(no subject)

[river_meimei]

There are points in the rafters where two beams cross. Some of those points intersect with vertical supports; others don't, providing a broader flat surface at the junction.

A laptop is balanced on one. Early 21st century model, sleek and advanced for its time; a knowledgeable eye, given a close look at the specs, might notice that a few components look suspiciously... well, alien. And that a simple laptop probably shouldn't be capable of quite so many things.

River is reading something on it.

She's a huddle inside her long brown coat; her face is pale and tear-splotched, with dark circles under her narrowed eyes, and hot slow tears spill down her cheeks. But she doesn't move, except to scroll down, and she doesn't look away.

Comments

[river_meimei]

Softly, "Do you?"

[nottwinkletoes.livejournal.com]

He thought about it for a moment.

"I thought I knew." He looked up at her, gray eyes full of uncertainty and hope all at once. "It's just harder now, to believe in things--that doesn't mean they aren't true though."

[river_meimei]

River just looks tired, tired and frustrated and sad, and punches another series of keys on the laptop.

[nottwinkletoes.livejournal.com]

There was a rueful expression on his face for a moment, and then he dropped off the rafter.

Down below, the front door of the bar opened and was left open for a moment, and a mountain breeze blew in, the summer wind carrying the faint smell of vines and sweet flowers, and lotus blossoms.

Then the door closed enough, and Aang jumped up with a little gust of air propelling him, and climbed back up onto the rafter, something clutched in his hand.

The Airbenders were gone, but in the temple, the flowers still bloomed--the apple and cherry blossoms that were there all spring and summer, the lotuses in the pools, the wildflowers on the mountainside--and it was a little bunch of flowers that he put down next to the plate of cookies.

"I don't know you, but I really hope that whatever it is...that it gets better, and that if you're worrying about someone else, that they'll be okay," he said. He was awkward again for a moment. "Things get better. They do."

Then he jumped off the rafter again, and was gone, the front door opening and closing again.

He'd left behind little white-pink apple blossoms.

For 'better things to come.'