@devilofthecresentisle asked: The performer spoke briefly with the musicians seated outside her little circle, her rucksack tucked behind where they were sitting. It was dark enough that people had already started to gather to see what was doing on in the circle lit by low flames. She smiled at the little crowd, giving a nod to the musicians, who began to play.
The poi she was holding--she began to rock them, making small arcs then full circles. Mid circle the second time around, she used her bending to send fire down the wicks to the poi’s main body, snuffing the ambient light at the edge of the circle. The left flared a bright pink and violet while the right was a brilliant mix of blue and green. The colorful flames chased each other in circles, wide arcs and figure eights around her body, she even extended the ties above the watching audience’s heads to give off puffs of the colors into the air before pulling them back in to skim the ground, causing multicolored sparks, the light reflecting off her white clothes and jewelry as she went into a backbend, the poi twirling rapidly in a wheel above her chest then flaring out to a full circle.
She held that pose for several long moments before the music stopped and she bowed with a grin, walking to dunk the still burning poi into a bucket of water.
Zuko lingered at the edge of the crowd, the hood of his cloak casting just enough shadow over his face to keep curious eyes from recognizing him. It wasn’t unusual for people to gather like this in the market square, but the colorful spectacle had caught people's attention. He’d seen firebending used in a thousand ways but never like this. The flame wasn’t dragonfire; he could tell instantly.
As the pinks and violets bloomed in the air, washing over the crowd’s awed faces, Zuko found himself unconsciously shifting closer, studying her movements with a craftsman’s curiosity. How was she changing the flame’s hue like that? Mineral powder? Some kind of chemical additive?
When she bent back, the poi spinning above her chest in a perfect wheel of color, he exhaled in a low whistle that was lost to the sound of the crowd. As the final note faded and she bowed, he felt the faintest smile touch his lips. He adjusted the hood slightly, staying hidden as the applause swelled. Part of him wanted to walk away before anyone noticed the stranger lingering too long, but the student in him refused to leave without knowing how she’d done it.
He waited until she dunked the poi in water and the colors hissed and died, before stepping just a little closer through the dispersing crowd. His voice was quiet, careful not to draw attention, but edged with unmistakable curiosity.
“Those colors,” he said under his breath, low enough for only her to hear. “That’s not dragon’s fire. How did you do that?”
