Aang sat upside down in the chair, legs flat against the back, head resting on the cushion. He couldn't help it, as ostentatious as this throne was, he couldn't feel comfortable sitting there the way he could imagine Zuko is. Head straight, back like a rod, glare heavy eyes. The guy who had this throne before him had some serious...taste issues. There was gold leafed things everywhere, even the floor tasted like a horrible fashion choice. Not to mention the clothes!
Judge not, Aang thought sourly to himself, but the clothes were outlandish. At least they were somewhat similar, very fire nation, very flashy.
From his place on the throne, he was able to see the priestess meditating on her seat before him. Her and the other jaffa. It was so stuffy in her, he wanted to just run away and jump out the window to freedom. Guuuh, but this is what it means to be the Avatar right? Sit through stuffy meetings, be wise and smooth over debates. No matter how much the urge to run thrummed through his blood, no matter how much every part of him itched to move around.
This was soooo boring. Please let it be over. Please let it be over.
Priestess Ying glanced up, watching their lord fidget on the throne. No doubt in a few seconds, their lord would fall out of the chair and flash them a brilliant smile before saying something strange. They were rooting through the archives, finding history written on parchment, about the Fire Nation. About where these jaffa could have originated from. Or about these other nations, where could they be?
"Hey..guys.." And right on time, he's holding out better than last time by a whole minute.
"My lord?" She rose her head, careful not to look at his face, very hard when he's upside down and staring back at her.
"Do you dance?" Aang flipped over, landing on his feet, turning on his heel, opening the doors with a flick of his wrist.
"My lord?" And this was asked, hair blown askew by his power, watching as he bounds out of the room clearing the hallway in one leap like some insane creature.
"Come on guys! I got to show you some dancing!"
The jaffa in the room immediately stand and follow their lord without question, without any pause. This is their devotion.
She rose, lifting her skirts. Each candle was blown out in succession, the smell of incense thick in the air. For a second, she glances around, then she adopts one of those stances and punches out. Nothing.
Of course.
"Must we?" The ten year boy was tied to the stone, wrist and ankles bound by rope. Swirl marks were painted along his skin, from his belly to his forehead.
"Yes. The rules stand, all who show signs of our god's power must be sacrificed. It is the only way!"
"The only way." The younger jaffa echoed, looking down at their sacrifice.
Young Meelo had shown signs of successful fire bending, much like their current god. Their previous god had banned such practices, telling the priests it was blasphemy and all those who show those signs were cursed and they had to be sacrificed. It was the only way to cure them. None should have power unless they were a god themselves.
The blade was raised, over the boy's chest, and with one swift plunge the deed was done.
Meanwhile, in another place.
"Sooooo..." Toph asked her captives, picking her nose as she spoke. "Where are we again?"
"Near the capital city." The captive that spoke, aside from his frantic heartbeat was telling the truth.
"Huh."
So for, dummy one and dummy two gave her the same information. Well, now what should she do? She had no clue where the others were, not to mention the dirt here was really really weird. It was mineral rich of some sort of...dirt rock thing. She could sense it in her captives, small deposits that made them gleam in her earth bending.
"Who...who are you?"
"I AM THE MELON LORD!" Toph raised both hands dramatically, making earth spikes come out of the ground. "BWAHAHAHA."