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Story: Storm-Tossed
Title: Storm-Tossed
Fandom: Avatar: the Last Airbender
Characters: Hahn, Krisuk (OC)
Rating: PG/K+
Word Count: 978
Summary: After a storm, a Fire Nation boy washes up at the North Pole.
Notes: Written for the Free For All challenge at ATLA Land.


Krisuk ignored the hallucination at first, focusing all his effort into pushing himself back up from where he'd fallen. The first clue he had that it wasn't a hallucination this time was the butt end of a spear poking him.

He surged forward, trying to set the spear on fire. Though he missed by a long shot, the man holding it stumbled backward with a yelp. "Hey!"

In a fluid moment Krisuk wasn't certain he could duplicate when not freezing to death on a glacier, the man flipped his spear around. "What the hell was that for?" the spear-wielder demanded, resuming poking.

Krisuk grabbed at the spear, trying to make the poking stop, and missed the first time. Whoa. Probably shouldn't have firebent. On the second grab, he had it by the shaft, and tried to focus on the man holding it. Why was he fuzzy around the edges? "Hell'd you jab me with that for?" he asked in return.

"To see if you were even alive," the spear-carried replied, scowling. He didn't pull the spear free, however.

Krisuk pushed it aside and tried to get to his knees. The world around him spun and he tilted to one side. "Whoa."

The other man -- Water Tribe, Krisuk realised groggily -- switched how he was holding his spear again, this time planting the butt of it on the ice. The look he gave Krisuk now seemed to be more curious than hostile. "What am I going to do with you, firebender?"

"Feed me?" Krisuk suggested. That would certainly take care of the hollow gnawing in his belly. Maybe the glacier would stop spinning then, too. He'd really like that.

"Sure," said the Water Tribesman. He took a silver fish from his belt and offered it to Krisuk. Eagerly, he tried to take it, but it flopped left, then right, then left again. Finally the other man grabbed him by the wrist and shoved the fish into his hand. "Fairy sips," he cautioned.

Why would he sip a fish? Krisuk wondered, then realised he was grasping metal.


Krisuk put the flask, for that was what it actually was, to his lips, took a mouthful and spat it out. That was blood in there! "Are you a vampire?"

The other man blinked. "Have you seen the windago?"

He carefully lifted the flask as though it might bite him. "Blood."

"Lots of crazy," agreed the Water Tribesman.

Krisuk just stared at him until the world wheeled to the left and he hit the ice again. The other man sighed and grasped him by the wrist, pulling him to his feet. "It's good for you," he said.

"It's blood," Krisuk repeated, in case he hadn't been heard the first time.

"It's seal blood," corrected the Water Tribesman.


Krisuk eyed the flask with some trepidition, then sipped again.

Within short order, he had drained the flask completely, and the Water Tribesman was now offering him something wrapped in seaweed. "Here," he said.

Krisuk eyed it suspciously even as he reached for it. He certainly hadn't forgotten the blood. "What is it?"

"Food," replied the other man in an I-Can't-Believe-You-Don't-Already-Know-This voice. "Good food."

Krisuk was not entirely certain he believed the other about the 'good' part. Beggers, however, could not be choosers; he accepted the seaweed-wrapped whatever and carefully ate it.

The Water Tribesman swung his spear up to rest it on his shoulders before hunkering down to watch Krisuk trying very hard not to bolt down the whatever-it-was. Krisuk waited until the whole thing was gone before asking, "So... I guess I landed at the North Pole?"

"More or less," the other man said, eyeing him. "You planning to freeze to death today?"

"Not really, no. Could I borrow a jacket?" He'd only lasted this long because he'd been using his firebending to keep warm. He should have stopped a long time ago, especially when the world had gone weird, but freezing to death was not something he wanted to do.

"Yeah, sure," said the Water Tribesman. He stood, stabbed his spear into the ice, the shucked off his parka and passed it over to Krisuk. Underneath the heavy coat, he wore quite a lot of weapons.

"Thanks," Krisuk mumbled, pulling the parka on over his head. He tried putting his head through the arm hole twice before he got it on properly. Once that was done, he carefully started letting his bending drop off. He had a vague notion that stopping all at once was bad, but he couldn't remember why.

"Hey. Hey."

Krisuk looked up, and realised the Water Tribesman had been trying to get his attention. "Huh?" Argh, he was cold now.

"We're heading back," the other man said.

"Oh. Okay." He hoped he meant his village or city or whatever it was the Water Tribe lived in, not where Krisuk had washed up. ...where had he washed up, anyway?

It was cold.

Oh, the other guy was moving.

Krisuk followed him, weaving a little bit so the ground wouldn't yank him off his feet again. This was harder than it seemed -- rather than jerking, the ground had decided to spin slowly one way, and then the other. More than once, he stumbled, until he ran into the Water Tribesman.

"Do not make me carry you," the other man said.

Krisuk opened his mouth to retort, but the sky suddenly changed places with the ground and he followed suit, shivering uncontrollable now. He was vaguely aware of the Water Tribesman cursing, then the ground spat him up and across something.

Whatever it was wasn't a comfortable ride, and Krisuk wondered if he was back on the boat. No, it wasn't storming anymore.

The next thing that he was aware of was being in something warm and of the Water Tribesman yelling something, then everything went dark. That was okay, though.

He was safe.

Current Location: the apartment couch
Current Mood: thirsty
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