(no subject)
The ship never ended. The farther Zuko went, the more it always seemed there was to go . . . and those was just the areas he could walk to freely.
He found himself in a short hallway today, with three wings. He'd been here once before, continued straight ahead, and found the medical bay, so this time he was prepared for the sudden chill that skipped his physical senses and raced right across his consciousness.
The only thing he could compare it to was what he'd felt at the Western Air Temple, when he had taken refuge there while his eye healed following the Agni Kai. He'd never seen a place that felt as lonely as it looked, but the air of the Western Air temple was merely one of sadness, regret. The aura of the Special Weapons division was distinctly more negative. Angrier. More evil.
It was hardly difficult to imagine that terrible things had happened there. It looked like the scene of a fight, if anyone had been fighting in a hospital - an evil hospital. Zuko picked his way around the overturned beds and damaged equipment until he made it to the Acquisitions door. He was just about to try to open it when something on the floor caught his eye.
A whistle. Blackened with soot, lying on the floor by an overturned bed, carved in the shape of a bison.
Zuko picked it up. He turned it over in his hand, brushed some of the soot away, and turned it over some more.
Then he clenched the whistle in his fist so tightly that the wood almost cracked.
"Where are you hiding him?" the scarred prince yelled unto the heavens at the ceiling. "Answer me, Stacy!"
He found himself in a short hallway today, with three wings. He'd been here once before, continued straight ahead, and found the medical bay, so this time he was prepared for the sudden chill that skipped his physical senses and raced right across his consciousness.
The only thing he could compare it to was what he'd felt at the Western Air Temple, when he had taken refuge there while his eye healed following the Agni Kai. He'd never seen a place that felt as lonely as it looked, but the air of the Western Air temple was merely one of sadness, regret. The aura of the Special Weapons division was distinctly more negative. Angrier. More evil.
It was hardly difficult to imagine that terrible things had happened there. It looked like the scene of a fight, if anyone had been fighting in a hospital - an evil hospital. Zuko picked his way around the overturned beds and damaged equipment until he made it to the Acquisitions door. He was just about to try to open it when something on the floor caught his eye.
A whistle. Blackened with soot, lying on the floor by an overturned bed, carved in the shape of a bison.
Zuko picked it up. He turned it over in his hand, brushed some of the soot away, and turned it over some more.
Then he clenched the whistle in his fist so tightly that the wood almost cracked.
"Where are you hiding him?" the scarred prince yelled unto the heavens at the ceiling. "Answer me, Stacy!"