storypaint (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
storypaint) wrote2015-02-16 09:10 am
storypaint) wrote2015-02-16 09:10 am
Entry tags:
[Avatar: The Last Airbender] alas for those that never sing (Gyatso gen)
Title: alas for those that never sing
Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Length: 354 words
Prompt: fic_promptly: A:TLA, Monk Gyatso, last stand
Pairing: Gyatso gen
Other: Themes of genocide and death.
Excerpt: A few monks are trying to organize a resistance and others have gone back to their cells to meditate and wait. There would be hours of arguments about the differing approaches, if there had been time for them, but all of them know that the time is precious.
The Fire Nation soldiers will not appreciate the pies, but Gyatso finishes baking them anyway. There are few chances left for little pleasures in life, and he will take them. Baking helps him feel better.
He hopes that Aang is somewhere safe. The boy is smart, not just because he is the Avatar, but because he listens well and learns from everything. He will come back once he realizes that running away won't solve his problems. Gyatso hopes there is a place for him to come back to. He may not still be here, but Aang will need guidance from someone.
The soldiers have been steadily making their way up the mountain for hours now and Gyatso can see the unfamiliar thick smoke rising on the horizon. He removes the pies from the oven, careful not to burn himself, but he can't resist sneaking a quick taste. It burns his mouth and makes his eyes water, but it is delicious.
The temple is a buzz of activity; monks are loading children onto bison and launching them into the sky, one after one, hoping for safety in numbers. The soldiers are firing some kind of projectiles, but for their size, bison are pretty good at dodging. Still, Gyatso can hear bison screaming and there is a horrible smell in the air.
A few monks are trying to organize a resistance and others have gone back to their cells to meditate and wait. There would be hours of arguments about the differing approaches, if there had been time for them, but all of them know that the time is precious.
There are armored feet clanking on the stairs now and Gyatso is waiting for the horned heads to rise into view. The sun is in his eyes so he steps back into the shadows of the temple so he can see better. His mind is blank and waiting. He can hear the roar of the flames, or perhaps it is the roaring in his ears.
When the first soldier appears, Gyatso sucks the breath from them, and he doesn't stop fighting until his own is gone.
Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Length: 354 words
Prompt: fic_promptly: A:TLA, Monk Gyatso, last stand
Pairing: Gyatso gen
Other: Themes of genocide and death.
Excerpt: A few monks are trying to organize a resistance and others have gone back to their cells to meditate and wait. There would be hours of arguments about the differing approaches, if there had been time for them, but all of them know that the time is precious.
The Fire Nation soldiers will not appreciate the pies, but Gyatso finishes baking them anyway. There are few chances left for little pleasures in life, and he will take them. Baking helps him feel better.
He hopes that Aang is somewhere safe. The boy is smart, not just because he is the Avatar, but because he listens well and learns from everything. He will come back once he realizes that running away won't solve his problems. Gyatso hopes there is a place for him to come back to. He may not still be here, but Aang will need guidance from someone.
The soldiers have been steadily making their way up the mountain for hours now and Gyatso can see the unfamiliar thick smoke rising on the horizon. He removes the pies from the oven, careful not to burn himself, but he can't resist sneaking a quick taste. It burns his mouth and makes his eyes water, but it is delicious.
The temple is a buzz of activity; monks are loading children onto bison and launching them into the sky, one after one, hoping for safety in numbers. The soldiers are firing some kind of projectiles, but for their size, bison are pretty good at dodging. Still, Gyatso can hear bison screaming and there is a horrible smell in the air.
A few monks are trying to organize a resistance and others have gone back to their cells to meditate and wait. There would be hours of arguments about the differing approaches, if there had been time for them, but all of them know that the time is precious.
There are armored feet clanking on the stairs now and Gyatso is waiting for the horned heads to rise into view. The sun is in his eyes so he steps back into the shadows of the temple so he can see better. His mind is blank and waiting. He can hear the roar of the flames, or perhaps it is the roaring in his ears.
When the first soldier appears, Gyatso sucks the breath from them, and he doesn't stop fighting until his own is gone.