(no subject)
After hours of wandering, Iroh threw himself onto the ground.
"I'm POOPED," he announced to the air. Months upon months of strenuous illicit training, painstakingly building his muscles and returning himself to a condition that he hadn't been in since his early 30's, and all it took was a tropical climate to wear him out.
It made him laugh, a deep, bellowing laugh that tapered off in a cough. He smiled at a bug that landed on his knee. "It's true what they say," he told the little insect. "You really can't prepare for everything."
He leaned his head back against a tree trunk and closed his eyes, reanalyzing the situation as he rested.
One moment he had been in his world, silently running through the halls of his prison as he made his escape; the next, he was here. He considered briefly then dismissed the idea that this was merely a dream or a feverish hallucination; it was too linear. Nor could he have crossed the boundary into the Spirit World, for there was no air there to choke on, and every sense was muted. Wherever he was, it was a physical place. There were spirits who could create illusions so vivid, so detailed, that they seemed more real than life, but they had not been seen in the world for hundreds of years. Besides, he was pretty sure someone would have jumped out to taunt him by now. The spirits who chose to meddle in human lives usually went all in.
Groaning slightly, he forced himself to sit up. If he wanted answers, he would have to go look for them. But first -
"You don't happen to know where I can find some water, do you?" he asked the bug. The creature flew off of his knee, vanishing quickly to his left. Iroh shrugged and pushed himself to his feet. "It's as good a direction as any."
He could hear Zuko in the back of his mind, groaning and asking why he was asking advice of a stupid bug that couldn't understand him anyway. It was tempting to play out the conversation, to tease his imaginary nephew, but Iroh resisted. He had to remain in the present, however lonely it was. His nephew wasn't here. The teenager was with his father and sister, living the life he always thought he wanted and, Iroh could only hope, discovering it wasn't really what he wanted at all.
Iroh went in the direction the bug had taken, and after ten minutes, found himself on the bank of a small stream. He knelt down and drank gratefully.
"Aaaah," he sighed. "Not quite a cup of tea, but very refreshing!"
A low growl caught his attention, and he turned his head to see a strange creature eyeing him warily as it lowered its hind leg. He wasn't sure what bothered him more - the size of its teeth, or that he was downstream of where it had gone to the bathroom.
"Oh dear."
"I'm POOPED," he announced to the air. Months upon months of strenuous illicit training, painstakingly building his muscles and returning himself to a condition that he hadn't been in since his early 30's, and all it took was a tropical climate to wear him out.
It made him laugh, a deep, bellowing laugh that tapered off in a cough. He smiled at a bug that landed on his knee. "It's true what they say," he told the little insect. "You really can't prepare for everything."
He leaned his head back against a tree trunk and closed his eyes, reanalyzing the situation as he rested.
One moment he had been in his world, silently running through the halls of his prison as he made his escape; the next, he was here. He considered briefly then dismissed the idea that this was merely a dream or a feverish hallucination; it was too linear. Nor could he have crossed the boundary into the Spirit World, for there was no air there to choke on, and every sense was muted. Wherever he was, it was a physical place. There were spirits who could create illusions so vivid, so detailed, that they seemed more real than life, but they had not been seen in the world for hundreds of years. Besides, he was pretty sure someone would have jumped out to taunt him by now. The spirits who chose to meddle in human lives usually went all in.
Groaning slightly, he forced himself to sit up. If he wanted answers, he would have to go look for them. But first -
"You don't happen to know where I can find some water, do you?" he asked the bug. The creature flew off of his knee, vanishing quickly to his left. Iroh shrugged and pushed himself to his feet. "It's as good a direction as any."
He could hear Zuko in the back of his mind, groaning and asking why he was asking advice of a stupid bug that couldn't understand him anyway. It was tempting to play out the conversation, to tease his imaginary nephew, but Iroh resisted. He had to remain in the present, however lonely it was. His nephew wasn't here. The teenager was with his father and sister, living the life he always thought he wanted and, Iroh could only hope, discovering it wasn't really what he wanted at all.
Iroh went in the direction the bug had taken, and after ten minutes, found himself on the bank of a small stream. He knelt down and drank gratefully.
"Aaaah," he sighed. "Not quite a cup of tea, but very refreshing!"
A low growl caught his attention, and he turned his head to see a strange creature eyeing him warily as it lowered its hind leg. He wasn't sure what bothered him more - the size of its teeth, or that he was downstream of where it had gone to the bathroom.
"Oh dear."