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22 May 2008 @ 10:07 pm
Title: Decayed
Character: Jun
Fandom: Avatar The Last Airbender
Genre: Introspection, Retrospection
Rating: G
Word Count: 300

Where the world has all been decayed—

—where his bones have turned to soap and ash and dust, and the years are grayed (and ebb away)—

Jun can think of three days in one. And each is shorter than the last, and each is quicker (swifter, more pleading, going, going, like a dagger in the wind) than the last. She counts her fingers as her years, and her face reflects the scars she’s seen

And one day, Jun does not count anymore.

And one day, Jun lies down to rest. To decay.

(Like him and them, and everyone before.)


Now, she is twenty and two (separately). She is the girl at twenty about to married, wed, and thrown into the lions’ den. And she is the little kid just turned two, ready to indulge in—

And then, that’s when Jun remembers: she’s a murder.

And that is when she must repent. But she does not (never does) because she could see no wrong.

Never could.


And now, she is old—old like the sea, like roaring howls from far, far away (from a land to east, where the west does not reach). But she still remembers she day she died. All those years ago.

This is the stage where sleep refuses to come ever again.


I was so pretty, she thinks. And the wrinkles and creases and craters in her face are all smudged, blurred into something wonderfully ugly. See.

She is still beautiful. In a different way.

In a grotesque way.

And now, she thinks: this rue must die, some way or another.

Because she’s sick of all this. Ill and lethal, and still wanting.

And now, she understands: there’s no virtue left in her. And she is not mournful—not one bit. (Leave it for the dead, for the dolor). For the angst, for the waste to all cave in.