Moon-Touched -Legend of Korra fic
Jul. 7th, 2012 07:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
weirdletFandom: Legend of Korra
Featuring: Tahno, Yue.
The Prompt: The first series says it was the Moon that taught waterbenders originally right? So somehow Yue's spiritual powers can override Amon taking it away. Her powers are limited though (maybe the balance of the world is slipping?), so she only restores Tahno's at first so he can assist the Avatar.
The Excuse-Me's: Unbeta'd, dribbled out in a fever between trying to get to sleep without AC and waking up too early to do cleaning in order to replace AC.
The Fic:
He’s been looking out over the bay for days, hours- not like there’s a much bigger reminder of what he had and what’s out of his grasp. If you’re going to torture yourself, go big or go home, and his accountant’s run off with what should have been his drown-your-sorrows money. So he counts his dwindling coins in a high-class pad that’s swiftly emptying of furniture, and starts to calculate what more of himself can he give away that hasn’t already been stolen.
And it’s just bad luck that brings him out here on the edge of the bay, again, at an hour when any reasonable person would be in bed and the graveyard shift isn’t off ‘til dawn. The curfew-men can’t tell a bender from a non-bender at first glance, and- showy, flashy, dazzling as he (was), Tahno isn’t half-bad at getting himself where he wants to go unseen. He’s not that down enough that he wants to get dragged down in an alley.
Yet.
“Yue,” he calls out, and looks down at the water lapping his ankles, embarrassed. But there’s no one to laugh here but the lizard-gulls, and he brings his gaze up, takes a deep breath.
Yue. Moon-spirit- I’ve never been the most spiritual guy, and truth be told, I’m not expecting anything from this.
He’s really not. It’s one thing to know that there’s girls who can have all four weapons in hand, but he’s never seen a ghost or a walking spirit, never heard the ocean's call beyond his own heartbeat. He’s a pro, and he’s never had time for such childish stories.
Old, old Huu had been a master of such tales, but he’d passed on long before a hungry young boy from the swamps had become an ambitious young man in the city.
I’m not someone who wishes on stars or asks other people to help me. I get what I can how I can, by myself, because that’s the way the world is. But- you’re supposed to be our patron, our teacher. You look out for our kind, you look out for her. You gotta help me, Yue, ‘cause I’ve got nothing left.
He’s been pushed right to the edge of what he is, and he’s not sure he can pull himself back up. There’s a great big hole in his life where his talents used to be, and it’s too soon, it’s not fair, he’d barely begun and he feels old as a fish-wrapped newspaper. He can’t save anybody, he can’t even save himself- and the council has the city locked up tight, and that monster is still on the loose, and the rest of the plebs he’s joined are caught in between.
Perhaps you’re not pushing hard enough.
He almost stumbles back into the sand, staring up at this girl, this girl in old Northern finery, grown uncanny and bright with the light of another world soft behind her. She’s brilliant and beautiful and he’s ragged with neglect and grief, hair a mess and mouth gaping.
“Bullshit I’m not. I’ve got nothing left to push with. I’m amazed you even showed up- I’m not one of your favored, anymore. How can I call myself Water?”
Yue smiles, and it is terribly gentle.
You are a child of mine, son of the water-groves. You always were, as are any who live upon the ocean, under the moon, and call upon their spirits. He wounded you terribly- but you still live. You have two hands, and a strong heart. Could you not see that those are all you need?
He wants to yell, to tell her to tell that to his sponsors who have flipped him the bird, his friends who have lost their own livelihoods. But she’s not just a goddess, she’s supposed to be his goddess. You keep a civil tongue in your head around the ref, worldly or otherworldly.
You are Water. Separate from water from water, and it is still its own. Change, and find a new direction.
“So- you’re not gonna help me,” he says flatly. “I wasn’t expecting it anyway. But you’ve gotta help her, Yue. This place is going mad, and she’s supposed to be the only one who can put things right. That’s what they told us in school, that’s what everyone says the Avatar’s supposed to be. She made me a promise, and it’s one I intend to see kept.”
I cannot touch her, son of the banyan tree, Yue says, and her words are tinged with regret. The spirit world is bridged by one person and one alone in a generation- but that crossing has not yet been made. I can only come to those who call- and are close enough that I may hear.
Tahno swallows at that. How late is it- how long has he been standing here, with his ankles in the sea? He listens to the sounds of his body, the chill of the late night and spray, the rumble of his stomach. Has it really been that long since he’s eaten rather than drunk his meals?
Her eyes catch him, wide and blue and shimmering with compassion. There’s no fire, there- but there is light enough to burn.
“What do you want from me?”
Now she looks to him, not just through him, and that terrible light fades, just a little bit.
You can be more than what you are- more than what you were. You remind me of a boy I once knew. He was to be mine, but he died doing what he thought was best. I want you to choose what you will do. Push, and pull- your art was something I gifted to those who could adapt and change, and it is that truth alone that I can return to you. I can give you a means to complete a task- but it is you who must choose to do it.
“Anything you ask.”
…
It hurts. Spirits, it hurts.
Tahno knows a little about bloodbending. There are books on dark footnotes in history, and laws about certain techniques, and he could put two and two together back when Old Huu showed them how to bend the vines to catch platygators. It’s not something he ever thought would be relevant to his life.
He knows a whole lot more now, on an instinctual level, than he ever cared to find out.
His chi-paths are raw and sparking, and the moon’s gentle touch is the only thing that leaves him still standing, staggering away from the beach. His head is spinning, and he worries that he’s going to throw up where he stands.
Slowly, he breathes through it. His hands stop shaking, his fingers no longer numb and bruised.
He makes it home, blessing the moon for hiding him in her shadow, and doesn’t quite collapse on getting in the door. Instead, he gets up, and goes to find his little shaving mirror (the big gilt-framed one is gone last week to pay the bills).
The moon-spirit’s given him a mission. She’s given him a gift, and a curse, and certainly not exactly what he wanted. She’s given him a chance to choose again, and change. And she’s also given him a little reminder, a gentle touch on his brow to assure him that it wasn’t just a sick hallucination brought on by moping on an empty stomach.
The silver threads through his forelock like a dash of salt, a kiss of frost from a girl seventy years dead and with hair the exact same color.
He doesn’t quite dare try tonight. But tomorrow, when the sun’s full up and he can say for sure that he’s awake, he’ll call on Ming and Shozou. He’ll see if this strange new understanding is really real, and really worth a damn. And then?
Then he’s going to find Avatar Korra, and glue himself to her side until whatever needs doing has come to pass.
Featuring: Tahno, Yue.
The Prompt: The first series says it was the Moon that taught waterbenders originally right? So somehow Yue's spiritual powers can override Amon taking it away. Her powers are limited though (maybe the balance of the world is slipping?), so she only restores Tahno's at first so he can assist the Avatar.
The Excuse-Me's: Unbeta'd, dribbled out in a fever between trying to get to sleep without AC and waking up too early to do cleaning in order to replace AC.
The Fic:
He’s been looking out over the bay for days, hours- not like there’s a much bigger reminder of what he had and what’s out of his grasp. If you’re going to torture yourself, go big or go home, and his accountant’s run off with what should have been his drown-your-sorrows money. So he counts his dwindling coins in a high-class pad that’s swiftly emptying of furniture, and starts to calculate what more of himself can he give away that hasn’t already been stolen.
And it’s just bad luck that brings him out here on the edge of the bay, again, at an hour when any reasonable person would be in bed and the graveyard shift isn’t off ‘til dawn. The curfew-men can’t tell a bender from a non-bender at first glance, and- showy, flashy, dazzling as he (was), Tahno isn’t half-bad at getting himself where he wants to go unseen. He’s not that down enough that he wants to get dragged down in an alley.
Yet.
“Yue,” he calls out, and looks down at the water lapping his ankles, embarrassed. But there’s no one to laugh here but the lizard-gulls, and he brings his gaze up, takes a deep breath.
Yue. Moon-spirit- I’ve never been the most spiritual guy, and truth be told, I’m not expecting anything from this.
He’s really not. It’s one thing to know that there’s girls who can have all four weapons in hand, but he’s never seen a ghost or a walking spirit, never heard the ocean's call beyond his own heartbeat. He’s a pro, and he’s never had time for such childish stories.
Old, old Huu had been a master of such tales, but he’d passed on long before a hungry young boy from the swamps had become an ambitious young man in the city.
I’m not someone who wishes on stars or asks other people to help me. I get what I can how I can, by myself, because that’s the way the world is. But- you’re supposed to be our patron, our teacher. You look out for our kind, you look out for her. You gotta help me, Yue, ‘cause I’ve got nothing left.
He’s been pushed right to the edge of what he is, and he’s not sure he can pull himself back up. There’s a great big hole in his life where his talents used to be, and it’s too soon, it’s not fair, he’d barely begun and he feels old as a fish-wrapped newspaper. He can’t save anybody, he can’t even save himself- and the council has the city locked up tight, and that monster is still on the loose, and the rest of the plebs he’s joined are caught in between.
Perhaps you’re not pushing hard enough.
He almost stumbles back into the sand, staring up at this girl, this girl in old Northern finery, grown uncanny and bright with the light of another world soft behind her. She’s brilliant and beautiful and he’s ragged with neglect and grief, hair a mess and mouth gaping.
“Bullshit I’m not. I’ve got nothing left to push with. I’m amazed you even showed up- I’m not one of your favored, anymore. How can I call myself Water?”
Yue smiles, and it is terribly gentle.
You are a child of mine, son of the water-groves. You always were, as are any who live upon the ocean, under the moon, and call upon their spirits. He wounded you terribly- but you still live. You have two hands, and a strong heart. Could you not see that those are all you need?
He wants to yell, to tell her to tell that to his sponsors who have flipped him the bird, his friends who have lost their own livelihoods. But she’s not just a goddess, she’s supposed to be his goddess. You keep a civil tongue in your head around the ref, worldly or otherworldly.
You are Water. Separate from water from water, and it is still its own. Change, and find a new direction.
“So- you’re not gonna help me,” he says flatly. “I wasn’t expecting it anyway. But you’ve gotta help her, Yue. This place is going mad, and she’s supposed to be the only one who can put things right. That’s what they told us in school, that’s what everyone says the Avatar’s supposed to be. She made me a promise, and it’s one I intend to see kept.”
I cannot touch her, son of the banyan tree, Yue says, and her words are tinged with regret. The spirit world is bridged by one person and one alone in a generation- but that crossing has not yet been made. I can only come to those who call- and are close enough that I may hear.
Tahno swallows at that. How late is it- how long has he been standing here, with his ankles in the sea? He listens to the sounds of his body, the chill of the late night and spray, the rumble of his stomach. Has it really been that long since he’s eaten rather than drunk his meals?
Her eyes catch him, wide and blue and shimmering with compassion. There’s no fire, there- but there is light enough to burn.
“What do you want from me?”
Now she looks to him, not just through him, and that terrible light fades, just a little bit.
You can be more than what you are- more than what you were. You remind me of a boy I once knew. He was to be mine, but he died doing what he thought was best. I want you to choose what you will do. Push, and pull- your art was something I gifted to those who could adapt and change, and it is that truth alone that I can return to you. I can give you a means to complete a task- but it is you who must choose to do it.
“Anything you ask.”
…
It hurts. Spirits, it hurts.
Tahno knows a little about bloodbending. There are books on dark footnotes in history, and laws about certain techniques, and he could put two and two together back when Old Huu showed them how to bend the vines to catch platygators. It’s not something he ever thought would be relevant to his life.
He knows a whole lot more now, on an instinctual level, than he ever cared to find out.
His chi-paths are raw and sparking, and the moon’s gentle touch is the only thing that leaves him still standing, staggering away from the beach. His head is spinning, and he worries that he’s going to throw up where he stands.
Slowly, he breathes through it. His hands stop shaking, his fingers no longer numb and bruised.
He makes it home, blessing the moon for hiding him in her shadow, and doesn’t quite collapse on getting in the door. Instead, he gets up, and goes to find his little shaving mirror (the big gilt-framed one is gone last week to pay the bills).
The moon-spirit’s given him a mission. She’s given him a gift, and a curse, and certainly not exactly what he wanted. She’s given him a chance to choose again, and change. And she’s also given him a little reminder, a gentle touch on his brow to assure him that it wasn’t just a sick hallucination brought on by moping on an empty stomach.
The silver threads through his forelock like a dash of salt, a kiss of frost from a girl seventy years dead and with hair the exact same color.
He doesn’t quite dare try tonight. But tomorrow, when the sun’s full up and he can say for sure that he’s awake, he’ll call on Ming and Shozou. He’ll see if this strange new understanding is really real, and really worth a damn. And then?
Then he’s going to find Avatar Korra, and glue himself to her side until whatever needs doing has come to pass.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2012-11-10 11:57 pm (UTC)Ahem, now that I'm done foaming at the mouth, that was very interesting and leave it to Yue, now the moon but once human to step in and ACTUALLY DO SOMETHING!
no subject
Date: 2012-11-14 02:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-11-14 04:26 am (UTC)Also your replies to my PMs have been suspiciously absent did my obsessive nature scare you away or did I send the plot bunnies into overdrive :U
no subject
Date: 2012-11-14 04:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-11-14 05:33 am (UTC)Yes Azula can be tricky to write and you haven't even seen the 30 prompts I've added to the AU.
Somehow it's ended up mostly Azula centric despite the fact I adore Zuko...
(Sorry I replied so late, was showering)
no subject
Date: 2012-11-14 05:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-11-14 05:42 am (UTC)