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trans_92011-04-23 06:29 pm
found-myway.livejournal.com) wrote in trans_92011-04-23 06:29 pm
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Zuko's mind was in a whirl. He had wasted, and would unfortunately continue to waste, so much time. The Avatar was free on the ship, and although Zuko could easily find him at a moment's notice, he had no way to restrain the airbender - and even if he could, no way to deliver his prize to his father.
How had he been able to do other things? Meditate? Explore the ship? Train the peasants in arts of war that their backwards breeding would never allow them to fully comprehend? It was all of it a waste of time, made tolerable only because these small actions might help him restore his nation - and with it, his chance to get his honor back.
He needed a plan, and he didn't have one. It was driving the prince of the Fire Nation crazy.
He stalked the halls, an unfamiliar person with a familiar scar, gleaming vivid and new, his armor too heavy to be practical in the ship's warmth. The scar was much more visible now that most of Zuko's head was shaved, the remaining portion of his hair pulled back into a dramatic ponytail.
His stalking brought him to a podroom in the Media Library, where he sat down, heaving a frustrated sigh. He was without a plan, without honor, and his feet hurt. The whole situation was intolerable. As if in response to his mood, music began to issue forth, the angry words and harsh chords combining into a cacophonous noise. It was bitter with rage and disappointment. It spoke to his troubled soul.
How had he been able to do other things? Meditate? Explore the ship? Train the peasants in arts of war that their backwards breeding would never allow them to fully comprehend? It was all of it a waste of time, made tolerable only because these small actions might help him restore his nation - and with it, his chance to get his honor back.
He needed a plan, and he didn't have one. It was driving the prince of the Fire Nation crazy.
He stalked the halls, an unfamiliar person with a familiar scar, gleaming vivid and new, his armor too heavy to be practical in the ship's warmth. The scar was much more visible now that most of Zuko's head was shaved, the remaining portion of his hair pulled back into a dramatic ponytail.
His stalking brought him to a podroom in the Media Library, where he sat down, heaving a frustrated sigh. He was without a plan, without honor, and his feet hurt. The whole situation was intolerable. As if in response to his mood, music began to issue forth, the angry words and harsh chords combining into a cacophonous noise. It was bitter with rage and disappointment. It spoke to his troubled soul.