She rode on a wind that cut like a scythe, and crossed the ocean on a typhoon’s crest with a gathering of men at her back such as the Fire Nation had not seen in a hundred years! Xun Tai, bandit queen of the Red Forest, did stealthily infiltrate the enemy capital, making her way from the island shore up, up the rocky caldera’s sides, and entered at last into the city! Little resistance did they encounter, for who would dare to stand against them?
The palace steps ran with neither blood nor flames, but brown and green and black with the ragged, mismatched armor of her cohorts, whilst meanwhile she led a merry chase over the rooftops and through the windows, seeking the heart of the lair.
The throne-room beckoned, and who was she to refuse a dramatic entrance?
She leapt inward to land in a striking position, naked blades out, staring hungrily into the firelit dark.
There he stood, just as much a student of the theatrical as she- robes trailing, crimson-red and burgundy, with black to show the seriousness of his shadows. The five-point mantle bristled at the outline of his shoulders, the flame-shaped crown sharp and glinting in his topknot- the grey streaks of which trailed down mostly to the outstretched points of his scar, branding one eye with the inalienable marking of the one she sought.
He looked at her, face set like a solemn festival-day mask, and she suddenly felt the lack of her years. The true ragged state of her armor, rust-red leather tattered and cobbled to make her one of the Free. Her hair was in neither topknot nor braid nor Earth-kingdom crown- merely tied back in a brush-bushy tail, wild as brambles and black as oak.
Still, she would not be intimidated.
“Do you know who I am?” she challenged.
“Do you know who I am?” he asked in turn, and she steels herself.
“The Firelord- at last. Do you know how many years I’ve been waiting to finally come face to face with you?” She coiled as if to spring, and the firewall behind him flared.
In the burning, blinking after-glare, she heard him speak, straining through her aching eyes at the sudden lack of heat and light, and his voice was low and gentle, a caressing wind on a summer night.
“I’ve been waiting to see you- since the day you were born.”
Now he moved against a gentle backlight, like a low hearth-fire, and stepped down from his high stage. The Firelord strode forward, and paused well before she could part her blades with an intimidating shing.
He spread his hands, long sleeves making the small movement into something grand.
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timeasmymeasure
Bonus!fic- 20 Years Later (with edits)
Date: 2010-01-08 06:23 am (UTC)The palace steps ran with neither blood nor flames, but brown and green and black with the ragged, mismatched armor of her cohorts, whilst meanwhile she led a merry chase over the rooftops and through the windows, seeking the heart of the lair.
The throne-room beckoned, and who was she to refuse a dramatic entrance?
She leapt inward to land in a striking position, naked blades out, staring hungrily into the firelit dark.
There he stood, just as much a student of the theatrical as she- robes trailing, crimson-red and burgundy, with black to show the seriousness of his shadows. The five-point mantle bristled at the outline of his shoulders, the flame-shaped crown sharp and glinting in his topknot- the grey streaks of which trailed down mostly to the outstretched points of his scar, branding one eye with the inalienable marking of the one she sought.
He looked at her, face set like a solemn festival-day mask, and she suddenly felt the lack of her years. The true ragged state of her armor, rust-red leather tattered and cobbled to make her one of the Free. Her hair was in neither topknot nor braid nor Earth-kingdom crown- merely tied back in a brush-bushy tail, wild as brambles and black as oak.
Still, she would not be intimidated.
“Do you know who I am?” she challenged.
“Do you know who I am?” he asked in turn, and she steels herself.
“The Firelord- at last. Do you know how many years I’ve been waiting to finally come face to face with you?” She coiled as if to spring, and the firewall behind him flared.
In the burning, blinking after-glare, she heard him speak, straining through her aching eyes at the sudden lack of heat and light, and his voice was low and gentle, a caressing wind on a summer night.
“I’ve been waiting to see you- since the day you were born.”
Now he moved against a gentle backlight, like a low hearth-fire, and stepped down from his high stage. The Firelord strode forward, and paused well before she could part her blades with an intimidating shing.
He spread his hands, long sleeves making the small movement into something grand.
“Happy birthday, my daughter.”