Hey, hey! Ski October here. This is my joint account with the lovely Blue-Winter-Angel, and our first roject is this series of drabbles for the new Korroh Week! We split up the prompts evenly, and split day six - so you'll get a dual AN on Friday. Hm. I odn't really have much else to say, except enjoy this first prompt! Also, do be warned that pretty much all of my prompts are going to be angst-ridden. This one here is no exception.

DISCLAIMER: We own nothing but our ideas.


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He was screaming.

Screaming loudly, wildly, without abandon. It was a raw, anguished sound. It tore from his throat violently, racking his chest. He was louder than the storm that raged overhead – thunder exploding and lightning setting the tumultuous sea ablaze. The frigid, pounding rain stung his eyes. Or maybe it was tears.

He waded deeper into the water, up to his waist, screaming and thrashing his arms through the waves. His very soul was aching at the loss of her, his own heart. He knew that she was the Avatar. He knew that she would have to fight, knew the risks of the battle like any General would. He knew that she would do whatever it took to defeat her opponent and protect her people. He hadn't known that included sacrificing herself.

The memory of her mangled body was fresh in his mind, brought back with horrifying clarity. Scrapes and bruises and deep, gaping wounds. Blood, so much blood; more than even this ocean roaring could wash away. And the light had faded from her so fast – all that brilliant, powerful luminance that seemed to have known no bounds. The blue of her eyes had dimmed to glassy gray and her chest ceased to heave. She was gone, just like that.

The scream had died to a thick, choked noise deep in his throat. Saltwater crashed into him and slipped into his mouth, making breathing that much more difficult. He may as well die here, like her. What was the point of going on, really, when all that he had been living for was no longer living herself? But he knew he could never do that. It wasn't in his nature to give up and lie down, just as it hadn't been in hers. She would likely cross from the Spirit World just to haunt him.

But he was tired, so tired. Everything ached, every part of him cried out in agony so deep that it stirred in the marrow of his bones. He wanted to sleep; sleep for a hundred years and maybe wake to find that it had all been a dream. She could bend him out of an iceberg and he would take her penguin sledding and everything in his world would be right again. A fierce wave crashing down on his head jolted him and suddenly his heart felt like it may just give out on the spot. He didn't blame it.

Iroh clawed his way back to the rocky shoreline, where the temple was well within sight of the beach. He stumbled out of the grip of the current, hacking the last of the saltwater from his lungs. More of it dripped from his red-rimmed eyes. He looked up at the moon, full and round and pearly-white, smiling down at him benevolently. Something in his heart – something deeply ingrained and final – broke and he screamed a curse.

He collapsed in the sand, and wept.

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