Accidental Avatar 3: Totally Lit

Spirits or Madness?

Iroh leaned against the wall of his cell. Scraggly hair fell over his drooling face as another guard walked in. Still, he leaned against his wall with a glazed expression. The guard said nothing but narrowed his eyes and dropped a bowl of mush to the floor. A greyish brown goop spilled out as the warden kicked it into the cage. The fat old man leapt onto the foul food and started shovelling it into his mouth.

"Look at you," the guard growled at his prisoner. "You're just a fat, disgusting old man." 

He stepped closer to the bars. 

"You do nothing, say nothing," the Warden slapped a hand against the bars of the cell. "You just eat and roll around in your own filth like a pig. It's a disgrace."

The bully hooked up a loogie and spat it in the old man's direction before turning his back and striding out.

Iroh smiled to himself, flicking stray strands of hair out of his face as he picked up the bowl and assumed a more dignified, cross-legged position, eating calmly. But, as was now customary for him, he was also aware of a presence that seemed to have returned and lingered just beyond his line of sight. He didn't turn to look since it would inevitably mean the presence would move with him. It was Amaya, though he learned quickly that beyond her presence just at the edges of his vision, he could not interact with her.

She could not speak. She could not communicate with him at all. He could not even see her face.

But she was a comfort in the dark, dank cell.

It also seemed that only he could see or sense her.

Maybe he really was going crazy.