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Chapter Thirty-Seven: Eyes
They mesmerize him.
Blue like the ocean.
No, like ice.
Like the South Pole sea.
Where glaciers tower and snow abounds.
He is shivering in the cold, shivering.
But he can see her.
Reflected, distorted, warped through the ice, its silvery greys and shimmering whites mocking him.
But her eyes, he can see, are blue.
"He's alive!" The sounds are muffled, though the voice is that of an angel, a thousand lyres in harmony, a million flutes in the breaking seas, a call through the raging gale, a light in the storm. "We have to help."
Something is happening. She is taking something. She is running towards him.
Please help me.
I won't hurt you.
Please, get me out.
And another voice, a boy's, no, a man's. Something in between. A warrior-boy, he can see, with a heavy coat. An iceberg. Yes. He must have drifted down to the South Pole.
That was some storm.
"Katara! Get back here! We don't know what that thing is!"
Oh no . . . no . . . no . . . I'm not a thing. I won't hurt you.
He can feel the energy of the Avatar Spirit just underneath the surface, the thing that has kept him alive here, frozen for several hours, yet not dead.
He is a thing.
No, don't come any closer. I don't know what will happen.
I don't know if I can control it.
But still she comes, an angel on the battlefield, ready to sacrifice all for him.
The girl is doing something to the iceberg. Something. He isn't sure what. No, no, he sees now. She is breaking through it, hitting it, reaching him, spiraling, spiraling, spiraling . . .
Something shifts. Cracks thread themselves up the sides of the ice.
Up the walls that contain him and his terrible power.
He is shuddering, shuddering, because he knows what may still come, if he is not careful, if he does not control it.
The hiss of air escaping the iceberg.
The hiss of air.
Freedom, so close.
The energy, rising to the surface.
He does not know how to fight.
He only knows how to stop the pain from destroying him.
He lets it take him.
The energy roils forth, a punctured waterskin spilling its contents like a wounded soldier, gasping in pain, the broken spear point littering the ground, his entrails in his hands.
For all the pain he contains within, he might as well be that soldier.
The iceberg cracks.
Light is brought forth, issuing from the sphere, an aurora—an explosion—pure, dazzling light.
And then he is atop the fractured egg, newly hatched, shaking.
And his eyes, still, are glowing.
And then they still.
Why is everything still white?
No, no. Not white. Reflected. Blue and white.
He catches her gaze.
Those eyes, so vibrant, so full of life.
And in that instant, he collapses.
Back to the beginning again. It's an endless loop! The screenshot took me forever to find . . . I just couldn't find a proper image . . . but I did, didn't I? Ha ha, his angel. I was so close to writing his Aangel instead. Wow. I'm looking back at this. I wrote it . . . over a month ago. Wow. A month ago.
Oh my spirits, the wounded soldier analogy . . . totally doesn't belong. But . . . I'm sorry. Once again, a result of one of my dreams . . . and it included that analogy. You may slay me now.
Yep, Aang was worried about hurting Katara. He's been in the Avatar State for a hundred years. Mm-hm.
And what's this? The "Mark of the Trusted"? Cha, I wonder from which episode that is!
"frozen for several hours" -> He thinks he was only frozen for a few hours. A hundred years? He doesn't remember that.
"Why is everything still white?" -> If you recall, in my opinion, the Avatar State makes everything look black and white. This was him panicking, thinking he was about to destroy everything.
Anything else you wanted cleared up?
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