voyeur

“if i didn’t know any better, i would almost say you were following me.” she moves some hair away from her face, strands that had come loose from her low ponytail during a friendly spar with a friend that she’d been visiting just earlier. “but i do know better. just coincidence.” the sides of her mouth tilt upwards ever so slightly as she tucks her hands into her pants pockets. “i honestly though you would have gone back to water before heading this far out to fire.”

since she last saw him in earth, it looks like he’s acquired a few extra items, and she pauses in the conversation to pay each item equal time to observe closely. she doesn’t expect him to reply in a full monologue, so she takes her time with the items, one hand coming out to turn this or that whichever way every now and then, stopping on one piece. “this one is nice,” she murmurs more to herself than anyone. “i’ll come back with some money for it.”

she lets that hand fall back down to her side before turning her attention towards him once more. she’s never been supremely talkative, content to listen and absorb, but she enjoys jin’s stillness and purposefulness, in a world where there is such a lack. “how long do you intend to stay in fire?”

There's no rhyme or reason to the way Jin moves: momentum yielding and unsuspecting, and he's never been the sort to move against the current. Said current takes him from the heart of the Earth Kingdom, has him move along the ebb and flow of fair weather. Jagged mountains taper out to the sea, the sea widens and thins to the trail of volcanic islands that he's come to learn so well. His anticipation has always been rooted in what to see rather than who; naturally, this doesn’t excuse the occasional chance encounter. 

“Would you like that?” He grins, in obvious jest. They’re in the shaded half of the plaza, cool from the relentless sun, wares laid out per usual. Figurines this time, crystalline and smooth to the touch. Jin watches her look at each one, attending to every intricate detail. Where she lingers, he makes a mental note for himself, holds to it for another time. 

what would she like to see? it doesn’t take long for her to think of an answer, a list of what she’d like to see, but what comes to mind all have him in them, in some way or another. she averts her gaze, stares at the magnolia tree and wonders how long it’ll take for this to fade into a simple memory instead of a wish for more.

“the western air temple. not sure how, but…” she shrugs when words fail her, her thoughts occupied by his hand over hers and the what if’s his question provoked. it goes without saying that the western air temple is renowned for its unconventional architecture. something different is all she’d like to see, really, even if she wants them to stay the same.

“have you gone there yet?”

It's surreal, how he's come to know her like this. Barely brushing the span of a month, and he can already retrace each detail as if he's known them for years. The way she shifts, in momentary thought. The tilt of her head, ever so slight. Eyes as gentle as rain, that seek distances, distances he wants to reach, see with her. Jin finds himself holding his breath in quiet anticipation each time, enamored.

"Not yet." Uncharted territory for the moment. Against better judgment, the thought blooms into something more. A  sliver of possibility that he considers briefly. Come with me. Only he leaves it to die quiet, like a dwindling flame in the deep. He spreads out his fingers instead, laces them with her own. "I've heard it's lovely there, at this time of year." 

so much ado about nothing. yui is convinced her efforts have all been in vain, only for him to turn right back around and be oh so cooperative. great. it’s what she wanted, after all. the theatrics seem a bit excessive in hindsight. 

“if we can just sort this out, i don’t care about the details.” a little something she’s picked up from her dad. the way he just picks up the rat has her second-guessing his claim of no relation, but she’s not one to go back on her word.  

“if it’s absolutely necessary,” yui resists the urge to roll her eyes. it’s quite a bold request to make of someone in her position. yet, with no guards present to help carry the undue burden, it doesn’t seem possible to put it off. “i suppose i have no choice.” 

she holds her hands out, waiting for him to hand over the aforementioned cricket. between having to carry the rat herself (urgh!), or no rat at all, this might be the least painful option. how comical. if only her grandfather could see her now. perhaps he’d laugh. 

“you know the way to the palace, right? we’ll go to the gate and i’ll show you the way from there. it’s not far.” 

A question begins to form at the tip of this tongue, but he dismisses it. Better to clarify at the end than be a cause for further delay. Settles with a leveled "All right." It's something of a miracle the rat hasn't so much as even stirred, though it doesn't make him feel any better about the whole thing, but what’s done is done. 

Jin stares at her and the near-exasperated way she gestures for the cricket. If it was even possible to look even more blank, well. His face speaks to it in this second. The turn of his head is to direct her to where the insect sits. "You don't have to take it out of its cage," he says lightly, a shade monotonous. 

sian

( ... ) 

( ` 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 )

( ` you get it, right? )

( * naturally, she’s at a loss for words—how exactly is one supposed to react when put in her current position—until she realises she can’t afford to be, not when time is slipping through her fingers ) i was in the centre when it all blew up.  ( * frowns at the memory of her run-in with seon a few days ago, but more so at the fact that she won’t be as lucky the next time )

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 ) 

sian

( ... )

( mouths mai, like a question, wishing he was uncertain about it. if he could afford to be happy about seeing a familiar face, in a time like this, no less, that’d be his go-to. but he can’t ) ( ` swallows hard, slowly shifting away from jin’s left side and switching to the other, dipping his hat lower in hopes she hadn’t gotten the chance to read his face yet, won’t get to ) ( ` way to not be sus )

( * not to sound picky, but red does not feel like it’s her colour. she can’t afford to complain when the warm hues act as camouflage to anyone that can’t place a name on her face, which is the majority out here on the outskirts of the city ) ( * it’s the disappointment that had compelled her to leave the main city, but also the thought that maybe, just maybe, her siblings or any other familiar faces would have fled before she did. it’s safer not to be recognised and yet, her disappointment only grows )

( * tenses when she spots two figures ahead and she keeps her eyes averted as she continues to walk as if she isn’t on the run ) ( * closer now, she can’t help it, curious and hopeful even if she didn’t recognise them from the distance, because she felt a stare too, only for that feeling to dwindle when she lifts her gaze. they’ve switched sides and while she can’t make out one face just yet, the other one is as clear as day )

( * 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— ) 

there is perhaps no grandchild in all the nations of the world as blindly devoted to honoring their grandparents requests as yui kerita. at least that’s what she’d wager. her grandparents may also be uniquely trusting among the relatively prudish fire nation elite– given how they’ve entrusted her to not only stay in their house while they’re away, but also care for their pet.

well, their idea of a pet anyway. they clearly care for the humongous reptile, given its lavish enclosure within the gardens, and even if she doesn’t see the appeal, yui doesn’t want to disappoint. 

so, when the snake goes on food strike, and the groundskeepers give up on feeding it its usual diet, things get quite desperate. 

and fine, it may not be her proudest moment, shaking down some random street vendor for life feed, but what option does she have? for one, she’s keen on keeping her inheritance – and secondly, it’ll be a small price to pay for avoiding excommunication. 

“i mean, i don’t have a specific one in mind..” while she’s simultaneously relieved and surprised about the fact that this guy apparently has one ready to go, she’s feeling a little apprehensive in the moment. “as long as it’s not too sick or dying and can run around, i think it should be fine. it’s going to be eaten anyway.”

yui pauses, cringing.

“eaten by an animal.” she clarifies– in hindsight, rather suspiciously. “a snake.” still doesn’t sound great. “not my snake.” 

suppose being cleared of immediate involvement is the best claim she can make. from the vendor’s perspective, the situation must seem rather bizarre. 

“you know, i’ll just take whatever you have. if it’s this one or another one, it doesn’t matter– as long as you can deliver it.. i’d say this afternoon, at the latest.”  a slight caveat, admittedly, but she’s obviously willing to pay well enough for the service. “as soon as possible though, naturally.” lest the snake curl up and die as soon as she shows her face.

Meeting people of all kinds is inevitable with this line of work, so really, this shouldn't phase him. Her words filter through and he blinks slow in the effort to process and piece together the details. Eventually, the bigger picture emerges, and somehow Jin is even more at a loss than how he was from the onset. 

His eyes drop to the rodent, and it's hard to deny the twist of pity that posses him.  Minding your business, only to end up in the belly of the beast? Literally, at that? Talk about shoddy luck. 

“Well, it’s not exactly mine, but. Good to know.” The pause that follows is more for the sake of buying time than it is to judge because he’s not one with the right nor time, stooping to sweep the remainder of his actual wares into his bag before standing back up. “As you can see I’m done for the day, so—” 

Jin stops mid-sentence, blanking save for the giant question that forms at the last request. Another glance at Snoozy, then back to the girl. Consider this: he could say no because who’s he to singlehandedly bring a rat to its due misfortune; on the other hand, he just said out loud he’s got nothing else after. Good samaritan tendencies be damned. 

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.

—

His posture’s a little straighter when they reunite downstairs, cheeks just as sunken in, appetite a bigger beast. A hand, clutching the fabric over his stomach as if that will appease it in any way. Sian nods in acknowledgment of Jin and any other dwellers before joining the former at his side, licking his lips, sight set on a possible kitchen, communal eating space, however it goes. “Uh, door’s closed, room’s clean,” he tells him. There’s a gust of wind with the next guest coming in at the entrance on their left, more sticky than it is cool. This obviously blows. “Radio says the forecast has us expecting high temperatures for the rest of the day, and then.. a song.” The radio had a song, not the day, he almost clarifies. Wonders just how much Jin can read about someone in a single once-over. Whether small talk’s overkill or just another one of those things. When they’ll eat, and what. Who’s on his mind when he isn’t home.

On the first floor, it's a little less bleak. Somehow brighter despite the location, but he reasons it's for the mellow wheat-gold wash of the walls (versus their own room's lack thereof) and as he'd hoped, relievingly cooler. The hour of the day induces ease—a stark contrast to the silent creep of dread on their first night elsewhere. Jin almost, almost falls for it the longer he moves about, but another slow shuffle of feet across the stone flooring pulls him back. 

By the time Sian comes down, the kettle is starting to blow off steam nearby and Jin has managed to locate a map. His gaze follows the winding ink of roads and rivers, mentally pinpointing their current position before moving along the distance left to go. 

There’s a quiet hum in approval for the former and nothing much else for the latter if that’s any indication of where his priorities lie. Eyes linger at the map a second then two more before he redirects his attention. Jin tilts his head ever so slight, barely-there curiosity. Blinks once. “What’s there to sing about?” 

It’s only meant to be rhetorical. 

“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.

Getting there.

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. 

omashu, four years ago

they didn’t need to talk about it for her to understand what happens next. she’d accepted it, the fate of whatever this is, the day he took her somewhere on the outskirts of the city that even she didn’t know of. of course, knowing what’s to come doesn’t soften the blow any less but earthbenders are meant to be resilient anyway.

the moon is meant to be a waning crescent tonight—fitting when she thinks back to what the phases supposedly mean. the end of a cycle and letting go, but also the start of something new, which makes it easier to stomach if she looks at it that way.

“so, what are you most looking forward to?” she decides to ask instead of the other questions that roll around in her mind because they’re all selfish ones that would undoubtedly dampen the mood. her fingers curl around the blades of grass below them and she pulls her gaze away from the moon to look at him with a soft smile. 

Night falls, and the world slows to a standstill. Somewhere a breeze picks up, rustles the branches of the magnolia tree that stands in the distance, dove-white buds peeking through the dark green foliage. In time, they will unfurl in the bloom of summer, marking the end of another season. In time, this will be a place his mind will return when it is no longer spring wherever he may be then. In this moment, the farthest Jin goes is shy of an inch, only to move his hand over hers. 

"I dont know," he answers quietly. Gaze averted, his thumb runs absently over the palm lines. There’s no real telling what each stop ever brings, and the need to see it through is what keeps him ever-moving, insatiable. Nonetheless, the second thoughts that rise in the back of his mind are inevitable as they are obvious. What could be so wrong about staying—like this? How they are?