tushanshu_logs | March catch-all [open]

With a thoughtful nod, Septimus considers how to proceed. It's certainly interesting, the differences between their worlds and lives.

"I don't remember a time I didn't know what rested on me," he says finally. "I didn't understand it until later, of course--it was just something I got called sometimes. And that I'd gathered one day I would be doing my father's job. Whatever it was that kept him busy. I knew what it was, what they called him. I always knew everything else came first."

There may be some unintentional bitterness in his tone. Sextus was not much of a father. "I was a little younger than you, I think, when it started to sink in... not exactly what it meant. What its depth was, maybe." He stares at his hand for a moment, a small flame appearing and gleaming merrily. He knows that given he'd used windcrafting, Aang will leap to a conclusion about his abilities.

Aang's eyes widen in both shock and realization. He...this man, Septimus, he really does understand. It's not entirely the same, of course, but it's close enough. Certainly closer than anyone outside of Korra would understand.

"You're they're Avatar, aren't you? Not exactly, but...close?"

Septimus laughs softly. "Yes and no. We've got six types of furycrafting--your four, wood, and metal--and plenty of people have more than one, some as many as three to varying degrees of strength. A lot of society is structured on it."

There are problems with it, but some of the base principles are, in his estimation, not unreasonable. As long as the Citizens honor their duty, of course. (Slavery is different. He loathes it.)

"The highest Citizenry, probably three dozen families or five at most across the Realm, run the full spectrum of six, and usually quite powerfully. So no, in several ways I'm not at all unique." Even if he's quite formidably powerful even by the standards of the High Houses. And he's only really shown two to Aang so far...

"Oh."

He takes a moment to chew on all of that, trying to imagine a world like his, where everyone had powers...like his. It doesn't paint a pretty picture.

"Where I'm from plant-bending is an offshoot of water, and metalbending an offshoot of earth. My friend Toph is the first metalbender."

Septimus would protest that it's a beautiful picture, in fact; for all its flaws, Alera is a masterpiece of human endeavor in some ways, and one he quite literally gave his life to protect. Deeply, deeply flawed, and with a lot of grief and war, but beautiful.

He tilts an eyebrow.

"Interesting. They are very much distinct in Alera. I think I remember her from the network, as well as another of your metalbenders. I should have learned something from them when I had the chance. And traded information on earth, I expect."

Well, at this point he's made it fairly clear he's got four of the types, and implied all of them, if it hadn't been explicit before.

"That would have been Lin. She's Toph's daughter from the future. It...gets complicated."

"I'd imagine." He sounds somewhat amused--and also a little wistful.

"Still--knowing your children grow up well and strong and safe. That seems to be worth a lot."

He wishes he knew his child had.

"It was really nice to get to meet her, even if it did mean doing some really uncomfortable math."

"Perhaps." Personally, he can't imagine anything more wonderful than having to do that math, meeting his child or grandchildren...

But oh well.

After a moment, he tilts his head. "You're your world's protector, I take it. Do people at least listen to you?" In Septimus's world-view, power and responsibility both combined mean respect and authority--sometimes abused, but the duty and rank go together.

"I don't really know if you've noticed this...but I'm kind of twelve years old."

Seriously, Sep. Would you trust a 12 year old with the saving of your whole world? The Itty Bitty living space kind of takes precedence over the whole PHENOMENAL COSMIC POWERS.

Septimus shrugs. "I don't precisely know how rank works in your world, and age aside, position carries at least a little weight. Granted, at your age I didn't have much power either other than at home. More extraordinary circumstances may have changed it."

And he was only about three years older than Aang when his father gave him the seal of the heir to the Crown, which did have a little more authority with it. He may be gently leading to the topic.

Aang shrugs.

"It depends on where we are," he starts slowly. "When I was younger people would talk of the other Avatar in whisper and hushed voices, especially by the Air Nomads. The Avatar is the bridge between the Spirit and the Material world, and my people were very spiritual people. But...then I was away for a hundred years, and people just kind of...forgot."

And this is where Septimus's eyebrows shoot upwards.

"Away for a hundred years?" Given some of what Aang's said, he doesn't know if it's the different lives thing or literal, and either one confuses him more than a little. Even leaving aside the weirdness, Alera's never had an interregnum that long.

Aang scratches at the back of his head.

"I was...I was kind of frozen in an ice burg for a hundred years."

Well then.

"...I'm impressed by your resilience." It's all he can think of to say. "And-- I'm sorry. It must have been a shock."

There's sincere sympathy in his voice. Losing a whole world like that--and he has no illusions that isn't what happened.

His, "Thank you," is quiet, and followed by a pause where it's clear he's considering his words.

"It was, and still is at times. Life is messy," he repeats as a mantra.

"It is," Septimus agrees quietly. "Though I wish yours hadn't become so quite so young."

He sighs. The last couple years of his life were entirely too messy--but there was Isana. She made it all worth it, in the end.

Aang swaps his, me too, for a:

"Better me than someone else."
It's an attempt at an optimistic work around.

He wouldn't wish this kind of thing on anyone. Not even Azula.

Both sentiments--spoken and silent alike--are heard and acknowledged. The spoken one in particular is all too familiar to Septimus, and he smiles faintly.

"It's why we do what we do," he agrees quietly. His eyes flick to one side, lost in a memory of a long-ago talk with his father. They had some disagreements about the conclusions, of course--

But it was that same base principle.

"Yeah."

If they don't, then the people they love get hurt. It's fair, and it's not right, but it's how it is. And whenever Aang dwells on this he comes to understand more and more why his people practiced detachment.

"Of course, until I can get home, what I do is sort puzzles so that the kids can put them back together again in the morning."

March catch-all [open]

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