( DIONU POV )
He hasn't got anything to do but wait.
So he thinks about his new companions for far longer than he'd like. He can't make sense of them. They're haphazard, concerned one moment, derisive the next, perpetually irritated with one another, but when it comes to what they want, they follow their agreed-upon plan almost fanatically. He remembers one of those rare investments the organisation liked to make from time to time, to get in fresh blood. Sometimes, quite literally.
He's always watched because he's not fresh. He's old blood in a way that sometimes feels like it's already rotting, even while it still flows in his veins. He'd watched Gorou grow and learn, almost in time with his own growth, but Gorou managed to do it in spite of the obstacles in his way. He wasn't offered the best tutors or given special attention. Dionu is very aware that Gorou owes the organisation nothing. And Ebisu… he's always been a turncoat. Fon does whatever Fon does.
Gorou is blunt and harsh.
It seems then explicitly odd, his choice of compatriots. The knife-girl was certainly interesting, as was the silent one. Fon was as hard to read as ever and hadn't given him any indication as to whose plans he followed – Ebisu's, Gorou's, or even his own. There was the boy, ready for action like an untrained idiot, which was why he was left behind with platitudes.
Then there is the tall one who all of them seem to revolve around. Kaito of the Northern Watertribe, the one who'd been the intellect behind the sound defeat of the Fire Navy. He was intimidating in an entirely different way than Dionu's aunt and uncle were. Everything he did, he did with his own power, and he did it well. Dionu'd never had to take on a waterbender before, and he now understood that there were very many reasons not to. He would've died instantly, if Katio were more bloodthirsty and less focussed on making a good impression.
Negotiations went in his favour. He remained independent. He gained access to the city. He gained some of the organisation's resources – with Dionu there to watch his fingers, which he now doubted would help him any if Kaito did decide to cheat somehow.
Not, that Dionu'd be able to stop him. It was very clear that Kaito, like Gorou, was a fighter beyond Dionu's calibre.
It isn't about fighting, he thinks. This is a test to see what Dionu will and can do to make use of this man's intellect and machinations to further the organisation's reach. He can already predict the destabilising effect the man will have on Ba Sing Se. And in turn, the Dai Li. Clearly, there is power to be had here, and the organisation has every intention of gaining it. Whether this is through Kaito or other means is irrelevant. Dionu will have to do his best. It does not matter what that entails. It never has.
He has never mattered beyond his subservience. He never will. He understood this a long time ago.
...
My bending isn't retuning. I have nothing to pick the locks with. My only ideas for getting water is to breathe against the moist wall and lick off the droplets.
Damn.
They might just let me die of thirst.
I might just die.
In moments like these, when alone and without a clear task set before me – of my own choosing, of course, because I hate being told what to do – it's hard to remember why dying again would be bad. After all, it could be permanent this time.
Couldn't it?
And that doubt is why I still care. Death is still as uncertain as it ever was – while being the only certainty I've ever had.
"Haven't I been over this enough?" I ask the darkness of my thoughts, "Haven't I already decided to live to the best of my ability?"
So what are you doing here? The silence whispers. You're not even really trying.
Ah.
Let's see, then, what can be done about these shackles.
Their fastenings in the wall seem a bit loose, now that I pull on them a bit.
...
I know that there are only so many things we can do for one another, while there are infinite possibilities of things to do to one another. And, usually, we practise the latter fanatically.
Realising that people are people is one thing. Realising that each person is a person is another.
And understanding that this realisation is just that, is quite another altogether. A realisation, after all, is by definition something that was not part of our subjective reality before. At least, we did not see it. In consequence, not everyone has realised.
And not everyone who has realised actually cares. And not everyone who has realised and cares has it in the forefront of their mind every time they meet a new person.
So.
It's hard to put a line beneath all this, but, there is an end to each day, a finite number of hours, and the need to secure our existence, if we haven't tired of it already. And sometimes, even if we're tired. Sometimes especially.
Changing others… no. it neither works, nor is it appreciated. Any meaningful change must be wrought by the self. When one is ready, and when one is capable of realising what there is to incorporate it into the matrix of our single, meaningful-meaningless life. It's all there for us to realise, but sometimes we cannot. We're too trapped in what we call our lives. Trapped, caged, shackled by the dream of opulence.
Which then also means that I can live my life.
That I am part of those possible realisations. But that it is not my duty to make myself known to everyone. Quite possibly, the only way to bring about meaningful change is to lead by example.
I dream big.
I have lofty goals that only part of me believes I can achieve.
And I can break out of this sloppy imprisonment without bending. The shackles have come off the wall, now it is the door that stands in my way.
But what is this… this delay good for? What does the White Lotus gain? Why use a faulty prison? A metaphor taken too far? A delay to alert people in Ba Sing Se of my plans before I arrive? What for?
...
It ends up being too easy to get back to the garden.
And there, sitting calmly, is the old man drinking tea. Gorou and Mai have sat themselves beneath separate trees, each scowling their own frustration.
How nice of them to come looking.
How clever of them to find me.
How oddly convenient.
"So the boy has found his resolve," the old man croaks and I'd like to shove my resolve up his arse, but.
"What have you done to my bending?" it comes out as more of a growl than I intend, but fuck this guy sideways, if it's irreversible, I will kill him. Messily. There are plenty of stones around. And his friend. And I will find out if he has family and-
"It is merely a drug. It will wear off with this antidote," he gestures to a small vile beside our unfinished game of Pai Sho.
I step closer, missing my sense of where everyone is in the room acutely. "Special precautions?" I manage to bite out, thinking of the sessions with Yugoda where she taught us about recovering from poisons. I ignore the slight pang in my chest at the thought of her. She's so old, she might be dead by now. Sometimes, I regret leaving the North behind. But then I'd have had to stay to face my grief.
"None," he says and picks it up to hand to me.
After drinking it, vile tasting and foul smelling, I turn to sit beside Gorou.
"Won't the boy finish our game?"
I glance at the old man whose very existence I now loathe. "Does that get me access to your Order's agents within the city, and their information?"
"The boy has already secured them," the old man draws on his tea before looking back at the board, "It is an intriguing strategy."
He probably doesn't get to play many different opponents in Tananga. What a self-important arse. What was the point of imprisoning me, then? There aren't that many chi blockers in this world, and the one who would be dangerous for me is Circus Girl, whose animosity towards me might not be gone, but I see no reason for her to want to take my bending instead of outright killing me.
I should perhaps sit down and play, secure more favours, but we're already late as it is. And I really don't want to. I have no desire to do that. I got what I came for. And that is enough. It is enough and I am beginning to think that I need a break. A break that is not like this. Not forced. Not because someone wanted to test me. No one deserves to test me. No one has the right.
Just as I don't, either.
I don't have a reward for the passing of tests I set anyway. But knowing you did well is its own reward, isn't it? But for that you need a scale, you need experience, and you need acknowledgement. And that is what so much of life is about, acknowledgement.
This whole thing smells so badly of the kind of political machinations I wouldn't want any part in. is Pakku involved somehow? Does my status as his former student reflect on him in a certain way here?
What I need to do, is move on.
"The next time we meet," I say, "I'll play." And until then, I'll have thought of an adequate means of revenge.
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