Previously, in Fallen London...There was mist in his dream, and a breeze shivering through it. It stirred sails all through the harbor, and the candle of his hand puffed and blew out. It hurt dully, but the taste of rain in the air made him want to find shelter before he tended to his burns
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... and I'm delighted to see that Sokka is there, so at least he won't be alone. Poor Aang, so far from home!
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Writing Fallen London is such fun. Oh, did you see the Echo Bazaar story from last year's Yuletide, Better the Devil of Your Mysterious and Somewhat Questionable Acquaintance? I want to write Fallen London half so well as that. *swoons*
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