Chapter Text
There are people with second skin. This is the first thing he notices. People with metal limbs, clunky and leaden, metal limbs buzzing with lightning. But it’s not lightning. They call it electricity. Some sort of energy source, almost like an element, but not quite. Back then they had lamps. Candles. How long was he asleep, he thinks. Then: where are my friends. They fall flat; he’s not asking questions. Aang doesn’t need answers.
He doesn’t see any benders - no one playing with stones, no sparks of red, no one else with blue arrows etched on their skin. People are in black - anonymous, faceless, equal. There are no Others here. That’s kind of neat, he thinks, at least people are finally getting along. He enters another nameless street.
Aang is inhaling the spirit of the city. It’s rowdy and bright and he’s never seen buildings as tall or as intricate ever in his life. Go figure. He’s twelve. He’s been twelve ever since the iceberg. He was trapped in the iceberg for - how long? The city isn’t like the Southern Air Temple or Omashu. It’s not open, friendly. It reeks. He doesn’t like the way people trace his arrows with their eyes. He doesn’t like their goggles and their machines.
His chest constricts. He balls his fists. The edges of his vision blur. This is the second time he’s been scared in his life.
(The first was when they named him the Avatar, but right now, who’s counting?)