It does not tarnish (oxidize): Two Avatar Fics

[fulselden]

Both written for 31_days . First one Fire Nation; second one Air Nomads.



THE BORDER BETWEEN RISING AND FALLING

Day/Theme: September 9: 'The border between rising and falling'
Series: Avatar: the Last Airbender
Characters: Zuko, Azula
Rating/Warnings: PG; vaaague sexual tension between siblings.

 

Two objective points are relevant: it reflects light efficiently; that is, it is bright, indeed dazzling; moreover, it does not tarnish (oxidize); it is unchanging through time, incorruptible.

Colin Renfrew, ‘Varna and the Emergence of Wealth in Prehistoric Europe’, in The Social Life of Things: Commodities in Cultural Perspective, ed. Arjun Appadurai, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986), pp.141-69, (p. 149).

 

The palace, it seems to Zuko, has shrunk down and settled in the time he was away, like sea-warped wood. From outside, from Mai’s window, it looks just the same, the high wall, the sharp red roofs, towers stacking up against the sky. But inside it is empty in new places; things have moved around. They have kept some of his old things, the stuff he needs for ceremonies, but everything smells of camphor and cedar.

When he gets to the training ground, Azula is waiting for him. She is moving through an opening kata, left punch step back short kick pivot swing back, beginner’s moves.

“What are you doing here, Azula?” he asks, marching out into the ground still in his silks.

“What does it look like, Zuzu? I’m here to spar.”

“I don’t need to practise with you,” he says flatly, starts to turn.

She smiles, kindly.

“What you mean to say, Zuko, is that you don’t need my help.”

“But,” she says, “you do.”

Her eyes flick upward. Through the dark lattice-work of the upper gallery, something moves.

He cannot help it, he sucks in his breath. His good eye widens.

“Oh, honestly,” says Azula.

“It’s not him. It’s Li and Lo. But of course they expect a good show, Zuko.”

She moves closer to him, her breath coming past him, her voice in his bad ear, abrupt and refracted as though heard underwater.

“After all, they’ve heard all about how you killed the Avatar.”

He stands still, his mouth stiff.

“Fine.”

He clenches his fists.

Azula puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t be long changing,” she says. “I haven’t got all day, you know.”

When he is five and she is nearly four, they do their breathing exercises together in the long light training hall, the sun coming in wavy and dappled off the pond outside. They sit side by side, a row of candles in front of them, in and out, in and out. They are meant to breathe together; it is good discipline, although the servants kneeling behind them do not keep time. In the warmth, the mat slippery under him, Zuko’s eyes droop; his head is too heavy, too big, his hands too wide, the ache of his morning training dropping away. He jerks awake. The flames in front of Azula are moving, in and out, higher and higher. Her face is still. Behind them, the servants rustle and whisper. A door slides shut as someone leaves to spread the news. For the next five months, before Zuko makes the candles rise and waver, she is the heir.

He loses, of course, coming down on a lick of her flame a moment too soon, the ground under him suddenly smooth and slick with heat, his footing gone. He thumps down on one knee, catches himself on the heel of his hand. Gets up, bows, hand over fist.

“Thank you.” It is customary to say it.

Azula bows back.

“My pleasure, brother.”

The wide dark sweat stains on her clothes are already wicking away into white rings of salt, her skin pale and matte as always, as if she is denser than most people, made of some different stuff.

Zuko steadies his breathing, in and out. Servants are hurrying out to repair the grounds, to fill in the gouges and hollows in the close-packed dirt, to sand down the grey patches of char on the hardwood railings.

Azula smirks at him.

“Don’t look so down, Zuzu. I think you made a very convincing showing, personally.”

She waves a hand towards the gallery.

“They’ll have nothing to tell Father.”

Zuko glares at her, opens his mouth. Closes it. Stamps off to change.

Later, walking back through the lower halls, he thinks of what he should have said. It is so perfect and cutting, it rests on the back of his tongue like a slide of steel. He sees Azula, at the end of a corridor, her hands clasped behind her, talking to someone standing out of sight; she must already have seen him, he knows.

By the time he reaches her, his reflection following him, slipping in and out as he passes shiny dark red pillars, the air thick and still this far inside the palace, she is alone. He comes up to her, pauses for breath.

“Oh, Zuko,” she says, “did you need something?”

Familiar, close and constant as an old burn, she rests her hand on the back of his neck.







-----------------------------------------------






DRAGONBERRY

Theme: 'nourish your own ruthlessness'
Series: Avatar: the Last Airbender
Characters: Aang, Gyatso
Rating/Warnings: G

 

When Aang was ten years old, slurping his way through a bowl of thukpa, squishing thick rags of noodle against the roof of his mouth, he nearly swallowed a dragonberry. For a dizzying moment he felt something hard scrape against his tongue, twist and spike against his teeth. Then he breathed out as hard as he could and the berry shot out of his mouth along with a thin spray of broth, half-chewed noodles, and shreds of greenery. It skidded to a halt about ten feet away, black and shiny against the stone of the courtyard.

“Aaaang!”

Lobsang and Rinchen and the others scooted away from him. Lobsang picked a length of noodle delicately off his front.

“Pretty impressive,” he said.

Behind him, the berry rattled across the flagstones.

Aang wiped his mouth and approached it gingerly. He gave it an experimental poke with his staff.

Lobsang rolled his eyes.

“Oh, come on, Aang.”

He reached over to pick it up. And the dragonberry exploded in a spray of fine scarlet filaments, fleshy red tendrils, shoots of yellow from the centre. Lobsang jerked his hand back, but it kept moving, twitching its way across the pavement. Aang tipped out the rest of his broth and slammed his bowl down over it. It scuttered around inside. He grinned.

“It’s like a baby spider crab!”

“Um, Aang? What is it?” Dorje, one of the new arrivals from the Eastern Air Temple, was still hanging back, twiddling his fingers together.

Aang, busy sliding a tray across under the upturned bowl, wished not for the first time that people would understand that his master’s tattoos, still tight and fresh and prone to catching him by surprise out of the corner of his eye, as if bits of him were very cold or underwater, did not make him an expert on anything other than airbending. But still.

“It’s either a weird kind of flower, or a new pet,” he announced, presenting his tray-bowl arrangement to the world, little scrabbling sounds coming from inside. “Gyatso will know!”

“What would have happened if you’d swallowed it?” someone asked.

“Well,” said Aang, “I didn’t.”

Lobsang, preparing to drop a piece of noodle down his back, suddenly looked thoughtful.

Gyatso was perched up under the wind wheels on the southern cliff-face, still as a statue apart from his fingers telling his beads. Neat cakes of bison-dung lined the cliff-side, drying in the long afternoon sun, ready for winter fuel. Appa, big enough now to carry two people with ease, cocked an eye at them, huffed a breath.

Above Gyatso, the wheels creaked gently, tattered lengths of cloth and paper streaming out as they turned, letting the worries and cares bought by pilgrims to the temple fly away into the high air.

“... and then it started moving around like it was alive and I put a bowl over it and here it is,” Aang finished, and presented the tray to Gyatso like an offering. Gyatso, too, looked thoughtful.

“I think I’ve heard of something like this. It’s called a dragonberry.”

“What is it?” Lobsang asked, prodding at the bowl.

“A message, I suspect,” said Gyatso, half under his breath. He shook his head, smiled.

“I think I would file it under ‘new pet’, myself. You’ll need to keep it somewhere closed off. And it likes meat, I’m afraid, so we may have to come to an arrangement with one of the people who sell food to the visitors.”

“Sure!” Aang paused. “Dragonberry? That sounds Fire Nation-y.”

Gyatso nodded, bowed his head. Rose to his feet.

“Boys. I have to pay a quick visit to the kitchens. Don’t let it out until I get back!”

And he was gone over the edge of the cliff, glider in hand.

Aang and Lobsang looked at each other, shrugged. Appa flopped his tail out, sending the wind-wheels whirring.

Gyatso came back that evening with, Aang noticed, a tear in his sleeve.

They arranged the dragonberry in a box of its own, fluffed up and, as far as they could tell, happy enough, feelers licking at some scraps of pigchicken meat from a helpful food vendor down at the pilgrim’s camp.

“I’m not sure how long they live, Aang. So don’t be surprised if it doesn’t make it, yes?”

“Ok.” Aang looked up at Gyatso. “What do you think it was doing in my soup, anyway?”

“Nothing permanent, young master airbender,” said Gyatso, eyes crinkling. He paused.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, how about a trip to Omashu in the next few days? Your friend with the funny hair would be happy to see you.”

“Sounds pretty good,” said Aang.

He curled himself up into bed, wondering what Gyatso had meant by his not-an-answer.

In the night, he dreamed of dragonberries, great feathery clouds of them, bouncing down the spires and cliffs of the temple, piling in deep red drifts around the meditation hall, falling from the sky like snow.




 

Comments

[sushiflop]

Hello there! This is Senri, from livejournal, dropping a comment here... to be sure it reaches you, I guess.

These are both great! Honestly, the one that really stands out to me is the second fic, though - the whole thing is delightfully subtle, understated. You're great at skirting around mentioning these political things directly in fic while still making them clear. I loved the build up ("What would have happened if you'd swallowed it?"), Aang making it a pet, and Gyatso entirely ("A message, I think"), and him sending Aang away to the Earth Kingdom for a while. Aang is openhearted and lovely and it's a little hard to tell quite how much he realizes or does not realize; he's opaque, in a way. I'm thinking of the Innocent Inaccurate trope. Aaah, I really think it's wonderful, anyway, I'm sorry for neglecting Azula and Zuko. But I totally added this post to my memories at eljay. =)

[fulselden]

Thank you! And hi: yes, livejournal pulled its latest stunt like, two weeks after I joined ... so, I'm mostly over here now, I guess?

And yes, while the first fic is really me going OH FIRE NATION DYSFUNCTION<3<3!1!1!!, the Aang piece does try and do more things, I think: I'm so glad you like it. Especially as I didn't want to be gratuitously gloomy - I mean, there's no need for that with the Air Nomads, given what happens to them.

I was definitely going for a degree of opacity with Aang - I think he can be that way in canon sometimes, refusing to admit to himself how much he knows. And of course he makes the creepy assassination creature into a pet, oh Aang, such a sweetheart.

Anyway! Thank you again! Oh, and thank you for not linking directly to tv tropes, lol! Though yes, appropriate trope is appropriate.

[sushiflop]

Wh-which latest stunt was that. :( There are so many. The last one I remember was the little... usericon things that had racial stereotypes and a small blue person, but no brown skin tones (W2G, LJ!! 8|)

Yeah, I think the conflict of moods in the airbender drabble really works well - they're still children, and innocent, but you KNOW what's coming and there are hints of that too. Assassination attempts, messages and Aang playing things a tiny bit close to the chest.

I have browsed that website for enough hours to know xD anyway! Great job, on both of these fics. ♥

[fulselden]

Oh, the thing where they're allowing automatic posting of LJ posts to Facebook - I mean, it doesn't really affect me personally, but since I was sorta already going, hey, the grass is greener on DW, apparently, I thought I'd move sooner rather than later. And, omg, I hadn't hear about the usericons. Eeeeeew.

I'm really glad you think it worked, mood-wise. I once wrote an undergrad paper on the portrayal of Tibet as Shangri-la in Western literature, so I guess I'm extra invested in getting crazy-fantasy-Avatar-Tibet right?

Which, btw, I think they did an ok job of in the show, if only by virtue of not making the Airbenders too rose-tinted - I mean, it's really hilariously depressing, to some extent, that a half-way-decent take on Tibet in modern western fantasy is one where everyone dies. Well, apart from Aang. But he is the chosen one.

[sushiflop]

Ahh, of course! I... should probably make a statement about that to some affect, but most of my own f-list is so negative about the whole idea I do trust them, lol. But yeah, lj sure does enjoy failing hard on a regular basis. I don't even.

This is a great background to write Avatar fic. *^*

LOL, you make. A really good point here. I do love the Airbenders, and I agree that they're portrayed with bad (or at least negative) points as well as good - conflict about how to teach and raise Aang, for instance. That's really the biggest negative point I can see to them, although we get a very limited view of them and it's only through Aang, and they're all gone now, so it's hard to want to be too hard on the whole thing, I guess.

[fulselden]

Yeah, exactly - I mean, Avatar in general is so great at reminding one that you really shouldn't be willing to settle when it comes to expecting a bit of, y'know, nuance and subtlety and respect when it comes to depicting Asian cultures in Western fantasy, that I suppose I'm more willing than I usually would be to give them the benefit of the doubt when it comes to the five minutes or whatever of Airbender flashback that we got? As opposed to, say, the Guru, who is just lol tokenistic stereotype popping up here, oh why, Avatar:(

ALSO MY POINT OF COMPARISON WRT TIBET IN WESTERN FANTASY IS EARLY TWENTIETH CENTURY STUFF, THAT MIGHT MAKE ME EXTRA GRATEFUL FOR SOMETHING THAT ISN'T ACTIVELY OFFENSIVE, JUST MAYBE. Ahem.

[quigonejinn]

You know, I was squealing about these over in another thread, and I'm going to squeal about them again. The first one hits me so hard in terms of being so deeply a fic that I've wanted to read. And goddamn, you can write a little:

When he is five and she is nearly four, they do their breathing exercises together in the long light training hall, the sun coming in wavy and dappled off the pond outside. They sit side by side, a row of candles in front of them, in and out, in and out. They are meant to breathe together; it is good discipline, although the servants kneeling behind them do not keep time. In the warmth, the mat slippery under him, Zuko’s eyes droop; his head is too heavy, too big, his hands too wide, the ache of his morning training dropping away. He jerks awake. The flames in front of Azula are moving, in and out, higher and higher. Her face is still. Behind them, the servants rustle and whisper. A door slides shut as someone leaves to spread the news. For the next five months, before Zuko makes the candles rise and waver, she is the heir.

YES, I JUST QUOTED A WHOLE PARAGRAPH OF YOUR FIC BACK AT YOU. But it's that fucking great. I love the way you build the scene and structure it so much, and the images, and how you make it turn on those four words. she is the heir. I spent a good half hour squealing in delight, and now, the thing I want most in the world is so much fic about the universe where Zuko isn't a Firebender. At all. And thus out of the line of succession.

Except oh wait, holy fuck, you're good at Airbenders, too. That ficlet is a testament to how good and effective underwriting can be.

Aang and Lobsang looked at each other, shrugged. Appa flopped his tail out, sending the wind-wheels whirring.

I mean, just. Damn. Damn.

[fulselden]

UM WELL YOU ARE WELCOME TO SQUEAL ABOUT MY STUFF ANYWHERE! Also to quote chunks of it! And, oh man, Zuko as a non-firebender... It's always boggled me when people object to Ozai's de-bending in the finale by saying that he's still a political threat in terms of being potentially able to regain the throne, because, um, even if his own identity wasn't so entirely constituted by, like FIRE AT ALL TIMES EVERYWHERE that it seems unlikely he'd ever recover, I'm sure the Fire Lord needs to be a firebender.

I think I even read somewhere that the creators said the position used to be explicitly religious, as in head fire sage, or something similar, before it got politicised and before you know it, giant palace, flaming throne, the works... So quite apart from the vague undertones of ancestor worship going on, there's also this quasi-theocratic flavour to the Fire monarchy. So, yes, a non-bending Zuko - possibly so entirely expendable Azulon wouldn't even bother to make an example of him, let alone Ozai? And Azula wouldn't have anyone to define herself against, in terms of bending prowess and right to rule...

Anyway. Thank you so much! OH FIRE NATION PALACE. So far my faavourite place to write in Avatar!

[quigonejinn]

It's just great setting for crazy, crazy family relationships. I mean, those big empty halls! Those huge columns! THE WALL OF FIRE BETWEEN THE FIRE LORD AND HIS SERVITORS. It's force projection, both as policy and as family relations.

a non-bending Zuko - possibly so entirely expendable Azulon wouldn't even bother to make an example of him, let alone Ozai? And Azula wouldn't have anyone to define herself against, in terms of bending prowess and right to rule...

I can't even wrap my head around how much that would change the story. If Azula is the heir, does Azulon say that he is going to do away with her to make Ozai FEEL THE PAIN? If so, does Ursa still kill in Azulon in order to protect Azula? And if your answer to both of these is yes, I guess you still send Ursa into exile, but the question is whether Iroh ends up mentoring Zuko so intensely and/or whether Zuko gets in trouble at that war council if he can't Agni Kai. And if Zuko does end up in exile, does he go alone?

I guess the story at the bottom of that is maybe one about the life that Zuko would live if he weren't the heir -- maybe a day-to-day sort of thing either of his life that works because it contrasts against his life if he were the heir? Or maybe a story about just being the Blue Spirit, period, and running into the Avatar in the Earth Kingdom?

[fulselden]

It's force projection, both as policy and as family relations.

Absolutely! And I love the way they made Sozin's fall from grace explicit in the way his first throne room was all bathed in sunlight, with a giant gold dragon behind the throne itself ... and then Roku blows his house down and he rebuilds with this evil edifice. Plus, I'm sure Walter Benjamin says something in The Arcades Project to the effect of never trust a shop without windows, and I feel this applies equally to palaces. I'm sure Zuko's first order of business, post-coronation, at least home-renovation-wise, should be to get Toph to earthbend some holes in the walls. Sunlight! It is the basis of true firebending!

If Azula is the heir, does Azulon say that he is going to do away with her to make Ozai FEEL THE PAIN?

Well ... I wouldn't put it past him? I mean, he would still have two adult heirs capable of siring more children? I sort of feel this depends on the status of women in Fire Nation society, which they left fairly nebulous. Or, at least, they combined a conventional portrayal of stifling nobility where Mai is forced into docility and Azula gets given dolls, with a steampunk modernity which seems a pretty level playing field, gender-wise - which I suppose would make sense in a martial society where everyone is expected to contribute to the war and can rise in the ranks accordingly. But I feel Azula's gender might still be a strike against her, in Azulon's eyes? So she might well be expendable despite her talent?

the question is whether Iroh ends up mentoring Zuko so intensely and/or whether Zuko gets in trouble at that war council if he can't Agni Kai. And if Zuko does end up in exile, does he go alone?

I like to think Iroh would certainly still try to look out for Zuko, not least because it's so important to his story and character arc after the loss of Lu Ten? But ... would Zuko let him, to the same extent? I mean, especially if Zuko did go and get himself exiled somehow (still entirely possible, I feel, oh Zuko), I think Iroh would go with him for sure - but I can imagine that firebending lessons were probably one of the few things Zuko was willing to take from him in the early years of canon!exile, sooo - I can see their relationship remaining rather more distant, absent bending?

the life that Zuko would live if he weren't the heir

Well, I can perhaps see this producing a more well-adjusted Zuko, absent the omg PRESSURE? But then, there would be the omg SECOND BEST FOREVEEER thing to an even greater extent? And if Ursa (whom I can never imagine as a bender, because they painted her as so very much the noble wife whose power is a matter of background nudges and, well, when the chips are down, the odd assassination) got herself exiled for Azula - well, WOE.

Or maybe a story about just being the Blue Spirit, period, and running into the Avatar in the Earth Kingdom?

Ozai could send off his embarrassment of a non-bending-son to be installed as a figurehead in Omashu! Aang and co turn up: SHENANIGANS ENSUE!

[thatyourefuse]

Oh. Azula. *shivers*

That's more or less exactly the dynamic I've been looking for, between the two of them, without really knowing it.

[fulselden]

Thank you! I thought the show did a great job with their relationship, even down to the uh PROFOUNDLY DISTURBING way that Azula, while apparently a klutz when it comes to boys in general, is perfectly happy to fuck around with Zuko (pace that bedroom scene in the opening episode of season three) by at least looking as if she'd be, well, perfectly happy to fuck Zuko.

[thatyourefuse]

THAT SCENE, oh my lord. I. That's... some interesting body language, there, is all I have to say about that.

(That and various incoherent things about dark rooms and the little tilt of her hips and that wicked, bladed little smile and... if I didn't believe Mai/Zuko during that particular time period, I'd be all over that even more than I already am.)

[fulselden]

Oh, my belief in Mai/Zuko is strong! But Azula will do anything to mess with Zuzu! Aaaanything.

[thatyourefuse]

And I am somehow more invested in that fact than I really ought to be.

Dammit.

*considers happily*

[obsession_inc]

Okay, I was about to quote from this, and then discovered that quigonejinn had quoted the same paragraph and briefly doomthreaded with you here like a whole week and some ago. Although she did tell me to read this at the time so I have nobody to blame but myself. STILL. That paragraph is pure awesome. It packs so much in there: the meditation methods used to practice for firebending, the way it started so early, the self-possession that Azula had even when she was tiny, and the way the heir was selected. That for a short time, she was the heir-- outstanding.

Aang, busy sliding a tray across under the upturned bowl, wished not for the first time that people would understand that his master’s tattoos, still tight and fresh and prone to catching him by surprise out of the corner of his eye, as if bits of him were very cold or underwater, did not make him an expert on anything other than airbending.

Oh, Aang. <3 <3 <3 <3 I especially love how he's still surprised when he sees them; he doesn't recognize them as HIM yet. So lovely.

[fulselden]

Thank you! And, I mean, even though Zuko pretty much fails at bending for most of the show - albeit with flashes of ingenuity when he lets himself improvise - he's obviously highly trained. And then there's Azula. So I reckon, quite apart from anything else, that implies they started hella young.

And Azula, the heir at three years old, picking up on what it meant, just a little, on how people treated her differently. How her father picked her up, once, swung her round.

Also, Aang. Though, man - all-over tattoos at ten or whatever? I don't care how many mystical herbs the monks dosed him up on, that was hardcore.