Review. Faster updates for this and other stories if this and other stories get more reviews. Would love to see art work of this or any of my other work. Faster reviews for my other less popular stories means that more updates at a faster pace. Or just more stories like this one.
Also any requests in reviews will probably be ignored.
Also just to be clear. I do not do pedophilia, all characters are aged up in this stuff or aged down depending on the character, no loli, no yaoi, no shota, I don't do watersports (Shit/Piss/fart fetish shit)I don't do stuff like vore or entire bodies getting shoved into places (Shrink play) I don't do blood play or torture (Ball/cock crushing etc) or certain old people, (Yes I am a fucking hypocrite) . Also if you ask for something in reviews that normally means I won't do it. So anyone who asks for that will be disappointed. If you have questions/requests/suggestions PM me instead.
Also have an ao3 account under the same name. and same titles.
Small stones, pebbles, grit really, kicked down over the small stone steps. There were small worn indents from the thousands of feet that had been walking up and down these steps for decades and centuries. The two men had their arms around each other. The night was deep and dark and the stars shone like unblinking eyes in a dense jungle.
"If the oceans were whiskey!" Sang out one monk, his arm thrown over his lover's shoulders. The other monk was grinning and tapped the broader man's belly affectionately.
"And I were a slug!" The thinner man said. His nose wrinkling in delight. The two gave each other a quick peck to the lips and nuzzled each other's noses. After all the reunion celebration only came once every few years. They had to enjoy life while it was swirling all around each other.
"We'd dive to the bottom and give it a glug!" They howled out and fell laughing onto a small stone bench. As drunk as skunk apes and twice as handsy. They sat and pressed their lips together again. Their mustaches white, their hearts full. Their pupil had arrived the other day, she was pregnant. And while Air Nomads did not know their children or grandchildren, it was still wonderful to see how far she had grown.
"I would much rather give you a kiss then a glug." The kind eyed monk said. He leaned forward and did so. The shorter one chuckled and replied in kind. A crunch came from near the edge. The larger monk turned with a frown.
"Now what was that?"
"The wind love. Just the wind."
"It didn't sound like any wind I've heard." The broader man stood and walked towards the edge of the cliff. His companion rolled his eyes and smiled cheekily.
"We are on the top of the world. It is impossible for anything to get up here. Except lemurs, air bison and us. You are being silly."
"By the spirits I heard something." The broader monk glanced over the edge in confusion. His eyes grew wide. The drunkenness pumped from his body in a moment. He turned, fear in his eyes.
"RUN!" A blast of fire came and hit him in the back of the head. The bright red comet in the sky shined brightly down on the two lovers. And the slaughter of the Air Nomad temples began.
Mikyo turned down one corridor. Down another. His breath hitching in his throat. A giant blast of fire exploded out in the courtyard. One of the statues to Avatar Yangchen fell, crashing into a table overflowing with fresh fruit and flowers. Screaming came down the corridor. Mikyo stumbled and crashed to the ground. His sandals clicking on the stone floor. He got to his feet, and unsteadily turned down another corridor. Then another. Yelling, crying, screaming.
The thick scent of burnt flesh was billowing through the corridors, across the courtyards, through the halls and meditation platforms. A solider turned a corner, a stern look on his face. Mikyo instinctively turned and ran. And a billow of heat propelled him forwards. The fire clung to his robes, his arms, his sandals. With a scream he turned and hurled wind back at the man.
The fire and the air met. And the fireball grew all the larger. Mikyo turned to a window and hurled himself out of it. More fire. More smoke. More screams.
The fire buffeted around him. He landed and yanked off his robes, he rolled from side to side. Putting the fire out. He stood up, his chest heaving. He didn't know what was happening. He didn't know where his friends were.
A group of older monks ran past him. One slowed and pointed the way they had come.
"Get to the sleeping chambers! We will find you! Help who you can! Protect yourself! We are under attack!" Mikyo felt burn marks on his back, his shoulders, his arms, the back of his head. He was in pain, he was terrified, he was lost.
"Where is the Avatar?" Someone bellowed. Mikyo blinked. Aang. His Aang. Where was he?
Mikyo walked, as if he was on the clouds. His head reeling. Screaming, burning, howling, cackling here and there. He blinked and he was down a corridor. He blinked and he was up a staircase. He blinked and he was past the sleeping halls. Where the guests and the children and countless others were huddling in fear. He paused at the doorway. One of the Air Nomads was soothing a crying girl, another sobbing child holding onto her robes.
Mikyo blinked and he was past the sleeping halls. His skin was red and puckered, but it didn't hurt. His mind was beyond pain. Aang, he had to find Aang.
The Avatar was permitted a separate room. One of the many perks of being the Avatar. Aang had been moved out of the sleeping halls many years ago. But still he had permitted his friends to visit him. To read scrolls in his room. To spend evenings talking, playing, practicing music, talking all hours of the night.
Mikyo poked his head around the corner. The Air temple did not believe in doors. There was Aang's bed, a simple stone cot, the limestone would slowly wear into the shape of Aang's body. A comfortable monkey feather throw pillow was at the headboard. A small wooden writing mat. A shelf with assorted interesting trinkets Aang had found in his travels. Like feathers from unique animals, rare stones, and glorious little silks from every nation.
Soft whining came from the bed. Someone was curled up on the cot. A large soft down comforter was pulled up over the young man's head. Mikyo got onto his knees next to the bed and peeled the comforter back. Jinju's nose was wet and raw and snot was dripping down his cheek.
"Jinju. Sweetie. Where's Aang?" Mikyo asked softly. Jinju let out another moan and arched his back. The two young men flinched as another explosion came from outside of Aang's window.
"Was he here when you came?" Mikyo asked softly. Jinju shivered and bit his lip. Letting out more whines. This was getting them nowhere. Mikyo sighed and kissed Jinju's forehead.
"It's okay. Everything will be okay. Stay here. Stay quiet. I'm going to find Aang okay? I'm going to get us out of here. We are going to find Aang and get out of here." Mikyo tucked the gentle boy back into the bed.
Mikyo glanced into the corridor. He didn't know where Aang was. But he had to do something. He had to find an air bison. He had to get Jinju out of there. Aang was the Avatar. The young man would be fine. Mikyo hoped he would be fine.
The private rooms were not too far from the Air Bison pens. You just had to jump out a window, jump down a few balcony's and duck around a couple of corridors. Mikyo glanced around carefully. He would move quickly. He would move carefully. He would not be caught.
He tip toed carefully down the corridor. Air Nomads were sprinting everywhere. Most were heading towards the sleeping halls. Others were running out to meet the Fire Nation head on. Still others were running just to run. A monk pushed past Mikyo carrying enormous scrolls, each one the size of a fat infant.
Mikyo slipped out a window. He was an Air Bender. They did not believe in using simple floors and doors if they did not need to. He jumped from balcony to balcony. Moving quickly. His sore back and legs blazing at him. Begging him to stop. But he ignored it, he ignored the pain. Something terrible was happening. And he needed to save his bison. He was still a herdsman. He was one of the youngest herdsman. Which meant that he had to put as much care and effort as he could into protecting the glorious sky beasts.
He heard the screaming coming from the pens. It was not just Air Nomads screaming. He had never thought that a Air Bison could make a noise like that. Any other thoughts flew his head. Where Aang was. What was happening to his friends, his teachers, his people. Even the destruction of his home became secondary. All he could heard was the screaming from the paddocks.
The ground rumbled. And a Air Bison came barreling past him. The poor creature's teats were dragging along the ground. Her eyes were melted out of her sockets. And she was blazing like a forest fire. She plowed down one avenue. Her great shaggy head thrashing. Her tail a shredded mess of blood and glistening fat. She ran head first into a massive pole. The banner stretching between the wooden poles fluttered behind her.
Mikyo turned and sprinted all the faster. His breathing was ragged, he could not focus. If he could not focus that meant he couldn't use his Air Bending to run. He had to reach them. He had to help them. They were his responsibility.
Mikyo ran across an overlook. He could see more of the temple. More Air Nomads, some were fighting, others retreating. A few dozen were taking to the skies. On their Air Bison companions, or on their gliders. And the Fire Nation was shooting them down. Enormous fireballs, the size of streets, the size of houses, the size of forest fires, erupted into the night air. Cracking against the people of the sky. Bringing their mounts to the ground. For every one that broke through unscathed, at least five went down.
Like puttering fireflies caught in the night.
He saw a dozen Fire Nation soldiers chasing after a trio of young children. They were screaming, their robes burning as they sprinted away. One tossed her robes off, sobbing helplessly. And the soliders merely laughed and chased all the faster.
Mikyo paused, his feet dragging, his mind roaring. They were too far away. He could never make it. Besides he didn't even know those children. They were from the Western Air Temple…..Mikyo covered his mouth. One of the soldiers had grabbed a child. And cracked his head open on a wall. The girl was grabbed. And terrible inexcusable things were done to her.
Mikyo ran away. Like a coward he turned and he ran. His eyes wide. His breath breaking. He stumbled to a halt at the Air Bison paddocks. Their food troughs were overturned. Their huts were cracked open, the gates sliced in half. A few dozen fresh faced calf's were circling in the air. Letting out tiny bellows.
The babies were only about the size of a sofa. They were still too tiny to be out by themselves. And they were crooning for their mother. Mikyo ran into the paddock. A giant bull was dead in his pen. His fur still burning, a dozen Fire Nation killers dead on his horns and more scattered around. Polluting the den of the great dancers of the sky.
Mikyo tore open a familiar cupboard. The wood was scratched from years of use. The designs of the Air Bison and the Air Nomads on it were oiled with a fine nut extract. The inside smelt of leather and ivory. Mikyo searched, his fingers dancing over the many whistles stored within. He grabbed the ones he needed and ran back out. He stumbled to a halt in the middle of the landing green and brought it to his lips.
The offspring stopped their circling and began to land. A few had burn marks on them. One was blind and was shaking his shaggy head in confusion.
"It's going to be alright. It is going to be fine." Mikyo said as he rubbed enormous heads. He looked around, he tried to recall his training. His purpose. Everything that had been imparted upon him ever since he started. He found the largest one. He mounted it. He grabbed a horn.
"Yip yip!" He shouted and squeezed the sides. The tiny creature took them to the air. Shivering under the strain of carrying a young man. Mikyo kept his head low. A dozen long leather strings held in his hand. He went through them. He found the one that imitated a father bull bellowing danger. He blew into it and began to lean. Yanking the youngster's head.
The calf let out a bleep of distaste. But followed instructions properly enough.
Then the fire balls began to blast up at them. Three of the babies were hit. They tumbled with terrified roars. Their formation broke, the herd split apart. Some flying higher and higher. Other's shooting off. Still others turned back to the paddocks. Screaming for their parents that would not come.
Mikyo yelled and blew whistle after whistle. Yanking his small creature's head one way then another. Trying to gather the frightened creatures together. Trying to keep them from being picked off like carrots in a sack. He hovered, his eyes widening.
Below him his home was burning. His people were dying. He could see dozens attempting to fly. He spotted old masters defending children. He saw a woman being held down and her robes torn off. A air nomad had a collar around his neck, he attempted to take to the sky and was torn back to the ground.
Dolma was running across the green playing fields. The air ball field that she so often begged to play on. She'd wanted to play that game with them so often, and they had now and again. But never as seriously as she begged for. Two soldiers were running beside her. Their sharp helmets glowing orange in the flickering night fires.
Dolma had her massive scroll on her back. She whipped out her glider, ran and jumped. Not even hesitating. The two soldiers didn't pause. One whipped out a glider as well. The shorter one, a woman maybe, got onto the taller ones back. And they dove after her. Dolma spun through the air. Wavering under her large burden. The culture of their tribe was on her back.
She flew quickly. And an arrow punched into her back. She screamed all the way down. Her scroll unrolling as she fell. The two soldiers that had been tailing her flew on. Mikyo let out a scream, one he hadn't even felt in his stomach. He angled his mount and dove towards the forest floor. He had to find her. He had to save her. He had to do something!
A massive fireball came from the side of the cliffs and hit the calf in the stomach. The poor little animal bellowed and slammed against the mountain side. Mikyo tried to hold on, but his fingers slipped. And he parted.
He saw the big brown eyes of the poor animal. And then it dropped into the darkness.
The pecking at his cheek woke him up. Mikyo waved the hummingbird bat off of him. He lifted his aching head and looked around. The small shelf of rock jutted out at an odd angle. He had slid right into it. He shifted carefully. His legs were hanging off the edge. His hands were behind him and asleep. The burn marks throbbed with pain.
Mikyo slowly sat up and winced. Tears came from his eyes. He was dehydrated. He peeked over the edge of the shelf. He got woozy and leaned back. He fainted dead away.
He woke up two days later. To that infernal bat bird pecking at his legs this time. Trying to siphon some of his blood. He awkwardly got into a crouching position. His arms and legs burning throbbing pins and needles. He sat in a meditative stance. Collecting his thoughts. Collecting his emotions.
"My body is temporary. Eventually my spirit will return to the cycle. My emotions will return to the dreaming. My body is not my own. My body is on loan. My body is temporary." He spoke the mantra over and over again and then finally moved.
He half clambered and half flew up the cliff. He found his first corpse halfway up. A young man with his head nearly entirely detached Just hanging on by a few thin sinews of meat. The orange robes were next. Fluttering in the breeze, like abandoned flags to some long done battle.
The smell of blood and charred meat met him when he got over the lip of the cliff. The first couple he found were cuddled on a bench. They had been burnt black. Their skeletons embracing. Comforting each other. Their robes had been fused to the bones.
He found scratch marks across the ground. A fingernail in the deep grooves. Where his people had been dragged and flung from the cliffs. He took a deep breath. The bodies were scattered around. The warriors, the battle monks, the few defenders, they were in various states of destruction.
He found the sleeping halls. And the rest of them inside. He did not weep. He was too shocked to weep. His burns throbbed. He absentmindedly walked to the infirmary for bandages and salve. Half hoping to find a nurse there to heal him. The great temple was deathly silent. And the medicine had been smashed open and smeared across the walls.
Mikyo blinked softly. He took a broom from the corner of the room. Somehow this one instrument had escaped destruction. He began to sweep the broken pottery into a pile. He moved from room to room. Hour by hour clicked along. He did not sleep. Day by day he found more.
The fat chef and his bungling assistant were in the pantry. Along with some elderly who were half shielded by them. The head of the bison herders was sprawled across some stairs. Shot in the back by a blackened harsh fireball. The council of Elders were spread through the rooms, some holding charred scrolls. Others shielding children. The sleeping halls were the worst. What had once been slumber was now a tomb.
Mikyo walked through the ruined fields and gardens. The plants had been yanked up. The orchards burnt to their roots. Topsoil was floating like ash in the air. The tube vegetables had been baked in their hidden groves. The berries popped. Everything trampled, burnt, destroyed.
And all he could do was sweep. At times he would pause and blow the bison whistle. Eyes closed. Listening. Hoping. Desperate for a response. But none came.
He moved the first body on the first day. It was as complete as he could hope for. He gathered her up, she was a little girl. And she had been hurt beyond anything decent in war. He took her to the giving place. The highest cliff. It overlooked the entire temple.
Mikyo was not a priest, he did not know the intricaticies of their burial customs. But he knew this much. You took them to the highest cliff. And you let the winds and the animals have them. So he did so. First with her. Then with the lovers on the bench. Then with the chefs, the elderly, the children. He moved room to room. Scooping, lifting, numb, shocked, terrified. Drifting far beyond his body.
He found Aang's room empty. He couldn't even find Jinju's corpse. The poor boy must have gotten scared and ran. Or, and this destressed Mikyo even more, he had been mistaken for Aang and taken. He tried not to think about that. Of the sweet natured boy being taken by them, for who knows what.
When the sun went down and he had to stop he had cleaned out a single section. Mostly around the air ball fields. He finally collapsed and slept for two days. The pattering of rain and the screeching of carrion animals woke him up.
The giving place was filled with their black wings and sharp beaks and clever paws. Digging and yanking. Beaks slick with gore. Tongues flashing out eagerly over this feast. Mikyo gathered more of his people.
He only stopped when he realized there was not enough room for them all.
Many moons later Mikyo wandered through the next temple. The scene was the same. The few stragglers who had been closing up before attending the reunion celebration had been dealt with quickly. Like sweeping up insect carcasses. He had found very few corpses to leave for the animals.
But the food stores were empty. The scrolls were pillaged. And even the rare minerals, the few scraps of jewels and gold and silver had been torn from their spaces. Mikyo had been to all of the temples. This was all he had found. No survivors. No Air Bison. Not even a lemur. Even the food had been spoiled.
He had found the remains of the Fire Nation though. Their helmets and arrows. Their chains and collars. Their burns and their fires. Some left to dance on the remains of his homes.
Mikyo's hands and arms ached with pain. His legs throbbed with it. His back and head were covered in burns and tiny cuts that refused to heal. And still he had not found another Air Nomad. Or Air Bison.
"I know you're out there." He mumbled. He left to find them. He never did.
Many moons later Mikyo stumbled through one of the many villages in the Earth Kingdom's. The Earth Kingdom's were vast, some twice the size of the Air Nomad's mountains. He walked with a brown robe, hood up, gloves on his hands. His glider disguised as a walking stick. He could cover more ground if he flew. But this way was safer. After being shot at a dozen times in as many days, he needed to blend in better. So he did. Or he tried to.
Head down. Trudging. And listening. Always listening. He was not sure how long he walked. Or how little he slept. But he went from kingdom to kingdom. Searching high and low. Blowing his whistles. Checking the places where his bison could be. His scars never stopped aching. The ache had settled into his bones at this point. Every move brought a fresh twinge of pain across his back, his shoulders, his arms. And still he searched. And still he walked.
He had been in the desert for three days before he realized he had no water. He had been flying for a week at that time. The whistle firmly in his mouth. He would let out a call every few minutes. Waiting for a response.
His glider went in increasingly smaller circles. He had chased every rumor. Followed every lead. Talked to anyone who would dare to talk to him. The war rumbling on the coast had made everyone hesitant. The Fire Nation was attacking the smaller trader nations along the borders of the ocean.
They were attacking the smallest weakest ones. Overwhelming them, conscripting their men, imprisoning their benders, doing terrible things to the women and children. The other Earth Kingdom's were on edge. Many were sending troops to the capitol. Growing and strengthening the walls of Ba Sing Se. Many others were rushing to their own borders. And still others were acting as if nothing was going wrong at all.
Mikyo didn't know what was acting the most foolish. All he did know was that they had to put aside their differences and fight the Fire Nation. That was the Earth Kingdom's destiny though. His was this. Finding his bison. Reclaiming his herd.
It wasn't possible that they were all dead right? It couldn't be possible for all of his bison to have been slaughtered. They were as timeless as the clouds and the star. They were as invincible as the wind and the sea. The air bison's could not be dead and gone. His bison could not be dead and gone. If there was even a sliver of a chance one was alive, then it was his duty to find it.
Thus the desert. Where he had heard a rumor that one had been sighted. And that it had looked ill, but alive. Mikyo rubbed his dry tongue across his dryer gums. It was like rubbing a stone across a dry creek bed. His eyes were unfocused. His nostrils were white and stiff from flying for so long. The wind was thin here, and reed like. It whipped insistently at his face. Stinging him, he'd never thought that the winds could harm a Air Bender….
He woke up in a sand dune. The sun beating down on him. His lips were split and blood was pooling down them. He was hotter then a furnace. And he was confused. His brain was fried, his throat was parched. He blinked softly and slowly.
When was the last time had had slept? Really had the unworried sleep of a homeward journey? When was the last time he had eaten? Something thick and nourishing, not just scavenged nuts and berries. When was the last time he had felt calm? And not this burning dread that slowly curled his insides into so much blackened charcoal.
Two hooded figures rose on either side of him. He blinked, sand trickled down his eyelashes. The duo cocked their heads at him. He put the whistle to his lips and blew on it. Pitifully, but he would say that was his final act. Calling his herd.
The scent of a bubbling stew filled the small tent. It was a circular tent made up of a thin golden cotton. Mikyo was sitting up on his bedroll. His hands curling and uncurling. Little tornados danced between his fingers. The bubbling soup pot made his mouth water.
"More water?" He asked carefully. His eyes darted to the water skin hanging on her hip. She frowned and shook one long fingernail warningly at the young man.
"You've had most of your morning ration. If we give you anymore you will just get sick. Too little water out here means death. But so does too much. You drink with moderation. And you survive." She sipped the stew and smiled. Her septum ring flashing in the fire light.
It was a small fire, a light one. One that was fueled by dried grasses and rolled charcoal. It gave off little smoke and a ton of heat. It was soothing to watch the pot boil.
Still Mikyo sat as far away from the fire as he could get. His burns still ached, even with all of the salves and creams that the sand benders had smeared across his limbs. They had found him when he had gone down. They'd known he was in the desert far before he'd known they were there.
They had been following him for a good amount of time. Always keeping an eye on the Air Nomad. Wondering when he would ever come down from the thermals. They'd heard the rumbling from the coast as well. Even all the way out here, they knew that a war was brewing.
He had been accepted into the tribes good graces. Not a full member, but a curiosity. Something to help, something to pity, and something to eventually take advantage of.
Hinan poured a heaping pile from her pot into a collapsable wooden bowl. She walked with quick steps to Mikyo and sat beside him. Her septum chain clinked a little. The chain stretched from her ear to her nose. The chain was small and sensible. But still lovely.
She handed the bowl to Mikyo who took it gratefully. He paused, his scoop halfway up to his mouth. His stomach grumbled, and his mind roiled in protest.
"You can't just live off of thin broth and unrisen bread. Eat eat. You're skin and bones." She said critically. His lips tightened and he stared at the cubes floating in the thick red broth.
"This is…meat?" He said as deliciately as possible.
"Iguana beetle with thick slabs of wolfberry root. And a healthy helping of Jojoba mixed in." Mikyo stared at the soup. His people forbade meat. It was terrible to take the life of another creature. All spirits were the same. All spirits were sacred. Animals killed for nutrients. Animals killed for another animals meat. But Air Nomads, as humans, had other choices. Thus they chose nuts, vegetables, greens, tubers, fruits, grains. But Mikyo….He didn't have a choice.
He scooped up a chunk and shoved it between his lips. His eyes closed and he chewed. He tried not to think about what Aang would say. What Tyleer and Gyatso and all the rest would think. He finished the bowl. Then another. Then he got a drink of water. Then he slept again.
The raiders were a dozen yards out. Slowly inching their way towards the camp. The tribe was loosely grouped around the oasis. Refilling their water skins. They left enough for the beasts of the desert. They left enough for the weary traveller. That was the secret of the great desert. You don't take more then you need. And always leave a little extra.
A child ran to a date tree and clambered for the sweetest at the top. The lead raider held his hand up, made a fist and then began to creep forward. The large shadow that went over his body caught his attention. He spun around and looked up in shock.
Mikyo spun overhead again. Before dropping straight down with a bellow. His feet hitting the rival bender squarely in the small of the back. The surrounding desert erupted as the rest of the tribe exploded from their hiding spots. And thus the raiders became the raided. The battle was brief. The people of the sands did not waste time or movements. As quick as the battle began it was over.
The corpses of the slain were stripped of their clothing. Their weapons. Their food and water. Their bodies were dragged to the dunes. Sand Benders moved forward and began to shape a hole for the corpses. They would be left to mummify in the sand and sun. It was just the way of the people.
Hinan's father proudly displayed a large ornamental dagger he had taken from one of the raiders. The gold would fetch a fair price at the markets. Hinan's brother Rafini and his husband Ag were reenacting the battle, embellishing little moments. Flat out making up others. Rafini raised his hand to Mikyo as the Air Nomad walked past. Mikyo's hair was long, almost to his shoulders now. A dark black, it contrasted oddly with the tribes lighter brown.
Mikyo found himself sitting next to Hinan. She cleaned her blade and put it back in her sheath. The warriors were whoever could fight. More often that was the men, but if a woman was a Sand Bender or showed proper courage in battle she could be brought into the fold. And Hinan definitely belonged as a warrior.
She shared a small dried fig with Mikyo. He smiled as he took it. She looked lovely with the sun blowing down on her. Ag switched from the story of the battle to the story of how they'd stumbled upon Mikyo. How Hinan has seen him go down. How she was the one who carried him back. How she'd personally nursed him back to health and saved him from the sun madness.
Mikyo had heard the story before. But still it was a pleasant story to hear. So he didn't mind. The Sand Benders exchanged stories as quickly as the Water Tribes exchanged songs. Or the Air Nomads their celebrations. It reminded him of his people.
Mikyo took a swig from his water skin and handed it to her. She took it with both hands in shock. She blushed, tucking a piece of brown hair behind her small nut like ear. She took a dainty sip and smiled a little. Sneaking little glances at his face.
"What's with that look?" Mikyo said in confusion. Rafini had noticed the interaction and jauntily walked over. He flopped down next to the two of them with a wide grin on his face. Hinan's smile turned into a blushing frown immediately.
"Mikyo my lad! I didn't know you cared so much for our little desert lily here!" Rafini let out a laugh as Hinan shooed her older brother away.
"Shut up Rafini! He doesn't know!"
"I don't know what?" Mikyo said in confusion. Rafini wiggled his eyebrows and mimed unhitching a chain from one ear and passing it to the other.
"Do you think it will happen in the spring? Or will he insist that it be done in the air? I must say a mid air one sounds like fun."
"He doesn't know what he was doing! He was just being nice!" She said with her blush getting all the deeper and cuter.
"But you knew, and you sipped all the same." Rafini poked at her nose. She nearly bit his finger in irritation.
"Is that true?" Hinan's father called from where he was listening. The rest of the tribe had gone silent and were watching now. Mikyo stood up and looked around in distress.
"I'm sorry, did I do something wrong?" He said starting to get panicked.
"No it's…It's just…" She bit her lip and stared up at him. "Offering another person water from your water skin after a battle….It's considered a marriage proposal….and drinking from it is….accepting." Mikyo blinked, blushed, realized, flapped his mouth and then what came out was—
"Well do you accept?"
The two of them stood in their tent. THEIR tent, it had been a gift from his new in laws. The material was thin, breathable, and kept the sun and sand out. And most of all it was theirs. His earring felt strange and heavy. His septum piercing was made out of fine silver. It pulled down on his nose. He could not help but stare at her in amazement.
The young woman stood before him. Nude. The silks and down pillows behind her were a deep purple, with green and brown ones tossed in as well. The party still raged on behind their thin walls. But the newlyweds were just far enough away that no one could hear them.
Hinan had her arm crossed over her beautiful bare breasts. Her thin kissable shoulders were dark from the sun. Her hair was still thick and clanging with the multiple bangles and bells that had been weaved into it for the ceremony. Her chain cut her face in two.
She smiled softly, her thick lips were graced with a light green from cactus juice. The scent of mustard seeds and roses came from the perfume she wore. And also a deeper smell, a more womanly scent. The scent of sand and sun, the scent of sweat and hard work. Her fingers had little cuts and nicks in them. From the weapons she sharpened and the wood she shaped.
Mikyo's ceremonial wraps were folded neatly by the entrance to the tent. He had tied the knot tightly. He gulped, the flavor of the wine still danced richly on his tongue. His eyes embraced her. Loved every inch of her. Loved her more then he had ever loved her before.
"We don't need to do anything you don't want to. I was raised to respect my lovers rights. We can wait. We can do it tomorrow. We can do it never even. We can also do it right now if you—" He was interrupted when she ran across the tent and tackled him.
The shorter man stumbled backwards. His hands cradling her ass. It was not the size of a pumpkin. It was a full on pumpkin patch. He loved that about Earth Kingdom women. How full figured and big bottomed they were. It was like a continent wide constant. Mikyo chuckled as he spun. His feet tip toeing off the ground in delight. The sand shifting beneath the thick rugs that they had been gifted.
"I've been waiting for this ever since I found your cute ass in the sands. I am riding you until one of us breaks." She half chuckled half growled. Mikyo yelped as they plopped onto the pillows. His hands resting on her soft hips.
"I was half dead with sun exhaustion. I was burnt beyond belief and covered in sores. Did that seriously turn you on?" He said. She gripped his short hair. He did not have a good way to shave it, so he wore it short. His bright blue arrow still stuck out firmly over his forehead.
She leaned forwards and gave his arrow a loving kiss.
"I'm a bit of a love freak. What can I say. I love to nurse sickly things back to health." She gave his nose a kiss. Then his neck. Leaving a hickey behind. Just to make him squirm and squeeze her butt cheeks all the harder. She moaned and tossed her head in delight.
"Oh yesssss." She hissed. His erection was tenting his pants. She smirked wickedly. Knowing that she was doing this to him. That she was turning him on. It was a glorious feeling. Knowing that your husband found you irresistible.
"Can I see? Are the rumors true?" She asked breathlessly. Mikyo rolled his eyes and dropped his pants. Tossing them to the wall with a flick of his ankle. She stared down. Jaw slack, eyes wide, mouth watering in anticipation. At first she was at a loss for words. A minute tip toed past. And she was still at a loss.
"Hinan? Sweetie?" He prompted.
"Whoa….uh….yeah…no I'm just wrapping my mind around….whoa." She reached down and wrapped her hand around it in amazement. Her fingers just barely touched, the tips briefly flicked together. His cock tip spasmed in delight.
"Whoa….Yeah the rumors are totally true then. I'm just…" She let out a huff of amazement. "I'm not entirely sure where to start."
"So let me start." He took her fingers in his and pulled her upwards. "No true Air Nomad gets delight first. Let me give it to you."
She gulped, blushing and wet. She felt her thighs rub together.
"A gentleman and a powerful bender. I just hit the fucking jackpot." She chuckled. He laughed back and gave her a quick kiss to the lips, the neck, the tits, one nipple then the other, then he wrapped his hands around her hips. His fingers sinking into the fat there. She bit her thumb and squirmed, her hair jingling and jangling adorably as he spread her thighs. She was already wet. And his tongue just made her all the damper.
His nose nuzzled her pubic hair. His eyes closed. His breath hitched. He had been taught how to eat cunt, and how to suck cock. The Air Nomads were all very open with their bodies. They taught each other that each other's bodies were some of the greatest gifts that the spirits had ever given mankind. And that meant you were meant to worship them. To show affection. And most importantly, to screw long, hard, and powerfully.
So that is what he did. He tasted the flower of her womanhood. He pressed his nose against her mound. His tongue darted in and out. He would glanced up at her. His eyes peeking from underneath his eyelashes. She was moaning, her toes curling, her belly tightening. Attempting to remain a little dignified as he explored her body.
His fingers played with her. Squeezing and bumping, drumming a cute little beat against her sides. He snuffled and snorted, her pussy juices rolling down his chin. He felt like he was staring into a furnace. A furnace of lust, of love, of desire. He wanted to burn in it.
"Y-Y-Y-You…Please…I want to make you feel this good." She begged. She yelped when he unceremoniously deposited his cock against her head. His balls slapped her forehead and his dick stretched way past her chin. She blinked in amazement. And then laughed. She couldn't believe that his solution was just 69ing.
She kissed the side of his shaft. The tattooed vein was pulsing. A thick throbbing stirring was pumping in his balls.
She kissed his cock head, then dragged her tongue all the way from base to tip and back again. Her moans were getting louder. He had put on the nicest cologne that he could borrow. And he had bathed every day for a week beforehand. So he tasted of himself. Of skin and water. She shivered, her toes splaying and her feet kicking. Her full thighs jiggling on either side of his ears.
Mikyo grinned and dove in with some fingers. Her hand flung out and she felt around on the floor. She finally found a bottle of wine, it was half opened. She popped the cork and awkwardly began pouring it down her face. His dick rubbed across her nose, forehead, cheeks, chin. The wine dripping down over her lips, her chin, into her mouth, down her stomach.
Mikyo snorted as he tasted the sweet thick full bodied wine. He lapped away all the thirstier. Not a single drop would be wasted. He would lick her dry if he had to.
She let out a squeal many minutes later. His cum was thick and warm and it billowed out of his cock shaft. The vertical slit almost growing as large as a coin. Depositing rope after rope of thick hot jizz down her throat. Her lips ballooned cartoonishly. She swallowed and let out an eager gasp.
"M-More! I need more!"
"I need you. I'm taking you." He spun around and they were face to face. She flinched as his dick slapped her pussy entrance. He paused in fear.
"Are you a virgin?" She bit her lower lip and looked away. He smiled happily and kissed her cheek, her earlobe, her still sticky lips.
"We will go at your pace sweetness. Just tell me when." They sat there silently. His arms holding him up. Her legs spread. His massive monstrous member pressed to her mound. She let out a sigh.
"I'm ready." He eased himself into her private darkness. His dick spreading her lips. Not fast. Not overwhelmingly. Just simple. Soft. Slow. His thrust went deep and she embraced him fully. She whined and arched her back. Her nose wrinkling.
The soft regular plap plap plap of skin on skin filled the tent. He kissed her again and again. His hands resting on her shoulders. His fingers darted up her sides. His nails left half moons on her hips and thighs. His teeth bit her neck, pulling and yanking. Her nipples hardened and she embraced him.
Mikyo thrust and thrust. He gasped and then pressed his lips into a pillow. An image came to him. Of someone who had once embraced him much the same way.
"Aang!" He mumbled into the pillow. Muffling it just enough. Muffling it so that she only heard AAgg! Hinan shivered and arched her back. Their orgasm was soft and gentle and shared. His seed seeped deep inside of her. And the married couple rolled over and snuggled.
Hinan's chain stretched from her nose to her right ear. As was customary for a married mother. Unmarried children had the chain from left ear to nostril. And married men could go without the chain and earrings altogether. But many married men chose to keep the septum piercing and the earring out of deference towards their spouse.
The chain that Hinan wore was from fine white gold. The kind only found in the foothills deeper towards the Earth Kingdom's. Specifically the Earth Kingdom that housed the Air Temple. She did that out of deference towards her spouse.
The baby in her stomach kicked. He was eager to be out and see the world. And Hinan was eager to stop looking like she had swallowed a small crocodile whale. She was seated in the shade sharpening some of the blades on the smaller sand sleds. Mikyo was out in the sun with their older son. The two were fiddling with the newest idea that Mikyo was working on.
"Alright now try it." He said. Their boy got onto the center of the large sled. It could easily hold twenty full grown men and their supplies. But you only needed one Sand Bender to make it move.
Their boy stuck out his tongue. He focused, his fingers splayed, and the sand began to bulge beneath the large wooden sled. It moved forward a few inches. Then a few more. Soon it was bobbing up and down the dunes. The sand beneath bulging upwards like waves. The little boy looked like a flea on a birds back. Just bopping along. The sled took sharp turns, intricate moves and little bouncing leaps.
"Now with the sail!" Mikyo shouted out. The little boy changed his stance. He pulled a rope that was near his head. A pole popped up on either side of the sled, thin cotton sails dribbled downwards. And tightened and began to flap. Their son changed his stance and began to wave his arms. Not like a Sand Bender, or like an Earth Bender. The sand began to pick up, then was swept forward, like it was being propelled by a mini sandstorm.
Hinan frowned as she watched.
"It won't turn as rapidly. And the sand will bounce back into his face."
"Yeah but you can go further and much faster. Plus imagine if you mixed the two." Mikyo said with a grin. He went into the tent and pulled out a bottle. The rope surrounding the delicate glass was frayed. The red interior sloshed a bit.
"I see this as a complete win. Some wine to celebrate?" Hinan frowned as he took a long slug of the thick heavy berries. She took a more reasonable sip. After all liquid was to be used sparingly.
"You haven't had a sip until today. Were you waiting for this?" She said gesturing to his little invention as it bounced over the dunes. His son waving at his parents. Mikyo smiled in delight and finished the bottle.
"I'm sure that your brother will have a few thoughts. As will your father. But I am also positive that it will improve transportation. Can you imagine how fast we could go in those sleds after this? It would be like….well it would be almost like flying." He stared wistfully upwards towards the clouds. Hinan frowned and stared at the bottle.
"You promised me you weren't going to get more alcohol at the markets." Mikyo frowned and gripped the bottle all the tighter.
"Yes well. I say a lot of things."
"You aren't yourself when you drink." He didn't respond. He just took a sip. His shoulder's slumping. He would not admit it to her. But often he did not want to feel like himself. His arms blazed in pain. The burns on them always ached when he was ashamed.
A few droplets touched his face. Then a few more. Then a few more still. Then the kick to his side fully woke him up. Mikyo sat up and grumbled. Rubbing at his face, the wind was starting to pick up. And the sand was gritty and getting into his teeth. He scowled upwards at his inlaw.
"What?" He snapped. His head was killing him. He hadn't had any water or food in three days. Only wine and whiskey. His thin arms felt weak as reeds. He snorted and rubbed at his face again. His blue arrow tattoo was fading, thick tan lines masked his eyes and burnt at his forehead. Rafini pushed a folded wooden glider against Mikyo's chest.
"As the head of the tribe and the brother to Hinan I hereby renounce your status. You are no longer our brother. You are taboo. You are outcast. You are formally kicked to the side. You shall find no sanctuary from our people. You will be given no water from our springs. You shall have no freedom in our lands." Mikyo blinked a few times. Trying to make sense of what he was hearing.
"What?" He stumbled to his feet. His head swam. He was clad only in white pants. His tent was nowhere to be seen. Nor was the tribe. It was just empty desert in all directions.
"You have broken a tribal taboo. You have struck your spouse. Repeatedly. You have made a mockery of your family name. You have made a mockery of my family. We took you in, cared for you. And now we banish you." Mikyo blinked and took a step forward. His guts churning. He noticed the white in Rafini's hair, the lines around his mouth.
The time had snuck up on him. And now they were grown.
"My friend. My brother. My leader. Please there must be some mistake. Hinan and I are just going through a rough patch. We will make up and I will apologize. We always do." Rafini frowned and tossed a small bag at Mikyo's feet.
"There is a days worth of food and water in there. You have a two day flight ahead of you. If you move fast. Go west and you will meet up with the other Earth Kingdoms. You are not welcome here anymore." Mikyo got to his knees and opened the small leather satchel. Some dried lizard rabbit meat, a small water skin, his bison whistles.
Rafini tossed the glider down beside the kneeling Air Nomad. Mikyo looked up in pain.
"Please…I….I didn't mean it. The drink. It was the drink that did it. I have no one to turn to. No home to return to. Please….I am a nomad with no people." Rafini shook his head in disgust.
"And you are not welcome with my people either. Goodbye Mikyo. I am sorry that it had to end this way." Mikyo blinked and stared at the sand dunes. Rafini walked towards them. His mask pulled up, protecting him from the noonday heat. Mikyo squinted. He saw movement on the crest of a dune. A woman was staring at him. Watching him, waiting for him to leave.
He closed his eyes in shame and turned from Hinan. From her blackened eyes and split lip. From the bruises he had left on her upper arm. He hadn't meant to. He hand't wanted to. But it was the drink. The drink had gotten into him. The drink numbed the pain. The drink smoothed his aches. The drink salved his burn scars. The drink exorcised the screaming Air Nomads from his mind. The drink drowned the bellows of the Air Bison.
Mikyo did not fly away. He trudged. Head lowered in shame. Hinan stared after him until he was a speck on the dunes. Only then did she turn and rejoin her sons and her tribe.
The bustling Earth Kingdom village was full of merchants. Traders. Soldiers from both sides of the war. People were arguing. Bartering. Buying thick slabs of meat that steamed over sweetened rice.
A gaggle of children ran past. Flying small kites on string. Mikyo's heart ached as he watched them. They looked so much like the Air Nomad's of old. When they went to celebrate certain festivities they would fly stringless kites.
He trudged barefoot along the muddy side streets. Keeping his hood up and his head lowered. His gloves were filthy with use. His breath stunk of sour grapes and bad teeth. He looked into a store front window wistfully. There was a gorgeous green wine that would put him to sleep right away. But it was too expensive. He reached into his pocket and found it still empty. He'd spent the last of what he'd beggared for days ago.
His stomach growled and his throat ached. And the bison were bellowing again. He paused by another shop. This one had cheaper bottles for sale. He licked his lips. He pulled his thin tightly knit hat down further and approached the shop keeper.
The sour faced old man scowled at him. Mikyo didn't entirely blame him. Mikyo's clothes had become ratty and worn, threads streamed down his arms and legs. His hair was a matted mess, his breath was sour, and he resembled a walking skeleton. The drinking had laid waste to him.
"No money no booze." The merchant snarled out.
"Do you trade?"
"What do I want from you? That old walking stick?" Mikyo patted his tattered robes. His bare feet wiggling in the dust and mud. His heart thudded. He touched his chest and felt something there. Something small and hard.
He closed his eyes and reached under his shirt. Pulling the small whistle out by its leather string.
"What is that a whistle?"
"An authentic Air Bison Whistle. It's an antique."
"What would I want with a whistle?" The shop keeper said not budging in his disgust. Mikyo paled and shrugged helplessly.
"It's all I have left." The shop keeper rubbed his chin, grinned, and grabbed a cheap bottle. The kind that curls the nose hairs and cuts years off your life expectancy.
"Fine. This for that." Mikyo knew the whistle was worth more. Especially nowadays. It had been fifty years since the genocide. And no one had seen a single Air Nomad since. A whistle like that was a collector's item. Countless rich weirdoes would love to get their hands on it. And Mikyo had just traded it for a cheap excuse to get the ache away.
Mikyo cradled the booze and walked away. The whistle was gone. And he felt a great weight settle on his shoulders. He had not seen or heard an Air Bison since leaving the temples. He had found hair, and bones, and skulls. But not a single living specimen. He had stopped blowing into the whistle a long time back.
But the whistle was so much more then just a whistle. That whistle had been his home. His people. His friends. His family. Most importantly it had been his job. He had been a herds man. His duty was to the great beasts that made their culture possible. And now he had given up his final whistle. For a cheap bottle of whiskey.
He wandered down the village street. Sipping at his shame. Eyes closing and leaning heavily against his folded glider. Not looking where he was going. And ultimately not caring either, so long as he was going somewhere else.
The old man wandered up the twisting mountain paths. His joints ached. He was not sure what year it was. He was not sure how old he was. He had stopped counting long ago. The drinking had bent him. The booze had destroyed his insides. His eyesight was failing. He coughed up some snot and blood and spat to the side.
His glider clicked beside him. His bare feet stumbled over the stones. His hair was long, gray, greasy. He had fleas and scabs. A grasshopper fly bounced past his head. His hand snatched out and grabbed it. He popped the still buzzing bug into his mouth and chewed. Ignoring the crunchy squishy feeling. Food was food. Be it meat or wild grass. He'd eaten much worse then some bug.
He paused and stared at the icy mountain tops. He had not been to a single Air Temple in decades. He wandered, he slept on city streets or in hidden roadways. The war raged far off somewhere. He did not know. He kept to himself, and the world left him to rot. He was only moving to move. To keep the sorrow at bay.
He took a deep breath of the fresh mountain air. He loved the mountains. The bracing winds. The howl of the air flowing across the craggy peaks. The great shuffling of the clouds. He paused and took a deeper breath. That smell….That familiar smell.
His eyes popped open and he listened. Faintly, on the wind, he heard it. A monastery horn. They were deep sounding things. The kind that rattled your chest. The sort that carried for miles. But at such a low frequency that you had to strain to hear.
And the smell. It smelt like pie. Like the food of his youth.
"Please….oh please…." He mumbled. His stumbling turned into a jog. His nose and ears opened to the limit. He paused and turned his head one way and then the other. He took a stance and launched himself from boulder to boulder. His hands scrambling. His heart beating hard enough to hurt.
"Please….I don't want to be alone. Please….Let there be just one more…" He didn't know who he pleaded to. The spirits, the winds, the memories of his friends. He was lonely. So very insanely lonely.
The cave was a small thing. Hidden between two boulders. But the rumbling was definitely coming from inside. He could feel the thrumming in his chest. He took a deep breath. He walked slowly along the side of the mountain. Approaching the small sliver of a cavern from the side. He swung himself across the thin lip of stone and entered the cave.
The scent of cooking danced across his nostrils. A boiling cauldron stood over a bright friendly fire. Large orange tapestries draped with spirit beads hung on the walls. A thick meditation rug sat on the floor. He blinked, and for a moment he was home. Back in the Air Temples. The rug might be threadbare, the tapestries old, the beads a little smudged. But this was home. He had to be home….
A clattering came from behind a curtain. The cave was deeper then he'd thought. The curtain shimmied a little. Mikyo walked forward, his glider held loosely in one hand. His shoulders relaxed. He found himself smiling.
"Hello? Is that you? It's alright….I'm part of the people. I am an Air Bender too." He said carefully. His smile was twitching nervously on his lips. It was too good to be true right? It had to be true though right?
The curtain parted and a quartet of Fire Nation soldiers stepped out. Two held a net between them. Another held a sword uncertainly in his hand. The other strode forward with the arrogance of an experienced Fire Bender.
"No…."Mikyo whispered. A trap. After all this time. And it was just a trap.
"Yes. Now come with us quietly and we will make it all quick." The bender said with a grin. Their beetle like helmets flashed in the fire light. Their sharp shouldered armor scraped at the walls.
Mikyo closed his eyes. Sucked in his lips. Shook his head. And then glared.
Screams came from the cave. A few fire balls flew out. The crashing and banging of metal on metal. The loud clunk as a chunk of wood broke a mans neck. The small hidden cave heard more and more crashes. And then finally it was still. Still and silent.
Mikyo stumbled out of the cave. He touched the knife in his side. It was buried in to the hilt. He did not stare behind him. The four corpses would stay there. Along with the destroyed Air Nomad paraphernalia. He had no use for it. Not for much longer. His glider was snapped in half and laid over the fire.
He turned towards the mountain top. If he could remember how he would have bounded up the slopes. But after what he did in that hole….He didn't feel much like Air Bending. So he climbed. He clambered slowly up the side of the mountain. His head bowed. His bare feet scrapping the loose stones. The stones tumbled down below him. Lost in the majesty of the mountain.
He wasn't sure where he had gotten that kind of Air Bending. But he had done what he could to kill those men.
"Them or me. Them or me. Them or—" He sat down heavily on a rock and slowly slid off the side. His back and hips and legs were now sticky with blood. He touched the hilt. He pulled it out. The pain caused him to black out.
He sobbed, his face buried into the dust and dirt. His legs spasming sickly. He was sick, he was old and alone and he was sick. He pursed his lips and he whistled. He tried to make it sound like the whistle he had given away all those years ago. But it was a pale imitation.
"Why do you cry?" He opened his eyes and stared all the way upwards. She was a tall woman. Her hair fell well below her ankles. She was barefoot and wrapped in a kimono as white as the stars. Blue patterns flowed down her sleeves, across her chest and stomach. Thick blue spots resembled eyes right on her shoulder blades. Her hair was in a complex swirl. A small circlet kept the hair from her eyes.
Mikyo was no fool. He might be old. He might be far from his people. But he knew a spirit when he saw one.
"I am lost and alone. I spent my entire life searching for my people, my family, my culture, and I wound up alone and scared. I am the last Air Bender. And we die when I pass on." He blinked, thick tears smudging his cheeks. He upchucked and bile flowed down his chin.
She smiled sadly at him and touched his neck.
"You who had so much, you who lost so much, you say you searched for your family. But what of the sons you left in the desert? What of the wife who you hit? What of the tribe that you abandoned? Were they not your family?"
"They were. I have forsaken my vows spirit. I have destroyed the ways of my people. I have eaten meat. I have acted shamefully. I have consumed alcohol to excess. I have harmed those nearest to me. I am a failure of an Air Bender. My people's culture died long before I have." The spirit squatted beside him. She cupped his cheek and helped him into a sitting position.
Not a drop of blood dripped on her robe. Either he was out of it to give. Or she would not permit it to fall.
"Fool that you are. You never once attempted to teach your boys. Your pride has wounded your choices. You wish to find your people. Not knowing that you carried them with you this entire time. You make your people. Forsaking your vows, breaking your taboos, removing your whistle. These are all unforgivable. Because you say they are unforgivable."
"I will not be reincarnated as an Air Nomad. Or as a person. I did not earn those fates."
"What fate have you earned?" She asked sweetly, kindly, patiently. He blinked and shook his head.
"Not this one. Not dying alone. Tell me oh spirit. Why did my people have to perish? Why make us weak creatures when the world is full of monsters. Monsters who would lay traps. Monsters who would do harm for no other reason then to do so?" The spirit chuckled at this and helped him against a stone.
"We did not make you. Humans made yourselves. And in a world of cruelty, of passion, of ingenuity and of ambition your people chose to be peaceful. Your people chose to live in harmony with the spirits. To live in harmony with each other. With your neighbors. You chose to be kind and in an unkind world that was the strongest thing you could have done." She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.
Mikyo sat with his eyes closed. He was no longer in pain. But he had to focus on his heartbeat. Just to make sure it was still there.
"Great Raava….Yes…yes it is you. Before I go into the dreaming. Before I rejoin the reincarnation cycle….I must do one final prayer. I have done so much terribleness. So much selfishness. So much cruelty. I can not take back what I did to my wife. What I did to my sons. What I have done to my enemies in that cave down there. But I can go to the next life with these words." He repositioned himself. He got onto his knees. He held his arms up, palms extended, head bowed towards the distant mountains.
"I give thanks to the four graces. My body is temporary. Eventually my spirit will return to the cycle. My emotions will return to the dreaming. My body is not my own. My body is on loan. My body is temporary. I give thanks to the eight cardinal directions. I give thanks to the animals, for this is their world and we are of them. I give thanks to the spirits for they bring me calm. I give thanks to my breath for it brings me the next day. I give thanks to the food I eat and the tea I drink, for they nourish my mind, my spirit and my mind. I give thanks to the enemies in this life, for they teach me forgiveness. I give thanks to my friends in this life, for they teach me patience. I give thanks to the trials I had to walk through. For I shall carry what I learned into the next cycle. I give thanks to my people, I carry you everywhere. I give thanks. I give thanks. I give thanks." Tears were pattering into the dust around his knees as he finished.
He opened his eyes and stared down at his kneeling corpse. He looked so old. And so small. He touched his chin, his beard was gone. He stared down at his hands. They were strong and bold again. Raava touched his broad shoulder with a kindly smile.
"Are you ready to go?" She asked. He stared down at his belt. On it were two glass containers. One was larger then the other.
"What are these?"
"Your joy, your regret, your emotions. The other your culture, your friends, your family. You must leave them both with me. I shall keep them stored safely until your friend needs them again."
"My friend?" He asked in confusion. She smiled and nodded. His eyes widened in shock.
"Aang….he lives?" She smiled and held out her hands. He struggled the two glass orbs from his hips and handed them to her. He sighed and stared at his corpse. Insects were beginning to find him. Soon the scavengers would arrive. And he would be no more then bones and scraps. As was the way.
"What would you become?" She asked him kindly. He blinked in surprise.
"I may choose?"
"You have earned that right young Mikyo. The doors are opened to you. What lessons would you learn in the next life?" He blinked softly, sadly. He touched his chest.
Mikyo blinked his great big eyes and licked his short snout. He shook his great shaggy head. His memories were fading fast. His ideas, his mind, his wife, his sons, his friends. Tyleer. Hinan, Gyatso, Rafini, Aang….Their faces were fading, like fog before the sun.
He could hear the ocean and taste the salt. A bigger creature groaned behind him. He glanced over his shoulder. For a moment his heart leapt. For he saw an Air Bison. Then the concept of Air Bison left his mind. And he knew nothing.
For he was a new born. And that was his mother. And with his siblings on their small hidden island, he took to the sky. Finally back with his people.
Review. Faster updates for this and other stories if this and other stories get more reviews. Would love to see art work of this or any of my other work. Faster reviews for my other less popular stories means that more updates at a faster pace. Or just more stories like this one.
Also any requests in reviews will probably be ignored.
Also just to be clear. I do not do pedophilia, all characters are aged up in this stuff or aged down depending on the character, no loli, no yaoi, no shota, I don't do watersports (Shit/Piss/fart fetish shit)I don't do stuff like vore or entire bodies getting shoved into places (Shrink play) I don't do blood play or torture (Ball/cock crushing etc) or certain old people, (Yes I am a fucking hypocrite) . Also if you ask for something in reviews that normally means I won't do it. So anyone who asks for that will be disappointed. If you have questions/requests/suggestions PM me instead.
Also have an ao3 account under the same name. and same titles.
Editor's Note: So once again this could easily have been three different chapters
Creeply's Note: Well maybe I will go back and expand on some of these.
Editor's Note: but not likely.
Creeply: Nope.
Editor: So to be clear. Mikyo is one of Aang's childhood friends (And also an OC in this) he was a bison herder and was in charge of them. He survived the genocide by pure dumb luck and cleaned up a few of the temples. He then spent the entirety of his life exploring for either more Air Bison or more Air Nomads. He briefly settled in the Earth Kingdom desert where he got married and fathered two sons. He got a drinking habit, beat his wife, was exiled from the tribe, his drinking habit got worse and he went back to wandering. He sold his final air bison whistle for booze. He found a cave that had Air Nomad paraphernalia and trinkets along with food and music from his youth, but it was a trap set up by the Fire Nation. He killed the few warriors there but was killed in the scuffle. He met with Raava who gave him comfort was he was dying. And he is sad because he thinks he broke all of his people's teachings. Like eating meat, being an alcoholic, hitting spouses, and taking lives. But he got reincarnated as an Air Bison anyway (Because a small breeding population has survived hidden out there in the wild somewhere.)
Creeply: That about sums it up.
Editor: And how much longer until we are back with the main cast and out of these 12K+ chapters?
Creeply: Soon. Still got maybe 4 left until we are out of the time skip.