𝙊𝙗𝙨𝙞𝙙𝙞𝙖𝙣 ᪥ 𝙄𝙧𝙤𝙝 𝙄𝙄 ˡᵉᵍᵉⁿᵈ ᵒᶠ ᵏᵒʳʳᵃ

𝙵 𝐢 𝚟 𝐞

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𝙳 𝐞 𝚏 𝐢 𝚊 𝐧 𝚝
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𝙍𝙀𝙈𝘼𝙄𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙊𝙉 𝙎𝘾𝙃𝙀𝘿𝙐𝙇𝙀, a horrific dream rocks Halah from her sleep. Outside, the world remains stained with blackness, but the sound of wildlife awakening tells her the sun will rise soon. A faint sliver of light grows on the horizon line. All tiredness dissipates from her body and she scrambles out of bed once she realizes what that means: after four years of being shut indoors, she can finally watch a sunrise. Although she's the complete opposite of a morning person and prefers the sunsets, she can't miss the opportunity. She told herself from now on, she will be sleeping in.

          In the midst of darkness, Halah's hands fumble for a light switch, her feet stumble over the boots she kicked off a few hours before. She lands firmly on her bad leg and pain shoots from her ankle to her knee as it gives out from under her. She staggers sideways, arms flailing, leading her rib cage directly to the corner of a chair where it jabs her side and stubs her toe. As the chair crashes to the floor—and she, sprawled across the desk, knocks a few items to the floor—she curses at the volume of her struggle. Then, to top it off, her feet decide to get twisted up in her clothing pile, tripping her and sending her down in a heap next to the chair. The floor slamming against her back knocks the air out of her lungs She groans in pain, but tried to stifle it when she remembers at what hour this is playing out.

          A lump raises on the side of her head as she rubs her palm on the spot. She's in such a disarray, she doesn't notice the footsteps that bound up to her room. In a flash of orange flame, her door bursts open. Iroh, in a panic, stumbles in with a fist full of fire as he pants heavily. A few steps in, he finds Halah crumbled, but completely fine, on the floor. The flame evaporates, leaving the room to return to darkness. With a click, the lights flash on and Halah has to shield her eyes before they can adjust to the brightness.

          "What the hell just happened?" Iroh asks breathlessly. He crouches beside Halah to examine where she has been rubbing her head. "I thought you were being attacked."

          Halah groans. "I just ate shit, that's what happened."

          Iroh can't help but laugh. "Are you alright though?"

          She nods and blows air from her cheeks. Heat reluctantly warms her face when she notices his lack of a shirt, but she shoves the thought down before it can turn into something she will regret. Her attempt to get up is derailed by the aching in her leg and she hisses and clutches her calf after she flops back down. Iroh's hand shoots over hers and moves it from its spot to reveal a deep scar about two inches long.

          "W-What is it? What hurts?" He says worriedly.

          Halah doesn't want to tell him about her injury. She doesn't want to resurface the memory she has locked away in the back of her brain. As if on queue, it sparks a sharp sensation up and down her calf, and her muscles contract. She snatches her leg away from his hand and refuses to meet his gaze.

          "Halah?"

          "Don't worry about it. I just hit the chair really hard."

          Halah presses her palm over the scar to hide it from his sight. They sit on the floor in the silence for a few moments, and she still won't tear her eyes from the wood panels to notice Iroh's travel up her bare legs and land on her face. She's wearing a bergundy sleep set: loose shorts and a worn sweater. The color looks quite nice on her, and not just because it's deeper shade of Iroh's national color, though he will always be biased towards red.