Aang wanders around Fallen London
Previously, in Fallen London...
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There was mist in his dream, and a breeze shivering through it. It stirred sails all through the harbor, and the candle of his hand puffed and blew out. It hurt dully, but the taste of rain in the air made him want to find shelter before he tended to his burns.
Aang startled awake, half-falling out of the nook he'd found. His hand caught himself on filthy stone. He felt air drift over his skin, smelled smoke and filth and the sea. Darkness pressed against his face, and he strained to see. It took a long time for his eyes to sort out one layer of darkness from another, and he found himself in the same alley he'd gone to sleep in the- night? day? hour? before.
It honestly surprised him, after everything in New Newgate.
He climbed to his feet unsteadily. This was a city. This was- the Fifth City, the guards said. Fallen London, whispered one of the other inmates. Food for the Bazaar, scratched in that strange language that made his eyes burn and his tattoos writhe.
This was a really creepy city.
Closing his eyes, Aang tried to remember how he got here and where he was before. But everything from before he woke up in New Newgate was layers of shadow, impenetrable except for a spiral burning white. He thought maybe it was a lock. Maybe, too, he had the key. Somewhere.
His stomach gurgled.
Wow, he was hungry. Somehow, that mundane little fact made this whole place all the weirder.
Aang wandered out of the alley, wondering how he was going to get something to eat. A ginger tabby on a stoop yawned at him as he walked past. The few other people on the street ignored him. Some of them, he saw, wore strange green goggles and walked with confidence. Some carried small lamps and never tripped. Some crept furtively through shadows. One man looked at him with gold eyes and strange skin- and smiled.
That smile chilled Aang's blood, and he ducked his head and forced his way into the crowd to get away from the stranger.
A grey alley cat washed its ears under a streetlamp. Aang blinked as a dark-skinned boy seemed to melt out of the shadows behind it, hands reaching for the cat.
"What are you doing?" Aang asked, and the cat's ears went flat before it darted away.
The boy cursed, raising angry blue eyes to meet Aang's. The moment their eyes met felt like- like lightning, like wind, like drowning, like quaking.
"Well, I was trying to catch that cat," Sokka said, rolling his shoulders. Then he offered his hand. "I'm Sokka. You look like hell, kid."
---
There was mist in his dream, and a breeze shivering through it. It stirred sails all through the harbor, and the candle of his hand puffed and blew out. It hurt dully, but the taste of rain in the air made him want to find shelter before he tended to his burns.
Aang startled awake, half-falling out of the nook he'd found. His hand caught himself on filthy stone. He felt air drift over his skin, smelled smoke and filth and the sea. Darkness pressed against his face, and he strained to see. It took a long time for his eyes to sort out one layer of darkness from another, and he found himself in the same alley he'd gone to sleep in the- night? day? hour? before.
It honestly surprised him, after everything in New Newgate.
He climbed to his feet unsteadily. This was a city. This was- the Fifth City, the guards said. Fallen London, whispered one of the other inmates. Food for the Bazaar, scratched in that strange language that made his eyes burn and his tattoos writhe.
This was a really creepy city.
Closing his eyes, Aang tried to remember how he got here and where he was before. But everything from before he woke up in New Newgate was layers of shadow, impenetrable except for a spiral burning white. He thought maybe it was a lock. Maybe, too, he had the key. Somewhere.
His stomach gurgled.
Wow, he was hungry. Somehow, that mundane little fact made this whole place all the weirder.
Aang wandered out of the alley, wondering how he was going to get something to eat. A ginger tabby on a stoop yawned at him as he walked past. The few other people on the street ignored him. Some of them, he saw, wore strange green goggles and walked with confidence. Some carried small lamps and never tripped. Some crept furtively through shadows. One man looked at him with gold eyes and strange skin- and smiled.
That smile chilled Aang's blood, and he ducked his head and forced his way into the crowd to get away from the stranger.
A grey alley cat washed its ears under a streetlamp. Aang blinked as a dark-skinned boy seemed to melt out of the shadows behind it, hands reaching for the cat.
"What are you doing?" Aang asked, and the cat's ears went flat before it darted away.
The boy cursed, raising angry blue eyes to meet Aang's. The moment their eyes met felt like- like lightning, like wind, like drowning, like quaking.
"Well, I was trying to catch that cat," Sokka said, rolling his shoulders. Then he offered his hand. "I'm Sokka. You look like hell, kid."