Face Paint and Fans

By Vifetoile

Avatar Kyoshi, in her own words, answers the question of why she wears her distinctive face paint. If all the world's a stage, then the Avatar is just another mask.

Thanks everyone, for reading! I hope you enjoy this story, and feel free to review!

I own nothing related to Avatar: The Last Airbender, but that's okay.

Why does Avatar Kyoshi wear so much makeup?

Is that what they ask about me nowadays? I thought I had inspired more gossip than that, but, oh well. That is a good question. Why indeed do I 'strut down the street with paint on my face'?

Simply put, it is my war paint, and nobody else's business. But, as I feel conversational today, I don't mind telling you a bit of my story.

I picked up my habit of face paint at around the same time that I learned I was the Avatar. I was sixteen. Let me paint a little picture for you of what I was like at that age.

I was a plain-looking, unremarkable girl, aside from being tall. Yes, I was absurdly tall for my age, (it seemed to me), and had far longer legs and arms than I had use for. I could not navigate my way around even an empty room, for I would be sure to destroy whatever priceless family heirloom was inside.

You can laugh now; it was something of a joke in the village of Hu (that's what the village was called then; now it is called Kyoshi). People who talked to me frequently had to ask me to repeat myself, because I spoke very softly and tripped over words. I was shy, awkward, clumsy, and hated, absolutely hated, talking in front of crowds. My skills were Earthbending and other physical work – thatching a roof, tending a wound, ice-skating in the winter. I also could break up fights between children – because those spats never required much talking. But I was happy, because I loved the people of my village, and I loved my home. I was secure.

Then, I learned I was the Avatar. I had no idea who I was. Oh, sure, the morning of my sixteenth birthday I'd known very well who I was – Kyoshi, of the Hu peninsula, daughter of the village blacksmith. There was nothing to doubt or question. But when Tenmu, the High Priest of the Stone Circle temple, arrived at the door of my stepfather's house, I was confused. Who was this stout man with his lined face, and eyes that always seemed to have a private joke? Of course, my parents welcomed him with hospitality. At first I accepted him and his friends as more well-wishers, coincidental travelers. But when he declared me to be the Avatar in front of the entire village, all of my identity was shaken. And the people of my village looked at me differently.

They began to bow to me. I seriously considered how far away I could run before they straightened back up. And the next day I was taken from the peninsula of Hu to be presented to the Earth King, then begin my training as a Firebender.

I loved my home passionately – as I still do. Every pebble and tree was a friend to me. At parting from my mother, all my friends, my heart broke. But I could not stay. I had ceased to be myself in their eyes. Kyoshi no longer existed. I was 'The Avatar.' Only my mother kissed my forehead and told me that I would return home one day, better than I had left. For her sake, I hid my tears until the village passed out of sight.

The band of priests and myself were just a day away from Omashu when bandits attacked us. They answered to Chin the Conqueror, for he was then beginning his reign of terror against the Earth Kingdom and Fire Nation. Only myself and Master Tenmu managed to escape.

We were aided by a Badgermole, who guided us to safety. Little did I know that this Badgermole was destined to be my spirit guide, and close companion later in life. For the time being, I just thought of the wise beast with gratitude. Then, in later days, I was to blame it viciously.

You see, he had led us straight to a traveling show, a troupe of actors, singers, jugglers, acrobats, and of course trick Benders of all sorts. I was grateful to them for their hospitality, but I was certain we would not be staying long. Master Tenmu had other ideas. He convinced me that, since this group was making its way, slowly, to Ba Sing Se, we would do well to join them. A traveling show would attract no attention from Chin the Conqueror, and as an Avatar it was my duty to understand the world and all the people in it. This caravan, where people of all nations came together to create an evening's entertainment, would be a good place to start.

We agreed to hide our identities: we were grandfather and granddaughter, a simple pair of Earthbenders, and more than happy to help out with the show in any way we could.

Then somebody got – ideas.

Her name was Asagi. She was of the Southern Water Tribe, and also the director of the theatrical pieces. It was a kind of theater called kabuki, very stylized, and reliant on masks or heavy face paint for characters' faces. You're starting to see where this is going?

Asagi was a stern, but powerful, charismatic woman. Though her hair had gray streaks, she always gave off an air of great vitality and energy. You paid attention to her. Why, when she saw me, she had the idea that this gawky, overgrown, stuttering girl would be of any use on a stage is still a mystery to me. I seem to remember her making some comment about me being "statuesque."

It took me a couple of years to laugh about that.

Apparently they were short a player (it was some kerfuffle about a cabbage merchant's apprentice), and Asagi thought that I would do admirably.

I resisted, of course. It was my natural course of action, to flee like a scared chipmunk when danger threatened. But Asagi would not be dissuaded; it was a small caravan and I could not avoid her. And worst of all, Master Tenmu joined in, saying that I should be accustomed to taking risks, and that risks on the stage were a good place to start. And he admitted to being a bit of a theater buff himself, and (smoothing down his hair) he asked Asagi if there wasn't a place for a suave, elderly gentleman in her cast? That man was shameless.

Mercifully my first few roles were all ensemble characters, or perhaps one of a chorus, with no lines of my own. All of my gestures were stiff and stilted. I hated the heavy, elaborate costumes, and felt like I couldn't breathe in the mask I had to wear. I avoided looking at the audience at all times.

Asagi wasn't exactly pleased, but she tolerated this and did not force me out of my shell. Rather, she tried to ease me to a greater level of comfort with performance. Eventually I was able to drag myself onstage and perform on a mechanical level. Then I began to actually enjoy it. I've always been sensitive to beautiful things, and the music at first was what intrigued me, and what made the stays on the stage and backstage endurable. Then, when I became used to the kabuki, I could understand the stories better, and was able to appreciate the poetic dialogue and artful shows of emotion.

I also stopped dreading going on stage. I learned to see going on stage as a challenge, and a chance to put on a new face. Bit by bit my stage fright diminished. I also grew in understanding of my fellow actors – we had prima donnas and ruthless perfectionists, and tempers that ran invariably high. But I learned to deal with all of them, and they would come to depend on me as "the level-headed Earthbender." However, just as they pursued their passions, they encouraged me to be more expressive. I discovered that I could speak loudly!

I realized one day that most of the actors were from the Fire Nation, and that, without a bit of Firebending, they were opening me to the fiery, passionate parts of myself. When I finally did learn to Firebend, my experience among the Fire Nation actors made it easier for me to reach into and control the fire within me.

So, you know, I really began to enjoy myself.

Still, it came as a surprise to me when Asagi gave me a leading role. It was a new play she had just discovered. She had bought the book of it in the last town we'd performed in. I still remember, it was 'The Romance of the Seashells.'

Asagi, as an expatriate Water Tribeswoman, was eager to perform the piece. She wanted, she said, to give some of the younger, less experienced actors a chance to show off their chops. I was petrified that she would give me one of the romantic leads, and gave a sigh of relief when it went to other actors, who played those roles much better than I ever could have.

Then Asagi said, "And the Avatar is Kyoshi."

I jumped and started back. Everyone laughed.

Asagi laughed with them, elaborating that I was to play the famed Water Tribe Avatar, Aysu. I had been cast for my "statuesque, majestic bearing."

I had only a couple of solo speeches, but they were both supposed to be very dramatic. We were due to perform in a few weeks, very close to a Fire Nation temple.

Master Tenmu and I had agreed that after this show, we would leave the company and take refuge in the temple. It was taking too long for us to reach Ba Sing Se, and, as he reminded me, my training took priority above propriety at this point in time.

I was very intrigued for this chance to play an Avatar – practice for the real thing. Of course, over this time period, I had been meditating, and had met with both Avatar Kuruk, and Avatar Yangchen – who took some charge of my education as an Avatar, because Avatar Kuruk still relentlessly pursued his nemesis in the Spirit World. I considered meditating deeper to contact Avatar Aysu herself, but – and you're going to laugh at this – I was too shy.

So I had to guess at what Avatar Aysu was like.

It took us about two or three weeks of intense practice to get that show ready. I had spent a few months with the Company by this point. I was loaned a robe of rich sapphire blue for my character, and, as per tradition, my face would be painted in vivid blues and white to reflect Avatar Aysu's great connection with the sea.

The night of our first performance, we had an unexpected audience. I was backstage, getting my makeup painted on very carefully, when one of the chorus members ran into our tent, her eyes wide. "Nobody panic," she said, in the tone of voice that makes people panic automatically, "but there's a man in the audience and I think he's Chin the Conquerer!"

I was shocked. I was terrified. I forced myself to be still so as not to ruin my makeup, but my hands shook and my heart was pounding very loudly.

Chin the Conqueror. Rumors had been swirling around him for all the months I'd been in the caravan, each one worse than the next. The very Badgermoles in the hills would bow to him – he was intent on overturning the Earth King himself – and other such rumors. Suffice to say, they all added up to a terrifying portrait. But it was known fact that his army was slowly, but surely, engulfing the continent. His name had become synonymous with fear.

I had mastered many fears since I took up traveling with the caravan, but the thought of Chin scared me so much I only half paid attention as I put on my costume. The irate costumer had to redo half of my knots.

I wished I could find Master Tenmu. 'What if Chin recognizes me as the Avatar?' I kept thinking, in a panic.

My time to go on stage approached. Asagi, acting as a stage hand for that instant, was on backstage left with me. She smiled and asked, "Are you ready?"

I didn't move my head at all, but my face must have given something away. Asagi looked concerned all at once. "Are you all right? You look like –" then she stopped. There was a beat of drum – my entrance was nearing. "Well, you had better be all right," she said. "Just imagine your best friend is in the audience, or something, all right?"

Then she was gone, to help with the effects of the Waterbending. That was supposed to be my Waterbending.

Something that she'd said really resonated in me. Her words "your best friend" made me think of my home village. I had to do them proud, didn't I? I closed my eyes and remembered it. I remembered the feel of the soil beneath my feet – the first soil that I had ever Bent.

I was an Earthbender. We do not cower. We face our element for what it is, we size it up, and we make ourselves the immovable ones.

Who was this Chin the Conqueror? I didn't know, and therefore, he could be anything, or nothing. I chose nothing.

And who was I? I was the Avatar.

And, still lost in memories of my homeland, I remembered the sea. I could feel its swell and ebb, as if I were swimming in it. I began to feel that I was the sea. My makeup and my costumes no longer felt like weights, but agents of transformations.

I stepped out onto the stage. I was perhaps a moment late for my cue.

Opening my eyes in their blue paint, I looked out at the audience – and I saw Chin at once.

Nobody else could be that man. He was a short, fat man sitting in the first row and center, dressed in armor and bright green silk that was ridiculously overdone, over-elaborate.

And I was not just Kyoshi of the village of Hu. With the lights shining, with a new face, with the strings of the guzheng playing behind me, I was the Avatar.

And I began to speak –I understood the words like I never had before. There was a beauty and a power in their archaic pattern. You wonder why I'm always so fond of those old plays? That's why.

Aysu's first speech is a stern reprimand, a demand for justice – and you can bet I aimed that speech at one man in the audience.

I gave the performance of my life that night. I still remember the standing ovation that I received.

I am quite certain that my performance made a terrific impression on Chin, because the next night, in my dressing tent, there was a bouquet of water lilies. Guess who sent them?

Actually, they weren't sent by Chin himself (that man had no eye for theater, in addition to being a horrible tyrant), but by his soldiers who had been in the audience. It was the first time I had ever been sent flowers by a boy, let alone by several. I was a bit flattered.

Asagi was pleased as Punch (by the way, Punch is an archaic puppet character who is very violent and always very smug about it. That's where the phrase comes from. Now you know!) As water lilies are a flower emblematic of Waterbenders, the senders expressed that they were very convinced by my performance. Asagi was clucking like a delighted mother hen, and removing invisible specks of dust from my costume. I was merely studying the water lilies, content with their beauty.

I became aware that Asagi was talking about the next show we would do. I decided that she shouldn't be building up false hopes, so I told her simply, "I won't be in the next show. Grandfather and I are leaving to stay at the Fire Temple."

Asagi was dumbstruck. "But why? What do you have to do that's more important than bringing theater to the masses?" she asked.

I turned around. "Well," I said, "I am the Avatar."

For once Asagi was struck speechless. Then she said, "Kyoshi, you're not the joking type, and that's not a funny subject to start with."

"But I'm not joking," I replied. "Ask my grandfather. Actually, he's not my grandfather at all, but I've gotten used to calling him that. He will tell you the same thing."

Asagi demanded the truth of Master Tenmu. Having seen that I was comfortable with telling the world the truth, he had the caravan leader gather them all together to hear Tenmu and I speak. And there, in front of the friends I had made from all nations, I declared – for the first time – that I was the Avatar, the heir of Kuruk, Yangchen, and the other Avatars, all the way back to Mara. "And nobody bow to me!" I added at once.

Nobody bowed, but a gymnast – an Airbender who, I'll be honest, had gotten on my bad side in the past – laughed and said, "You're gonna be a great Avatar!" He began to clap.

And then I was treated to the longest, most sincere round of applause I have ever gotten in my life. I started to laugh, and couldn't stop. I had never felt so happy since I had left my home.

I looked behind me, to Master Tenmu. He, too, was smiling.

He stepped up to explain that I would need to start my training on Firebending at once if I was to have any hope of restoring peace to the Earth Kingdom, which was why we could no longer stay with this caravan, though we had made many friends, and would never forget anyone.

The caravan leader declared that we would hold a celebration that night in my honor. As it got underway, I thanked Master Tenmu for speaking for me, and for all of his kindness over these months while he posed as my grandfather.

I'll never forget his smile. "Avatar Kyoshi," he said, "You are my Avatar, but I have come to love you as if you were of my own flesh and blood. Please, if you would continue to call me Grandfather, I would see it as a pleasure and an honor."

I bowed deeply to him, and said I would be honored to do so, if only he would call me "Kyoshi" from then on. And he did.

At the party, it felt like everyone stepped up to offer congratulations or some other advice. A trick bender from Ember Island said that he would be more than happy to show me some basic Firebending moves, or breathing exercises, to give me a leg up. A man from the Foggy Swamp Water Tribe clasped my hand, saying he remembered meeting Avatar Kuruk, and couldn't believe his blessings, to have held the hands of two Avatars in one lifetime. The Airbender gymnast against whom I had once been at odds laughed and told me to ask for him at the Air Temples when I went to learn Airbending. He promised to teach me Airball. I said I was looking forward to it.

And of course, Asagi believed me at last. She said she couldn't be prouder, and couldn't believe that she had rapped an Avatar on the knuckles for holding a lantern incorrectly.

The strongest impression on me, however, was made by a plump woman from the inner Earth Kingdom, who had always been smiling and cheerful. She took my hand with tears streaming down her face, and asked in a trembling voice, if I could please, please work to bring peace to the Earth Kingdom, for as a girl of the Earth myself I had to understand, had to know how much pain it cost her, to know her family was suffering under the yoke of Chin the Conquerer.

And I did understand. I was sobered considerably, and said to Tenmu that I wanted to set out for the Fire Temple as soon as I could.

My last morning in the caravan, I brought nothing with me that I hadn't taken from home. I didn't want to be beholden to anyone – but I was surprised by a gift from all of the actors. It was a fine set of folding fans – ribs of tortoiseshell, covered by the thinnest, stiffest gold silk.

The gift was too fine for me, and I said so. But Asagi, on behalf of the acting troupe, insisted. She said that she had intended for me to play the role of the Princess Nadeshiko – a role in kabuki featuring an emblematic set of fans. "Take these," she said, "in memory of us. In memory of the theater."

I took them, knowing that I was doing them an honor in accepting.

I headed up to the Fire Temple to begin training in Firebending. Firebending came easily to me, but when I had mastered it, it was time to go to the Western Air Temple. Airbending was very difficult for me. It was on a chance encounter with the Airbender from the troupe that I remembered the fans that I had carefully stored as a gift.

Airbending is a discipline that uses more tools – gliders, for instance – than the other arts. I brought the fans to my next Airbending lesson, and none of the instructors said a word. The fans – perhaps because they brought back memories of the theater – helped me to let go of the earth, and to reach into the imprecise and the subtle. They helped me to improvise, in short. They became a regular part of my bending.

When I began Waterbending, all I needed was to tap into the reservoir of memory, the memory of connecting with Avatar Aysu and the ocean, and my performance that night, to guide the water that I Bent. Soon I could bend it without these memories, but I appreciated them nonetheless.

Also while in the Water Tribe, I took a day to learn about their war paint – how every family has a unique design, how face paint also signifies a rite of passage into adulthood, and a marriage pact, and, of course, it is used for theater. I learned how to make it and mix it in any different color I wanted (though I never could master purple. Oh well, it never suited my complexion.)

But all the time, I kept one ear tuned to news about the Earth Continent and Chin. One day, I received the unthinkable news: he was going to attack the village of Hu.

I left the North Pole at once for the Northern Air Temple. With the help of my gymnast friend, I rode a Sky-Bison all the way to my home village – which had no soldiers, and not many Benders to protect itself. Only me, and I had abandoned them.

Fortunately, I got there a day before Chin himself did.

Though I was glad to be home, I felt like I didn't know it anymore. The people didn't know me. They pled with me to save them. I said, "Of course I'm going to save you!" and told everyone not to panic. To their credit, they stopped panicking at once.

That was easier for them than for me. I felt that I had reverted to the awkward girl who had set out from there so many years ago.

How could I fight Chin as the Avatar, on my terms, and not his? I asked myself this. It had been years since I had left home. I didn't know the land, or so I thought. I knew how to Bend every element, and to use the Avatar State, but not but I still didn't know how to be an Avatar.

But I knew how to pretend to be an Avatar.

I looked at the small pack of things I'd brought from all over the world. My eyes settled on the fans.

When I picked them up I felt like – not that they were inadequate, but that the fans were only a first step. I decided to take another step. I put on my finest green robes – I was something of a stickler for fashion, even then. Still, I was not ready. Theater gloves, for handling the fans. Heavy boots, for whatever earth I might meet.

I mixed some face paint, and painted myself white and red – like the hero, the bold warrior of a kabuki play. It was war paint, and it was simple theater paint. I put on the role of Avatar as I had put it on so long ago, when I playacted as Avatar Aysu.

There was no more play-acting today. I was Avatar Kyoshi. And the makeup, the dress, and the fans, were all a part of that, and a part of me, just as much as the land and the sea.

So attired, wearing my face paint and my fans and my home, I walked out to meet Chin. And everyone knew who I was.

Well, that did go on a bit longer than I expected, but now you know. I do have my reasons, esoteric though they may seem at first. Now, do you have any other questions for Kyoshi, the great Avatar – and fabulous actress, if I say so myself?