A Going-Away Present for Y'all
Metal clinked against the stone, invading dreams and pushing Aang towards consciousness. Sharp bits dug into his back and legs, the mattress under him unaccountably lumpy and worn. It wasn't the way things were supposed to be, some part of him eventually woke up enough to realize. This wasn't home.
He opened his eyes to darkness.
For long minutes he lay there, his hands running over the mattress underneath him. It felt worn and dirty, straw sticking up through it and into his thin clothes. Manacles weighed his hands and ankles down, so every moment felt like a fight. Something gossamer-soft lay over his face. He reached up to pull it off and felt satin under his fingertips.
The air smelled strange, just faintly of salt but mostly of something like honey and something like candle-wax and something like he had never smelled before and didn't want to smell again if he could possibly help it. He blinked in the darkness, wishing for a fresh breeze.
Not entirely darkness. Aang sat up, fingers through the eye-holes of the mask. Just faintly, he could see a square of lighter grey in the gloom - a window with bars across it.
He pulled himself up to the window and stared out.
Far below, a brilliant blaze of lights shown in the darkness. Streetlamps shown dim and bright, tracing a labyrinth of boulevards and alleys. Some petered out in strange reflections- light on water, he realized. Some places the lights simply ended, or worse yet, patches of candles futilely strove against shadows. There was no pattern to the lights below, but all the lights led to a single great conflagration in the center.
Aang raised his eyes to the sky and found only darkness. Not night, though the darkness was sometimes broken up by a soft glow. They might have been stars, but somehow he didn't think so.
Far, far below, he could hear the sound of waves lapping against stone.
"Where am I?" He breathed.
He opened his eyes to darkness.
For long minutes he lay there, his hands running over the mattress underneath him. It felt worn and dirty, straw sticking up through it and into his thin clothes. Manacles weighed his hands and ankles down, so every moment felt like a fight. Something gossamer-soft lay over his face. He reached up to pull it off and felt satin under his fingertips.
The air smelled strange, just faintly of salt but mostly of something like honey and something like candle-wax and something like he had never smelled before and didn't want to smell again if he could possibly help it. He blinked in the darkness, wishing for a fresh breeze.
Not entirely darkness. Aang sat up, fingers through the eye-holes of the mask. Just faintly, he could see a square of lighter grey in the gloom - a window with bars across it.
He pulled himself up to the window and stared out.
Far below, a brilliant blaze of lights shown in the darkness. Streetlamps shown dim and bright, tracing a labyrinth of boulevards and alleys. Some petered out in strange reflections- light on water, he realized. Some places the lights simply ended, or worse yet, patches of candles futilely strove against shadows. There was no pattern to the lights below, but all the lights led to a single great conflagration in the center.
Aang raised his eyes to the sky and found only darkness. Not night, though the darkness was sometimes broken up by a soft glow. They might have been stars, but somehow he didn't think so.
Far, far below, he could hear the sound of waves lapping against stone.
"Where am I?" He breathed.