fallen king.

she  bristles       pricked  /  prodded to aggravated response,  lips parted on  SHARP  retort  (  left to sting  /  bleed on duller skin  );  she draws back from the ire with only  PRACTICED  ease,  biting down  sharp  on the tongue that nearly returns vitriol in kind.  rudeness,  she can handle       you  cannot  make your mark in this profession without that shell  /  defence as coat and cloak.  perhaps she’s  SURPRISED;  that someone with such  miserable  air,  should still have the momentum to snap his jaws in some mimicry of  MALICE.

        ❝  you  lost  it?  ❞  like a household key,  left abandoned on the kitchen counter  /  spare coins,  fallen wayside to the gutter?  you cannot  LOSE  an integral part of you  (  but then,  anyone who has known  suffering,  knows that isn’t true.  )  her brow furrows:  gaze raking back again in slow consideration  /  analytical curiousity that melts into dawning  REALIZATION.  ❝  were you      ❞  don’t say it!  trauma  /  grief were better left to their own  quiet  resurgence.  ❝  you lost your bending  …  recently?  and you haven’t had any hint of it since? ❞

‘    well,    i wouldn’t have come here if i’ve had hints of it,    now would i ?    ’     his words are knife-cut wounds,    sharp as razors,    and tahno knows    -    tahno is aware,   because he’s not a goddam idiot,   he doesn’t just not exist now that he doesn’t have his fucking bending with him    (   except does he ?   does he really exist ?    )     -     that maybe it’ll do him no good dripping threats to people who could potentially help,    who could perhaps cure him.     but he can’t help it.    it’s easy,   and it    -    it’s more.   whatever he’s feeling ?   besides the dark and vast emptiness,    trying to entice reactions from people makes him feel more than this shell that amon has left behind.

‘    you might as well draw yourself a picture,    handsome.     surely that lasts longer.     ’      and,   really,   tahno tries not to grimace at the sight of the blue-themed uniform and the dark skin the guy seems to be sporting.    ‘course,   he understands    —     it isn’t the guy’s fault that he was born where he was born,    neither had it been tahno’s,    when he’d came out looking paler than the moon but has had the hands and feet to wield water.     he’s put that long behind him now:    his background.    no king falters,   including tahno,   as he sets aside the required headgear and smirks down at the man.

the initial feeling of being slightly taken aback aside,    tahno is more curious   -    now what does a clean-cut looking gentleman doing around lurking at underground illegal fights ?      ‘     anythin’ i can do for ya’ ?     ’

‘     hey,   old man.    i thought your tea was supposed to be soothing.    ’     tahno couldn’t remember the last time he really drank tea.    there were sips of it,   of course:    it’s been a common culture for so long and so wide that it’s hard to go by a week without drinking them,    but    -    but there was never just a session of him   ...    drinking it.   appreciating it.   tea was just like any other thing to be consumed:   it’s put into a cup,   and he drank it while the crowd around him are swayed by an event or someone’s talking.    he has a brief recollection of his mother’s thin face,   and her fondness for evening teas,   and-   it hurts.   everything is.    tahno hisses like the man’s the one who wronged him personally.     ‘      it burned my tongue.   it burned my fucking tongue.     ’

and i can’t do anything to soothe it.    his hands are trembling.    his non-bending hands are trembling.    tahno thinks:   not anymore.

they’re in the middle of a workout.

which is fine   ——-     tahno’s never cared much if anyone wants to tag along whenever he feels the low itch to bend water under the serene watchful eye of yue.    in fact,   some days,   he’s pleased with the knowledge that there’s company for him to observe in between his lungs heaving for air,   and,   occasionally,   for him to rile said company up for a sparring session or two.   this time,   he’s content with sharpening his skill on his own:    he needs to be sharper,   more direct.     he’d been slow during one of the last battles and had near damn sprained his ankle which    -    irritates him more than he was willing to admit.

the question posed has got the manipulation he has of the water around himself to pause mid-air.   tahno thinks he’s instinctively iced few of the particles that are near his hands at the shock that trembles through his body,   at the sudden intrusion of the tale that he’d never dare even gave any hints about let alone discuss,    but he moves a second later   —-    and the water swirls around,   until it curls and envelops his hands,   and then :    a flick of his wrist.    on the far side of the training hall are shrapnels of ice sticking from the wall at his doing.    tahno flexes his now bare fingers.    a breath.

(   control,    tahno thinks.    control.    )

 ‘    there’s nothing to tell.      ’      his voice is smooth,   and the smirk he plasters is pleasant enough that,   with a simple gaze,   one would assume it’s harmless.    distracting,   of course,   but harmless.    ‘     they’re no longer in my life,   and i’m no longer in theirs.    s’not that complicated.     ’      is it ?    tahno doesn’t know.    when he left home,   the reason had been straightforward,   quick:   he didn’t want to be in that damn house any longer.    but had there been events that pile up to lead up to it ?    had there been complications that he now prefer ignoring than to acknowledge them existing ?     hmm  …   maybe.

not like it matters now.

like he said:   they’re no longer in his life,   and tahno definitely hasn’t been apart of theirs in a long,  long time.    (    he suddenly remembers solemn,  strong eyes of his grandmother while she scolded over him.    of a green yard so wide with a pond where taemin pulls him down and they would wrestle,   yelling as loud as their lungs allowed.   of mother’s evening teas and how she’s never really been good at speaking to her children,   but she would warm all of their teas up even without asking.    )     he flicks his hair out of the way,   saunters to boh-lin in a way that has his hips swayed more than it should,   and the smirk   —-    it’s poison,   it’s honey.

‘    why   ?    want to become a family of mine,   big boy ?      want to put a ring on me ?     ’

THE SIBLINGS

From left, Taemin (27), Tahno (25) and Sumire (21). All three siblings largely inherited their significant pale grey or silver eyes from their father, and the pale skin from both their parents. Taemin and Tahno, in particular, developed sharp and angular jaw, while Taemin and Sumire grew to have lovely high cheekbones which was passed down particularly from their mother. All three siblings are trained waterbenders, though Tahno ended up being the only one who pursued waterbending as a professional career.