"Goodbye, Xin." She said, holding his hand tight. A tear streaked down her face, as the doctors gave her space – the last hours of his mother ticking by on a nearby clock.
"I only wish..." A cough resounded, blotting out her speech. "I only wish you'd had a father to take care of you." The woman reached to her son's face, caressing it gently as his green eyes stared wide – uncomprehending. She couldn't die. She wouldn't.
"Mom?" Xin asked, holding her bedsheets with clenched fists. "You're going to get better, don't say that!" He yelled, to the shushing of his mother. "You have to." He whispered.
"I can't." She frowned, tears flowing. "I want to, my son – more than anything – but some things in life you can't make a choice in. Like yours." She said, smiling at him. Xin's face sagged in devastation – his eyes dulling as realization dawned on him. He would be alone – lost to the wind. No family. No friends. Only him, and the voices nagging at him.
"What do I do, Mom?" Xin asked, holding her hand as she let out another round of coughs.
"You keep fighting." She said, laying her other hand atop Xin's. "I'm done – I can't fight for you anymore – but you can keep struggling." She reached up, rubbing at his hair. "The world's given you a great gift, Xin – you can't squander it."
"But if I can't help you, how can I help anyone?" Xin asked, a tear dripping from his eye.
His mother smiled at him, pinching his cheek gently. "You'll always be able to help someone, Xin. You may not know how – you may not do everything for them – but you can -always- help someone. It's who you are: you're a beautiful boy, born to carry the torch of a woman who touched everyone's lives. I'm just glad you touched mine... before... before." She shook her head, closing her eyes. A hacking cough filled her throat.
"Mom?" Xin said, as the coughing kept happening. His mother shook hard in her bed, the smog in her lungs racking loudly. She was pale – paler than he'd ever seen her – her eyes sunken deep. Xin turned on his heel, crying for a doctor, rushing out of the room. A pair of tired green eyes watched him go. They stared blankly at the ceiling when Xing returned.
He was only nine. His mother had worked in the smelting forges of Omashu, a poor metalbender whose lungs were destroyed in the forges of industry. On that day, Xing's birthday, in fact, she died.
Xin, the boy who could bend four elements, never bent the other three for years. He buried his mother. He worked in shops and peddled on corners, selling metal trinkets to passers by. He made watches, raised money, went to a good school – finding enough coin to attend an engineer's academy. He had few acquaintances, and what friends he had didn't last.
To the rest of the world, the Avatar Cycle ended with Korra. No-one could find a new Avatar, despite their searches. Across the Earth States, people searched and looked – but none could find him. In the United Republic, every claim and rumor was investigated, and even the other nations searched for expatriate earthbenders, hoping to find some trace of the Avatar. All the while, the world didn't need one – the Airbenders kept peace as best they could, even as deep philosophical divides formed in their ranks. In the Earth States, the various powers competed for resources and influence – with the rival cities of Omashu and Zaofu rising above the rest.
But in absence of light, darkness festers – and you may find yourself too busy squabbling to realize that your ship has set sail.
Avatar: The Skybender Saga
Book One: Connection
The winds whistled, the dry chill of a klick high's air currents ripping across the catwalk. A pair of mittens held a watch of burnished brass. With a flick of the wrist, the cover opened – a sepia picture staring back at Xin: a face that haunted his dreams filling the circular frame. "Mom." He whispered, looking out with his goggles across the great desert. "I may be far from home." He said, holding the watch tight, "But I'm never going to forget where I came from – or you. Especially not today – on my twenty-fifth birthday. Ten years ago, I went to school. Five years ago, I graduated, got my first job working here."
He slapped the watch shut, tucking it in his jacket's inner pocket. With a free hand, he zipped it shut – the chill dispersing as he leaned hard on the railing – free air beneath him as he leaned out over the abyss. Idly, Xin pulled up his scarf, shielding himself from the winds. The dull roar of the ship's engines rattled onward.
"I did my best, Mom, with what I had." He said to himself. "I went to a good school. I practiced what I could in secret. I mastered metalbending." His eyes turned down to his hands, folded on the railing. "But I guess I failed, too. I don't want to be Avatar. I'm still not." He mumbled through the fabric.
Standing, he turned away from the dawn sun – just peeking over the horizon. There was a long day ahead. "I'm sorry." He whispered. "I did everything I could – but I won't let my life be forced, not like yours was. I'm my own man." He said, strutting off across the catwalk. Clanging feet carried him to the nearest hatch, and he hissed it open with a twist of its wheel.
He slammed it behind him, sealing it shut. The roar of the engines turned to a loud hum – the metal walls of the airship closing around him comfortably as he pulled down his scarf, letting his goggles rest on his forehead. He tucked his hands in his pockets, and stopped – skidding on his feet as a reflection caught his eye. His..
Before he could do more than regard himself, a face whipped around the corner, her hand twisting her around on the overhead piping – and she skidded to a halt, wrapping her legs around his chest with a laugh. "Xin!" She shouted with a giggle. "What're you doing up so early?" She asked, releasing him and twirling to a stop before him.
"Hey, Shao." Xin said. Her hair was auburn, her eyes a brilliant gold – and her stubby nose was as perky as her bangs, hanging out from behind a blue bandana tied in her hair. Fire crackled from her fingers – heating the piping above her as she hung jubilantly, her muscled arms twisting as she gained her balance to hang off two pipes.
"Answer my question!" She shouted, heating the second pipe in her hand as she let the other cool.
"I-" Xin rubbed at the back of his head, glancing back from the mirror on the wall. "It's my birthday." He said.
"And you wake up -early- on your birthday?" Shao asked, giggling. "You're crazy, Xin – but I guess we all knew that just meeting you. How're your clocks?"
"Still ticking." Xin growled. He looked up at the pipes. "What's the problem?"
"Oh, nothing." She replied, fluttering her eyelashes. "I'm trying to check for weak spots. One of the pipes blew in the night, I was scared to spirits!" She said, holding her free hand to her chest. With a flourish of her other hand, she landed silently on the grating below – looking up at Xin as she did so. "Doing anything special for your birthday?" She asked.
Xin rose his hands, spinning around in the hallway. Empty browns, blacks, and grays answered his gesture. "We're a klick high, Shao – I'd love to do something, but something tells me-"
"Oh, whiney hiney." Shao said, slapping him with a backhand to the shoulder. "You know we'd throw you a party! All you've gotta do is ask!"
Xin shook his head, looking over hers and off into the metal distance. She poked him in the chest, drawing his attention back to her. "I don't do parties, Shao." He said, gruffly. "My birthday's never been a happy day."
"Well whose fault is that?" Shao asked, placing her hands on her hips – her rolled sleeves displaying her tattoos in all their glory, red and blue lotuses twirling in vines up her arm, leaves floating off of them. She was a free spirit, like everyone else aboard - and maybe that's what made Xin so different.
Xin shook his head, stuffing his hands in his pockets and slouching. He twisted his mouth into a pout. "Can I go, now?" He asked. "I'll have to check on the ship if a pipe blew."
Shao frowned, watching as he slowly shifted past her. "Y'know, you can play Mr. Dark and Broody all day – it's not like any of us are going to stop you." She said, watching Xin's calm stroll down the hall. She balled a fist, letting out a small grunt as she bent down, disappearing behind a hatch into a maintenance duct.
A ship's work was never done.
Xin rounded a corner, finding a small hall with six doors – two ringed green, the others ringed blue – the two guest rooms, and four crew rooms. For a ship like Xin's, four crew was miniscule – but a ship like theirs didn't need a massive maintenance crew – not when Xin was aboard.
He approached his door, third on the right, and twisted thrice. It opened without delay – swinging wide to reveal a small desk, a bed that folded up to reveal a footlocker, and a miniscule shower/toilet. Various boxes and luggage filled the extra spaces – alongside a full ring of small wooden frames around the room – each ticking in unison with the others.
Clocks.
Xin sighed, feeling the tick and tock of each one in peaceful unison. The light of the large glass window filled the room with warmth, and he gently sat – doffing his hat to reveal a mop of black hair. His desk was empty – the best way to work. He slowly removed his gloves, reaching down and feeling the desk. A chill went up his fingers, and he shut his eyes – the very metal speaking to him. He felt the desk – the whole of it, rivets and all. He felt the pipes, the glass, the room. It grew and grew – the pipes and the servos speaking to him. The engines roared loudly with their vibrations – but in their chaos Xin found rhythm.
All the while, the clocks ticked.
He could feel the pipes – where they were weak, where they were strong, and where a new pipe replaced old – the body not yet accepting its new part. It was still weak, unforged – but Xin could fix that. He twisted his hands, sending vibrations through the hull – resonating lightly. Within moments, the firebent addition looked as if it had come with the rest, perfectly aligned and flush with the other parts.
It took a special kind of concentration to do that. Xin felt the light in his eyes fade, the power passing in a wave of brief fatigue. A normal metalbender could never have the power to see a whole machine. Even a master would have trouble seeing beyond a few rooms – as Toph could.
Xin leaned back in his chair, letting out a small rush of air. He twirled his fingers – a small crackle of fire twisting through them. Fire was his least favorite element – although you couldn't tell Shao that. It was too violent, too passionate. To do it right, you needed to devote yourself to it – and Xin couldn't do that. He hid his flame. It wasn't in his nature.
Still, it was a dalliance – just as water and air were. The elements were toys to Xin – not weapons of war. He'd never been in a real fight since he'd started school – and even on the streets he'd rarely pulled out all the stops.
Sure, there was piracy. Sure, there was war. Those things died down, though – the states squabbled for oases and mining rights, the URN dealt with increasing factionalism in its legislature, and the Water Tribes continued to stay where they were.
Xin looked out the window, wrapping his hands behind his head. "It's a boring time to be Avatar." He said, watching the sands of the desert slowly slide into view – the sun glistening off of Sand Sailors as they slid through the desert.
He glanced up at the clocks, then shut his eyes. "And may it always be."
Author's Notes
Not much to say about this one. Trying to gauge interest.
It's a fic idea I had for a continuation after Korra – the Skybender Saga. Unlike Aang or Korra, Xin starts as a realized Avatar – but one who's both too asocial and too damaged to be some upstanding world-changing hero.
His Metalbending is his primary asset – but unlike Kuvira or the Beifongs, Xin's is more artistic and constructive – and connective. He lives and breathes machinery – making him an unstoppable mechanic.