Kundalini Rising - An Adult ATLA/Legend of Korra Fanfiction

[Wolf]

Long, long ago, the nations were in the midst of the most brutal war our world has ever seen. Fueled by an imperialistic lust for power, Fire Lord Sozin attacked the other three nations, the earth kingdom, the water tribes and the air nomads. The war saw many terrible tragedies and heroic feats. Finally, after much tumult and bloodshed, the Hundred Year War was ended by Avatar Aang and Fire Lord Zuko, and a great era of peace was ushered in. And if this era of peace had lasted, I would not be telling you this story. As it is, there is indeed a story to be told.

80 years in the past, a series of breakthroughs in the underground laboratories of the Earth Kingdom and the floating research institutes of the old air temples lead to the Naissance, a period of growth and prosperity. It began as an initiative to resurrect those species which had become extinct over the course of the Hundred Year War. Through the hard work of several brilliant geneticists and the grace of serendipity, the genetic diversity of the world once again mirrored that of hundreds of years past. For the first time in history, the building blocks of life itself were in our hands. Mankind reveled in our success, and became drunk off of our own transient power over life and death, and from this inebriation were born the first of the Great Plagues. Created accidentally, these plagues ravaged the earth, and the Cold came. Entire ecosystems came crashing down and humans died. So many of us. The Cold left the world in turmoil and despair. The world needed an avatar, and that is where our story begins...

 

[Wolf]

RE: Kundalini Rising - ATLA/Legend of Korra Fanfiction

[The Earth Kingdom City of Omashu]

“Last week it was four copper pieces!” Ong growled across the wooden booth. He grasped a sack of rice in his hand and glared at the man sitting behind the counter. Around them Kyu-Bak, Omashu’s enormous indoor marketplace, buzzed with activity.

“No four. Six today. Laws strong today.” the old man crossed his leathery, well-tanned arms over his chest stubbornly. He had the body of a beggar but the eyes of a businessman.

On any other day Ong would have tried to get the price down to at least 5 or else search out a better price at another vendor, but today he was already running late. He made a slightly disgruntled sound and forked over the money, taking the rice and winding his way back through the press of bodies.

He exited through one of the four massive doors to Kyu-Bak, his copper hair whipped by the powerful industrial fans groaning against the thick air of the city. Stepping out into the swelter was like walking into a wall of heat. Ong threw up his hand to guard his eyes from the radiance of the sun. The stone and metal of the city reflected the light brilliantly even despite the haze hanging in the air, suffocating the city. It was a scorcher today.

Out in the sloping, winding streets near the outer walls, high-speed transports built on the rails crisscrossing the city zipped overhead. The idea for the system was supposedly originated by the city’s king and an avatar in times long past.

Ong made his way through the communities adjacent to the great outer walls, the innermost of which is the fourth side of many houses and huts built against the prolific defenses of the city. It is a place for the poor, adjoining the industrial district of Omashu. Walking through the streets one can smell the poverty. It is a scent, Ong thought, even sadder and more proximal than the stench of the emissions coming from industry. As if on cue, a fat-bellied exhaust pipe running from the heart of the city belched a cloud of smoke beside him.

“Ong!” his named echoed from across a street clogged with trash and running children. He swiveled his head to see Nepa hurrying through an alleyway toward him. The man fell into step with Ong and they walked along up and down an uneven path leading to Ong’s part of the slum. All the while Nepa whistled, his cheeks rosy and a smile on his face despite the grime besmearing his complexion and the poverty evident in his skinny limbs.
“Well then, what have you to say?” Ong asked his closest confidant. “Or did you simply wish to share in my company?” he teased.

Nepa chortled but shook his head, becoming solemn again. “There are stirrings again. About clean water. Zone 3” he muttered. The slums on the outskirts of Omashu were informally divided into 5 zones, each representing a chunk of the circular perimeter of the city that was often home to the city’s lower class. “It has been so hot lately...” he added.

Ong nodded. “Is there immediate danger?” he asked.

Nepa contemplated for a moment, then shook his head. “I don’t think it will become very violent yet, but the health concerns are mounting.”

“I will bring it to the attention of the council. In the meantime, ask the other zones to divert a small fraction of their water to Zone 3. Four is in Three’s debt since they absorbed some of their population growth.” said Ong. “Thank you Nepa.”

The jolly older man nodded and started along the path to his own house. Before he could get too far Ong beckoned him again. “Your family is coming tonight yes?”

Nepa grinned. “Half of the population of the slums is coming,” he muttered hyperbolically “of course I’m going to be there. The poor rarely have cause to drink. When there’s really something to be joyful for, how can we miss such a chance?”

Ong made a face at the mention of the number of attendees to his children’s birthday celebration, which elicited huff of recognition from Nepa.

“Come now, this is a most joyous occasion. 10 years! Considering that there’s two of them it may as well have been 20” he said over his shoulder as he headed away toward his own avenue of the slums.

For families in the poverty ridden Zones, a child’s 10th birthday was often the only time they celebrated on account of something so trivial as an anniversary of birth. In such disease and turmoil-ridden times as these, almost half of all children died before they reached the age of 10, whether from sickness, malnutrition or as a casualty of war or crime. However, it was widely accepted in the Zones that once a child reached the age of 10, they were much more likely to survive into adulthood.

Ong completed his trek to his own house undisturbed. His was a mud-brick abode set on a small hill of earth, set a couple hundred feet away from the rest of the slums and in slightly better condition. This was the only thing that distinguished him as a councilman. Elsewise, the sole representative of the Zones to the city council lived unremarkably, just as his constituency.

The house was abuzz with activity. Various women of the community were hurrying about, baskets of dark brown breads in their hands or tablecloths piled in their arms to just below eye-level. Meanwhile children ran about, some helping to carry things here and there and others just getting in the way underfoot. A few men from the slums who were close to Ong were busy smoking meats over a fire, a rare treat.

In the middle of all of the commotion stood Leah, Ong’s wife and the lady of the house. She was confidently directing workflow despite the chaotic nature of such a ceremony. Usually a child’s 10th birthday was a pretty ritualized occasion, a large family gathering. However, considering Ong’s position in the community, this celebration was an even bigger deal, with more than a hundred people invited. However, it was not just daddy’s career which drew such fuss over this particular celebration. Rather, this was the birthday of two very special children...twins.

In the city of Omashu, there was much superstition and honor surrounding twins. For reasons undetermined (although most definitely relating to pollution and industry) the birth of twins was much more rare than it had been in times past. Couple this with high child mortality rate, and rarely did a set of twins live to their tenth birthday. Twins, and especially a boy and girl, were greatly revered because they were believed to represent reincarnations of Oma and Shu, the two lovers of legend after whom the city was named and who were so close in their lives that they were said to be reborn together, at the same instant so that their spirits would never again have to be apart. Because of this, Ong’s two children had always meant something important to the community, even if they didn’t realize that they did.

Seeing Ong, Leah beckoned him with a smile. “There you are, my breadwinner.” she said, a tease in her voice. As he grew closer the smile dropped and she squinted at him. “You’re late” she scolded.

Ong cupped his hand over his ear as though he hadn’t heard. “What?”

Leah’s coy smile returned as she kissed her husband. “I said, you’re late. Your children are in the house, but be careful, your mother is in there too and she’s refusing to let anyone watch while she gets them ready”

Ong nodded knowingly and brought the bag of rice he’d been sent out to acquire into the kitchen. The room was small and filled way past capacity with women fixing dishes and boiling water. It was a veritable sauna packed with people and Ong breathed a breath of relief once he’d made his way through the claustrophobic’s nightmare. He’d left the bag of rice in one of the older lady’s hands, one who looked like she was at least kind of in charge.

He certainly had to hand it to those women who worked with a single-minded determination to make this celebration a success. That kitchen was nothing short of an inferno.

Making his way through the cooler part of the house, he went down a hallway only to be met almost immediately by his mother, a small woman with fierce eyes and a loving smile. She was not to be underestimated in most endeavours, as he had learned much later than he really ought to have.

"Now mother, I know what you're going to say but they're my children and I think I have a right to wish them a happy birthday before our neighbors!" he came out guns blazing. You really had to catch her off guard, he'd noticed, otherwise she was stubborn as a mule-turtle, although he'd never quite understood that saying.

Ong's mother patiently waited out his tirade with one eyebrow raised. "Relax," she said gently "They're ready."

Ong smiled sheepishly and edged past her toward the twins' bedroom.

"I don't know who you think you were talking to with that attitude Ong, certainly not the woman who gave birth to you and raised you" she called after him.

Myr and Hiko stood before him, smiling up at their father. The twins were dressed in their finest dress clothes. For Myr, these were a shimmery kimono-like robe that had been handed down through the family and silk-slippers. Hiko was dressed in a black hakama, and a navy blue top which bared his chest. Most remarkable about the children though, was what his mother had done.

Myr’s arms were bare, but extremely intricate designs passed down through the family as an heirloom adorned her tan forearms and halfway up her biceps. Her eyes were daubed with a gentle reduction of a black-juiced berry to make her eyes appear more sly and wise. Her cheeks, just losing their baby fat, were delicately powdered.

Hiko’s face and all of his visible skin was adorned with thin white lines of heiza, an herbal mixture that smelled of a masculine musk. The designs, though markedly different from his sister’s, were equally as complex. They gave his skin the appearance of having been chiseled, as though cut from the earth itself.

Ong smiled back down at his children. He was momentarily filled with happiness at their vitality and the promise in their eyes and, at the same time, melancholy that they had been born into such a troubled world.
“Daddy the kimono itches my belly” Myr said, expertly (although inadvertently) diffusing the moment.

Ong laughed at her and ruffled her hair. “You look pretty though” he assured her.

Myr turned and examined herself in the small mirror that rested against the wall in the twins’ shared room. She moved from side to side and looked over her back too. “Well, that’s true.” she agreed, smiling a toothy grin. “I look like a princess”

Hiko flexed his essentially nonexistent muscles. “I look like a man!” he growled. “An earthbending fighter!” he exclaimed.

“Yeah right!” Myr said, rolling her eyes as Ong shot Hiko a scolding glance. To be an earthbender...things were not as simple as they had been in Ong’s father’s times.

“Well then, everyone will be here in a few hours so try not to smudge your heiza or dirty your clothes. You can be the official tasters for whatever they are making in that kitchen” he said, trying to give them an incentive to stay inside. It was best that at least most of the guests see them first when they make their appearance later that night.

“Oh, and happy birthday” he said, remembering on his way out. He knelt and gave them both hugs. “I love you”

When he stepped back outside the grounds had become doubly as busy, something Ong hadn’t thought possible. A few makeshift tents had been erected on the grounds and lanterns hung from each of their supporting poles. The sun had begun its descent and everywhere people buzzed with the excitement of celebration. It was going to be one hell of a party.

Nepa was right, the people of the slums rarely had reason to come together and celebrate. This wasn’t just a birthday party, but a celebration that somewhere, in the midst of a broken world, there could still be hope.

 

[Wolf]

RE: Kundalini Rising - ATLA/Legend of Korra Fanfiction

Sorry this update took me so long everyone. Been really busy at work. Hope you enjoy it!

Night fell on the mountain city of Omashu and lanterns surrounding the house and the grounds came to life, flickering on to bathe the ground in a warm flood of multi-colored lights. The various colors on the shades of the lanterns each represented a different attribute that was being wished on the twins. Forest green honesty, crimson integrity, fuchsia humility, yellow courtesy, deep blue harmony, white self-discipline, fiery orange perseverance and the stone gray of an indomitable spirit.

By now, most guests had arrived and various musicians from around the slums had struck up a traditional tune embedded deep into the memetic legacy of their people. The music was sweeping and lively, but nobody was dancing. At parties like this, it was considered rude to dance before the child had made his or her appearance.

Traditionally, the first dance at a child's 10th birthday was between the child and a family member or close family friend of the opposite gender. This first dance was different for boys and girls. In the case of a girl, her partner usually stepped forward to claim her hand. For boys, it was their job to choose their partner.

This, however, was not as simple as it sounds. Stepping forward as a significant male figure in a girl's life could often be considered overly presumptuous. On the other hand, if the girl's father or a close uncle stepped forward, it would be an insult to her by implying that none other than those obligated by their position to care for her, or who already clearly represented a father figure, would be willing to step forward and take an active role in her protection and upbringing. In addition, if two men stepped forward at the same time, it was considered quite rude and generally ended badly.

Similarly, if a boy chose his mother or another obvious matron, he was considered not bold or brave enough. Conversely, his choice implied that he was dedicated to protect and represent a significant part of the life of his partner for the first dance, so anyone too unfamiliar would also be a poor choice.

These kinds of choices were often rather political in noble families. In less wealthy families, where most attendees were relatives, they were somewhat less stressful ordeals. However, in the special case of Myr and Hiko, there was indeed much fuss. If being honored twins wasn't enough, they were also the children of the beloved champion of the slums. Their first dance was guaranteed to be quite...interesting.

One might ask why the people of Omashu would maintain such a complicated and potentially divisive ritual. After all, in such times where death and misfortune were commonplace, why add extra rules and sources of contention? Oddly enough, the ritual of the first dance, or Vija, as it is known to practitioners, became increasingly more important to people the rougher the world turned. But why? The answer to this is very simple and lies at the heart of the confusion of anyone who was not alive to experience this era. Traditions and rituals, rites of passage, these are some of the most important signals to people that they are indeed living in a civilized place of the world and that there is some semblance of structure and familiarity in the chaos that surrounds them. For the citizens of Omashu, this and other rituals were strong and necessary reminders that they were human in a world lacking humanity.

Ong could already feel the tension in the air, a little ripple of excitement over the coming first dances. After all, according to his wife, a girl's first dance could be a touching and magical moment. He was still unconvinced that the stress that the tradition put on young boys and girls was quite worth it.

The first dance generally took place around sunset, which, judging by the sun's position in the sky, gave Ong about twenty more minutes of being the center of the party.

While Leah's duties as the woman of the house had apparently not ended with the arrival of guests, Ong's job had become sole host of the party and only available parent of the twins. Thus, he had spent most of the last hour or so accepting congratulations from the community and advice from older women. He was grateful, of course, for both, but it made him feel like he was on the job to be greeting and talking with such a large group of his constituency.

Nevertheless, it made Ong happy to see so many of the faces of the slums gathered peacefully, enjoying each other's company, unified. For a moment at least, everyone could celebrate together without fear tainting their thoughts or despair filling their eyes. Despair, Ong had come to realize, was the truest terror of humanity in this day and age. It was the ultimate mind killer, the disappearance of hope. Hope, however foolish it sometimes was, was mankind's greatest triumph. It makes us human.

"...and then he realizes it wasn't a feather duster, it was an actual iguana-parrot!" Ong tuned back in on the punchline of one of Nepa's oft-repeated jokes. There was assorted laughter from the small group who was sitting with them around one of the cooking fires.

"Nepa, you keep telling that joke and it gets funnier every time." said one of Nepa's brother's sarcastically.

Nepa huffed and waved him off. "Yeah, and I'll keep telling it until the day one of you sad suckers can figure out what an iguana-parrot is!" he countered. The joke was apparently one that Nepa had come across in an old children's book that he'd found in one of his elderly relative's attic, although nobody quite understood it.

Ong smiled and disentangled himself from the group to continue making his rounds about the party. As it was, he was fairly certain he would hear that joke at least a few more times before the night was over.

Bending over a large flagon of a sweet wine-like drink, he poured himself a glass. The sun was essentially down, therefore this wasn't exactly day drinking. At least, that's what Ong told himself so that he didn't feel guilty. It was a party, after all.

As he poured, he noticed a soft, high-pitched tune weaving its way through the music already being played. He glanced around at the party guests and then the musicians, but no explanation was to be had. Ong decided that he'd most likely imagined the sound. However, as he lifted his glass to his lips, a man standing against one of the nearest houses to the property caught his eye.

The man's face was etched deep with shadow. The light from the nearest lamps just barely illuminated him. From what Ong could see, his skin was paler than most people in these parts. His lips held the shape of an O, and it appeared as though it had been he who was whistling, again and again the same simple tune reached Ong's ears. Despite his jovial tune, the man's face was solemn and unchanging. He was a little too far away to tell, but from where Ong stood it looked as though the man were staring straight back at him.
"Yeah he's been there for about 30 minutes now"

Ong started at the voice by his shoulder. Vilak, a father of seven who was very active in the community, was standing by him. "If you think he should be removed, you know you can just ask." he said.

Vilak was a part of a nameless group of men who indirectly worked for Ong. There was no issue of compensation, they acted as his hands and were loyal to him because they knew that it was he who could keep their families and neighborhoods safe when they tottered on the brink of oblivion.

Ong shook his head. "He isn't hurting anybody. He looks new, and that would make sense, since he doesn't look much like any Omashunite I've ever seen. Just keep an eye out."
Vilak seemed unsatisfied with the answer, but if he was, he didn't say anything, simply nodding softly and re-joining the party.

Ong downed his glass and poured another, following Vilak back to the group he was sitting with, which was comprised of his wife, children and a few of their neighbors.



"One and TWO and one and TWO and..." Hiko counted off the steps as he moved around the small space of his bedroom. He was practicing the Vija with determination evident on his knitted brow. Each move was followed quickly by another, creating space, and then filling it with his movements. All of the people of his culture knew the dance, that is, everyone over ten. It had been handed down to them from ages past, its original meaning now forgotten and written over.

"You know, if you keep practicing right before the dance, you're just more likely to mess up." Myr called from his bed. She was sitting still, trying not to mess up her outfit or temporary tattoos. Her grandmother would have a fit if she did before everyone saw her and she danced her Vija.

"I just want to get it right." said Hiko, stopping and facing her. "What, you're not nervous?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Myr shrugged. "Yeah...I mean of course I am," she admitted, shaking her head. "but I'm more worried about who's going to come forward for me, not about the dance. That's easy...just go with the flow of the music!" her face twisted with visible discomfort at the thought of standing there waiting for someone to come take her hand.

Hiko huffed. "Dad's the council man, someone will come for you." he assured her.

"Yeah, well whatever." she muttered obviously not so convinced of this fact herself. "Anyway, you're much too rigid, it's not like a series of moves that you have to be in at a certain time. The dance is more like...a glass cup. You have to fill the shape with whatever you want. Mama says that, anyway. It helped." she explained.

Hiko made a face and sat by the window, where they could glimpse a small sliver of the party. "There are a lot of people..." he muttered.

Myr nodded. "Mhm."

Hiko looked over at her. She was a gentle girl. He could see the stress of the dance was really bothering his sister. "Someone is going to step forward for you, I promise." he said, a little unsure of how to best comfort her. "Once they do, you'll be great. You're a better dancer anyway." he added.

Myr nodded slowly. "You really promise that?" she asked.

"Yes, I mean...of course they will. Don't you have any ideas who it might be?" he asked. "I don't really know who I'm going to choose yet. I probably should...right?"
Myr sat up straight on his bed, putting on the serene look the local monks always bore and crossing her legs. "When the mud in your mind settles, the water will be clear. When the time comes to see, open your eyes." she said in a raspy old man's voice.

Hiko laughed and smiled. "Yeah, I'll just close my eyes and spin in a circle. The first girl I see is dancing with me!" he said. They both laughed and began to relax.
Their peace was short-lived though, as is the case with all things warm and comforting in the world they lived in. Soon after their laughter died down, their grandmother came to the door. "Come children, the sun has set." she said, smiling at them. Hiko exchanged glances with his sister and walked to the door with confidence. He had to set an example. Be brave. It was just a dance.

Even though Myr was technically a few minutes older than he was, he felt like he had to be her big brother. She was scrappy from time to time, but mostly she was quiet and avoided confrontation. Hiko was the opposite, a typical pre-adolescent boy.

They were led through the small house to a back door that would lead to the grounds on which the party was being held. Suddenly nerves gripped Hiko. He had forgotten whom he was going to choose! How did the dance go again? Oh no, the lights from the lanterns were so bright!

Myr smile gracefully, blushing at the applause that accompanied their appearance. The women all chattered noisily about her clothing and family markings and how beautiful she was, of course. She had been the first out the door after her grandmother, who presented her. Then came Hiko.

Hiko held his chin up and did his best to hide any anxiety as he strode forward to stand next to his grandma. Everyone clapped as they stood, awkwardly looking out at their family and friends. Most children of the slums attended small schools in the houses of one of the women in the community who served as a teacher, so Myr and Hiko didn't have a huge host of friends, but from what Hiko could see, a few of their peers were at the party, too.

Leah smiled at her children and nodded approvingly as Ong tried to quiet everyone down. He was met with limited success.

Following tradition, the first dance was to be right after the child's appearance. It had been decided that Myr would go first because she was eldest, and the musicians were ready to play.

Eventually the attendees settled down, everyone anticipating the dances to come. There was a moment of almost silence, and then the musicians began to play. The melody was melancholy. Sweet at points, but filled with the ache and the resilience that was so characteristic of Omashu.
Hiko was lead back a few paces by his grandmother to give Myr a little space as the song began. The Vija was a deliberate, flowing melody which the musicians embellished upon according to their whims such that any one person's song was a little different than anyone else's.

Myr's song filled the air with a soaring tune as the musicians picked up the pace. The sense of expectation grew toward a maddening crescendo. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife, everyone dying to see who would step forward, and at the same time, nobody brave enough to step up yet.

More than 25 seconds of the song passed, Myr closed her eyes. Usually someone stepped forward by now to claim the birthday girl's hand in her first dance. Leah's hand grasped Ong's. It was okay, she kept telling herself. Of course it was going to be a little longer because of the position her daughter was born into.

35 seconds passed, the musicians played on. Myr's heart started pounding. She'd had nightmares about this the whole week before. Nobody was going to step forward. Everyone was too afraid of offending her or her family. Her dad and uncles would not dishonor her. Nobody was going to take her hand; she was going to stand here, alone.
Hiko made a face as he watched his sister. What was wrong with everyone?! Wouldn't somebody come forward to devote himself to her first dance? He'd made a promise that someone was going to take her hand. A million times he imagined seeing someone's foot move forward from the semi-circle that surrounded the dance floor. His fists clenched.
Myr felt a tear roll down her cheek. It felt like the song had been going on forever. Nobody wanted her. Nobody would choose her. Around her there were small whispers lacing the air with poison. This was unprecedented.

She felt ready to run off the dance floor in shame when suddenly she felt a hand wrap around hers, firm and confident but sweaty too. It spun her expertly into the first steps of the dance and she almost tripped with surprise as she moved to complete the first step of the dance.
Her eyes blinked open and she squeezed the hand in hers, following the arm up to meet the eyes of her partner. She gasped as she found her same deep green eyes looking back, the eyes of her twin brother.

 

[freckled_beauty]

Oh I hope you keep writing
I like it

 

[Wolf]

Thanks for the encouragement, I'm almost definitely going to continue to write it.

Also, for any return viewers, I just edited the second chapter which, to my horror had many a grievous grammatical and spelling errors. I don't check over my work even once before I submit to any of the sites I host this story on, but I do later give it to a beta reader. My beta got back to me pointing out blatant mistakes I made that must have been typos or the result of me changing the phrasing and forgetting to delete a word or two. Thanks again for reading and any feedback you might have!

 

[Wolf]

Myr tried to draw back her hand, but Hiko held it fast. He kept staring at her, knowing he'd lose his nerve if he looked anywhere else.

Everything was pin-drop silent. Even the musicians had stopped playing for a moment. All eyes were locked on the twins, the rebirths of Oma and Shu.

It seemed that nobody quite knew how to react. Were they supposed to be embarrassed for the family? Was this an uplifting and wonderful act? Or perhaps it was to be condemned. In any case, there was certainly no precedent for it. Almost nobody under 50 remembered there ever being a tenth birthday celebration for twins, and even when there had been, certainly nothing like this had occurred.

Hiko nodded. "It's okay," he whispered low enough for only Myr to hear. In fact, he had no idea whether or not it would be okay.

Ong forced his heart back down from where it had ended up in his throat just long enough to signal for the musicians to continue playing. The instrumentalists had dropped off the song in the same stunned silence that gripped the rest of the partygoers.

Realizing that the unorthodox act they were witnessing would only continue if they did, the musicians struck back up the tune from its beginning.

Hiko broke Myr's gaze only long enough to turn to where his mother stood, recovering. She nodded slightly in encouragement. He couldn't back down now. That would undoubtedly be perceived as a disgrace to both of them.

Myr raised her eyebrows expectantly. This was her brother's idea, after all.

Hiko's eyes narrowed as the song reached one of its first swells. On a sharp crescendo, he spun her back into him, Myr's body flowing easily into his guided turn. Even if she was nervous, even if she didn't know where he was going next, the movement came naturally to her.

Myr twisted her arm outward in a stylish flare and the previously entranced partygoers sighed with the beauty of the gesture combined with her traditional adornments.

With that, they were off. Hiko moved one way and she moved the other, each opening one space for the other just as they filled an openingthat had been left for them. They moved in tandem, perfectly in synch. Yet, despite their balance, Hiko still moved with much firmer steps and committed movements while Myr seemed to float and flow around the firm structure of her brother.

Their eyes remained locked for most of the dance, concentrating fiercely, fixating on each other. Their movements grew surer by the minute, but the dance was long and far from over.

The tune of the song became more noble and full sounding and Hiko and Myr moved precisely through the steps, the song moving faster and faster. In this portion of the song, partners moved away from each other, mirroring each other with sliding and joyful stomping.

Hiko's tongue found its way out of his mouth, poking out the corner of his lips as he concentrated. There was a soft murmur from the crowd and Hiko's brow knitted.

Am I doing something wrong? He wondered.

Ong heard the crowd begin to stir, women and men alike paying closer attention as Hiko and Myr danced in an intricate pattern away, and then toward, one another.

Concerned at first, his worries were assuaged by Leah, who put her lips to his ear.

"How perfectly they match." She whispered. Her hand found her husband'sand their fingers laced, each supporting the other.

Hiko's brow was wet with perspiration. By now he had shut out whatever else was happening around him. He found himself entranced by each step and movement, as though all else was secondary in importance.

It was most likely because of this that he did not notice the earth beneath his feet as it began to move, humming deeply.

Beginning as an almost imperceptible vibration, Myr too was oblivious as she flowed through her steps, mirror images of those her brother was performing behind her. She began to smile, forgetting the circumstances of their dance.

As Myr pranced into each step the vibrations of the ground became more and more pronounced. The onlookers began to take note, gasps and ripples of concern moving through the crowd.

The musicians played on, swept up into a frenzy as the end of the dance drew near.

The vibrations of the earth became short tremors now. The onlookers began to panic and some broke from the group, unsure what to do in the event of an earthquake.

The panic was cut short however, as Hiko and Myr's dances brought them closer and closer to the end of the dance.

With their backs together, they stepped the leg closest to the partygoers forward and extended their hands, clasped together. The tremors ceased, replaced instantly with a horrible cracking sound as two large slabs of earth shot outward, forming a large V shape on either side of the twins.

Hiko and Myr both flinched away from the jutting earth, nearly falling over one another as they staggered a few steps out of the way.

The crowd was quiet, almost nervous. Somewhere, a baby started crying.

In the Earth Kingdom city of Omashu, there wasn't a soul who wouldn't recognize earthbending when they saw it, but earthbenders were a rare breed and the majority of them were Judges.

Ong took a cautious glance around, there weren't any signs of a Judge, nor did any law enforcement seem to be descending on them.

Across the crowd, still as gazelles anticipating a lion, Ong found Nepa looking back at him. Slowly the man raised his hands, then began clapping them.

The party guests, taking to Nepa's example like lightning to a metal rod, began cheering and clapping, as though the rocky finish had been some kind of trick or planned theatric. Perhaps some of them really did believe it, too. The important thing was that nobody panicked.

Ong understood this. If a Judge had decided to mete out justice here, he or she would already have done it, and if that Judge still had business with one of the partygoers, there was nothing that could be done now anyway.

Leah rushed forward out of the crowd to embrace the twins, who by now were obviously overwhelmed. The entire turn of events from the moment Hiko had taken Myr's hand to now had left them utterly nonplussed, and a little shaken.

Myr squeezed Hiko's hand, which she hadn't yet let go of. Even in the confusion of the moment, Myr knew one thing and that was that her brother had kept his promise to her. "Thank you."she mouthed.

Hiko nodded, although he was still a little pale.

Ong joined his family presently, having composed himself. He ruffled Hiko's hair and kissedMyr's head, emitting an aura of safety and calm.

However, as the partygoers converged on Leah and the twins to congratulate, ogle and well-wish, Ong quietly extricated himself.

He found Nepa, who was waiting for him. "Thank you." Ong said, relieved. "A few more seconds and, I'm not sure what it would have meant for the kids."

Nepa shrugged it off. "Nobody knew how to react." he said, smiling even now. "I just helped them figure it out faster."

"Yes well, there were a number of reactions that they might have figured out otherwise." Ong grumbled, forcing Nepa to accept his gratitude.

Vilak joined them, along with two other men loyal to Ong. "News?" Ong asked.

Vilak glanced at the other men. "We asked anyone who is a known earthbender. They all say they didn't do it." He explained.

"And nobody standing next to any of the earthbenders saw them move either." Another of the men chimed in.

Ong's brow knitted. "I see." He muttered. "There's no need to treat any of the earthbenders like criminals then. As far as we know, they have done nothing wrong. We have no reason to suspect them."

"As far as we know?!" Vilak hissed, "It could have been an attempt on the twins' lives!"

Ong's face grew hard as he regarded Vilak. "Look at the size of those jutting rocks" he said, turning to point. The five men all took in the sight. "If an earthbender talented enough to bend something that big without any undue movement was standing as close as the crowd was to the twins, he or she would not have missed." The councilman said grimly.

Hiko squirmed under the attention of what seemed like every elderly woman in the Zones. His mother was masterfully handling several of the party's guests at once with a few stories about Hiko and Myr, some of which were surely hilarious but would have embarrassed Hiko was he not otherwise occupied.

The birthday boy was trying but failing to convey to a geriatric man that he wasn't his grandson when the man's daughter came to spirit him away, her own children in tow. Hiko breathed a sigh of relief, grateful for the reprieve.

A few moments later he felt Myr's hand take his and turned to see how she was faring. Before he could protest she leaned over and pecked his cheek.

Hiko flailed, indignant warmth in his cheeks. "Hey!" he huffed. Myr grinned widely and hugged him. He kept up the "cooties" charade for a beat but eventually put his arms around Myr, returning her hug.

"Thanks for not making me look too bad." he said. Myr pulled back from the hug and smiled meekly.

"Um, so do you know anything about what happened at the end?" he continued, touching on the subject they both knew they'd eventually have to bring up.

"Well…the ending was a bit rocky." she said. They both laughed at this and spoke no more of it for now. It had been scary but it passed. Growing up in the zones, you had to be made of tougher stuff.

Even now Myr could see her father overseeing as two of the citizens of the zones who were known earthbenders worked to restore the earth to its previous flat state.

Eventually the crowd surrounding Myr and Hiko died down as people began to mill about again. The party had now started and people began to dance. The musicians played a lively tune and food was brought out.

Hiko and Myr danced together a few times at the beginning of the party at the urging of their relatives and friends, but eventually were allowed out of the spotlight to a small reprieve.

Hiko made a face as his stomach growled. I guess all the excitement and giant moving rocks made me forget about the food. He thought to himself.

Before the partygoers was a quaint, yet abundant selection of dishes. If there was anything good for quelling the masses it was free food. They'd had their circe, now came the panem.

The party went along smoothly for the remainder of its duration, and when it came to the time that guests began to say their final thanks and congratulations to the family, everyone's bellies were full.

Ong patiently said goodbyes to all of the guests in attendance one by one until finally the grounds surrounding his family's humble abode would finally be cleared. It had indeed been a successful celebration and with each warm word he allowed a small smile to find its way across his face. He began to truly feel how much he appreciated his family and especially his healthy children.

Leah was, for once, sharing pleasantries duty with him and he put his arm around her once the last guests, Nepa's family, naturally,had left.

It comforted him to see joy and not fear in the faces of each of his constituents and Leah could tell.

There was one face, however, that Ong had not seen: that of the whistling man.

Sorry for a long wait, readers. I was away for the past 3 months! I'm back an writing actively now though.

 

[Wolf]

[Somewhere over the Northern Seas]
Kioko stood with his arms out to his sides and his legs spread as a gruff guard patted him down. He was asked to remove his shirt, cough, and answer a series of questions about himself, all standard procedure.

He shivered a little as his skin broke out in goose bumps. The air was cold and thin at this elevation, and little beads of moisture clung to his bare chest. Save for the sounds of the two guards in their booth flipping through papers and the steady whirr of the mechanical filing system, everything was quiet. There were no birds or land animals, and the only vegetation resilient enough to grow this high up were ugly clumps of a tangled DNAble weed. He peered at a tuft of it closer…the latest model, ATD-34.

The surly guard from before waved him forward from inside the steel and glass security booth. Kioko walked forward toward a thick metal door, the kind that would stand between thieves and a treasure trove.

The door seemed to lead into the rock face of the floating island, and it was set back a few meters such that Kioko entered what looked like the mouth of a cave before reaching the door. Just short of the entrance, on his left, there were small cubbies cut into the rock. He placed his shirt in the one labeled with his name, scrawled in a neat script: "Kioko, Jax". He also deposited his shoes and socks in this cubby, then removed his pants and placed them on top of everything. When he stood in nothing but his undergarments, he turned to the guard booth.

Inside the box, one of the guards gave him a thumbs-up. Almost simultaneously there was a series of clicks and metallic clangs coming from within the door, which promptly slid to the side to allow him passage. Just beyond that metal door, the light revealed a small chamber, which lead to a similar metal portcullis, though the sunlight did not reveal anything past that.

Kioko walked over the threshold, into a thick darkness. The door sealed shut behind him with a finalistic slam. A moment later an earth kingdom paper lantern flickered to life, revealing the only other occupant of the room. The man had tanned, leathery skin that was stretched over his bones perhaps a little too tightly. He was young in body, but his lined face and sunken eyes appeared to belong to an older man. "Good morning, Xavotek." Kioko muttered softly. The man only nodded slightly and turned to the metal bars sealing off the remainder of the tunnel.

Clenching his fists and widening his stance, Xavotek pulled his fists forward and then in toward his chest. The metal bars bent apart like putty, sounding a piercing squeal of metal. Wincing, Kioko thanked the man and walked through the bars. As he walked barefoot along the tunnel, bright white lights flickered on above. Industrial and extremely luminous, they caused Kioko to blink as his eyes adjusted. After a few steps his feet found cold sheet metal.

Ahead he could see the showers. Nobody entered the labs unless they passed through these first. Essentially a large glass foyer, workers on either side wore full-body hazard suits and held long hoses connected to metal containers. Kioko made a face. He hated this part of the day, but it was a small price to pay to be able to participate in the life-saving research that DNAble's large R&D budget allowed him to do. Stripping off his last remaining clothing, he entered the glorified car wash through a sliding glass door.

It had certainly taken a little getting used to. There were at least 10 workers who worked the showers, so there were at least that many people a day who saw him entirely naked. Some of the workers were women, and depending on who was working what shift, there were much more than 10 sanitation officers who might be under those suits.

It was especially uncomfortable for him as a man to have everything (one thing in specific) so exposed. After a few weeks on the job however, he'd gotten pretty used to it. By now it was primarily a small embarrassment and inconvenience. He lifted his hands over his head, placing them on his bare scalp, and closed his eyes. The first two sanitation officers stood on either side of him and sprayed him down with hot water. They were extremely thorough, ensuring that he'd been hosed down quite well.

When they waved him on he walked forward a few steps. The next workers sprayed him with a noisome mist. He breathed the small particles in as he was expected to, then coughed violently as the cleansing mist reached his lungs. He spat at his feet, grimacing, and was allowed to pass. The next workers sprayed him with a slightly offensive smelling liquid. It smelled clean, mostly. This chemical mix was the scent he'd come to associate with sterility. This, in addition to the mist, assured that his body was clear of all potential contaminants.

As he reached the last worker, he opened his mouth. The sanitation office stuck a small rod into his mouth. A violet light flickered inside of his mouth a few times and he felt his tongue grow extremely dry. He supposed it was more effective than a toothbrush, but it was certainly less pleasant. He walked then through an open doorway where a man stood. This man had the same sunken eyes and worn-out body as Xavotek, but his skin was fairer in color. He spun his arms outward and commanded a powerful gust of air to dry Kioko quickly.

Kioko thanked the man, and then stepped past him to fetch one of the many identical safety suits from a rack. The one-piece uniform had a hood to pull over his bald head, which he put up right away.

There was a whoosh of air as he stepped into the airtight hallway through another holding chamber. The labs were as well equipped as current technology would allow, with the primary emphasis being on sterility. If even a single Everstill virus entered a lab it could destroy all of their current research. Even the smallest Strain217 contamination could kill any study subject as well as most of the researchers before there were even signs of the microorganism's invasion. It was this knowledge that haunted Kioko in sleep and motivated his waking life.

He put on a facemask and proceeded down the corridor toward the pre-empt wing. His personal research dealt with predicting what the next mutation of Everstill would behave like and how to stay one step ahead of it. Entering his lab, he found his partner, Martha, already hard at work.
Martha always said that her brain worked best in the wee hours of the morning, and usually stopped being very useful in the late afternoon. Kioko on the other hand, liked to start work around noon and could work late into the night. This still left them a good enough overlap of a few hours in which they could touch base.

He began to flip through his lab notebook, trying to remind himself exactly where he'd left off last night. When he read up on his notes he was filled with excitement as he was reminded that his sequencing results would soon be in from the 5th floor labs where he'd sent his samples. He felt close to a breakthrough, and this data would surely answer a lot of his questions.

Taking up his stool by his lab bench, he began to write out a protocol for today's experiments. He was simply continuing a several day procedure that would prepare his samples, so the work was guaranteed to be slow and tedious as he waited for his results. He allowed this to occupy his time for an hour or so, but his restlessness was not to be ignored.

Looking across the bench at Martha he smiled. Even though he'd been at this job for almost a year now, he was still young and a little green. Thus, he continually forgot that people couldn't see his smile with most of his face covered by a mask.

"I smiled." He explained awkwardly.

"I know. I saw in your eyes." Martha said shortly. She was never much one for conversation. In fact, Kioko was pretty sure she thought he was incompetent. He worried that she resented being stuck with him as a research partner, though if she did, she never expressed it directly.

Kioko was silent for a spell, taking the time to peer down at his notes, but soon made another attempt. "So, the sequencing results come in today." he said. He couldn't help it; he was naturally talkative.

Martha seemed more interested in this than exchanging pleasantries. "We should be conservative with our expectations." She warned.

Kioko knew this of course, but he couldn't help but be anxious to get his hands on the new data. "Yes." He agreed. Then, "What do you anticipate?"

Martha closed her notebook and stood from her bench, crossing to an expensive looking machine. The contrast between the level of technology inside the DNAble labs and the outside world was staggering enough that they could easily be two entirely different planets.

"We really shouldn't let our analysis be biased by specific anticipations, although it would be wise to approach the data with some informed opinions. I think that we can anticipate a new strain to appear within the next year and a half. Most likely, the mutations that will be selected for will deal directly with the retroviral nature of Everstill." She summarized.

Kioko nodded. "…because of the latest resistance genes we developed." He muttered, understanding evident on his face. "I suppose we'll have to wait to know for sure."

As if on cue, there came a rapping on the lab's open door. A masked worker stood holding a folder and a rack of small tubes with clear liquids in them.

Kioko rushed over, signing for the delivery and took the results from the man.

The surly worker handed him the package and gazed at Kioko from under the brim of his uniform cap. Kioko raised his eyebrows expectantly.

"Yes?" he asked. The worker didn't reply, but nodded curtly, turned on his heel and was gone.

Invigorated, Kioko walked back to his bench, already flipping through the much-anticipated results. He sat down slowly, his brow knitting more and more intensely as his eyes scanned the paper.

Martha joined him as he entered the data into a table he'd already written out in his lab notebook. Each digit entered in the table made his hand write faster and faster. When he finally dropped the pen and sat back, Martha looked at him pensively.

"It's almost as if…" she trailed off.

He finished her thought "…as if the earth is fighting back."

 

[Wolf]

[The Fire Nation - Fire Fountain City]

Mizue stared at Mimi. 'How pretty Mimi is with her makeup on and her hair all done up' she thought to herself. The soft curve of her eyeliner, accentuating her mysterious almond eyes, made her look like an exotic fairy of some sort. Yes, Mimi was desirable, mysterious, demure and fierce at the same time. Most of all, she was wanted by men. She was a goddess. No, she was too young to be a goddess. A godette?

Mizue closed her hand mirror and Mimi went away. That girl in the reflection wasn't her after all… at least, not all of who she was.

She was "Mizue" on paper, "Zu" to the girls in the club, "little one" to her family (at least, she had been), and yes, on stage and behind closed curtains with clients, she was "Mimi".

She was of the opinion that things would be a lot easier if she had fewer names and fewer identities, or maybe if she had a lot more identities, maybe some a bit more pleasant than her current ones.

Mizue's train of thought was interrupted by the curt, snappy voice of , the club's owner. "Come along now, Zu." He said sternly. "You're on tonight and I don't pay you to sit around and daydream."

Mizue's brow twitched in irritation. "You don't pay me at all." She muttered under her breath. Normally she wouldn't be so bold, but her day had not exactly been going her way.

Her moment of bravery was, as expected, not very well received. Her cheek stung as the sound of the slap brought a hushed silence to the previously busy dressing room. Mizue's cheek flushed where she had been hit.

The rest of the girls watched with mild interest. What was the crazy kid going to do next? She never learned did she? Many clucked softly with disapproval.

"Your tongue is loose girl." Mirsho spat. "Tell me, when does your tongue do you any good?" he asked venomously.

Mizue stared at the ground. Her cheek stung with pain and her eyes glistened with tears of humiliation. Now the heat of embarrassment had flushed the rest of her face so that the stark slap on her cheek was less visible. "Only when I am on my knees, sir." She said softly, berated.

Sensing that her fire was quenched for now, the house girls turned back to their beautification.

Apparently satisfied with his disciplining, turned and left, calling over his shoulder "Ten minutes ladies."

Mizue slinked back to her stool and examined her cheek. It was quite red and her makeup was smeared, so she began to re-apply cosmetics from her small bag. She made her cheek pale and beautiful again using a mixture of milk, a soft kind of reflective sand and a little animal fat. She was, of course, not worth the expensive designer makeup of the upper class.

Mizue thought, if she had money like the noble ladies of bedtime stories, she would never spend it on covering up her face. Surely, the first thing she would buy would be fresh, natural fruit. Not those crippled DNAble apples. Rather, real strawberries, juicy and sweet. She salivated at the thought.

"Let's go Zu." The smoky voice of Lucy, one of the other girls, broke her second daydream of the night. It was time to go on.

Mizue sighed and ran a comb through her hair one last time before joining the rest of the girls in the queue at the stage door.

The air was thick with the smoke of opiates and the sweet smell of alcohol. All manner of men's voices could be heard from the other side of the thin panel separating the backstage area from the club itself. Deep voices, excited and boisterous; drunk soldiers and law officers. Softer and nervous; young lads on their first visit to such a place. There were even familiar voices from regular clients.

The paper lanterns were dimmed and eventually, the voices were covered by the sultry sound of traditional instruments signaling the beginning of the night's performance.

Mizue and the rest of the girls snaked through the seedy club, winding through the tables. They were met with much excitement and discord.

As she made her rounds strutting amongst the tables, Mizue did her best to surreptitiously keep her back turned to the men. This meant they would grope and grab her backside and slip small, worthless bills into the sash of her silky robe. Mizue was still uncomfortable with this, but she knew there were far worse places that men could put their hands.

Mizue did her best to keep a coy grin spread across her porcelain face as the girls made their way back to the stage. She caught the eye of a shy looking young soldier. The boy had been a client of hers before. She liked him. He had treated her well and had seemed altogether a bit uncomfortable. She smiled a kinder grin at him and he grinned back.

Finding herself on stage, she located the gangly young soldier in the crowd. She hoped he paid for her tonight, sparing her from less desirable partners.

They lined up on the raised stage as the female musicians played a crescendo stop. stepped up to the side of the stage and began to call them out by name and deliver embarrassing descriptions of them as well as their…trade-related skills.

When their names were called, they each stepped up and removed their robes to reveal their undergarments so that the men could appraise them, should they later wish to pay for their services.

When it was "Mimi's" turn, she sauntered up to the middle of the stage. Face burning with a mixture of heat and embarrassment, Mizue undid the tie to her robe and let it fall at her feet. She stood before them, nearly naked, as men called to her and whistled over Mirsho's detailed description of Mimi's oral services.

She had been taught various skills of seduction and she had picked up many more on the job. Thus, it was calculated and deliberate that she turned this way or bent that way, accentuating her flat abdomen, slight bust and her small, round butt. Being the youngest girl at the club meant she didn't have a bunch going for her in the category of secondary sex characteristics. Instead, she capitalized on her innocent face, rosy cheeks and young, nubile frame.

Mimi blew a kiss as Mirsho finished his adulation on her private parts. She collected her robes and allowed herself a second-long break in character to make a displeased face at what she'd just done whilst her back was to the club.

By the time she had rejoined the other girls in line she was back in character. Soon the girls filed off the stage to the sound of much applause.

Mizue knew it was generally better not to make eye contact with any of the men for long while she was on stage, but she chanced a smile and glance at her young soldier to further entice him. Much to her chagrin, his superior officers and friends noticed this and teased him good-naturedly. They were a rowdy-looking bunch and she wondered if she might later regret her little flirt.

The music started back up as soon as they had all left the stage and this time it was much faster in rhythm. As expected, Mimi wound her way into the crowd, touching men on their shoulders and kissing them on their cheeks. She wrinkled her nose as an older man turned to catch one of her kisses on his mouth. She winked at him, inwardly grimacing at the taste of smoke and alcohol. With any luck he'd spent all his money on booze and she wouldn't spend any of the night giving him more attention than she needed to.

A minute or two into their rounds, one of the men slipped a bill into her sash. It was more generous than the usual, so she grinned coyly at him and ran her hands down his chest, leaning in to kiss his neck gently. She came away with the taste of sweat on her lips and, forcing herself to appear as though she was enjoying the whole ordeal, gave his leg a little stroke up close to his crotch.

There were strict rules about what they could and could not do on a tip. Before a deal had been officially made with Mirsho, a girl was not allowed to touch a man's crotch with her hands, feet or anything above her shoulders. They also couldn't show favoritism without undue compensation, make arrangements under the table so that Mirsho couldn't take a cut, or remove any of their undergarments. This was all just as well with Mizue since she couldn't really imagine ever wanting to do most of those things unless she had to.

The rest of the night went on pretty routinely. After the first gentleman's appropriate tip, she continued to receive her typical low compensations. She didn't have large breasts like lots of the other girls and she was young enough that a lot of the men felt a little uncomfortable interacting with her in such a lewd way. Perhaps she reminded some of them of their daughters or nieces or perhaps their skewed moral codes had some unwritten age cutoff.

Most of the men smelled of body odor and drugs, sometimes covered up with cheap cologne. Mizue thought it was funny that some of the men seemed to try to dress on the nicer side or put on cologne as though they had a woman to impress. The whole business was fairly straightforward. The men saw the girls displayed on the stage, sampled them as they walked through the club for an hour or two, then if they took a liking, they paid for a girl's company. There was no wooing involved, and at least for Mizue, she tried to treat every job like a business encounter. She knew her role well enough now, and she didn't like to think about exactly what it was she was doing. Crying on the job was an instant ticket to the full force of Mirsho's anger and most likely, expulsion from the club, meaning Mizue would be on the streets. If men would pay money to receive her sexual attention, she didn't like to think what they could do to her if she was abandoned on the streets, essentially free of charge.

Near the end of the hour in which she was expected to do rounds, a man she had previously not noticed beckoned her over. He was in the very farthest corner of the club. Another man, muscular, dressed fully in black and not very friendly looking sat slightly behind him to his right. The two wore very expensive looking clothing, but they didn't have the look of men who dressed up to go to a club like this. Rather, Mizue got the impression as she approached that the two were in their regular attire. They just looked so…natural.

The man who had summoned her smiled. He held a bill in his hand, turned down. Mizue would have assumed that this meant the bill was small, but once she got close enough to see, her nose was filled with a most fragrant scent. The man's cologne was strong but not offensive like her usual customers', and it most certainly was not cheap. Her eyes widened as she watched him slide the bill into her sash. Her initial reaction was that he must have made a mistake. This was at least two hundred times the normal tip she received. The money he had given her could have bought her private services for ten days and nights straight.

She opened her mouth to say something but the look in the man's eyes silenced her. Whatever this man's intentions, it was not an accident that he'd put this specific bill in her sash. Mizue wondered if there really were people in the world to whom this sum was paltry enough to spend nonchalantly at a club. She glanced quickly at man in his dark suit, but he was staring determinedly forward, surveying the room.

Returning her attention to the first man, she sat on his lap gently. There was so much pressure now! What could she do that was worth such generosity? The man could clearly sense her hesitation and he placed a hand on her back. It was reassuring, and his smile was dazzling. He tapped his cheek and she leaned in to plant a kiss on it. Mizue pressed herself quickly into the man's body, but he shook his head and slid her from his lap onto her feet. "That will be all." He said.

Without further ado the men rose and exited the club, leaving a confused Mizue in their wake.

She wasn't left much time to ponder what had just happened. A moment later, 's voice called her from across the club. She'd been bought tonight. Great.

Mizue nodded and hurried backstage under the guise of freshening up and making herself presentable for her client. Frantically, she struggled to push her small vanity table to the side slightly. Pulling hard on a loose board in the part of the wall normally covered by her mirror, she eventually got it to give way slightly so that one of her small hands could fit behind it.

'This could be my chance.' She told herself. There was no way Mirsho was going to take this from her. For the first time ever, there was the possibility of a life spent somewhere, anywhere, other than this. It was distant, like a star in the sky on an otherwise pitch-dark night, but the fact that it was there gave her more hope than she had felt in a very long time. She stashed the money behind the board and scrambled to push the desk back into place before looking in the mirror, fixing her hair and steeling herself for what tonight would bring.