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Aangs Firebending teacherAN This is fiction I wrote a while ago, back in June 2007. I wonder why I haven't submit it on here yet...
Previously on Avatar:
Do you think we could have been friends too?, Aang asked friendly. Zuko just stared at him to suddenly let a sword of fire raging towards Aang, who jumped away quickly.
- - -
I cant contact Roku anymore... I fear the cycle is broken when I got wounded in the Avatar State, Aang mumbled, sitting with crossed legs in front of Katara, Sokka and Toph.
- - -
And now? The end of summer is coming closer. He needs to fight the firelord or were all doomed, Sokka shouted nervously.
I know, I know!, Aang tore his hair. But I need a firebending teacher for that!
Were in the firenation now, it cant be that hard to find someone!, Sokka answered.
He has to be on our side when hes teaching Aang, Katara stated.
- - -
Stella+Tobi - ASHES.Ashes.
Left in the pieces that you broke me into
Torn apart but now I've got to
Keep on rolling like a stone
Cause it's gonna be a long long way to happy
Where to start a story like this?
Maybe with the most horrible part; the end of another story.
Things had become more and more complicated between me and my boyfriend Mike. Some mistrust has been risen in my chest for a while now and it became harder and harder to fight it down.
Normally I could always trust my instinct. And it told me that something was clearly foul there, that some of his stories just couldnt be true.
Life writes the best stories..., Ive tried to reassure myself.
I just didnt want to give in on my bad feelings about him. I wanted to believe in him.
I was so very naïve, so very in love.
No wonder it hit me hard on this warm summer day. The sky was coloured in a brilliant blue and everyone headed to the swimming bath or the ice café. Except me. I was with Mike... and h
Dying DayDying Day
The wind stands still
I can feel the chill
In the air
Ice-cycles in my hair
The stars that die
In my eyes
You lie there
Can someone hear me pray?
On this cold winterday?
It goes so fast
And I finally do my last
Breath before I die
Lying on this meadow beside you
Her CatalystAs she walks through the maelstrom, the words trace upon the tips of her fingers and press into the stone. Every brick, every crack in the concrete, every crossed and angular stroke in reds and blacks and oranges. The drips of the gasoline pool around the base of her boots, slosh as she steps over the burst pipes and the rubble.
So much rubble. So little outcry. The silence of the city grates on her eardrums and the mantras she'd been forced to memorize. The Seers demanded they observe thirteen years of recitation before they attempt to weave their first World together.
But who other than the Seers can claim the incantations that knot the skeins they twist and pull on like reins hold fast? When have any of the Sisters recorded the visions they traced upon space-time and recited them, left them open for critique and discussion and debate?
Which is why she walks through the chalky soot of the smashed city around her. This all
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