promptbending challange once again. come join this fun;"I've put a link to the place in my bio.
this one hardly deserves a name. but let's call it Moon Pants, kay?
"So, how did leaving your pants behind to fight while we ran, safe us again?"
Sokka asked the prince, finally tired of trying to make sense of it all.
They were floating up high in a war-balloon, the land below then obscured by mist and falling darkness. The Boiling Rock seemed only a far-away memory by now.
A strange, distant memory that made less and less sense.
Zuko sighed, adjusting the blanket around his waist self-consciously.
"Don't ask me, water-tribe. If I'd have written the script for this story, we wouldn't be peacefully floating in a hot-air balloon with a group of escapees. There'd be fighting and explosions and like, epic sword-battles every single scene. And there would be a lot less talking too."
Sokka sighed, commiserating that fact; he thought he might have liked ZUko's fan-fiction better, then.
In the stretching silence, Zuko added:
"Also, if I had written the script, when my sister had found me, she would have fallen to her knees crying. She would have then proceeded to acknowledge me as a better warrior and all-round perfect older brother. Then she'd have relinquished her position as heir to the throne and dedicated the rest of her life to needlework."
Sokka stared at the darkening mist below a minute, before asking.
"Really? Needle-work?"
Zuko paused.
"You're right. Something without pointy objects might be saver. Still, whatever I'd have written, my pants would have stayed where they belonged in happy obscurity."
Sokka sighed, nodding dejectedly.
"Well, don't fret, bro."
Suddenly he felt the need to share pain. And embarrassment.
"My first pants turned into the moon…"