Elemental bending was a difficult art form.
The grace a bender possessed was honed. The swiftness of their movements, came with days and nights of gruelling practice. As every bender learns in their first lesson, they had been gifted with the great power to control an element of nature, and as such it must be treated with respect, its beauty, preserved; its elegance, untainted; for only then can its true power shine.
Agust remembered the steel gray practice room, installed with several floor-to-ceiling mirrors that reflected every move, every flaw, every perfection. Day in, day out, they honed their skills, sharpening the blade that would eventually draw blood from the monsters that haunted their city.
He never minded it. It gave him a sense of purpose, and more importantly, power. It ran deep in his veins, pumping him with adrenaline. He could feel it in the ache of his joints, the soreness of his muscles.
He’d always felt honored to have been bestowed upon the ability to manipulate water. It was (arguably) the most beautiful element of all. Flowing, rippling, cascading like a long piece of blue ribbon. He took pleasure in its silkiness as it ran over his skin softly. He savored its coolness as it flowed past his lips, onto his tongue and down his parched throat. He luxuriated in its warmth as it poured over his body, drawing out the aches and pains of the day.
Water cleansed him, both physically and mentally. It purged his mind of his frustration, whether it was directed at that boy in his class who had absolutely no concept of personal space, or himself when he failed to nail a particular technique.
Water bending was the greatest gift he had ever received, and yet it appears that now, it will prove to be the most burdensome.
