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Description
The first minutes of morning. Still mostly dark outside; the sun was just beginning it’s assault on the sky. Piandao rubbed his eyes wearily. To say he hadn’t slept well would be an understatement.

He sighed, observing the battle of dawn; fiery oranges, reds, and pinks were turning the fight in their favor against the dark blues and purples of the lingering night. Only the brightest stars still twinkled, most already being outshone by the sun which just barely peaked its own weary head over the horizon.

Releasing the cloth in his hand, he let the tent flap swing back into place. Stepping back into the still dark room, he knelt by his belongings, shuffling through them until he found and removed his brush and paints, a few sheets of paper following shortly after. There was no better way to clear his mind than by meditating and painting; there was no better time for painting than under a multicolored sky.

--

Piandao carefully removed the bandages over Jeong Jeong's right eyes, checking the cuts for any sign of infection. Agni be thanked, there weren't any, but they were being slow to heal. Dried blood caked the old bandage that he tossed aside now to be discarded later. He wiped the wounds clean of the dried blood, careful to not reopen them as he had done the night before. He could feel the other golden eye studying him; it was a bit unnerving.

"Your hand is shaking."

"It is not." It was; ever so slightly, but it was.

He brushed several strands of white hair out of Jeong Jeong's face before positioning the fresh bandage over the shut eye. For a fraction of a second, he thought the firebender had leaned into the touch. Wishful thinking, perhaps.

He picked up the fresh piece of gauze and the long strip of linen used to secure it around Jeong Jeong's head. His calloused fingers brushed over the paler skin once again as he lined the gauze over the eye with one hand, and lined the cloth up with the other.

"Can you hold the gauze still while I tie this?"

After Jeong Jeong lifted his hand to hold the cloth in place, Piandao reached around he back of his head to tie the ends of the securing strip, trying not to make it too tight nor too loose.

"How does that feel?"

Jeong Jeong nodded, "It'll do."

"We should have it looked at when we reach Omashu. I want to make sure it's healing properly... and when it will be alright to remove the bandage for good."

"So long as I can still see out of it, I will be satisfied."

Piandao fell silent as he repacked the supplies, a pang of guilt traveling through him.

--

Piandao spread the blank canvas on the flattest rock he could find, his back turned to the camp; he carefully placed weights on either side to hold it flat. His assortment of inks were lined up across the top for easier access. The brush in his hand was old, the pad of his thumb ran over the worn-out bristles; he would have to get a new one soon, after his job was done here.

Dark eyes roamed across the wilderness before settling on what would be today’s subject: a bush, leaves thick and prickly. A spider web glistening with morning dew clungs to it’s right side, a lump in the middle showing how recently its owner had eaten. His eyes traveled across the silky silver-white net until he spotted the spider; it was tiny- no bigger than his thumb-, brown, and sitting motionless, waiting for its next hapless prey to become snared in the net.

First, green. Set the background. Gentle strokes, smeared slightly. The bush was not to be the focus. Thin it out here, make it easier to paint over.

He studied the spider as he waited for the base coat to dry. It displayed an incredible amount of patience, never moving in the least. And it wouldn’t move until something was caught in the web, helpless and within striking distance.

Now white. This color had to be used sparingly- he was running low. Curve upwards to a sharp point, curve downward again. If he had more paint, he’d detail it for the outstanding intricacies of the web (nature was a far better artist than he); for now, he outlined its basic form, a flimsy skeleton copy of the fleshy original.

A hint of blue to give it a ghostly feel.

Finally brown. A small form sitting, almost appearing to float, on the net. A tiny specter, harbinger of death, cloaked in earthly hues waiting, always waiting.

Something buzzed by his head, tiny, black, wings beating more rapidly than his eyes could catch. A common speckled beetle.

Breakfast? Piandao mused, observing the spider’s movements, a subtle twitch, as the beetle landed on a leaf near the web. The beetle crept toward it, crept crept, until it found one of its legs stuck in the net. It panicked, struggled, only entangling itself more. The spider came to life, gliding over the web effortlessly to its prey. It began to crawl around the flailing beetle gracefully, encasing it in fresh webbing, ceasing its erratic movements.

“Still painting?”

Piandao nearly jumped out of his skin.

--

He wasn't sure what he was thinking when he kissed Jeong Jeong. They were having one of their nightly discussions when, on impulse if he were to blame anything, he leaned over, closing the distance between them rapidly.

Jeong Jeong had slipped his eyes closed at some point during a long-winded rant, "And that is why I wish I was a water ben-"

He was muffled by a pair of lips suddenly covering his own; his eyes shot open and his body jerked back reflexively. Awkward silence stretched on for an eternity between them until the night watch relief showed up several agonizing minutes later. Piandao had never been so thankful for an excuse to dismiss himself from Jeong Jeong's presence.

--

He never heard Jeong Jeong approaching him. His senses were dulling; he was getting old. He barely turned his head, still somewhere between surprised, angry, and ecstatic at the intrusion of his meditation. “As long as there is beauty to capture, I’ll keep translating it onto paper.”

Jeong Jeong grunted; Piandao sighed softly, setting the brush down gently beside the paper. He shifted, turned to face the man. “Look, Jeong Jeong-”

“I didn’t come here to talk.” He grumbled, arms folded irritably across his chest.

Piandao remained silent for a moment; there had to be some reason Jeong Jeong was holding a grudge against him. He knew why, vaguely, but it didn’t think it could have made him that bitter. He stood and, as he looked down at the fire bender, remembered just how much taller he was. If Jeong Jeong hadn’t been so angry with him, he might have laughed at the almost absurd height difference. “We need to. I don’t want there to be any animosity between us…”

He trailed off. Angry eyes stared him down, birds of prey studying their target. The scars had healed well, but still stood out on the canvas of skin beside his right eye. Slowly, he reached out, wanting to trace the scars, to touch that face once again. Jeong Jeong's brows furrowed, lips drawn into a tight scowl, and swatted his hand away. Piandao gaped. How had the firebender grown so cold?

"Don't touch me, Piandao."

Frustration washed over his shock, replacing it in a matter of seconds. "What is your problem?"

"I'm not yours to touch anymore."

Tension loomed in the silence.

A sigh. "Let me make things right again."

Nostrils flared, Jeong Jeong began to walk off. Piandao grabbed his shoulder. Another glare directed itself at him.

"You want to make things right?! You should never have left me to begin with!"

Shoulders slumped as the bender wrenched out of his grip, Piandao watched with hurt-consumed eyes as Jeong Jeong stormed off. He had never fathomed how much he had hurt him when he had returned to the Fire Nation.

Jeong Jeong disappeared into the camp, Piandao sighed. He quietly gathered up his supplies and began to trudge back to his tent to prepare for the day.

He had to mend their broken relationship; even if it was only a little, just enough to keep Jeong Jeong from being perpetually angry at him, maybe to at least be friends again, he had to fix it.

Description
The first minutes of morning. Still mostly dark outside; the sun was just beginning it’s assault on the sky. Piandao rubbed his eyes wearily. To say he hadn’t slept well would be an understatement.

He sighed, observing the battle of dawn; fiery oranges, reds, and pinks were turning the fight in their favor against the dark blues and purples of the lingering night. Only the brightest stars still twinkled, most already being outshone by the sun which just barely peaked its own weary head over the horizon.

Releasing the cloth in his hand, he let the tent flap swing back into place. Stepping back into the still dark room, he knelt by his belongings, shuffling through them until he found and removed his brush and paints, a few sheets of paper following shortly after. There was no better way to clear his mind than by meditating and painting; there was no better time for painting than under a multicolored sky.

--

Piandao carefully removed the bandages over Jeong Jeong's right eyes, checking the cuts for any sign of infection. Agni be thanked, there weren't any, but they were being slow to heal. Dried blood caked the old bandage that he tossed aside now to be discarded later. He wiped the wounds clean of the dried blood, careful to not reopen them as he had done the night before. He could feel the other golden eye studying him; it was a bit unnerving.

"Your hand is shaking."

"It is not." It was; ever so slightly, but it was.

He brushed several strands of white hair out of Jeong Jeong's face before positioning the fresh bandage over the shut eye. For a fraction of a second, he thought the firebender had leaned into the touch. Wishful thinking, perhaps.

He picked up the fresh piece of gauze and the long strip of linen used to secure it around Jeong Jeong's head. His calloused fingers brushed over the paler skin once again as he lined the gauze over the eye with one hand, and lined the cloth up with the other.

"Can you hold the gauze still while I tie this?"

After Jeong Jeong lifted his hand to hold the cloth in place, Piandao reached around he back of his head to tie the ends of the securing strip, trying not to make it too tight nor too loose.

"How does that feel?"

Jeong Jeong nodded, "It'll do."

"We should have it looked at when we reach Omashu. I want to make sure it's healing properly... and when it will be alright to remove the bandage for good."

"So long as I can still see out of it, I will be satisfied."

Piandao fell silent as he repacked the supplies, a pang of guilt traveling through him.

--

Piandao spread the blank canvas on the flattest rock he could find, his back turned to the camp; he carefully placed weights on either side to hold it flat. His assortment of inks were lined up across the top for easier access. The brush in his hand was old, the pad of his thumb ran over the worn-out bristles; he would have to get a new one soon, after his job was done here.

Dark eyes roamed across the wilderness before settling on what would be today’s subject: a bush, leaves thick and prickly. A spider web glistening with morning dew clungs to it’s right side, a lump in the middle showing how recently its owner had eaten. His eyes traveled across the silky silver-white net until he spotted the spider; it was tiny- no bigger than his thumb-, brown, and sitting motionless, waiting for its next hapless prey to become snared in the net.

First, green. Set the background. Gentle strokes, smeared slightly. The bush was not to be the focus. Thin it out here, make it easier to paint over.

He studied the spider as he waited for the base coat to dry. It displayed an incredible amount of patience, never moving in the least. And it wouldn’t move until something was caught in the web, helpless and within striking distance.

Now white. This color had to be used sparingly- he was running low. Curve upwards to a sharp point, curve downward again. If he had more paint, he’d detail it for the outstanding intricacies of the web (nature was a far better artist than he); for now, he outlined its basic form, a flimsy skeleton copy of the fleshy original.

A hint of blue to give it a ghostly feel.

Finally brown. A small form sitting, almost appearing to float, on the net. A tiny specter, harbinger of death, cloaked in earthly hues waiting, always waiting.

Something buzzed by his head, tiny, black, wings beating more rapidly than his eyes could catch. A common speckled beetle.

Breakfast? Piandao mused, observing the spider’s movements, a subtle twitch, as the beetle landed on a leaf near the web. The beetle crept toward it, crept crept, until it found one of its legs stuck in the net. It panicked, struggled, only entangling itself more. The spider came to life, gliding over the web effortlessly to its prey. It began to crawl around the flailing beetle gracefully, encasing it in fresh webbing, ceasing its erratic movements.

“Still painting?”

Piandao nearly jumped out of his skin.

--

He wasn't sure what he was thinking when he kissed Jeong Jeong. They were having one of their nightly discussions when, on impulse if he were to blame anything, he leaned over, closing the distance between them rapidly.

Jeong Jeong had slipped his eyes closed at some point during a long-winded rant, "And that is why I wish I was a water ben-"

He was muffled by a pair of lips suddenly covering his own; his eyes shot open and his body jerked back reflexively. Awkward silence stretched on for an eternity between them until the night watch relief showed up several agonizing minutes later. Piandao had never been so thankful for an excuse to dismiss himself from Jeong Jeong's presence.

--

He never heard Jeong Jeong approaching him. His senses were dulling; he was getting old. He barely turned his head, still somewhere between surprised, angry, and ecstatic at the intrusion of his meditation. “As long as there is beauty to capture, I’ll keep translating it onto paper.”

Jeong Jeong grunted; Piandao sighed softly, setting the brush down gently beside the paper. He shifted, turned to face the man. “Look, Jeong Jeong-”

“I didn’t come here to talk.” He grumbled, arms folded irritably across his chest.

Piandao remained silent for a moment; there had to be some reason Jeong Jeong was holding a grudge against him. He knew why, vaguely, but it didn’t think it could have made him that bitter. He stood and, as he looked down at the fire bender, remembered just how much taller he was. If Jeong Jeong hadn’t been so angry with him, he might have laughed at the almost absurd height difference. “We need to. I don’t want there to be any animosity between us…”

He trailed off. Angry eyes stared him down, birds of prey studying their target. The scars had healed well, but still stood out on the canvas of skin beside his right eye. Slowly, he reached out, wanting to trace the scars, to touch that face once again. Jeong Jeong's brows furrowed, lips drawn into a tight scowl, and swatted his hand away. Piandao gaped. How had the firebender grown so cold?

"Don't touch me, Piandao."

Frustration washed over his shock, replacing it in a matter of seconds. "What is your problem?"

"I'm not yours to touch anymore."

Tension loomed in the silence.

A sigh. "Let me make things right again."

Nostrils flared, Jeong Jeong began to walk off. Piandao grabbed his shoulder. Another glare directed itself at him.

"You want to make things right?! You should never have left me to begin with!"

Shoulders slumped as the bender wrenched out of his grip, Piandao watched with hurt-consumed eyes as Jeong Jeong stormed off. He had never fathomed how much he had hurt him when he had returned to the Fire Nation.

Jeong Jeong disappeared into the camp, Piandao sighed. He quietly gathered up his supplies and began to trudge back to his tent to prepare for the day.

He had to mend their broken relationship; even if it was only a little, just enough to keep Jeong Jeong from being perpetually angry at him, maybe to at least be friends again, he had to fix it.