The Need to Be Seen
Rating: K
Words: 474
Genre: Gen, Drama
Characters: Tenzin, OC
Summary: Will Air Acolytes be content to remain so forever?
Notes: This arose out of amyraine's speculation about the place of non-benders in the preservation of Air Nomad culture. Edited and slightly expanded from a shorter version originally posted to avatar_contest Prompt #67: Hunger.
"The repairs are well underway, and the new Acolytes will graduate in the autumn Convocation as scheduled." The stocky man in yellow robes, his shaved head smooth as an egg, leaned over to proffer a scroll across the desk.
"Very good, Chogyal." Tenzin took the scroll from his assistant and Head Acolyte. "You are doing excellent work, as always."
Chogyal bowed but did not leave. Tenzin looked up to meet the bright green eyes intent upon him, and realized with a lurch in his heart that the old talk was about to begin anew. How was it that the subject always caught him unawares, no matter how many times it repeated itself?
"As before, Master." Chogyal lowered his eyes. "If you have further thoughts on the Convocation this year we only await your word."
Tenzin sighed. "It pains me to repeat this conversation, my brother of the spirit."
"Please do not think I am unhappy in my position, nor any of the others. Yet you know better than I do, with only one monk present the Convocation will be incomplete."
Did Tenzin know better? He often suspected Chogyal knew the sacred texts better than he did. If not for an accident of birth...
"There will be more monks and nuns." The words came out more harshly than intended. "You know this."
"Yes, and my heart rejoices." Chogyal bowed his head.
Does it? The question was a pinprick, tiny but real. It was a mere reverberation from recent events, Tenzin told himself. Chogyal was not, the Air Acolytes were not and never would be...
"But you do not think they are enough." You don't think my children are enough.
"We do not know how large a bowl we must fill. Who is to say it is not an ocean?"
Don't lecture me. Tenzin held in a snarl. Well-read or not, Chogyal was an acolyte. Monks and nuns had always been airbenders, their entire Nation had been airbenders-
Foolish is the man who clings to the truths of yesteryear. What becomes of a wind that is trapped in a tomb?
The words from the Sayings of Avatar Yang Chen echoed with the voice of rebuke, words spoken from a Nation he had never seen and yet had carried since birth. Its weight was heavy on his chest, and made it hard to breathe.
"I need to think about this," he heard himself say. "We will speak again, Chogyal."
"Master." Chogyal bowed and left the office.
Left alone, Tenzin went to the window to look out at the city across the bay. In the dark, lights sparked into existence one by one in the sky and in the city below it. Tenzin gazed long at the two constellations in the sky and on the earth, facing each other across an expanse where the winds flowed free.
Words: 474
Genre: Gen, Drama
Characters: Tenzin, OC
Summary: Will Air Acolytes be content to remain so forever?
Notes: This arose out of amyraine's speculation about the place of non-benders in the preservation of Air Nomad culture. Edited and slightly expanded from a shorter version originally posted to avatar_contest Prompt #67: Hunger.
"The repairs are well underway, and the new Acolytes will graduate in the autumn Convocation as scheduled." The stocky man in yellow robes, his shaved head smooth as an egg, leaned over to proffer a scroll across the desk.
"Very good, Chogyal." Tenzin took the scroll from his assistant and Head Acolyte. "You are doing excellent work, as always."
Chogyal bowed but did not leave. Tenzin looked up to meet the bright green eyes intent upon him, and realized with a lurch in his heart that the old talk was about to begin anew. How was it that the subject always caught him unawares, no matter how many times it repeated itself?
"As before, Master." Chogyal lowered his eyes. "If you have further thoughts on the Convocation this year we only await your word."
Tenzin sighed. "It pains me to repeat this conversation, my brother of the spirit."
"Please do not think I am unhappy in my position, nor any of the others. Yet you know better than I do, with only one monk present the Convocation will be incomplete."
Did Tenzin know better? He often suspected Chogyal knew the sacred texts better than he did. If not for an accident of birth...
"There will be more monks and nuns." The words came out more harshly than intended. "You know this."
"Yes, and my heart rejoices." Chogyal bowed his head.
Does it? The question was a pinprick, tiny but real. It was a mere reverberation from recent events, Tenzin told himself. Chogyal was not, the Air Acolytes were not and never would be...
"But you do not think they are enough." You don't think my children are enough.
"We do not know how large a bowl we must fill. Who is to say it is not an ocean?"
Don't lecture me. Tenzin held in a snarl. Well-read or not, Chogyal was an acolyte. Monks and nuns had always been airbenders, their entire Nation had been airbenders-
Foolish is the man who clings to the truths of yesteryear. What becomes of a wind that is trapped in a tomb?
The words from the Sayings of Avatar Yang Chen echoed with the voice of rebuke, words spoken from a Nation he had never seen and yet had carried since birth. Its weight was heavy on his chest, and made it hard to breathe.
"I need to think about this," he heard himself say. "We will speak again, Chogyal."
"Master." Chogyal bowed and left the office.
Left alone, Tenzin went to the window to look out at the city across the bay. In the dark, lights sparked into existence one by one in the sky and in the city below it. Tenzin gazed long at the two constellations in the sky and on the earth, facing each other across an expanse where the winds flowed free.