NO MERCY

to carry the world’s burden on his back, the weight of a kingdom torn and split by blood. first: he detaches himself from his youth. he cannot cling to an existence committed by theft, a reverie left suspended. unmoving. to stand with beliefs of nothing renders a man without purpose. he complies to the fire nation’s whim, provided by relief of his father in the best interests of a fruitful tomorrow. maybe in death, will his efforts for containing a civilization be tucked into a thousand scrolls. a foot soldier of none, he is a boy forced to mature into a hard-bitten brotherhood.

his health has become compromised in the matter of sacrifices. he yearns to feel beneath the sway of a tree, home to banana leaves. the everlasting tingle of yesterday’s sun, scorching in the long days of august. the simple things, really, the inevitable scrapped knees of it all, a boyhood left to one’s imagination as eleven becomes twelve and twelve transitions to thirteen. with memories of being confined all at home is all he’ll ever know. by his mother’s lap, he rests his head under pneumonia’s haze as the clouds begin to gather by the horizon.

he’s spared (mostly) from the burdens of a legacy. he isn’t spared from his family, his duties, his nation. as soon as he’s old enough to learn he’s made acutely aware of the things that are expected of him - of his older brother. he watches the world shift around him, pieces that come together but never quite fit.

here’s the thing though - he doesn’t quite like being told what to do. he garners a reputation for being hard-headed and stubborn, always arguing even when he has no need to. he learns to bite his tongue, keep his head down, do as he’s told. but it’s only because he’s young. he doesn’t know yet how to say what he thinks. how to let them know how he feels.

refined. determined. he stands with his back straight, carries out his duties, stays by his family’s side, and wonders only in his sleep what exists beyond the realm of what he’s told.

time does wonders - he’s calmed since his youth, and to all but his family, it seems like the anger has subsided.

instead, he holds his resentment inside himself, and what else can it do but fester?

the world is wide and vast and the more of it that he sees the more he dreads coming home. his family know not to bother him too much, to respect that he’s always going to be just out of their reach, even if he does what he must, for himself, for them, for the nation.

egocentric. volatile. he’s out for himself only, in the end. but he’s never been forward-thinking, and so he remains where he is, stuck in the present, trapped in his cycle of pessimism. stuck in the push-pull of his family’s love.

she is the firstborn of a man who knows not to limit his offspring to archetypes, for their element is air — it’s fluid and dynamic and though it never refuses whichever way it goes, it never stays in one place for long.

but she’s the cause of his first few greys, and the reason for many of her mother’s migraines, for she is stubborn and unyielding almost from the first breath she takes. temper tantrums last for hours, and a refusal means an unyielding no, even as a babe.

as the first child, she is not conscientious, she is not careful. she is not reliable.

she boldly steps into the space where no older sibling has stepped before, and ends up with bruises and scrapes up and down her legs and arms, some scabbing for years before adolescence hits and her body starts to change.

her affinity for airbending surprises everyone — most of all, her father.

the skill runs in the family (her lineage is almost legendary) but with her temperament and her pride and her rigidity…many people wondered if she were better suited for any other element.

with each concept that is conquered, her hubris grows; her ego and her mischievousness knows no bounds. her mother worries about the path her first born will walk down, so unlike all the other air nomads that live on their island. her father is weary as well, but there is a part of him that is proud, naturally. still, he wonders but mostly he worries.

things calm down when her younger siblings are born. she is a doting older sister, but that disposition doesn’t last long before her ego flashes its teeth once more.

self-discipline is a hard lesson learned when she injures her younger sibling in an uncontrolled outburst, and the guilt weighs on her for many weeks after, long after the injuries have healed, and the hard feelings released into the wind.

she retreats into herself for an even longer time after everyone thinks the loose ends from the accident are done and tied. however, it is months before she practices air-bending again.

in this time, she finds comfort in other things rather than her own accomplishments.

meditation helps. tremendously.

she is humbled by her mistakes, and her father truly begins to take her under his wing as she turns this new chapter. this new form of his eldest…this, he can work with, can guide — can teach.

but you cannot completely quell something that is so innate. it simmers low under her skin for many years, but as she matures she gets better and better at wielding it, turning it, and exhaling it out with even-paced breaths.

what she can’t release she squeezes and presses, applies so much pressure until she thinks self-deprecatingly, that under any other circumstance it may turn into a diamond.

but of course, it’s nothing as glamorous or as shiny as a diamond, but whatever it is — she thinks that she can at least hide it in her rib-cage, behind her heart. it’ll just have to live there for the rest of her life, she affirms.

and it works.

you emerged from your mother’s womb victorious, with a shield in one hand and a battle axe in the other, fully clothed in wolf’s armor. that’s the story that they used to tell you, the sweetest lullaby for the first born etwal.

you were loved, honored and respected, and maybe that’s because you did get the prerogative of being the first, so it’s no wonder you always found ways to take advantage of all the privileges your family had to offer.

from an early age, you were forced into training, filling your days with only practice, a repetitive cycle of washing, rinsing and repeating - until they knew you were strong enough to represent your house in the most glorious manner. you ought to consider yourself lucky, for you’ve always been talented at most things - bending and twisting and remaining forever elusive just like water.

you were mischievous too, but you always knew your limits, nurturing an impeccable instinct for preserving your face and reputation - something that you do not wish to tarnish so quickly. regardless of what you may feel or think, devotion runs deep in your family as you’ve always been loyal to the same tribe - a blind sort of faith, but it’s not upon you to change it.