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tushanshu_logs2013-03-04 04:33 pm
amonfire) wrote in tushanshu_logs2013-03-04 04:33 pm
Entry tags:
[ open; ]
Characters: Amon and YOU!
Date: Late noon of March. 4th
Location: Free clinic in the Earth Sector, general area.
Situation: Amon making an effort to not act like Amon and circumstance throwing the attempt back in his face. You just can't take the terrorist out of the man.
Warnings/Rating: Potential for violence and aangst Likewise high risk of puns.
[ In the following few weeks after his unconventional return had become an accepted fact did Amon begin to consider integrating himself into what passed for normal society on Keeliai. There was no denying his old prejudices and mistrust of the general population were ever present. Yet Amon had kept to rumination rather than action and kept others in cold regard. There was little to be won in brash action other than a quick failure and quicker reprimand.
So while he possessed the capacity for violence with no small amount of ambition to create conflict he allowed more pragmatic endeavours to take precedence. It helped that there was no war for him here; no named enemy other than his own listlessness that had begun to eat away at his motivation. And yes, the irony that he was the only bender here was not lost on him.
What had kept him on his feet was the need for a livelihood; which he eventually found in a free clinic in the Earth Sector. Coming from a prodigious line of waterbenders and as someone with extensive knowledge of human anatomy had given him a leg up in his new position even if he rarely, and to his likening, if ever needed to use bloodbending or water healing. Most of his skills were field grade but he had an aptitude for being a healer; himself having tried becoming one in his youth after leaving home only to find it could be applied elsewhere. Namely manipulating the human body and severing the lines of chi that accounted for bending. Not that his over-specialized skill set that won him so much infamy in Republic City would do him any goo here; Amon had to adapt and this clinic was where he eventually found himself for the time being.
The kedan didn't own the clinic; Amon had come to understand it was a branch of Wayne Enterprises catering to both foreigners and kedan who couldn't afford proper healthcare. And even he would admit it was a peaceful profession that offered the chance to keep his head down and under the radar. Most who came thought didn't even mention the mask he was almost never without, thinking it some eccentric choice and nothing more. At least, for a short while.
Never living statically for long, conflict finally arose in earnest sometime that afternoon. Amon had been seeing to a kedan woman who could have passed for normal human save for her faceted red eyes and pearl-coloured skin. A subtle and unavoidable application of bloodbending alleviated problems with her arthritis. When the woman regained her footing Amon was seeing her out safely when the trouble started.
A kedan man with severe, human features and impossibly tall rounded on Amon before he went back into the clinic. Somehow this man knew him, and what he was; apparently word after Tarrlok exposed him spread overtime and into more ears than just the foreigners. An off-duty police officer he picked up somewhere in the midst of this man's vitriolic tirade about foreigners plotting this and foreigners scheming that. It was all very fascinating as it was racist until the man had it in his head to grab Amon tight by the shoulder and start making nebulous threats on both his life, and any place of business owned by these shit-eating foreigners. The man took one swing at Amon when the latter didn't respond that connected with the exposed part of his face, but when he made to hit Amon again...
The kedan hit the sandstone street before he could blink. Amon hauled him back up on his knees where he held him there with one hand gripped the side of the man's face. Amon started to beat the side of the man's face and jaw in and all without a word or sign of emotion. Amon's grip slackened but the kedan couldn't move; his eyes wide and nostrils flaring like a frightened animal with blood pouring down the side of his face. Tired of his fear, Amon then pressed into his blood with a thumb against the kedan's temple; very gentle and hardly a touch at all to an onlooker. What must have been the worst migraine imaginable tore a howl of pain from the man before he crumbled into an unconscious, bloody heap in the middle of the street when enough oxygen at been cut off from his brain.
A wave of murmurs was heard in the crowd that had gathered around this altercation. Amon paid them no mind and left the man where he fell before starting back to the clinic. If some kedan saw fit to threaten and abuse those they saw beneath them, Amon would be more than happy to return the favour with fear. ]
Date: Late noon of March. 4th
Location: Free clinic in the Earth Sector, general area.
Situation: Amon making an effort to not act like Amon and circumstance throwing the attempt back in his face. You just can't take the terrorist out of the man.
Warnings/Rating: Potential for violence and aangst Likewise high risk of puns.
[ In the following few weeks after his unconventional return had become an accepted fact did Amon begin to consider integrating himself into what passed for normal society on Keeliai. There was no denying his old prejudices and mistrust of the general population were ever present. Yet Amon had kept to rumination rather than action and kept others in cold regard. There was little to be won in brash action other than a quick failure and quicker reprimand.
So while he possessed the capacity for violence with no small amount of ambition to create conflict he allowed more pragmatic endeavours to take precedence. It helped that there was no war for him here; no named enemy other than his own listlessness that had begun to eat away at his motivation. And yes, the irony that he was the only bender here was not lost on him.
What had kept him on his feet was the need for a livelihood; which he eventually found in a free clinic in the Earth Sector. Coming from a prodigious line of waterbenders and as someone with extensive knowledge of human anatomy had given him a leg up in his new position even if he rarely, and to his likening, if ever needed to use bloodbending or water healing. Most of his skills were field grade but he had an aptitude for being a healer; himself having tried becoming one in his youth after leaving home only to find it could be applied elsewhere. Namely manipulating the human body and severing the lines of chi that accounted for bending. Not that his over-specialized skill set that won him so much infamy in Republic City would do him any goo here; Amon had to adapt and this clinic was where he eventually found himself for the time being.
The kedan didn't own the clinic; Amon had come to understand it was a branch of Wayne Enterprises catering to both foreigners and kedan who couldn't afford proper healthcare. And even he would admit it was a peaceful profession that offered the chance to keep his head down and under the radar. Most who came thought didn't even mention the mask he was almost never without, thinking it some eccentric choice and nothing more. At least, for a short while.
Never living statically for long, conflict finally arose in earnest sometime that afternoon. Amon had been seeing to a kedan woman who could have passed for normal human save for her faceted red eyes and pearl-coloured skin. A subtle and unavoidable application of bloodbending alleviated problems with her arthritis. When the woman regained her footing Amon was seeing her out safely when the trouble started.
A kedan man with severe, human features and impossibly tall rounded on Amon before he went back into the clinic. Somehow this man knew him, and what he was; apparently word after Tarrlok exposed him spread overtime and into more ears than just the foreigners. An off-duty police officer he picked up somewhere in the midst of this man's vitriolic tirade about foreigners plotting this and foreigners scheming that. It was all very fascinating as it was racist until the man had it in his head to grab Amon tight by the shoulder and start making nebulous threats on both his life, and any place of business owned by these shit-eating foreigners. The man took one swing at Amon when the latter didn't respond that connected with the exposed part of his face, but when he made to hit Amon again...
The kedan hit the sandstone street before he could blink. Amon hauled him back up on his knees where he held him there with one hand gripped the side of the man's face. Amon started to beat the side of the man's face and jaw in and all without a word or sign of emotion. Amon's grip slackened but the kedan couldn't move; his eyes wide and nostrils flaring like a frightened animal with blood pouring down the side of his face. Tired of his fear, Amon then pressed into his blood with a thumb against the kedan's temple; very gentle and hardly a touch at all to an onlooker. What must have been the worst migraine imaginable tore a howl of pain from the man before he crumbled into an unconscious, bloody heap in the middle of the street when enough oxygen at been cut off from his brain.
A wave of murmurs was heard in the crowd that had gathered around this altercation. Amon paid them no mind and left the man where he fell before starting back to the clinic. If some kedan saw fit to threaten and abuse those they saw beneath them, Amon would be more than happy to return the favour with fear. ]
no subject
[ he wanted to add on more, a witty retort of some sorts: that there was no rest for the wicked, or that he'd returned the injury in full, but the very foreign sensation of bloodbending shuts him up. He'd rather have died than give any outward sign of surprise, but even decades worth of stoicism and stubbornness can't keep a sharp breath of pain from escaping.
He'd been expecting something the lines of native medicine— stupid really, considering the demonstration that brought him here in the first place. But in Haytham's defense, there's nothing in the world that can really prepare you for the sensation of having inner bodily functions redirected by an outside force. He sits for a few seconds in rather stunned silence, before finding his voice, remarkably as lofty as ever. ]
It's the same technique, I assume. Employed in another manner for a markedly different outcome.
[ it's like that moment where he chased down Ziio and had difficulty catching his breath. you sound stupid Haytham, go home and think about how stupid you sound. ]
no subject
[ A hand lingers on Haytham's shoulder as he felt out for any other old war wounds or the like. Amon was surprised to find Haytham otherwise healthy as an ostrich horse. For a man who he surmised lived a life of violence to be so accustomed to it, and at his age, Amon expected more than one neglected injury with a few collected scars. Interesting. ]
It's a...flexible art, and while what you saw outside wasn't a gentle demonstration the technique itself is rooted in the healing arts.
[ Fingers ghosted off Haytham as Amon disappeared into an adjacent room and re-emerging with a glass of water. For the briefest moment the water appeared to have a dull, opalescent and bluish light as Amon argued with himself if he should practice waterbending to heal while he was here. That he placed a very ordinary glass of water next to Haytham was his answer. ]
Can you tell me more about your attacker? [ Blunt with his questions and openly curious as he sat down in chair catty-cornered to Haytham. ]
no subject
How do I even begin to explain Miko?He tried to kill me once. It was awesome.He takes the glass with a small nod, but not before noting the odd glean the water took for a split second before it was handed over. Not poison: no poison had that kind of effect, nor would any assassin take the effort to heal his target before killing them. He could ask, but instead he runs a thumb along the glass's rim, considering. The saying won't be invented for another few centuries, but #YOLO. ]
His name was Miko; I did not know him well, but he was a good man, merely fulfilling his duty. He was careless that day, and so was I— I took his blade, and he my horse.
[ a good man, but an assassin. Haytham's mouth twists slightly as he considers the irony of it all, and how it must have felt to be run through by his own blade. He took a small sip, arranging thoughts and half truths before continuing. ]
He nearly ruined my arm, even if only by accident, and I repaid him fully the next time we met.
[ his tone is light, clipped, almost as if discussing nothing more than unexpected weather. He turns his attention from the water to stare at Amon directly, mask be damned. ]
Removing threats is a necessary part of my work, as I'm sure it is in yours.