A. N. : Four is a symbol of perfection in Pythagorean philosophy. It is also a number with the reputation of bringing bad luck in China and Japan, as it is pronounced the same way as 死 (death). An ambivalent number, then. For some reason, Suki is associated with dance and music in my mind, to the point that the title of c112 "Mute Cassandra" was originally supposed to make a reference to that. In the end I couldn't manage to find something that flowed well, but I thought it was an interesting tidbit.
Suki's shoulders hurt.
It's been – two months, four weeks, two days since her capture, two days since she climbed in that Unagi-damned flying thing, hands bound to the bench she sits on, unable to find a position that doesn't twist her arms in some way.
She wants to stretch. Needs to stretch, needs the freedom to do at least that, needs something to do other than count the number of earthbenders – eight, among which the man with nasty scars on his face who fed her yesterday and patted her hair like one would a child once she was done eating, and the one with the earrings who hovers around the Princess more than the others – count the steps of the crew – eleven people who can walk, two who can't, eight earthbenders, two engineers, one Princess, three thousand, six hundred and eight steps in total since Suki started counting – count the days – two days, no, not quite, sunlight only just started hitting the inside of this place and it was late afternoon when they left the Boiling Rock – count everything over and over until her head is filled with nothing but numbers.
Back home, things were constant. Consistent. Twenty three Warriors under her command, and if one of them missed training, Suki could always go to her home, and either give her a stern talking to, or bring medicine. Training was a well-oiled sequence – show the katas to the group, have them repeat the move ten times as slow as possible, then twenty more at real speed. Spars lasted three minutes, then one minute of pause and switching partners, then start sparring again.
Suki didn't count days until she was captured. It wasn't despair that made her do it, quite the opposite actually. Each day brought her closer to freedom. She knew it in her heart. Seeing time pass gave her strength and rooted her in the reality of her hope the same as her feet rooted her in the earth.
And now it turns out she was right in the worst way, and if she dwells on that, she will break.
Eight earthbenders, two engineers, one Princess. Two prisoners, of which one is precious enough he was muzzled – maybe even dangerous enough to warrant that, the Princess taunted him and called him dear Uncle and it makes Suki sick with the implications behind these words and the fate reserved to the old man – the other of which has spent two months and four weeks doing everything in her power to get her jailers to underestimate her, and who trained to fight even with her hands bound.
Those are important facts. Essential numbers. The only hope Suki can still grasp with her own two hands.
The rest – the steps of the crew and the creaks of the room and the taunts of the Princess – those are meaningless numbers. Ways for Suki to avoid thinking. Ways for her mind to escape when her body cannot.
It's been two months, four weeks, and two days since her capture, and less than two days since she left the Boiling Rock when they land.
In two days she will be free, body and mind.
She walks out with her head high, watches the Fire Nation officials welcome the Princess, and four more soldiers join the earthbenders in guarding Suki and the old man.
She counts her steps from the balloon to her new cell and refuses to think about death.
The door closes at ninety eight.