Here's where the fic is being developed. http://forums.spacebattles.com/showthread.php?t=162405
And here is what it looks like we have so far...
Slowly he drifted through the beyond, trapped in the world of dreams between the lands of men and of spirits.
Able to see, but not to touch.
Able travel but not interact.
Able to experience, but never to comprehend.
It was black and white at the beginning. They were calm, peaceful. Time passed. He couldn't know how long. The only way to measure it was by the black and the white. The black was chasing the white. Or was the black fleeing the white? It wasn't clear. The only time was measured by their rotation, in a slow, endless dance. There was only the cycle, and then the cycle began again, with every cycle just as meaningful as the last. They became a circle. Or had always been a circle.
Then red. The graceful, melancholic cycle of shades came to an end. The red flashed, violently, free of anything so parochial as a source. The cycle stopped. The white grew pale and sick. It was jaundiced, and then yellow. The red was hideously powerful now. It contrasted painfully. The black, alone, without a second, roared in pain; as much as a color can roar, a paradoxically chilling sound.
There was flailing. Pain. Suffering. The woes of mortality. Life, unable to live, must only... what? What can follow loss? It is madness. The black was mad. Two baleful glowing eyes stared out from beyond the edges of human understanding.
He feared it.
He sunk back towards the easy depths of unconsciousness, as if to retreat from it.
The black retreated. As it faded from his vision, it was replaced with... white. He had it. He'd found it. There was no reason to fear. All he had to do was return it to the black. He floated back towards consciousness, carrying the white. Or it carried him. Either way, it found its way back. He saw the yellow retreating, from the other side. The madness was soothed, and he wondered if it was him.
The black and white returned to their dance. Red had gone. Somehow her could not see it as clearly. A white presence guided him. Slowly clarity returned to him and then he saw her. A beautiful maiden with hair and spirit as pure as virgin snow. She reached out to him. Smiled playfully at him as she pressed her finger against his head, sending him falling. He he fell away from her, her face changed to silky black hair and ruby lips, and golden eyes full of danger.
-- -- --
With a gap, his eyes burst open. Red. Not a flashing, violent red. This red was fuzzy, and rippled, like the ocean. It made him feel sick, so he closed his eyes again. After a few heartbeats - he could measure time now - he opened them again. The light burned, and his vision was blurred. His body was weak, his throat racked with thirst, and his stomach felt so hollow that it almost felt as if he'd collapse in upon himself. Still, even with the discomfort, this state was much better than the profound feeling of lost he'd been experiencing up until now. He absently wondered if that what death was like, before taking a deep breath to begin recovering himself.
ôMy name is Liao,ö he told himself, in a dry, weak voice, struggling fight through the fog addling his mind. This comforted him. He was addled and confused, but he retained his identity.
ôWhere am I?ö He asked himself, ôWhat happened, and how did I get here?ö
As his vision cleared he answered the first question himself, at least in part. The red he'd seen was a curtain. The window was open, and Liao could feel the breeze. The smell of salt in the air told of the the coast. Crimson silk sheets lay across the bed, its gold-painted posts carved in the form of battling dragons, and from above the door the black and red flame of his homeland looked down. Only the nobles of the Fire Nation lived in such splendour.
He was no prisoner then, a relief, but how he'd come to be here, and exactly where here was, that still eluded him.
He knew this place was Fire Nation, but was he still in the colonies or had he been taken to the home islands? If he had to guess, he'd say the islands as the subtle but omnipresent hints of Earth Kingdom culture and design that had become part of the Colonial identity seemed to be lacking.
Still looking about, at the delicately painted walls and lushly carpeted black obsidian floors that surrounded him his eyes locked on a table at the far side of the room. On it sat a porcelain water pitcher, painted in black highlighted with with luxurious reds and golds
Slowly he sat himself up and was overtaken by a momentary feeling of vertigo. Touching his head he felt rough cloth under his fingers. Bandages. How had he been wounded? He could not recall this on its own. It was too fuzzy. It was just a jumble of images. He remembered chaos and then pain, but then it was just darkness. He would have to ask about this.
He didn't know how, but he'd been injured. That certainly seemed the most plausible explanation for him lying in a bed somewhere, with a bandage holding his skull together, the bitter cramp of disuse in his legs and arms, and some surely medicinal herbal scent in the air. He lay there, thinking it over. After a moment he came to two conclusions. Firstly he was in no fit state for higher thought. Secondly he very much wanted to get up.
He waited for his balance to return to him. When he felt comfortable, he levered himself up, wincing, and tried to stand. It seemed all right. His body felt weak and tired, but he was thirsty. Very thirsty. He'd never felt this parched before. He needed that water.
Taking a tentative first step, Liao released the bed and began to move towards the table and its liquid prize. Calling his movement walking would be a misnomer. It was more of a controlled stumble forwards, not unlike the unsteady gait of an infant. In moments though, he reached the table, and holding himself up with one arm, reached for the water.
Soon he reach the table and, struggling to hold himself up with one arm, reached for the water, but the pitcher slipped through his faltering fingers, smashing on the cold stone floor. Falling to his knees he spent a moment considering lapping it up off the floor but he decided quickly that he would not debase himself as such. The sound was bound to bring servants, and they'd bring him all the water he could drink and food he could eat.
A thin smile crossed Liao's face as the door burst open. In rushed an elderly man, who's clothing game him the look of a doctor. The man gazed across the room frantically, before his gaze locked on Liao himself.
ôWhat are you doing?ö the Doctor demanded. ôYou should be in bed.ö
ôWater...ö he said, his voice still barely a crackle due to thirst. ôI need water, and something to eat.ö
The Doctor gentle pulled him to his feet.
ôOf course you do. You're very ill and lucky to be alive. Lets get you back in bed and then see about getting you something for you belly.ö glancing at the door, the doctor glared at the watching servants. ôDon't just stand there! You heard the boy, fetch him some soup and tell the princess! Oh, and find someone to clean this mess up!ö
-- -- --
The sun had reached its zenith over the Fire Nation capital as the two wizened crones sat comfortablyat their places on the raised dais. The glassy volcanic rock that made up this hallowed place was washed in the light of the noon sun. The twinÆs pupil stood in the center of the ancient and revered training ground, her body bathing in the sun's life giving rays.
Even as Azula ran through a routine of the utmost complexity, Lo and Li were as if statues. They did not rush to praise their student. Instead, they picked up on mistakes no others would detect. The twins were not Firebenders themselves. However, they had an eye for detail unmatched in the Fire Nation. In their time, they were peerless in their chosen field. Fire Lord Azulon had called upon them when situations required the utmost discretion. Lo and Li had honed their eye for detail over many decades of service to the throne. It was why AzulonÆs successor, Fire Lord Ozai, had selected them to oversee his favored childÆs training.
It was an open secret that he wished for them to impart far more than their ability to detect and exploit any flaw or weakness in the princess.
Finishing the form, Azula turned to her tutors. An untrained eye would have been awed by the confidence the young woman naturally radiated and her boundless natural talent. She was a marvel by any standards. The twins cared nothing of this, for there was something slightly amiss with their chargeÆs posture.
"Again," Li croaked, sketching out the move with bony fingers. "You're still too high."
"The base of the flame burns hottest. Learn from it. You must keep your center of weight low," Lo concurred.
Azula hid a grimace, her face as impassive as ever. She returned to her beginning stance, stretching out her arms as she did so. She had done this form before. It was within her ability. She started forward, aggressively, keeping the hypothetical opponent on the defensive. Two strikes, then spin, blocking the first opponent's flame while twisting to engage a hypothetical second. Threatened on each side, Azula leapt back, landing delicately, toes first, and broadening her flames to force back both enemies. The first came on and she ducked low, shooting low, to strike at the opponent's root. She swept that opponent to the ground with a wide kick and rose to meet the second, whose fire blast caught her full in the face -
"A second too slow."
Azula cut off the second crone before she could add her input.
"I know. I was worrying about my weight and lost timing. I'll begin again."
She put a hand to her forehead in impatience. Were she slightly less assiduous about her appearance, she might have brushed a hair back.
"Perhaps we should end your drills for today," Lo suggested. The sun was in the middle of its descent, but there would still be a few hours before it reached the horizon and bathed the capital in gold. Azula bristled.
"Are you suggesting this is beyond me?"
"Not at all." Li responded for her twin. Azula suspected this habit of theirs was a conscious strategy on their part to keep any student off-balance by dividing their attention. If you could not deal with that minor confusion, you did not deserve to be taught by them. Though non-benders themselves, there were few better teachers in the Fire Nation.
"Perhaps the princess might prefer to resume training in the morning," Li continued. "You seem unfocused," her sister finished.
Azula hesitated for a moment. "Nonsense," she said, cleanly. "A real opponent would not wait until I felt more focused."
The old women looked at each other and exchanged a barely perceptible sigh.
Azula went through it again. This time Azula didn't step back quite enough after the second opponent's entrance, leaving her too close for her next attack to threaten both enemies. Wordlessly, she tried again. She'd been having trouble with this one exercise, and could not define why. It was not, by any measure, the hardest that she had done. It was one of the few designed to train reaction to unseen enemies, though, and Azula admitted - if only to herself - that those were the situations she had the most trouble with. Lately ambushes had been a sore point for another reason too.
Resisting the urge to snarl in frustration, Azula moved to begin again for the fifth time when the voice of Li interrupted her. ôIt is clear that you lack the focus to perform this technique. Perhaps it would be best should you begin with something more rudimentary.ö
ôPerform the Talons of the Striking Pheonix,ö Lu demanded, finishing her sister's statement.
Azula spun onto the wizened twins with fury in her eyes. ôI can do it,ö Azula stated with fire in he eyes.
The two wizened crones shared glance and then nodded. ôPerform the Talons of the Striking Pheonix,ö they repeated as one.
Azula simply clenched her teeth to fight back her true reaction, one of anger and spite. The two wizened crones noticed this, but they did not react though. Instead they simply permitted her to move into her stance.
ôBegin.ö The tutors spoke as a single voice.
The first movement began like a flame. A series of small, subtle maneuvers flowed like magma. Every shift in stance and every strike was performed with a precision only Firebending Masters could even dream of possessing. Suddenly, like the element she drew her amazing abilities from, she erupted. Her movements covered a wider area and required much greater effort. Flames danced at her merest whim as she advanced through the routine. Every action was, simply, a work of art. She wielded Fire as a painter wields a brush or a sculptor wielded a chisel.
She rolled ever so slightly on the balls of her feet as she landed from the final tight spiral in the routine.
Li shook her head. ôYour mind is elsewhere Princess Azula. Hone your thoughts. You must be focused.ö
Lo continued her sisterÆs point in the space of a single breath. ôEmotion, like the flame, is an indiscriminate killer when not guided by a powerful will.ö
Finally having had enough, Azula snapped back. ôDo you doubt the strength of my will? I will have you know, that I have achieved a mastery most Firebenders can barely comprehend!ö
ôYour will is strong, yet undermined.ö Lo remained as frustrating to read as ever. Azula knew it was one of the primary reasons her father had chosen the Twins as her teacher. Princess Azula had many gifts and talents. One of these talents was an ability to bend people to her will as easily as she bent Fire.
Li ran a hand on the volcanic glass of the chamber of emphasis. ôLike obsidian, your will is solid and enduring, and when properly hone is as sharp as the deadliest blades.ö
Lo continued the act. ôBut if a foe knows where to strike, you will shatter.ö
Azula knew exactly what Lo and Li were referring to; and it angered her even more. How dare they scold her on that of all things. ôI am not as fragile as you think.ö
In the back of the chamber the door, a solid stone thing, with inlaid handles, utterly un-burnable, creaked open. Azula glanced over her shoulder and scowled as a red-and-gold liveried servant reluctantly entered the room.
ôYou have something to say, servant?ö Azula said softly, slowly turning to face the servant hovering nervously in the doorway.
He threw himself to the ground, his face pressing into the hard floor, an almost perfect bow, marred only by his ill-concealed trembling.
Azula smiled. At least some people remembered how to treat her with proper reverence.
ôYour highness, you wished to be informed when the patient awoke."
Immediately Azula forgot about the exercise and began to walk forward, walking past the man as if he wasn't even present.
Almost as if an afterthought, she spoke to her tutors without even turning to adress them, such was the urgency of her stride.
"Li, Lo, we will finish for today. I will resume in the morning."
The Lo and Li shrugged at each other as if this were just another development in the ongoing drama of life. If one looked at the two crones closely though, one would have seen them exchange a sideways glance that spoke volumes. This development was not entirely welcome.
And here is what it looks like we have so far...
Slowly he drifted through the beyond, trapped in the world of dreams between the lands of men and of spirits.
Able to see, but not to touch.
Able travel but not interact.
Able to experience, but never to comprehend.
It was black and white at the beginning. They were calm, peaceful. Time passed. He couldn't know how long. The only way to measure it was by the black and the white. The black was chasing the white. Or was the black fleeing the white? It wasn't clear. The only time was measured by their rotation, in a slow, endless dance. There was only the cycle, and then the cycle began again, with every cycle just as meaningful as the last. They became a circle. Or had always been a circle.
Then red. The graceful, melancholic cycle of shades came to an end. The red flashed, violently, free of anything so parochial as a source. The cycle stopped. The white grew pale and sick. It was jaundiced, and then yellow. The red was hideously powerful now. It contrasted painfully. The black, alone, without a second, roared in pain; as much as a color can roar, a paradoxically chilling sound.
There was flailing. Pain. Suffering. The woes of mortality. Life, unable to live, must only... what? What can follow loss? It is madness. The black was mad. Two baleful glowing eyes stared out from beyond the edges of human understanding.
He feared it.
He sunk back towards the easy depths of unconsciousness, as if to retreat from it.
The black retreated. As it faded from his vision, it was replaced with... white. He had it. He'd found it. There was no reason to fear. All he had to do was return it to the black. He floated back towards consciousness, carrying the white. Or it carried him. Either way, it found its way back. He saw the yellow retreating, from the other side. The madness was soothed, and he wondered if it was him.
The black and white returned to their dance. Red had gone. Somehow her could not see it as clearly. A white presence guided him. Slowly clarity returned to him and then he saw her. A beautiful maiden with hair and spirit as pure as virgin snow. She reached out to him. Smiled playfully at him as she pressed her finger against his head, sending him falling. He he fell away from her, her face changed to silky black hair and ruby lips, and golden eyes full of danger.
-- -- --
With a gap, his eyes burst open. Red. Not a flashing, violent red. This red was fuzzy, and rippled, like the ocean. It made him feel sick, so he closed his eyes again. After a few heartbeats - he could measure time now - he opened them again. The light burned, and his vision was blurred. His body was weak, his throat racked with thirst, and his stomach felt so hollow that it almost felt as if he'd collapse in upon himself. Still, even with the discomfort, this state was much better than the profound feeling of lost he'd been experiencing up until now. He absently wondered if that what death was like, before taking a deep breath to begin recovering himself.
ôMy name is Liao,ö he told himself, in a dry, weak voice, struggling fight through the fog addling his mind. This comforted him. He was addled and confused, but he retained his identity.
ôWhere am I?ö He asked himself, ôWhat happened, and how did I get here?ö
As his vision cleared he answered the first question himself, at least in part. The red he'd seen was a curtain. The window was open, and Liao could feel the breeze. The smell of salt in the air told of the the coast. Crimson silk sheets lay across the bed, its gold-painted posts carved in the form of battling dragons, and from above the door the black and red flame of his homeland looked down. Only the nobles of the Fire Nation lived in such splendour.
He was no prisoner then, a relief, but how he'd come to be here, and exactly where here was, that still eluded him.
He knew this place was Fire Nation, but was he still in the colonies or had he been taken to the home islands? If he had to guess, he'd say the islands as the subtle but omnipresent hints of Earth Kingdom culture and design that had become part of the Colonial identity seemed to be lacking.
Still looking about, at the delicately painted walls and lushly carpeted black obsidian floors that surrounded him his eyes locked on a table at the far side of the room. On it sat a porcelain water pitcher, painted in black highlighted with with luxurious reds and golds
Slowly he sat himself up and was overtaken by a momentary feeling of vertigo. Touching his head he felt rough cloth under his fingers. Bandages. How had he been wounded? He could not recall this on its own. It was too fuzzy. It was just a jumble of images. He remembered chaos and then pain, but then it was just darkness. He would have to ask about this.
He didn't know how, but he'd been injured. That certainly seemed the most plausible explanation for him lying in a bed somewhere, with a bandage holding his skull together, the bitter cramp of disuse in his legs and arms, and some surely medicinal herbal scent in the air. He lay there, thinking it over. After a moment he came to two conclusions. Firstly he was in no fit state for higher thought. Secondly he very much wanted to get up.
He waited for his balance to return to him. When he felt comfortable, he levered himself up, wincing, and tried to stand. It seemed all right. His body felt weak and tired, but he was thirsty. Very thirsty. He'd never felt this parched before. He needed that water.
Taking a tentative first step, Liao released the bed and began to move towards the table and its liquid prize. Calling his movement walking would be a misnomer. It was more of a controlled stumble forwards, not unlike the unsteady gait of an infant. In moments though, he reached the table, and holding himself up with one arm, reached for the water.
Soon he reach the table and, struggling to hold himself up with one arm, reached for the water, but the pitcher slipped through his faltering fingers, smashing on the cold stone floor. Falling to his knees he spent a moment considering lapping it up off the floor but he decided quickly that he would not debase himself as such. The sound was bound to bring servants, and they'd bring him all the water he could drink and food he could eat.
A thin smile crossed Liao's face as the door burst open. In rushed an elderly man, who's clothing game him the look of a doctor. The man gazed across the room frantically, before his gaze locked on Liao himself.
ôWhat are you doing?ö the Doctor demanded. ôYou should be in bed.ö
ôWater...ö he said, his voice still barely a crackle due to thirst. ôI need water, and something to eat.ö
The Doctor gentle pulled him to his feet.
ôOf course you do. You're very ill and lucky to be alive. Lets get you back in bed and then see about getting you something for you belly.ö glancing at the door, the doctor glared at the watching servants. ôDon't just stand there! You heard the boy, fetch him some soup and tell the princess! Oh, and find someone to clean this mess up!ö
-- -- --
The sun had reached its zenith over the Fire Nation capital as the two wizened crones sat comfortablyat their places on the raised dais. The glassy volcanic rock that made up this hallowed place was washed in the light of the noon sun. The twinÆs pupil stood in the center of the ancient and revered training ground, her body bathing in the sun's life giving rays.
Even as Azula ran through a routine of the utmost complexity, Lo and Li were as if statues. They did not rush to praise their student. Instead, they picked up on mistakes no others would detect. The twins were not Firebenders themselves. However, they had an eye for detail unmatched in the Fire Nation. In their time, they were peerless in their chosen field. Fire Lord Azulon had called upon them when situations required the utmost discretion. Lo and Li had honed their eye for detail over many decades of service to the throne. It was why AzulonÆs successor, Fire Lord Ozai, had selected them to oversee his favored childÆs training.
It was an open secret that he wished for them to impart far more than their ability to detect and exploit any flaw or weakness in the princess.
Finishing the form, Azula turned to her tutors. An untrained eye would have been awed by the confidence the young woman naturally radiated and her boundless natural talent. She was a marvel by any standards. The twins cared nothing of this, for there was something slightly amiss with their chargeÆs posture.
"Again," Li croaked, sketching out the move with bony fingers. "You're still too high."
"The base of the flame burns hottest. Learn from it. You must keep your center of weight low," Lo concurred.
Azula hid a grimace, her face as impassive as ever. She returned to her beginning stance, stretching out her arms as she did so. She had done this form before. It was within her ability. She started forward, aggressively, keeping the hypothetical opponent on the defensive. Two strikes, then spin, blocking the first opponent's flame while twisting to engage a hypothetical second. Threatened on each side, Azula leapt back, landing delicately, toes first, and broadening her flames to force back both enemies. The first came on and she ducked low, shooting low, to strike at the opponent's root. She swept that opponent to the ground with a wide kick and rose to meet the second, whose fire blast caught her full in the face -
"A second too slow."
Azula cut off the second crone before she could add her input.
"I know. I was worrying about my weight and lost timing. I'll begin again."
She put a hand to her forehead in impatience. Were she slightly less assiduous about her appearance, she might have brushed a hair back.
"Perhaps we should end your drills for today," Lo suggested. The sun was in the middle of its descent, but there would still be a few hours before it reached the horizon and bathed the capital in gold. Azula bristled.
"Are you suggesting this is beyond me?"
"Not at all." Li responded for her twin. Azula suspected this habit of theirs was a conscious strategy on their part to keep any student off-balance by dividing their attention. If you could not deal with that minor confusion, you did not deserve to be taught by them. Though non-benders themselves, there were few better teachers in the Fire Nation.
"Perhaps the princess might prefer to resume training in the morning," Li continued. "You seem unfocused," her sister finished.
Azula hesitated for a moment. "Nonsense," she said, cleanly. "A real opponent would not wait until I felt more focused."
The old women looked at each other and exchanged a barely perceptible sigh.
Azula went through it again. This time Azula didn't step back quite enough after the second opponent's entrance, leaving her too close for her next attack to threaten both enemies. Wordlessly, she tried again. She'd been having trouble with this one exercise, and could not define why. It was not, by any measure, the hardest that she had done. It was one of the few designed to train reaction to unseen enemies, though, and Azula admitted - if only to herself - that those were the situations she had the most trouble with. Lately ambushes had been a sore point for another reason too.
Resisting the urge to snarl in frustration, Azula moved to begin again for the fifth time when the voice of Li interrupted her. ôIt is clear that you lack the focus to perform this technique. Perhaps it would be best should you begin with something more rudimentary.ö
ôPerform the Talons of the Striking Pheonix,ö Lu demanded, finishing her sister's statement.
Azula spun onto the wizened twins with fury in her eyes. ôI can do it,ö Azula stated with fire in he eyes.
The two wizened crones shared glance and then nodded. ôPerform the Talons of the Striking Pheonix,ö they repeated as one.
Azula simply clenched her teeth to fight back her true reaction, one of anger and spite. The two wizened crones noticed this, but they did not react though. Instead they simply permitted her to move into her stance.
ôBegin.ö The tutors spoke as a single voice.
The first movement began like a flame. A series of small, subtle maneuvers flowed like magma. Every shift in stance and every strike was performed with a precision only Firebending Masters could even dream of possessing. Suddenly, like the element she drew her amazing abilities from, she erupted. Her movements covered a wider area and required much greater effort. Flames danced at her merest whim as she advanced through the routine. Every action was, simply, a work of art. She wielded Fire as a painter wields a brush or a sculptor wielded a chisel.
She rolled ever so slightly on the balls of her feet as she landed from the final tight spiral in the routine.
Li shook her head. ôYour mind is elsewhere Princess Azula. Hone your thoughts. You must be focused.ö
Lo continued her sisterÆs point in the space of a single breath. ôEmotion, like the flame, is an indiscriminate killer when not guided by a powerful will.ö
Finally having had enough, Azula snapped back. ôDo you doubt the strength of my will? I will have you know, that I have achieved a mastery most Firebenders can barely comprehend!ö
ôYour will is strong, yet undermined.ö Lo remained as frustrating to read as ever. Azula knew it was one of the primary reasons her father had chosen the Twins as her teacher. Princess Azula had many gifts and talents. One of these talents was an ability to bend people to her will as easily as she bent Fire.
Li ran a hand on the volcanic glass of the chamber of emphasis. ôLike obsidian, your will is solid and enduring, and when properly hone is as sharp as the deadliest blades.ö
Lo continued the act. ôBut if a foe knows where to strike, you will shatter.ö
Azula knew exactly what Lo and Li were referring to; and it angered her even more. How dare they scold her on that of all things. ôI am not as fragile as you think.ö
In the back of the chamber the door, a solid stone thing, with inlaid handles, utterly un-burnable, creaked open. Azula glanced over her shoulder and scowled as a red-and-gold liveried servant reluctantly entered the room.
ôYou have something to say, servant?ö Azula said softly, slowly turning to face the servant hovering nervously in the doorway.
He threw himself to the ground, his face pressing into the hard floor, an almost perfect bow, marred only by his ill-concealed trembling.
Azula smiled. At least some people remembered how to treat her with proper reverence.
ôYour highness, you wished to be informed when the patient awoke."
Immediately Azula forgot about the exercise and began to walk forward, walking past the man as if he wasn't even present.
Almost as if an afterthought, she spoke to her tutors without even turning to adress them, such was the urgency of her stride.
"Li, Lo, we will finish for today. I will resume in the morning."
The Lo and Li shrugged at each other as if this were just another development in the ongoing drama of life. If one looked at the two crones closely though, one would have seen them exchange a sideways glance that spoke volumes. This development was not entirely welcome.