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@theIegendaries’ ?-th mission.
Wandering feet.
Maybe those are best words to describe himself. His life right now. Feet that want to explore new places. That want to wiggle foreign sand. And maybe, to squish strange mud between his toes.
Maybe those are best words to describe himself. His life right now. Feet that want to explore new places. That want to wiggle foreign sand. And maybe, to squish strange mud between his toes.
When the sun peeped into his room early this morning, to promise him a fine day, he realized that he’s miles away from home. He knew. He knew that the eerie silence that used to comfort him wasn’t here anymore.
The vile wind then welcomed him. Plus the swirl of gritty dust which, somehow, he didn’t really despise quite much. Instead, he found himself at the mercy of the wind, a strong gust that threatened to snub any flame.
Fire nation, have you always been this strange yet, through and through, so familiar?
Red, brown, black, yellow. Only those colours that are in sight. And by that, those colours are walking, headed to different destinations. Bringing passion into places where there is none. Turning flickers into flames, bravely and boldly.
One, two, three.
He kept on counting for all the quick steps he made. Old habit, call that.
He kept on counting for all the quick steps he made. Old habit, call that.
Any people that had been watching him would think his movements decidedly peculiar but again who do they think they are to stop the young man and his bravery to die any day.
He went off at a great pace until he reached a certain number in a certain busy street. Could be the feeling he got when his face heated up and his mouth started to stutter and his eyelashes hurt because his vision was so blurred thus he stopped.
A great fuzzy aureole of white hair and small goatee beard came into his sight. Then a twinge of panic arrived.
“Buy me the tea, kid.”
“Buy me the tea, kid.”
Sunshine and laughters were good omens for a pleasant day yet for this very moment he realized that day wasn’t today. Or, maybe, just maybe, it actually was.
“You keep walking back and forth, showing symptoms of unorthodoxy,” began the old man, leaning his head on his hand in a despondent attitude.
“Unortho, w-what?” the young rebel stuttered, helping himself to get it together, then beginning to sip the tea with calm audacity, still haven’t noticed that anything was served on the table is spicy.
“You’re up to some mischief, I see,” he was clearly gratified, but of course didn’t show it, and just demurely continued the little conversation that may lead to a new friendship.
There was a fraction of second when the young man‘s head told him to just run away as he had no dim idea whether he was being watched at any given moment. Just like those old days that be squeezed out, the heart brought the trophy home.
“No, I’m not,” he looked at the odd-yet-somehow-owned-sort-of-wisdom man with a mixture of anxiety and merriment in his face. “W-why, just why they sell spicy tea when the heat outhere is just too much to be borne!” he questioned as he had been shot and threw his head up.
For one particular moment, laughters were bluntly there. It’s a good omen, the only youthful spirit said so.
Though something in the man’s face troubled his little friend, a minute later, he said cheerfully with his quiet eyes on the changing clouds that were shown above their heads,
“You just said that you’re not from here, didn’t you.”
“You just said that you’re not from here, didn’t you.”
