Prompt Post 2.0
With the season finale behind us I figure we'll have an explosion of prompts soon. So, new prompt post. Please post any new prompts in this post. But you can always find fic or fill more prompts in the original prompt post.
Rules!1) One prompt per post, please! If you have multiple prompts, no worries, just make separate posts for each. Please ( Read more... )
Rules!1) One prompt per post, please! If you have multiple prompts, no worries, just make separate posts for each. Please ( Read more... )
His smile is brief, like a match going out. No words escape.
Tenzin frowns, creasing his forehead. “I’m serious, Tarrlok.”
“I never doubted you were.” He sighs, and his shoulders fall. The chair creaks. “…It isn’t as simple as you want it to be.”
He thinks, absently, that Tenzin isn’t much older than him. Fifteen years at the most. Somehow the difference always seems larger, and he wonders what kind of father Avatar Aang must have been to shape his son this way.
Or maybe it’s just him.
“Of course not. But that doesn’t mean it’s impossible.”
Turning away, he doesn’t mention that he’s tried this already. He doesn’t mention dedicating his life to escaping his father’s influence. He doesn’t mention the sense that teeth perpetually gnaw and shred his innards because he has failed and failed so thoroughly without realizing until it was too late. He doesn’t mention being afraid.
“Why are you doing this?” Asks Tarrlok. His voice is low. For a moment he wonders if Tenzin even heard him.
The answer he receives is calm, as ordinary as discussing the weather.
“Because you’re a better man than you give yourself credit.”
There are a thousand arguments for this. They sit, trapped behind his teeth, and are swallowed back into him. He can’t think.
When Tenzin continues, it is more subdued. “He didn’t want this for you.” Tarrlok raises his gaze. “Why do you think you’re still here?”
Before the explosion he remembers wind, a glove heavy on his hand, cold metal, the whir of a motor and scent of the ocean. Seeing Noatak go still over the steering wheel.
His brother has always been such a talented waterbender.
“Was it a mistake?” He hears himself ask. He’s not sure whether whose choice he refers to and decides it doesn’t make any difference.
“That isn’t our place to know,” says Tenzin.
They match eyes. A decision is reached.
“Thank you.”
***
Years later Tarrlok is leaving Republic City by ship. He stands alone, suspended under an overcast sky and looks down.
The water beckons.
He makes his farewell.
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This was beautiful, anon. In a sad, torturous way. ;)
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Here's the cleaned up edition!
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