A. N. : Short one today, thankfully (for me, I'm a bit strapped for time today). I'm away on a holiday right now, so answers to comments might take a bit longer than usual. Hope you'll enjoy !

Qin's nose itches.

Of all the various side-effects of being subjected to Lady Ty Lee's technique, he certainly didn't expect the worst one to be the inability to wipe the sand off his face, but as it turns out, that is in fact the case.

If he was instead being interrogated at the Lake, he would at least not feel his body and the sand sticking to it at all.

And that is perhaps the most interesting part of his current situation – the feeling of familiarity. He had thought that having his chi pathways and pressure points struck would maybe hurt, or that being physically unable to move or reach out for his own chi would be perhaps more uncomfortable, but he was wrong. No matter the cause, the inability to control one's body, to even feel its existence where it was simply there a moment ago… the sensation is similar.

It is a void. A lack, taunting him to just attempt one more time, and yet suffocating him with the knowledge of his own futility. Were he a more fragile person, were it not for his training, he might have panicked, or despaired.

Instead, he merely breathes.

In, and out, the sound of flowing water filling his mind with comforting familiarity. The garden from his childhood's house, drinking his favorite Shui Jin Gui oolong under the shade of the magnolia. Safe and comfortable.

Lady Mai and Lady Ty Lee's questions, and the vertigo gripping his spine, then become distant, untroubling matters. He answers calmly, knowing that truth is the best choice, and that he can therefore remain in his garden, where worry and lies do not have a place.

Sand, unfortunately, seems to have one, on the other hand.

The question he brought with him does too, in the form of a scroll he opens mentally when the Ladies appear to be finished with their questioning.

May I ask how you found out ?

It is something Qin has been wondering about ever since he received Agent Han's report on Lady Ty Lee's questions regarding Qin. Before the events of today, he was always careful to keep his craft as subtle as possible, and looking back provided no clue as to where he misstepped.

Yet he must have, surely. Agent Han might have failed to keep Lady Ty Lee from finding out the truth – or part of it – but her suspicions had without a doubt taken root earlier.

Her desire to spend more time with the Dai Li now takes on a different light. Was it perhaps around that time ?

Worries and deep thoughts blur the mental image of the garden and amplify the spine-tingling loss gripping Qin's body. He breathes. Focuses on the pond, on the magnolia, on the teacup he used so many times he knows by heart how it feels in his hands, its weight and imperfections and each stroke of blue ink on its surface.

Lady Ty Lee's answer is distant, obscured by layers of foliage and the sound of water, but Qin hears it nonetheless.

She speaks of auras, of Qin's green tainting the Ladies' own colors. Auras don't lie, she says with finality, the accusation barely hidden, and the threat nearly imperceptible.

There is no hiding from her sight.

Qin understands.

He had theorized, in their past discussions – although he had at the time kept his thoughts to himself – that Lady Ty Lee's unique perception might be born from the same kind of sensitivity that makes a bender attuned to his respective element. The flow of chi, given meaning through visualization, interpreted in the light of senses she knows of. Others would call it intuition, perhaps, or read it through a different filter – the sound of truth, the smell of something off, an itch that warns of danger.

The perception of the world's chi, without the ability to reach out in kind.

The identification of a certain hue, then, would be something akin to pattern recognition. Well, that is of course only if Qin's theory is correct – and were it the case, it wouldn't change his current situation in any way.

Qin simply likes to understand the way people work, be it generalities that serve his craft, or the idiosyncrasies of a single individual.

The zone between his shoulder blades feels odd – feels, at all. It would seem that sensation is coming back, at least to his upper body, although bending still isn't.

Perhaps now Qin will finally be able to wipe away the sand on his face.