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ddmaiga:

and you? ( * despite his immunity from this new manhunt, she still can’t help but worry and it shows ) ( * then there’s the question of the person beside him. there’s a nagging feeling when she lets her gaze drift away from jin, only to meet the stranger’s eyes and—oh? ) ( * she lets her stare linger long enough for gun to know that she knows, which isn’t long, but hopefully their streak of silent mutual understanding hasn’t died down since the last time they’ve seen each other ) are—are you both okay? ( * it’s only courteous to ask, especially coming from her. that’s not to say the question is insincere. far from it, actually )

( ` in the scatter of his thoughts and senses, sian’s quiet distress is missed entirely. wide-eyed, the dumbstruck expression on jin’s face uncharacteristically profound ) we’re fine. ( ` one breath to gather his thoughts, another that gets caught in his throat, suddenly sick with the realization. even if she dons a disguise, there’s still no taking chances. ) ( ` voice drops low, solemn and urgent ) you shouldn’t be by yourself. ( ` he follows the way her eyes trail over his shoulder, which he mistakes as a sign to clear the air ) 

he’s with me. ( ` steps forward and aside to allow mai a better glimpse of their companion ) don’t worry.  (  ` his gaze finds sian’s, and it’s a wordless plea ) the sooner we get back to the inn, the better. ( ` the full truth of her identity is left out with reason. any and all explanations will have to wait. ) ( ` is further amiss to the fact he’s the real outlier between the three of them—both in how far shared histories go back, and the complex dilemma that is afoot in this very second ) ( ` for now: there’s safety in numbers. ) 

going in circles now, are we? ( ` he jokes last minute, almost interrupting, clearing the air of anything that lingers. survival instinct? might just be his charm and strange but not exactly poor timing ) we left it yesterday, but there’s nothing for us past it. ( ` eyes land on jin for a beat to confirm, making sure he knows just as much as he says he does. kind of hard to question it otherwise when nobody else was physically with them anyway ) hit a dead end. ( ` motions for mai with his head to come over to his side rather than in between them, subtle. ) could use some help figuring out another way around this with one more brain. ( ` code for catch up. as per usual, he’s winging it )

ddmaiga:

(...)

( * slowly stops in her tracks, even if going ahead seems like a better option ) jin? ( * despite the time that has passed, his name never lost its familiarity. instead of saying anything else, she bites her tongue and waits, gaze drifting to the figure to his left briefly before returning to him )

( `  traveling doesn’t come without its hiccups, but here they’re speaking barricades, and it towers over them, ominous ) ( `  two silver linings: they don’t have much in terms of the distance or what’s there to return to )

( `  the streets are as empty as they were when they’d left, first thing—out of respect, out of grieving. he has half a mind to attend, only to check the current climate at least, maybe meet some fellow stragglers in a similar dilemma ) ( `  for now, it’s just a thought. sian’s question prompts a curious hum, eyes roving over without many expectations then— ) 

…i— ( `  memory floods in quick, a whirlwind of too many emotions all at once, enough to make him physically take a step back.  ) mai… ( ` saying her name alone is a reaffirmation. ) what are you doing here? 

( ` his ears perk up, eyes widening when the other two exchange familiarities, gun desperate to see if it’s just him imagining worst case scenario, moreso than remaining an enigma to them both. but you can’t, he begs. ) ( ` and yet he aches. overwhelmed, a different kind of burn sears through, head still low, meekness embarrassingly out of character. not that it matters what jin thinks of it; it’d just really pay if mai pretended she didn’t know any better ) ( ` how selfish can you be? )

( ` have you still not learned enough? )

( ` holding his breath, he only steals a glance. it wouldn’t help his case if he were to excuse himself from their reunion, what with that being rude and depriving him from his own. again, can he really afford that though? or is he worse off not seizing this? it’s been a long few days, a week just around the corner if he can’t bite his tongue. the curiosity unsatisfied would only drag him anyway ) ( ` when jin steps back, he stands still, respecting his space. it’s beyond him why he isn’t any more shocked about them knowing each other than mai recognizing them both. that is if you’ll look up. )

( ` an inhale ) ( ` counts backwards in his head from five, hand fidgeting at his side ) ( ` he lifts his chin and takes a look at jin, lingering, long enough for mai to put two and two together. the hat stays on, but he redirects his attention to her, acknowledging that she, too, dons a color unfamiliar to home )

[...]

“That’s fine.” It’s a long-winded game of deception they play. One she abhors yet participates all the same. When the options are: do this or be reprimanded on the daily till you absolutely lose it—the verdict is really quite predictable. At the very least, Zu’er had been appreciative that they were on the same page. It’s a matter of showing it (when the sight of him seems to gnaw away at an already short fuse) that’s the issue.

“Let’s hope this doesn’t turn into another one of those drawn out arguments about whether it’s Omashu or Basingse that gets to house the future Avatar.” A tired dispute. Who cares where a baby would live anyway? She runs a hand through her hair and bites back a sigh, eyes flicking over his face. Notes the same tired I-hate-this-too-dude look on his face and quietly contemplates her following words. “Otherwise, I think we should plan an escape plan.”

Olive branch, maybe.  (Don’t hold your breath)

Her voice doesn’t have the same booming factor her father’s does. Rather, it’s sturdy, more grounded. Composed but not in the way where it patronizes him. Surely that’s just how she is and not an image she’s forced to keep when she’s not home. After all, it’s just the two of them here. For now.

Gun gives a small nod, his laugh quiet and dry. “It’s petty, yeah.” He thinks of the Beifongs, how low they lay from all of this without having to try. The Dahdis a beat after, a painfully obvious thirdwheel to these Romeo-and-Juliet-esque affairs. But they’re not star-crossed in that likeness. There’s no love here on anyone’s part, and if their fathers wanted to pass it off like that, well.

she shrugs, more concerned than she lets on about the scent clinging to her clothes but unbothered otherwise—or maybe just tolerant. nothing new here. while habits like that never appealed to her, she couldn’t fault others for taking them up, never really the judgemental type unless it came to herself. at his question, mai nearly shrugs again but opts for a small smile instead. 

“not sure i have one,” no point lying, is there? “not like that, at least.” 

it’s an aimless walk and mai isn’t sure where her feet are taking her, yet pays no mind to it. she thinks over his question a bit more. “envy, maybe.” she leaves it at that. after letting her gaze fall to the cigarette between his fingers, she looks back to the path before them. “when did you start?”

Oh, that one’s funny. Gun makes sure she knows, his laugh breathy as he looks forward with her. He sniffles then, contemplating on giving Mai the truth or humoring her with his best impression of her favorite: that classic old shrug. Neither, he decides. “Today.”

He stands with a stretch, finding relief from the tension in his shoulders like automatic with the movement. Carefully manuevering around Sian’s mattress, Jin steps into the bathroom slippers and heads for the basin. The reflection that stares back looks better than it had three nights ago: eyes less bleary, the exhaustion that has sunk into the contours of his face seemingly permanent but not nearly as obvious. After a couple of splashes: better. If one can’t be alert, they can at least look the part. 

Returning with two towels in his hands, Jin wordlessly places one down next to where Sian sits before reaching for his bag. Inside: two spare shirts, and a decent amount of essentials to be considered as enough; with less time spent within the borders of the Fire Nation, it’ll be more than just enough. 

He shrugs out of his shirt and into a crisp, clean one. “We can make it happen.” He says it with bland certainty, as if the heat’s got nowhere to go but up from here, and that they’ll make it—out of here, and somehow. The shirt’s done up to the second to last button and he makes a move for the stairs in the hallway. “Take your time.” 

Blind trust, they call it. It isn’t the same as taking the shirt without another word, getting up from the bare floor, wincing in the process of standing on his two feet. He’s so, so sore, the ache in his muscles deeper than anything else right now, an immediate slouch ensuing, a silent cry next. Ow, he mouths. Even an inch of movement would give him away for something he can’t fathom he ever was.

That life was a mere four days ago. Sian’s hand lands on the small of his own back for support as he paces himself to the washroom, the air stronger in touch than in sound. He can’t help thinking of what Jin would be thinking just at him already looking so gaunt. Actually, he can’t help himself at all. God knows what he’d be if luck weren’t a thing.

Move with a purpose, mother would always say. Someone’s.

—

mai slows down ever so slightly when she hears him, even if she’d been looking forward to the minute the meeting ended. it seems the feeling had been mutual in that they’re both looking for a way out. it gets suffocating in that room, with her and her father being on the opposing side for most matters discussed, and she doesn’t know how gun does it, especially if her impression is right.

“it’s a bit warm for my liking.” the meeting didn’t go how she liked, as most of them often do. she’ll have to grow used to that feeling soon because there’ll come a time where she won’t be able to rush out like she can now, her inexperience, in this case, being more of a privilege than a simple excuse. “it could be worse, i suppose.” she’s no longer talking about the weather.

“Tch, yeah.” He grins, but the smile isn’t really there. “Wish it were better though.” And not the weather. The weather’s perfect, the one thing home can get right. “A lot better.”

He stirs only at the sound, casting a cursory glance from over his shoulder before his gaze settles on the adjacent bare wall. The day has just reached the halfway mark, but with the way time tapers and stretches itself thin through the havoc, an hour feels like three under the haze of unease. He’s as much of a stranger to such circumstances as the next person, and the residual strain in Sian’s voice speaks to the same feeling, however that may be. 

The mugginess in the room is persistent, near-smothering with the heat to match, but Jin does nothing to resist against it. It’s better this way—to catch their breath while they can, and let sleeping dogs lie. Those that remain in the Capital weren’t spared the chance to do neither as such. 

Jin sits up. Despite the humidity, the sunlight that beams through the window is welcome. Clarity is always reassuring and found in the little things, as he’s come to learn. He remains still, thinking. Outside, there’s little to show for human life save for the stray pedestrian, but perhaps that’s for the better. Less chance for unwarranted curiousity in a town as quiet as this one, and it’s a much needed change of pace. 

“Wash up first,” he says at last, shifting his weight off of the futon with a sigh. “It’ll be cooler downstairs.” 

"In a bit.” His back is flat on the floor, bedhead apparent but no sign of sleepiness otherwise. Yawning once, he follows in rising up from his spot but stays put in his place, allowing the other to occupy the washroom first. Cicadas hum not too far from here, the screen of the window useless in keeping smaller miscellaneous bugs out. No bites appear on his skin, just scars from being tossed around by the way of the crowd, bare arms grazing against rough textures.

These worries feel trivial, but they’re still all that plague his mind. “Feeling” feels like a job more than something he has to do. What are 3 AM thoughts if these are the ones he has at near 1 in the day? “What if it’s not?” is a delayed reaction, Gun turning his head to check if Jin is still close.

Sian.

Right on. He looks down at his hands, blinking a few times. There’s work to be done.