defiantly in the face, daring him to commit the ultimate crime against me.
There is a glinting of metal, and the last thing I feel is the children’s tiny hands wrapped around mine and the cool blade stabbing through me.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Author’s Note: This will (most likely) be the only one-shot in which the main character dies. But we all know the fate of the Airbenders: there was no way around it, unless I wanted to write about Aang. But once again, we know what happens there.
Next, you can expect my Water one-shot. After that, fire, and then, earth. I can’t promise regular updates—this story will end up being centered around my hectic schedule.