Aang (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
actually112) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thearena2014-09-23 10:30 am
actually112) wrote in thearena2014-09-23 10:30 am
Entry tags:
A constellation of tears on your lashes
Who| Aang and Tony and anyone who may be with Tony (Thor, Bucky, etc)
What| Aang is officially outside of what's intended to be the arena. He is going to do his damndest to tear this shit down.
Where| The crawlspace above the third floor.
When| Early Week
Warnings/Notes| Sad little boys and Tony instructing said boys how to use explosives.
Aang has cried a lot. Cried with grief, cried with frustration, cried with loneliness. He feels like he's cried a hundred years' worth of tears.
Making up for lost time, he guesses.
But tears do nothing. After the tearing feeling in his chest has reduced to a dull ache, he gets to work. He already broke through the skylight, so he investigates. Paws around, just in case there are fancy wires or the kind of green ridged chips found in the floor cleaners. He finds nothing but dust, and he feels the electricity above him, crackling the air like Azula does before a strike. He knows that feeling. He died to that feeling, before Katara pulled him back. He misses Katara.
He doesn't know how to deal with electricity, but he knows there are others who do. He zips open his backpack, pulling out pages he had yet to use for drawing or paper gliders, and writes. He writes his note in the best code he can possibly manage, asking for help and explaining the situation.
Then he folds them into the best gliders he can and throws them through the skylight.
Maybe someone will find them.
What| Aang is officially outside of what's intended to be the arena. He is going to do his damndest to tear this shit down.
Where| The crawlspace above the third floor.
When| Early Week
Warnings/Notes| Sad little boys and Tony instructing said boys how to use explosives.
Aang has cried a lot. Cried with grief, cried with frustration, cried with loneliness. He feels like he's cried a hundred years' worth of tears.
Making up for lost time, he guesses.
But tears do nothing. After the tearing feeling in his chest has reduced to a dull ache, he gets to work. He already broke through the skylight, so he investigates. Paws around, just in case there are fancy wires or the kind of green ridged chips found in the floor cleaners. He finds nothing but dust, and he feels the electricity above him, crackling the air like Azula does before a strike. He knows that feeling. He died to that feeling, before Katara pulled him back. He misses Katara.
He doesn't know how to deal with electricity, but he knows there are others who do. He zips open his backpack, pulling out pages he had yet to use for drawing or paper gliders, and writes. He writes his note in the best code he can possibly manage, asking for help and explaining the situation.
Then he folds them into the best gliders he can and throws them through the skylight.
Maybe someone will find them.
no subject
"Sorry. I didn't mean to pry."
He doesn't know what has made Bucky so hard-faced. He's probably done bad things in the past. But haven't they all?
He looks down at the knife, still twirling in his hands. He wonders if Bucky's ever had a good experience with a sifu. Every master is different, all the teaching experiences varied, but Aang's always found the relationship between a student and sifu to be an intimate and important one. He can't help but think it's sad that someone wouldn't have that.
He looks back up at Bucky, and impulsively says, "I can show you some of the things the monks taught me once we're out of here. It's not as useful if you're not an airbender, but it's still a new way to move around if you're trying to keep from getting hurt."
It isn't something Bucky really needs. Aang has seen the way he moves, how he pays such close attention to his surroundings. He doesn't need Air Nomad tactics to stay alive. Still, diversity in movement and fighting is always good--that's where the Avatar gets its power--and maybe it'll be just one thing that he would remember learning.
no subject
But to his relief Aang simply backs off and changes the topic. He doesn't want to talk about HYDRA or the things they made them do. If he was asked Bucky isn't sure he could refuse and then... then he doesn't know, but he might lose whatever this relationship is when the boy learns the truth.
It occurs to him this might be considered selfish but it doesn't make him change his mind.
At the the offer he inclines his head in acceptance, considering the valid point Aang makes with his offer. New ways of combat are invaluable if it might help him complete the Mission.
It also makes him remember something and he bends his head to write again. How is your wound?
no subject
Aang smiles at the Bucky's acceptance of his offer--it'll be fun to show someone else how the airbenders do things--before angling himself and lifting the hem of his shirt (which feels just plain weird to wear) to show Bucky the bandage made of clothes taken from the department store. The bandage has stayed remarkably clean, considering all his work in a dusty crawlspace.
"Much better, thanks." If Bucky is paying attention, he'll notice a strange scar on his back that spreads out like a star burst before he lets the shirt drop again. "I think it's healing up okay. I've never heard of using a tube to get blood out before, but it worked really well!"
no subject
The marker goes back to a new piece of paper, words splashed across it in royal blue.
Good. I was taught at about it at the beginning of the arena.
Luckily for Aang, Bucky hadn't expected to need to use the technique so soon but it had worked well, as the boy pointed out, to say he had no proper materials.