Ty Lee and Chief Arnook. Blame Cirque du Soleil for this one.
3. Condolences
Year 2 of Firelord Zuko's reign, second moon of Water (dead of winter)
The city lies cold and icy in the light of the moon. All is still, the intricate façades and terraces, the walkways and roofs all encased in the frozen blue-white radiance.
A warm puff of breath steams into the air; a figure stirs in the dark-blue shadow between the buildings, then walks into the moonlight to become a teenaged girl in a full skirt and overdress, a long fur-lined vest belted at the waist her concession to the weather. She walks up the bridge that arcs over the waterway, then stops at its height to lean against the railing and look up at the moon.
There is a calm delight in her round, wide-eyed face as she gazes up, as though she were seeing an old friend. The heavy face paint is somehow natural in this light, the cold glow and the deep shadows illuminating feelings and expressions real or imagined. Perhaps there is sadness in the girl's face as her mouth droops, or it is just the brightness of the moon on the white powder on her face. Perhaps she smiles as the corners of her eyes crinkle, or the dark paint on her eyelids is playing tricks with the moon-shadow.
She looks up at the moon as though meeting someone's eye, and nods confidently to herself. Without warning she whips around, and suddenly there is a fan in her hand as she spins. A flick of her hand and the fan falls open, warm and bright like a flame against the ice. She spins, sweeping the fan high, then stops and takes slow, measured steps along the length of the bridge with the fan covering her lowered face. Suddenly she stands up straight and arches her back, throwing her arms up to launch the fan high into the air, flame-yellow spinning against the moonlit sky.
Quick as thought she tumbles backward, and somehow there is a second fan in her hand that she tosses into the air as she rolls. She straightens to a crouch and raises her hand just in time to catch the first thrown fan. Then she takes a flying tumble forward to catch the second fan as it spins back to earth, folding and kicking the first fan into the air in one smooth motion. Back and forth over the bridge they fly, twin yellow arcs across the face of the moon, two butterflies in adoration of the pure silver blossom in the sky.
Then the fans are in the air at the same time, and she leaps to snatch them both out of the air. She is spinning as she lands, whirling around and around with the fans closing and opening in a dizzying kaleidoscope of motion. Faster and faster she turns, a thrown fan spinning into air and hovering there for the briefest of moments, as though mimicking the dance down below, then twirling back to earth with almost lazy grace. Caught by an expert hand that never misses a beat despite the frantic pace, thrown again and again, the two alternating in the air. Her laughter is breathless not from exertion but from joy, the kind of sharp, stabbing sense of life that lives only on the knife's-edge of pain.
She catches one fan, then the other and leaps, flipping over in the air to land on one hand on the railing of the bridge. Her other hand is out to the side and holding both fans open. With a twinkle they are gone and she arches back to flip to her feet, then flips more and more rapidly along the hand's-span of the railing. When she reaches the other side she jumps, spinning twice before landing on the opposite railing on her hands. Holding the railing, she swings down toward the water as though to fall in, then whips her legs back up. Her knees are to her chest for the briefest of moments, coiled to spring, before her arms bend and then heave away from the railing to launch her into the air.
Back and forth between the two railings she leaps quicker and quicker, until she whips out the fans again and leaps high into the air, fans held out as though she would fly into the sky on delicate yellow wings. Her mouth opens wide in an excited grin, and the moon fills her eyes with its calm silver glow.
Arcing down to the opposite railing seems a choice, not due to something so vulgar as gravity. She lands at the apex of the railing with the one fan over her face and the other held out to the left, left leg bent and the right straight out to her side along the length of the railing. Moonlight washes over her in gold and silver, and her smile is just as brilliant as she looks up.
She then leaps lightly off the railing and flicks her fans closed. "You can come out now," she calls to a sparkling statue of ice at the edge of the waterway, tucking her fans back into her sleeves. "Your aura is so sad and blue," she continues, her brows furrowing in concern as she walks down the slope of the bridge. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
"I believe you already did, Warrior Ty Lee." The man's voice is gentle and slightly rough with emotion as he steps out from behind the sculpture, his eyes strikingly blue under the moon.
"Chief Arnook." Ty Lee's round eyes go rounder. She automatically fists her right hand, resting the heel of her straightened left hand on the knucles of the right - then remembers herself and hurriedly curls her left hand into a fist, wrapping her right hand around it before she bows.
"The Fire Nation salute is fine." Arnook waves a hand, nodding in acknowledgment of her greeting. "Forgive me for not declaring myself. I did not want to interrupt." The weight of sorrow is heavy in his eyes as he looks up at the moon.
"I couldn't sleep," says Ty Lee in a small voice. "I- dreamed..."
"Of a girl on the moon, alone," says Arnook, startling her. "So did I," he sighs. "It happened last winter as well, after..." His throat works as he swallows.
"After the Princess of the Northern Water Tribe became the new moon spirit," Ty Lee says suddenly, making the connection. "Your daughter?" She covers her mouth with both hands, her eyes starting to glisten.
The Chief looks down. "Yes," he says at last. "My only child, Yue."
"I'm sorry." Ty Lee lowers her hands and takes a step toward him, hovering uncertain and unhappy. "I'm so sorry."
"Thank you," the chief says heavily, lifting his eyes to hers. "That is kind of you."
But Ty Lee's lips tremble as the brightness in her eyes overflows, smearing the kohl around her eyes. "I'm so, so sorry..." She drops her face into her hands, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. "I'm..."
Something changes in Arnook's face then, his eyes widening briefly as he realizes Ty Lee is offering more than her condolences. Then his face relaxes, and he places a hand on her shoulder. "It isn't your fault,"
"How can you forgive us?" She takes his hand in both hers with a force that makes him wince. Her face paint smudges and runs while she cries like a child, without shame or pretense. "How can you stand to look at one of us?" She hangs her head and tries to stifle her sobs, making choked, pained sounds as she struggles.
"It... isn't easy," he admits, his other hand coming up to hold her shoulder in a steadying grip. "I try to tell myself it was her destiny. I try not to sully her sacrifice with hate. But I am only human."
"Then how-" she looks up, tears and makeup and nose running to make her face formless in this night, a blob of misery. Arnook grimaces a little and rummages in the pocket of his fur-lined parka with a father's reflexes. He pulls out a large square of cloth and presses it to her nose, which she proceeds to blow vigorously. She takes the cloth from him turns away to use the corners to dab at her eyes and face, leaving a somewhat striped effect.
"Because you danced for my daughter."
She turns to him with wonder in her eyes while he lifts his gaze to the moon. To Yue. "Because you wept for her, and asked forgiveness for crimes not your own." He looks from the heavens down to earth, from the serene silver of the moon to the streaked face of the daughter of former enemies. "Thank you." His voice is quiet. "I think I can live now without hatred."
Ty Lee's eyes well up again as she runs to him and wraps her arms tight around him. He reciprocates after a startled moment, gently patting her back at her broken whispers of gratitude. The moon spills her light in silver and gold over them like a blessing, lighting the silent and frozen streets with her sorrow, her loneliness, and her joy.
Next: She can't control her anymore, and somehow that makes it all the worse. Damn me, this is supposed to be a light-hearted and fun series!