tw: bloodbending, violence
Every capillary, every artery, was scorching hot as it turned to ice. Every last drop.
Amon. It was this side of him, commanding me.
Tiny footsteps inched toward the room.
Just like the footsteps stolen from the water tribe boy bloodbent by his brother as his father cheered, invigorated.
Under the decrepit light, the child's matted ebony hair could've been 3 wavy ponytails, spraying out from a contorted, tiny head.
“P-please, sir, please stop! You’re scaring me.”
Just like the water tribe boy had cried as his brother’s excruciating grip peaked over him.
“Li, young child, you must not be here right now.”
My bones seemed to peel off each other as I plummeted down, lungs swelling.
Amon cooed at the child, like Noatak had cooed at me, tone like laced honey so I'd abandon Mother with him.
Amon’s voice returned to grinding concrete, gruff and deep, as Li scurried out.
“Tarrlok, get out.” He seethed, pupils blown out. “GET OUT.”
“Or what?” I mustered through hyperventilated breaths. “Y-ou will b-bloodbend me to my demise? You have already taken my greatest a-asset.”
I inhaled sharply, finally making my words clear.
Nothing. Not even a trace of remorse in Amon’s eyes.
He was still beneath that battered mask.