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31_days2006-11-05 07:29 am
sophiap.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2006-11-05 07:29 am
[Nov. 5] [Avatar] Therein lies the denouement
Title: Therein lies the denouement
Day/Theme: November 5 - white in the moon the long road lies
Series: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Character/Pairing: Commander Zhao
Rating: PG
All he needed now was an army, and the authority to command enough ships to bring that army to the North Pole.
One more promotion. That was all it would take. Just another year, perhaps, two at most.
Zhao stepped out onto the balcony of the regional governor's palace. He could still hear the babble of the party coming out from the open doors, and he thought he heard someone ask where he was going, but he ignored it. He had made his rounds, had introduced himself to all of the proper people, and had had the required conversations with those who had the power to further his career. He was free to go outside for a few moments if he chose.
The moon was full and hung low on the horizon. It was only optical illusion that made it look as large as it did, he told himself.
He held up his cup of shochu--his fifth one of the night--in a mocking toast to his enemy. Moonlight glinted along the rippling surface of the alcohol as if in challenge.
"Not much longer, now," Zhao stated, coolly staring at the full moon as if he could make it blink. The gray markings on the moon did not move.
Some of the stories he had found in the Library said that the markings were an image of a woman forever braiding her hair. Others said it was a rabbit. Others, a leaping fish. Others still, a man carrying a bundle of sticks and leading a small dog.
Zhao, however, had always seen the markings as a face--a face that was pleasantly frozen in agony and despair.
"I know who you are," Zhao said. He took a generous sip of his shochu, savoring the way the strong liquor burned down his throat; the art of distillation had always seemed to him like firebending turned inwards. The fire of the shochu only served to feed the fire that was already burning inside of him. "I know where you're hiding."
Again, someone called him to come back inside, away from the moonlight, and Zhao thought he detected a shrill edge to the person's voice. Some veteran of the wars against the Northern Water Tribe, he thought. For some of the survivors, their dread of the full moon was almost a full blown superstition.
He toyed with the idea of telling some of these men what he had learned about the eclipse, and what it had done to the Fire Nation all those years ago. How much of a push would it take, he wondered, to turn superstition into genuine phobia? It might be interesting to find out.
"Once I kill you, those men will follow me anywhere," he told the giant, screaming face, jabbing his finger towards the ground to emphasize his point. He supposed he was a little drunk, because otherwise, why would he have abandoned a rather pleasant party in order to stand out in the chill autumn air, threatening the moon? Those were not the actions of a sober man. Even so, he drained the rest of his cup in one swallow. "Not long now. I just need the men. That's all. An army's strength to hold off your precious waterbenders, and that's it. It'll be all over."
The moon did not blink. Disgusted, Zhao tossed the delicate, fragile cup over the rail of the balcony and into the rosebushes. The faint chiming of shattered porcelain sounded almost like distant, mocking laughter.
Zhao turned on his heel and stalked back towards the party. He paused for just a moment, though, and turned and looked back over his shoulder.
"They'll tell stories about me, you know. It's just a matter of time."
With that, he turned his back on the moon and headed back inside. He told himself that the only reason he thought he heard a distant, mocking voice ask him what kind of stories they would tell was because he'd had too much to drink. He would not let such foolish thoughts bother him, because. He was going to follow this road where it led, because he knew it could lead only to glory.
Still, for the rest of the evening, Zhao avoided anyone who had served in the north and who might have tales to tell about the moon.
Day/Theme: November 5 - white in the moon the long road lies
Series: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Character/Pairing: Commander Zhao
Rating: PG
All he needed now was an army, and the authority to command enough ships to bring that army to the North Pole.
One more promotion. That was all it would take. Just another year, perhaps, two at most.
Zhao stepped out onto the balcony of the regional governor's palace. He could still hear the babble of the party coming out from the open doors, and he thought he heard someone ask where he was going, but he ignored it. He had made his rounds, had introduced himself to all of the proper people, and had had the required conversations with those who had the power to further his career. He was free to go outside for a few moments if he chose.
The moon was full and hung low on the horizon. It was only optical illusion that made it look as large as it did, he told himself.
He held up his cup of shochu--his fifth one of the night--in a mocking toast to his enemy. Moonlight glinted along the rippling surface of the alcohol as if in challenge.
"Not much longer, now," Zhao stated, coolly staring at the full moon as if he could make it blink. The gray markings on the moon did not move.
Some of the stories he had found in the Library said that the markings were an image of a woman forever braiding her hair. Others said it was a rabbit. Others, a leaping fish. Others still, a man carrying a bundle of sticks and leading a small dog.
Zhao, however, had always seen the markings as a face--a face that was pleasantly frozen in agony and despair.
"I know who you are," Zhao said. He took a generous sip of his shochu, savoring the way the strong liquor burned down his throat; the art of distillation had always seemed to him like firebending turned inwards. The fire of the shochu only served to feed the fire that was already burning inside of him. "I know where you're hiding."
Again, someone called him to come back inside, away from the moonlight, and Zhao thought he detected a shrill edge to the person's voice. Some veteran of the wars against the Northern Water Tribe, he thought. For some of the survivors, their dread of the full moon was almost a full blown superstition.
He toyed with the idea of telling some of these men what he had learned about the eclipse, and what it had done to the Fire Nation all those years ago. How much of a push would it take, he wondered, to turn superstition into genuine phobia? It might be interesting to find out.
"Once I kill you, those men will follow me anywhere," he told the giant, screaming face, jabbing his finger towards the ground to emphasize his point. He supposed he was a little drunk, because otherwise, why would he have abandoned a rather pleasant party in order to stand out in the chill autumn air, threatening the moon? Those were not the actions of a sober man. Even so, he drained the rest of his cup in one swallow. "Not long now. I just need the men. That's all. An army's strength to hold off your precious waterbenders, and that's it. It'll be all over."
The moon did not blink. Disgusted, Zhao tossed the delicate, fragile cup over the rail of the balcony and into the rosebushes. The faint chiming of shattered porcelain sounded almost like distant, mocking laughter.
Zhao turned on his heel and stalked back towards the party. He paused for just a moment, though, and turned and looked back over his shoulder.
"They'll tell stories about me, you know. It's just a matter of time."
With that, he turned his back on the moon and headed back inside. He told himself that the only reason he thought he heard a distant, mocking voice ask him what kind of stories they would tell was because he'd had too much to drink. He would not let such foolish thoughts bother him, because. He was going to follow this road where it led, because he knew it could lead only to glory.
Still, for the rest of the evening, Zhao avoided anyone who had served in the north and who might have tales to tell about the moon.