We don't talk about what happened with Jet, though I can feel it hanging over our heads. Are Zuko and Iroh thinking about their missteps? Have they bended behind my back? No, I don't believe it. They are just as much in jeopardy if the Fire Nation finds us, or if the Earth Kingdom discovers who we are. We are all in the same boat, and I doubt one of them would have bended so carelessly since that first day.
The three of us help pick up the shop after the fight, and we are down a table or two after Jet's destruction. Pao closes the shop early that night, to let us all get some rest and calm down. However, the next day, it is as busy as ever. People are buzzing about the fight. Combined with Iroh's delicious tea, it makes for a long day.
We work through the day, and my day off is tomorrow, so I am able to take solace in knowing I can sleep in tomorrow. In the morning, after Iroh and Zuko have left for work, I wake up to a silent apartment. Well, as silent as it can get, with over 30 other apartments surrounding us.
I help myself to the congee that Iroh made this morning, which is still partly warm. I listen to the noises of the people outside, putting up their laundry, feeding their children, or just bickering with each other. The sounds remind me of the temple, and my heart longs for the past.
Nothing was ever quiet at the Eastern Air Temple. There was always laughter, and chores to be done, and food to eat, and bisons to play with. It was lively. It was home. I close my eyes, envisioning the temple. The giant Yangchen statue, the meditation stones.
If I could pick a temple to be born and raised at, I would not have decided on the Eastern Air Temple. It was colorful, but caring for the bison was smelly work. I was spiritual at the time, but now the Western Air Temple begs for my attention. Did they build it with the help of earthbenders, or simply carved it out themselves, upside down and spire-like?
Plus, their library was filled with teachings and meditations. If the war ever ends, I want to go back there. They created air ducts to help provide circulation, since not everything was open up to the air. However, now, I worry, what would happen if I fell off the upside down buildings? I have no bison or bending to save me.
Maybe visiting the temples should just stay as a dream for me. Plus, it feels like the war will never end.
I take some money with me, having discussed it with Iroh the night before, as well as a basket to put all my purchases in. I lock the apartment behind me. I intend to head up to the Middle Ring; Pao told us we could freely travel to any area, except for the Upper Ring. He also boasted about the shops in the Middle Ring. While being a little more expensive, their goods were better quality and you did not have to worry about a theft hanging outside the shop to steal whatever you bought.
If this place is to be our home indefinitely, I want to start painting again. Plus, there are no wild plants and flowers for me to make my own paints out here. The Lower Ring is all buildings and dirt, a few scraggly trees at the edges of the city. I hear the Middle Ring is different, though they frown heavily on people picking their plants and flowers.
There are only a few people on the monorail heading into the Middle Ring, and it takes a little over a hour to get there. You can immediately tell when you transition out of the Lower Ring and into the Middle Ring, mostly because of the giant wall separating the two. However, the tiles of the roofs here are green, not brown like in the Lower Ring. The buildings are bigger too. Right next to the monorail line, there is a small creek running underneath. It looks fresh, clean.
I can see why we never visited Ba Sing Se as nomads. The classism here, the divide between those deemed rich and poor, is clearly evident. Don't they care that people are struggling to find food in the Lower Ring? Do they even acknowledge their people?
I get off the first stop of the monorail, filled with distaste as I look around. It doesn't smell like the Lower Ring either, and it feels much quieter too. I can only imagine what the Upper Ring looks like, since I have been barred access to it with my status of a refugee.
Aimlessly walking around, I look at all the shops. This close to the wall, most of the buildings are businesses. I imagine the university and homes are closer to the Upper Ring wall, or the middle of the city. Just as far away as you can get from the people of the Lower Ring.
The art supplies store is deeper in the city. It seems like the city is laid out in a way that the things that are necessary for the people that use the monorail - like some food shops, a restaurant or two, and a discount fabric store - are closer to the monorail so less people have to see them. The things that aren't necessary - art supplies, better and more expensive fabrics, nicer restaurants - are further in.
As soon as I enter the shop, I worry that they will look at me and send me away. I look dingy, but I am not unclean. My clothes are a little worn down, but not as threadbare as some of my neighbors.
Most of the paintings from the Air Nomads were murals, or paintings of elders. Many murals depicted flying bison, but I don't have an easy reference of a flying bison to use. Many of the Earth Kingdom paintings I saw on our way to Ba Sing Se were landscapes, or they showed off a still of the life around them. People at the market, an old man fishing, that sort of thing.
I want to dabble in doing landscape paintings. Maybe not of the Lower Ring, but of things I saw on the way here. The mountains outside the house where Iroh healed. Agna Qel'a under siege. Song's mother's garden. Ba Sing Se emerging from the fog. I can see all of these places when I close my eyes, and they are part of my journey here.
The bell above the door rings when I push it open. The shop is well lit, if a little crowded from the shelves. There are so many art supplies here, including calligraphy pens, ink, and paper. The shop is a hodgepodge of smells. Ink. Paper. The smell of fresh paint. It all hits me at once, and I try hard to keep the images of painting at the temples out of my mind. I already dwelt on the past too long this morning.
"Hello! Welcome in," a voice says from behind the shelves in the middle, near a counter with some painting supplies in use. It looks like the person at the counter is in the middle of painting their own landscape, a mountain range with small houses near the base. Trees sprouting around, and a bloom of color in the middle - a flower patch. I see all this when I come closer to the counter, drawn in by the beautiful use of colors.
"Let me know if you need help with finding anything," the painter says, not really looking up from their work. It is a woman, about ten years older than me. Her hair is pulled back in a long braid, and her apron is paint splattered, like she is absentmindedly wiping her hands on it.
I nod, but she can't see me. I turn toward the shelves, looking around. I need a few things - brushes, a roll of parchment, paints.
After looking around for a while, I only need the paints. But the only thing I can see are colored inks. I pose this question to the lady at the counter, setting the set of brushes and roll of parchment down next to her area. I also grabbed some drawing supplies, some pencils and a small sketchbook, which I also set down next to her. "Where are your paints? I can only find the ink."
"Oh, we don't have paint here. Where are you from? Earth Kingdom art is typically done with colored ink, instead of paints." She glances up at me briefly, but returns to adding a little tree along the base of the mountains. "If you wanted paints, I can special order them, but it would take a long time for them to get here."
I reel for a second, looking for an answer. I settle on the one that sounds least like a lie. "I used to make my paints out of flowers and plants back home. I've never used ink before." At least to paint. I used it to write before, and it is less forgiving to fix if you make a mistake, and the color mixes are harder.
Finally, the woman looks up, saying, "Using ink instead of paint has its pros and cons, sure. But using ink can get more detail work, more precision on your movements. It dries much quicker, and is easier to carry around than the jugs of paint. But it's hard to mix your own colors with other colors of ink. Also, if you make a mistake, you should just leave it. They're harder to fix too."
She sets down her brush carefully, looking at me. "But the most beautiful pieces can be done with ink, too. You don't have to worry about the ink bleeding into another color, because it dries so quickly. I think it's easier to get a variation of one color too, because you can just add more water to your brush to make the color lighter." She stands, moving from behind the counter and into the shelves.
She returns with a set of inks, of all the colors of the rainbow, as well as black and white. "This is the basic set of ink colors. I would suggest you use this. You should also be careful with how hard you push on the brush when painting. A light hand is always the best with using ink, I think."
She adds everything up and carefully packages it into my basket for me. "If you run out of a particular color before the others, you can always return. We sell individual ink bottles, too. We also have some colors that aren't included in this set. We've been experimenting ourselves with adding different pigments to ink, to get a variety of colors."
She smiles, accepting my gold coins and handing me my change. Before I leave, she returns back to her own painting. I watch her, from the door, my hand on the knob. She paints with ease, adding her dots of color and building up her little mountain village. I smile, leaving the shop. I'm excited to try this new way of painting.
When Iroh and Zuko return from their day at the shop, I have already made a mess of an apron I bought in the Lower Ring on the way home. My hands are covered in different colors of ink. Iroh laughs at the look of me, and I can see a little smile on Zuko's face as he glances at what I'm drawing.
Does he recognize the place? He mentioned going to all the air temples in search of Aang before we met, so does he recognize the spires of the Eastern Air Temple, the bridges connecting each island? The gold and blue capping each tower?
I see a hint of recognition in his face. He nods at me.
Iroh says, "It looks very good, Amrita. Maybe you should add the fog around the bottom, since it is mountainous at that temple?"