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A simple brown tunic and a matching pair of pants rested on the small bed, a green and red sash stretched out next to the clothing. Light snores filtered through the room, and the sound of boiling soup entered through the open door. Slurps, obnoxious and brash, also snuck in, ringing in the young boy's ears. His mother's soft fingers currently touched his hair gently, steam rising as she bent the wetness from his early bath away. She helped him into the brown clothing, crisp and new. It was nearly truly morning, and the sounds of deeply resonating footsteps leaving for the mines echoed underfoot. The woman in gray sleeping robes stepped out momentarily- the scent of roasting rice crackers wafting through.
Mako yawned, his mouth opening wide, approaching his brother amid a tangle of blue. He slept peacefully, cuddling a worn stuffed green platypus bear. Drool pooled from his opened mouth and a curled fist with a prominent thumb lay near it. Mako leaned forward, feeling the softness of the blue blankets and the gentle firmness of the edge of the mattress on his belly, and pressed a soft peck on Bolin's cheek.
He followed the smell of crackers, standing on his bare tiptoes before the small wire grill currently warming and crisping a wide disk crafted from pounded rice. A soft brush added a gently honeyed tone of color, salting it. Motherly fingers carefully turned the round, brushing the other side. Moments passed: seconds counted by each dance of the tiny flame. Satisfied, she extracted it from the wire and placed it in a pretty red paper, handing the burning cracker to her son.
Warnings of burnt lips and tongue rung in his ears, so he blew and smelled the cracker, salivating. She extinguished the flame and waltzed slowly to the bedroom, where she dressed in warm layers and bundled her dark hair in a scarf glistening like fresh tea leaves at sunrise. Her golden eyes peeked mysteriously from the scarf, shining when light pressed against the irises. She wrapped the sleeping Bolin in blankets of deep blue, like the tropical depths of her homeland.
The street rested: mostly sparse. Pinches of mothers alongside brown-garbed children filtered along it. Bolin stirred, waking and writhing in her tired arms. She set him feetfirst, wrapping him in his blankets, only his wide, groggy eyes and small feet erupting from blue. His small hand sought her's, and he reached for Mako's. Shifting the cracker to his other hand and taking a sharp bite- crumbs speckling his dashing uniform- Mako took his brother's hand hid it inside his palm.
Eventually, the trio reached the opened gates of a calmly constructed school, the sign bright orange. A gaggle of kindly teachers awaited their new pupils. Mako was embraced briefly by his mother, and then kissed on each cheek.
Golden eyes watered as green ones did, the brown-clad boy walking reluctantly from two thirds of the three most treasured people on earth.