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skepwith · 4 months

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Yet More Parts of the Revenge for OFMD Fans

Part 3 of a series: Revenge Master Post.

Sail Names

The Revenge is a square-rigged ship with three masts: the foremast, the mainmast, and the mizzenmast. (The masts are further subdivided into three sections, each with its own name, but this shit is complicated enough already so we’re not going there.) The sails on each mast, from bottom to top, are:

Foremast: foresail, fore topsail, fore topgallant sail Mainmast: mainsail, main topsail, main topgallant sail Mizzenmast: spanker (yes, really), mizzen topsail Before the foremast: fore topmast staysail, jib

The spanker doesn’t follow the naming formula because rather than being square rigged, it’s fore-and-aft rigged, meaning it moves differently and is a different shape.

Sail Anatomy

Each square sail hangs from a horizontal spar (pole) called a yard. (This is what Roach jumps off during Jack’s game of “yardies.”) The ends of the yard are called the yardarms, as in “the sun’s over the yardarm” (time for a drink). The foot of the sail is secured with lines called sheets, as in “three sheets to the wind” (drunk).

Each yard has a specific name based on its location and function. So a sailor wouldn’t just say yard, they’d say main yard or fore topsail yard. This is true of every sail, line, and doohickey on a ship.

Unlike the square sails, the spanker doesn’t hang from a yard but from a gaff (specifically, the spanker gaff). Its foot is secured to another spar called a boom (the spanker boom).

The triangular sails at the bow of the vessel don’t have yards; they’re attached to lines called stays at the top (thus staysail) and to the bowsprit (or its extensions) at the front.

Fun With Sails

So now that we know what they’re called, what kinds of things can the crew do with them? Bearing in mind that the show’s canonical nautical orders are gibberish, here are some suggestions.

Setting Setting the sails means putting them into position to catch the wind and get the ship moving—that is, get it underway. Sailors climb up (go aloft) to the yards and spread out by standing on the footropes (though these ropes probably weren’t in use in the Revenge’s day). If the sail has been stowed (bundled up and tied to the yard), the crew needs to release the clewlines and buntlines to let the sail unfurl, after which they attach its bottom corners to the yard below by the sheets.

Furling The sails are usually furled (rolled or folded up) and stowed (tied to the yard) while the ship is moored, that is, tied to a wharf, quay, dock, or pier—in other words, not going anywhere.

Reefing Like furling, but only partway: to reef a sail is to fold up part of it to reduce the area exposed to the wind. This is done in strong winds to keep the ship stable. To shake out a reef is to release the sail to its full extent again.

Trimming When sailors trim a sail, they’re adjusting its angle to the wind for maximum efficiency. Yards can also be trimmed, by being moved horizontally around the mast or by tilting the yardarm up or down.

Heaving To To heave to is to stop the ship where it is, usually by backing some sails to counteract the rest. The past tense is hove to, as in “Upon seeing Blackbeard’s flag, the merchantman hove to and allowed itself to be boarded.”

Rigging

Ropes in storage are ropes; ropes in use are lines. Lines are tied into different knots for different uses—for example, a hitch is the knot used to tie a line to a fixed object, like a bollard (post).

The order to make [something] fast means to lash (tie) it securely. You can also lash something to something, as in “The hostages were lashed to the foremast.” The order to lash up and stow was a British Navy command to tie up the hammocks and stow them out of the way, usually in netting on the inside of the hull.

Each line has a specific name, like main sheet, fore shrouds, or mizzen topsail halyard. The number of different lines is truly staggering, so I’m only going to cover a few of them here. I’ve already mentioned the sails’ clewlines, buntlines, and sheets. To secure one of the lines after adjusting a sail is to belay the line. (Belay also means to disregard, as in “Belay that order!”)

A line that hoists (raises) something, like, say, a flag, is called a halyard. Cables are the thickest, heaviest lines—e.g., what the anchor is attached to—and may need to be moved using the capstan. (Though the anchor is never said to be hoisted; it’s weighed, despite what Frenchie says.)

Here, Jim is sanding in the shrouds. The shrouds are rows of vertical lines on either side of a mast. They serve to stabilize the mast, so they don’t move, which makes them standing rigging, as opposed to running rigging. Between the shrouds run horizontal lines called ratlines. Sailors use the ratlines as rungs to climb aloft.

Beyond the Revenge

When a ship’s not underway, it’s “parked” at an anchorage, which is any place a ship can anchor—usually a port or harbour, but it could be at sea or off an island.

When there’s a wharf, the ship can be moored, which usually means it’s tied to a short post (bollard) on the platform. Unmoored means untied, adrift—literally or metaphorically. Once the ship is moored, the gangplank is placed to allow the crew to walk ashore. If the ship needs major repairs, it is taken to the dockyard.

If the harbour’s too shallow for a ship to dock, its crew will make their way ashore in a smaller boat called a dinghy (or skiff or dory). These boats are kept on board the ship as lifeboats and to ferry supplies and people back and forth.

The dinghy’s rowers sit facing backwards (astern) to row their oars (not paddles), the flat part of which is called the blade. The benches they sit on are called thwarts, because they’re athwart (perpendicular to) the dinghy’s keel. When in use, the oars sit in notches in the gunwales called rowlocks (or oarlocks in Canada and the US).

If, let’s say, Fang decided to row out in a dinghy, he might take a break from rowing for a bit by resting on his oars. When he found a good fishing spot, he’d ship his oars—that is, take them out of the rowlocks and lay them inside the boat.

Zheng Yi Sao’s Red Flag is a type of ship called a junk. The junk is distinguished by its fully battened sails. Battens are strips of wood, usually bamboo, that were inserted into the sails as supports. These sails, whether fan-shaped or rectangular, were easier to handle in many ways, so a junk needed fewer crewpeople than a square-rigged ship like the Revenge.

Miscellaneous Sailing Lingo

Avast: Stede seems to use this to mean “Hey, I’m a pirate!,” but it’s actually an order to stop whatever you’re doing. I imagine Avast, ye! came to be associated with pirates because it’s what you’d say when boarding a ship: “Drop your weapons, everyone!” But that’s just my speculation.

Ahoy: word used to hail another vessel, as in “Boat ahoy!” or “Ahoy the Revenge!”

Fathom: how water depth was measured. A fathom is six feet down, or six feet of line. League: three nautical miles. A nautical mile was 6,080 feet. (For comparison, a regular mile is 5,280 feet.) Knot: a measure of speed equalling one nautical mile per hour. According to reddit, a ship that’s 150 feet long would have a top speed of about 16 knots.

Flotsam: debris or cargo left afloat after a shipwreck. Jetsam used to mean parts of a ship or its cargo that had been thrown overboard to lighten the load. The distinction was important for legal reasons to do with salvage rights; today they mean the same thing.

Lee: the side that is sheltered from the wind, whether speaking of a ship, land mass, or rock. Leeward and alee mean on or towards this side, away from the wind.

List: when a ship leans to one side, it’s listing Capsize: what a boat or ship does when it overturns in water Founder: to fill with water and sink (not to be confused with flounder, to flail around uselessly)

Pitch, Roll, and Yaw: these describe the motions of a ship. To pitch is to rock between bow and stern. To roll is to rock from side to side (starboard and port). To yaw is for the bow and stern to swivel back and forth.

That’s all, folks! Thanks to everyone who’s contributed to my knowledge by adding notes and comments to my posts. If you see any mistakes, please let me know!

Sources: Wikipedia, historicnavalfiction [dot] com, the OED

#mapping the Revenge #ofmd #ofmd meta #nautical history

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callsignmayhem · 7 days

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Kisses on fingertips

A call.

One simple call from them.

That's all it took.

For you to shatter completely.

The day had started just like every other day before, with the routine you had honed down over the years to get the kids to school on time. After dropping them off, he went to work, you went back home and later ran some errands.

You were just finishing up putting the groceries away, when the call came.

Without checking the caller ID, you hit the green button, answering the call.

“Hello?”

“Am I speaking with Mrs. Seresin?”

“Yes, you are”

“I am deeply sorry to bother you, but…”

Whatever the voice on the other end of the call said, was a complete haze to you apart from the part that you should come to the base as soon as possible.

So you did.

And how you wish you hadn't.

Because nothing could have prepared you for the news you were about to get the minute you stepped in those doors.

You saw both admiral Tom Kazansky and captain Pete Mitchell standing there waiting for you in the middle of the lobby, dressed in the white uniforms, forlorn looks on their faces.

Little bit to the left were his friends, his squadron, the people who he flew with almost daily. Also dressed in their whites, having similar expressions as the two men before your eyes.

As you walked forward, you looked down to admiral Kazansky’s hands, realizing he's holding something. As soon as you see what he's holding, your eyes get blurry with unshed tears.

Both captain Mitchell and admiral Kazansky take a step towards you, as you come to a stop just meters away from them.

Captain Mitchell stops a mere meter away as admiral Kazansky comes to stand right in front of you, placing the items in your right hand.

Few tears slip down your cheeks, when you receive the confirmation for what the items are. The white cowboy hat you are holding in your hand drops down to the floor.

They are dog tags and a picture that is slightly burned from the bottom right corner.

His dog tags with his wedding ring dangling in the chain.

His sunglasses.

Your picture.

Flag on the pole outside at half-mast.

People around you dressed in uniforms.

Your legs give out under you, and you collapse down to your knees right next to the hat. Still holding the items. Tears running down your cheeks. Admiral Kazansky kneeling in front of you, letting you sob against his shoulder.

You are watching as the wings get punched into his casket, silent tears streaming down your face.

Your kids are standing next to you, your oldest Benjamin holding your middle ones, Cade's hand and your youngest Eden holding the pant leg of Benjamin.

You walk forward as soon as the last person around the casket has left.

Crouching down, you place your forehead against the smooth wood surface of the casket. The folded flag rests on your lap.

After a while you straighten up, pressing a kiss on your fingertips and placing them on the surface right next to the golden wings.

The sky is greying by the minute, a few droplets of water starting to come down from the skies above. It's as if the sky is mourning with you.

Arriving home after the funeral, you just stand in the hallway that opens up to a living room, staring down at the flag in your hands. Everything seems so dull, like all the colors got sucked out of the world.

You walk to the kitchen, behind you on the shelf is a white cowboy hat, and on the floor there is a pair of worn boots.

In the kitchen you gently place the flag down on the table.

“Mom?”

You look at your seventeen year old son, who has a sorrowful look in his eyes.

Eyes that are just like his dad's.

You look at his features, every one of them bears a resemblance to him.

Him.

You can't even get yourself to think, let alone mention his name.

Jake.

At that thought your eyes start filling with tears again, Benjamin wraps his arms around you, soon you feel two sets of smaller arms wrap around you as well.

Cade.

Eden.

The four of you just stand in the kitchen while outside your home it's a downpour of rain, the flag still folded and lying on the table behind you. One piece of you is missing.

At first it seemed so hard to get back to the routines, even with help from others.

But you knew it was what Jake would have wanted, for you to keep going. If not for your sake, then for the kid's sake.

But day after day, week after week, year after year, the heartache gets tolerable even though it never fully goes away.

Years go by in a blur, the kids are growing fast, going through all the heartbreaks when trying to find the one and only for them, the first time your kids bring girlfriends and boyfriends home, when they eventually get married and countless other memories and traditions.

You remember waiting at the hospital waiting room, with Cade and Eden and their spouses.

Footsteps echo on the floor.

“Mom”

You look up at Benjamin.

He smiles at you, offering his hand. You take it, standing up and walking with him down the corridor. Benjamin stops in front of a door, and opens it. He guides you inside, where you see Mia, Benjamin's wife lying on the bed.

Benjamin goes over to her, kisses her temple and lifts someone up from her arms.

“Mom, I'd like you to meet your grandson”

You take a careful step forward, looking down at the sleeping bundle in your son's arms. You gently trail a finger down the newborn's cheek.

“His name is Jake”

You freeze, look up at Benjamin and see his soft smile. Your eyes get watery.

Benjamin places the newborn in your arms, and as soon as he's done that, baby Jake opens his eyes.

There you see the eyes you have always loved staring back at you.

You sob a little at that.

“He's got the eyes”

“I know, mom” Benjamin places an arm around you, both of you watching down at the baby you are holding.

Over the years, you are blessed with more grandchildren, even with one great grandchild.

One day you are watching your family at the BBQ party that is being held at Benjamin's home. The strays of sun hit you in the face, making you inhale the late summer air. The wind blows some leaves that have already dropped from the trees around the yard.

You get up from the stairs you have been sitting on, and walk to Benjamin. He hears you walking towards him, and turns around.

“Everything okay, mom?”

You nod.

“Go gather you sister and brother, there's some place I'd like to visit”

Soon you are walking with them among rows of headstones, until you stop in front of the one you were looking for. The one with a small jet engraved on the right corner of the headstone, as per your request.

As the wind blows and the sun slowly is disappearing behind the horizon, you wrap the cardigan a little bit tighter around you.

You place the wild flowers down in front of the headstone, reading the engravings.

“In loving memory of our beloved:

Lt. Jake Seresin,

a father, husband and a son.”

You kiss your fingertips, placing them against the cold stone, feeling a slight warm sensation under your fingers as if the headstone recognizes you. That was the last time you visited the cemetery.

You are lying in a warm bed, surrounded by your kids.

Benjamin is by your right side, whilst Cade and Eden are by the left side.

You fondly look around the room at the people you love. You cough, and Benjamin offers you to take a sip of water from the glass, but you shake your head. You take a breath.

“I need you to… promise me one last thing”

They nod.

“After I'm gone bury me… next to your father”

“Of course, mom”

“And everything else can be found on your testament, mom, we know”

You smile at them.

“Eden, would you hand over that box from the side table?”

Eden turns and grabs a small dark wooden box with Seresin engraved in the lid.

She passes it to you, and you trace your finger across the engraved name. Pressing a small kiss on your fingertips, placing them against the lid. Your eyes shut momentarily but soon open again.

You open the box, taking whatever items are inside out and placing them on the bed.

Stack of pictures and a letter from along the way.

Dog tags with his wedding ring in the chain.

His worn sunglasses.

The necklace he gave to you on your first anniversary.

His necklace that has your and the kids' names engraved.

You lift up your necklace with shaky hands, placing it on Eden's palm, closing her hand around it. She always has adored the necklace and now it's hers.

Next you take out Jake's necklace, giving it to Cade. He has been fascinated by it since he was a small boy, so you decided it should be his.

Then you pull out the dog tags, lowering them down on Benjamin's palm.

“Mom, I can't take the tags”

“I might've worn them every day since his passing but they are yours now”

You take off your wedding ring, handing it to Benjamin.

“Put it on.. the chain with your dad's ring”

He does as told.

“Now I need you to promise me to cherish and pass down those items with the story behind them.. for future generations”

You take a small wheezy breath, grabbing a hold of the sunglasses, clutching them tight.

Your eyes start to blur.

“I love you all”

“We love you too, mom”

“Rest now”

“Tell dad we said hi”

Your eyes flutter shut as your chest stills. You have a faint smile on your lips.

Your children kept all their promises to you just like they said they would.

They buried you next to Jake.

They cherished and passed down the items you gave them.

They made sure every single generation after them knew how the story of Seresin's went.

Your eyes open, seeing everything so brightly. You look around, realizing you are at the beach behind the Hard Deck. There at the beach, as you walk closer you see Pete and Tom sitting in foldable chairs, and multiple people playing volleyball in the sand.

As you near the squadron, Tom turns his head, smiles and nudges Pete. He also turns and smiles at you, nodding towards the water line where the group of pilots are playing.

You nod at them and smile, going past them.

You stop right by the edge of the makeshift volleyball field.

One by one they stop playing, until the one person you have waited so long to see again, turns around and sees you. He drops the ball. Then you and he both move towards each other as if gravity is pulling you together. In a way it always has been and always will be doing so.

Soon you are standing face to face, looking each other straight in the eyes.

He cups your cheek, and you place your hand on top of his.

Then his lips crash against your in a fierce kiss. You pull apart, he rests his forehead against yours, both breathing heavily.

His sunglasses resting on top of your head.

“Hey”

“Hi, sweetheart”

You might have some catching up to do with all of them, but luckily you've got all the eternity for it.

Part 2

The letter

Pictures

Benjamin is 17 years old, Cade 14 years old and Eden is 6 years old when they lost their dad.

A/N: I finished writing this between 4 and 5 in the morning, so pardon me if there's any mistakes. I have to admit writing this got me crying.

If anything is unclear, just ask and I'll try my best to explain.

Had to repost cuz Tumblr was being irritating and didn't let me edit the post, only because my original post had disappeared somewhere.

Sorry for the hassle!

#top gun #top gun maverick #glen powell #pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #top gun 1986 #jake seresin #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x f!reader #jake seresin x reader #kisses on fingertips

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sonicasura · 2 months

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In the Mess Hall of the Division all the Troopers were giggleing, a sight the would confuse many, but the answer to the jovial air that all the Troops had would come in the form of one Stone faced Hoshina.

Hoshina: I would like everyone's attention

A shout echoed out at the stage that the Mess Hall had and soon all eyes were locked onto the Vice-Captain

Hoshina: Now I'm sure you have all seen the photos that SOMEONE has posted all across the base and so you all can't feign ignorance here is the photo in question

Needless to say the room burst out into laughter with comments like

" A Vice-Captain Hoshina in there natural habitat?!?!?!?

" The Vice-Captain got that Cat in him!!!!"

" Sir why are you showing a photo of what you normally look like, before getting clothed!!!!"

It went on like this for a while longer before Hoshina stopped it

Hoshina: Hahaha.... Ya pretty funny * Stomps foot on ground and his eyes turn into a dealy glare* Now who did it?

The room falls silent as no one dared answer the question.

Hoshina: What? No one wants to take credit? Even though the people went through the trouble of plastering it across the base walls, putting it in all the bathrooms, the saunas, the training hall, on my office door, and the pranksters who went as far as painting a mural and hanging it in the main hall and printing a custom image on a flag and putting it on one of the main flag poles at full mast.

Hidden from Hoshina's sight a bunch of low fives and fist bumps were being hiven throughout the Hall. As even when Hoshina threatend having to clean the entire base along with 200 laps gor the whole divison, everyone remained resolute.

It became clear to Hoshina then and there he would have to sleuth out the Masterminds behind this.

Though the Troopers wouldn't make it easy after all snitches get stiches

LMFAO

He is absolutely questioning the monitoring team, the people responsible for drone footage that day and anyone else with enough clearance to view the clothes scene. Kafka probably shared the image with Trainer later too. They laughed so hard and will be calling Soshiro a Skitty related nickname because this is funny.

Noogies are in their future.

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ladytabletop · 1 year

Note

have you done a d10 list of weird boats/ships before?

There are rings for oars, you think, but no oars aboard. There is a mast for sails, you think, but no sails to be seen. Still, the ship seems to be propelled forward, guided by unseen force despite its bare decks, devoid of crew and cargo alike.

The spiderwebbed rigging is the product of the arachnid that sits where you imagined the crow's nest should be. "It's her ship," the crew whispers, "we go where she bids. Her brood is in the hold."

The whole thing is made of glass, from bow to stern. You can see straight through down to the water beneath the hull. It's unsettling; moreso when you spot the shark-like creatures keeping pace with the vessel.

It's carved of teak, of all things. The shipwright was a demigod, they say, from a time when trees grew large enough for a ship to be carved whole from a branch - not even a trunk, a branch! No telling how long she's been asea, but she never wants for crew. Many a sailor would give up their greatest treasures to sail on her decks.

The flag it flies is known to no man. If you look away too long, its colors have changed again. It otherwise appears ordinary. But time goes a bit wobbly when that flag changes, the crew claims.

The churning turbines on its underside were torn from conquered mills. They kick up the silty riverbottom and leave whirlpools in the ship's wake. Its masts were the grists, the poles that did the turning, and its sails are flour sacks sewn together. What cause does a miller have to take to the water?

You'd never met a ship with a mindwright before, but that's what they seem to call the man in the brig. He could be sleeping, you think, but it is his will and his will alone tethering this ship to reality. By all rights it shouldn't exist: a hulk of bone and rot from a creature long-dead. The brig is to keep things out, not to keep him in, for if he is disturbed, the whole vessel will go to the drown.

Ebbs and flows, waves and still waters: the ship contains them all. You're unsure of the magic animating it, but you can walk on the deck and pull a line and turn the wheel just as you would on a mundane boat, albeit with wet hands and feet. The dampness chills your very bones.

Chains writhe around the hull with a horrible grinding cacophony. They crawl up the masts like ivy and weave in and out of portholes. That much weight might sink a ship, except the chain leviathan lurking beneath the waves holds it aloft. Those who set foot on its decks never see shore again.

You watch, incredulous, as the paper unfolds, and again, and again and again and again, into a four-masted vessel with trimmed sails and an origami figurehead.

all d10 lists

#d10 random list #the lady rambles #ships #boats #random table

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fanboyzuko · 6 months

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you know what

happy april fools day. have the first chapter of ltf part 18

“Chief, the Dancing Tiger-Seal sent word of a solitary Fire Nation ship sailing nearby. They want to know how to proceed.”

Hakoda turned from the map on his wall, sharing a concerned glance with Bato at his side. After the fleet’s successful attack on a naval squadron, they’d raided the defeated ships’ intelligence before sinking them. The larger fleet the squadron was part of wasn’t scheduled to be in the area for another week. In the meantime, Hakoda and the rest of the Southern Water Tribe fleet were scattered and would soon be reconvening in another sea.

“Send reply to not engage. Try to stay out of sight, but if spotted, retreat. We don’t want to draw attention to our movement before the squadron’s defeat is discovered.”

The young man delivering the news nodded and raced off to fulfill the task. Bato hummed and turned back to the map. It should have been noncommittal, but Hakoda could hear the unspoken judgment.

“What?”

“It’s just one ship. We could rendezvous with the Dancing Tiger-Seal and easily sink it, even accounting for our injured.”

The thought had occurred to Hakoda as well, but he resolutely shook his head. “One ship will not make a difference to the Fire Nation, but could disrupt our plans completely should they prove to be strong fighters.”

Bato just hummed again.

“We went into this knowing it was a numbers game,” Hakoda said, containing himself from snapping at his friend. “Every one of our attacks need to be carefully weighed and planned to make the largest impact with the least amount of loss on our side.”

Like the spring thaw, Bato’s blank expression lit up with a wide smile. “I know that. Just making sure you have your defense ready because Chief Katjak is still hoping to unseat you as the fleet’s leader.”

Hakoda huffed a weary laugh as he tugged Bato down to dig his knuckles on top of his head as if they were still children. Rather than accept the punishment for being annoying, Bato went limp. Hakoda dropped him. Laughing, Bato rolled away and jumped up, ready to fend off further retaliation.

The promise of a wrestling match to blow off steam was all too alluring. They both probably would have given in to the temptation if not for another young man bursting into the room.

“Chief! Akiak spotted an Earth Kingdom vessel and thinks it might be the scholar kid our spies sent word of.”

As Bato fixed his hair, Hakoda focused on the news at hand. Over a year ago, Atka told them about a boy with a fascination for Avatar Yangchen and the spirits. The boy was said to be a nonbender from the Fire Nation colonies, and yet had somehow left the Si Wong desert on a sand sailer. He was said to have used the sand sailer by himself, and yet was rumored to have been part of a raid where a firebender’s attack had been mysteriously rendered useless.

The last Atka heard of him, he was making plans to venture to the North Pole. While there had been no word of the boy since, the song he helped craft was relentless in its reach. Whether he was the Avatar or not, there was no doubt he possessed a peculiar power that could affect the war effort if harnessed properly.

“Why does Akiak suspect that?”

Yutu shrugged. He was so young, he'd barely made the cut to join the warriors. “Dunno, you can ask him.”

Hakoda laughed and clapped the young man’s shoulder as he passed. “I’ll do just that.”

The majority of the crew milled about on deck, clearly curious about the potential of meeting the Avatar. Hakoda did not want to put too much hope on one child, but he could not deny his own curiosity.

Several flags flapped in the wind from the main mast, signaling to the small Earth Kingdom craft that the Soaring Stoat-Albatross was friendly and hoped to communicate. Regardless of the identity of those sailing, Akiak was right to raise their flags. Even if the sailors were from the colonies, they likely would want to steer clear of the Fire Nation ship in the area.

“Akiak!” Hakoda called up to the crow’s nest, where he was still keeping watch. Rather than battle against the wind to be heard, Hakoda signed once he had Akiak’s attention. “Why do you think that’s Atka’s scholar?”

“Boat’s moving too fast for the weather today,” Akiak signed back.

Hakoda glanced out to the sea. Though the small boat did not raise answering colors, she changed directions to meet the Soaring Stoat-Albatross. It didn’t seem to be moving at an unnatural speed.

“Not now,” Akiak clarified. “But it was when I first spotted it. Started moving with the currents once they saw us.”

Some of Atka’s spies suspected they saw the scholar airbending his sails, but it was still an unconfirmed rumor. Before Hakoda could further question Akiak’s hunch, he called down with laughter in his voice.

“And the kid on board has a scar on his face big enough I could see it from here.”

“Lead with that next time!” Hakoda scolded in a shout, but his own laughter betrayed his sternness. Well, there was little doubt now that they'd stumbled upon Atka’s scholar. A facial scar like that was far and few between.

As the Air Lantern—the name proudly painted on her hull—came within shouting distance, the scarred boy in question stood on the low cabin roof and called out, “What do you want?”

His companion, also scarred but not in the ways of fire, tugged the child down with a hiss. Despite the crowd on the deck, his gaze singled out Hakoda with a wary, but not entirely distrustful frown.

“I apologize for his rude greeting, but the sentiment stands. We’re just traveling through the area and do not have much in terms of supplies. What can we do for you, warriors?”

Hakoda smiled reassuringly. “More of what we can do for you, and that's to share our knowledge. There’s a Fire Nation warship in the area. You might want to proceed with caution.”

While the boy’s eyes widened in surprise, the man showed no outward reaction. “Should we be wary of a battle to avoid?”

“Hardly. We’re hoping to steer clear of the ship as well. But that’s not the only reason we flagged you down,” Hakoda laughed and leaned against the deck railing as he addressed the younger. “Are you perhaps the scholar Hui? My cousin spoke fondly of you, but has also been worried since you disappeared into Foggy Swamp.”

A rapid succession of expressions flitted across the boy’s face. Hakoda could see his thought process as he initially wanted to demand an answer, took a moment to think, grew confused, then came to a possible conclusion. He settled on a cautious smile as he looked up to Hakoda.

“You’re Atka’s cousin?”

“Well, my wife’s cousin. But family all the same.”

Hui’s smile grew. “What a coincidence! How is she doing? I hope I can visit her and Yawen again. They helped me so much, pointing me toward Foggy Swamp! And I need to tell Atka that I did end up taking her advice to visit the North Pole! I didn’t quite make it to the spirit gateway but it was still-”

Hakoda cut him off with a laugh. “Perhaps you and your companion would like to join me for lunch? I’ll happily send word on to Atka, and will enjoy hearing of your adventures as well.”

“Of course!” Hui agreed, then turned to his companion with a wince. “I mean, uh, if that’s alright?”

“Far be it from me to stop you,” the man laughed, but his eyes were hard as they met Hakoda’s. “It seems we’ve run into friends.”

The silent question and threat had Hakoda raising his hands in a show of peace. He truly meant no ill will for Hui, be he a nonbender, airbender, or the Avatar. But he was glad to see the young scholar had others watching his back.

Once introductions were made, the proposed lunch was set up on deck since the rest of the crew were as curious as Hakoda was about the mysterious Yangchen scholar. If Hui felt nervous about such an audience he didn’t show it. He easily settled into a story-teller’s cadence as he explained what he knew of Yangchen from her memoirs—going so far as to pull the tome itself from his pack—and how that led to him going to Foggy Swamp and the North Pole.

Bato settled beside Hakoda and said under his breath, “In the lunch set up, our guests were using sign language.”

“Did you catch what they discussed?”

“They were trying to be discreet. Still, I picked up that they were deciding what to tell us, and kept using a sign related to a bird or flight.”

It could be, but it could just as likely be a code or a name sign. Atka suspected Hui had a budding following, and as Kavi did not match the description of Hui’s past companions, Hakoda would go so far as to suspect Hui had more than that. Now, more than ever, the Avatar would need a group of confidants and supporters. If he was the Avatar.

A deep sorrow settled over Hakoda even as he smiled and joined in the cheer of Hui’s tales. There was no doubt of the spark of fire in the boy. There was no denying his heritage in the Fire Nation colonies, and that would mean the Avatar cycle had continued after the genocide of the Air Nomads. Had they been born in the North and kept secret from the world? Had they been from the South and were stolen away before they could discover their potential? Which was worse, for their brethren of the North to have abandoned the world or for the Water Avatar to have died captured and abused by their enemy?

“Are there icebenders in the South Pole?” Hui asked upon concluding a story about Chief Nukilik.

Silence spread across the crew as pained and uncomfortable glances were shared.

Kavi winced apologetically, then hissed to Hui, “Drop it.”

For all that Hui had learned about Water Tribe culture and history during his time in Agna Qel’a, he clearly did not know of the South’s strife. The boy glared at Kavi and huffed, “What? Why?” At the same time his hands moved in small signs, but the meaning was still clear to Hakoda.

“How else am I supposed to bring up mixed element bending?” He signed. Not bending all the elements, or a number. The sign for ‘mix’ was defined and clear. What did that mean?

“Fire Nation captured all our waterbenders years ago,” a youth from the Kuuk Tribe said bluntly. “Chief Hakoda’s wife was the last one and they killed her in their home. So there’s no waterbenders left, let alone some creative earthbender.”

Hui paled. He turned to Hakoda, stammered apologies falling from his lips, which Hakoda ended with a raised palm.

“While Agna Qel’a has been cut off from the world out of choice, so have we by our circumstances. It's not surprising for a youth far from the South Pole to be ignorant of our strife. But ultimately, this is why we now fight. Our losses have been great, and our only hope is to end the war before we join our ancestors.”

“It’d be great if the Avatar suddenly came back again to help us,” Yutu cut in pointedly.

Hui nodded and agreed with the sentiment. “I’m researching Yangchen, but have begun looking into the spirits as well. So I can’t help but hope I’ll find a way to the current Avatar in my studies.”

Contrasting with his smooth response, Hui was anything but discreet as he signed to Kavi, “Can’t we help them in the meantime?”

Kavi fared better in concealing their second conversation. While Hui’s signs drew some curious attention, it was quickly lost as Kavi directed conversation to the popular Yangchen song that had been spreading across the Earth Kingdom and how Hui had a hand in composing it. Several side conversations began and only once the undivided attention on them was gone did Kavi reply to Hui’s signed question.

“Dangerous balancing act,” he signed in a way that could be mistaken for fidgeting if not for Hakoda looking for it.

Hui attempted to mimic Kavi’s controlled signs and was less obvious this time. “Everything I’m doing is dangerous. What are the-” He used the flying name sign. “-for if not to help people like them?”

The softness in Kavi’s smile said more of the lengths he would go to protect this child than his earlier glare had. He was no mere follower or chaperone. His smile spoke of a love that Hakoda would be foolish to disregard. Luckily, Hakoda had no intentions of betraying Hui’s trust should he earn it.

“Alright, as entertaining as our guests have been, we have a deadline to make,” Hakoda called out once the discussion of Yangchen’s song reached a lull. “Say your goodbyes and get back to work.”

While the majority of the crew raised no issue in thanking Hui for his stories and returning to their posts, Yutu lingered. He met Hakoda’s raised brow with a defiant jut of his chin. Seemed he wasn’t about to let Hui leave without trying to get a solid answer about the Avatar out of him.

“So what sorts of places are you looking for to further your research?” Yutu asked once only Hakoda and Bato remained with their visitors.

Hui sighed and shrugged. “At the moment, nowhere in particular. I’ve been touring sites relevant to Yangchen, but I’m starting to run out of places accessible to me. Hopefully I’ll stumble upon something sooner or later.”

“Why are you so focused on Yangchen anyways? You were just in the North Pole. Why didn’t you learn more about Kuruk? And surely learning more about Kyoshi is way easier.”

“My mother was a big Yangchen fan and-” Hui began, a well rehearsed answer he must have given plenty of times before. But he cut himself short with a scoff. “Well, maybe it started that way. But Avatar Yangchen was the last known Air Avatar. Any remaining records about the Air Nomads tend to come in relation to her. Why shouldn’t I be focused on her when there’s no one else left to remember the airbenders?”

Yutu stepped back, caught off guard by Hui’s sudden intensity. He realized, just as Hakoda did, what the implication of Hui’s words was. The airbenders were gone. How else would one learn airbending than through a previous Air Avatar? A sly grin spread across Yutu's face as he nodded.

“Well, at the last port we were in, I heard rumors about a legitimate fortune teller in the area. Maybe if you find her, she can help you.”

Hui’s eyes shone with the strength of the midday sun. He grasped Yutu’s forearm with energetic gratitude, and repeated his thanks as Yutu scurried off to his post, leaving Hakoda and Bato alone in their guests’ company.

With a quick glance to each other, Kavi and Hui bowed, voicing their gratitude for the Soaring Stoat-Albatross’s hospitality. As they did, Kavi signed to Hui, “You go get the boat ready. I’ll talk to them.” Hui looked ready to argue, but with one stern look from Kavi, he sighed and jumped over to the Air Lantern.

“Thank you again for giving us warning, and for the company,” Kavi said lightly. “I think, perhaps, you and your cousin have built lofty expectations of Hui. But regardless of what you think, he’s not alone. And we want to try to extend some of our resources to help you too.”

Bato crossed his arms. “And who are the ‘we’ you speak of?”

“A group that’s been working against the war long before rumors of Hui started spreading.” Kavi shrugged and took a step back. “I can’t make any promises about what sort of help we can offer. Someone will find you sooner or later, and then you can decide what to do. I’m just letting you know to expect a stranger approaching you.”

The humble offer held more promise than Hakoda expected. This was a last second decision, but it wasn’t going to be an empty one. Though Hui was young, the people behind him were experienced.

“Thank you. We’ll await your representative then.” He laughed as he mimicked the two’s flying sign. “In exchange, some advice. The standard sign language most people know originated from the Water Tribes. Your conversations aren’t as secret as you believe them to be while in our midst.”

Kavi dragged a hand through his hair with a snort. “Duly noted. Thank you. Fair winds, may the spirits guide your sails.” With one last bow, he joined Hui on their boat.

Hakoda and Bato watched the Air Lantern sail away in contemplative silence.

Bato broke it first. “So do you think he’s-”

“Honestly, I have no idea what to think.” Hakoda signed the group’s name again. “But regardless, I’ll dare to hope.”

A heavy silence hung over Iroh as he waited for Jingyi to bring fresh tea and a young man Iroh had been selfishly ignoring. At first, Iroh avoided Lieutenant Kavi because he was a painful, visible reminder of both the siege and Lu Ten. When Zuko began spending time with the lieutenant, Iroh took the coward’s route and left things as they were. Iroh told himself it was because he believed Lt Kavi wanted nothing to do with him. The truth was much more pathetic.

Iroh thought he had come to terms with the distance that had grown between him and his son before Lu Ten’s death. He had accepted that though he’d turned from Lu Ten, he still knew his son and could live on upholding his memory. But with every story Zuko shared from Lt Kavi, Iroh’s confidence wavered. Why had Lu Ten never introduced Iroh to his friend? They had clearly been close for Lt Kavi to know as much as he did. Iroh was so afraid of learning there was yet another facet of his son’s life he’d been ignorant of.

But Iroh had abandoned a siege, his throne, and a year of his life for the mere chance of understanding Lu Ten better. No amount of terror would hold him back forever. And yet. When Iroh finally got over himself to approach Lt Kavi, he was hit with a completely different hard truth.

Lieutenant Kavi hated him.

Oh, the young man certainly did his best to conceal it. Their initial meeting had been their first and only personal conversation. At the time Iroh had been caught off guard by Lt Kavi’s supposed amicable attitude. After that, Kavi avoided Iroh as much as Iroh had been avoiding him. It was only as Iroh attempted to catch him for a conversation did he realize the extent Lt Kavi went to evade his presence.

If not for the timely reports Lt Kavi submitted as the head of his department, Iroh would think he was skiving off his work. He was never in his office whenever Iroh stopped by. Sparring with Zuko conveniently ended as soon as Iroh stepped on deck, unless Zuko joined the crew for training. Crew-wide training under the weapon department head had no consistent schedule and was usually announced the day of. Coincidentally, Iroh was always busy whenever a training session concluded. The few times he was free and tried to catch Lt Kavi at the end of a session, Lt Kavi either disappeared below deck in a blink or kept a few soldiers behind to do more one-on-one work.

Iroh tried to convince himself that it was all in his head. It was poor timing, nothing more. Besides, Iroh was allowing the unfortunate coincidences to prevent him from approaching Lt Kavi. He made up his mind to learn more about Lu Ten’s friend, but that did not mean he had the proper drive.

But then, Zuko did the unexpected and lent Avatar Yangchen’s memoirs to the young man. Zuko never parted with the book. Not even Iroh was allowed to borrow it to read on his own. Everything he learned about the previous Air Avatar was from Zuko’s retellings. Upon being asked why he allowed Lt Kavi to read Yangchen’s memoirs, Zuko unknowingly confirmed Iroh’s fears.

“Well, Yangchen deals with her grief in losing Akari and Huizhong through the entire thing. It’s why she wrote it! And, um, recently I’ve realized that Lu Ten was like Akari for Kavi, and that Kavi is still trying to come to terms with… that. So I’m hoping Yangchen can help him where I can’t.”

Lu Ten was like Akari to Kavi. Zuko chose his words with a purpose. He did not say ‘like Huizhong’ or ‘like Yangchen’s companions.’ No, losing Lu Ten for Lt Kavi was the same grief Yangchen felt in losing her partner. And Iroh had been none the wiser.

How could the man not hate Iroh?

So Iroh did his best to respect Lt Kavi's desire for space. It was the least he could do when Lt Kavi clearly respected Zuko’s—and Lu Ten’s—relationship with Iroh. Zuko was oblivious to the tension between them, despite every opportunity Lt Kavi had to express his opinions about Iroh.

That was why when the tattoo deception began, Iroh tried not to think too deeply as to who could influence Ensign Jae to keep the secret. He did not let his thoughts linger too long on how the tattooing was a crew wide endeavor, same as Zuko’s birthday party and re-established music nights had been. So he certainly did not consider just who the crew respected and followed as their de facto captain. Iroh tried his best to be thankful that Lt Kavi convinced Zuko to keep his tattoo small. He certainly did not dwell on the fact that Lt Kavi got a similar winged motif which spanned his entire back.

Iroh was willing to let all of that slide. But what happened yesterday? That was inexcusable. No matter how much Lt Kavi may detest Iroh, his history with Lu Ten did not justify withholding an immediate report about an encounter with the Southern Water Tribe fleet. Iroh should not have learned about it over breakfast, and only because Zuko was excited to share the southern alternative to a story he learned in the North Pole.

Upon further questioning, Zuko saw nothing wrong with how he boarded an enemy ship in the middle of the ocean. Iroh could understand the possible reasoning for allowing the encounter to happen, but he did not understand the secrecy. Especially when Zuko mentioned as a joke that the Water Tribe ship had spotted the Sazanami and warned them of crossing paths with it! Furious did not begin to cover how Iroh felt.

Lt Kavi arrived before Jingyi with their tea. He politely bowed and said his greetings, but did not move further into the room. There was not a flicker of distaste nor concern in his eyes as he met Iroh’s gaze and asked, “What do you need me for, sir?”

Cold doubt doused Iroh’s building ire. Had his paranoia done this young man a disservice? Clearing his throat, Iroh gestured for Lt Kavi to join him at the table. He did not move from his position in the doorway.

“Lieutenant Kavi, I’d like to discuss how my 15 year old nephew boarded an enemy nation’s vessel when you were supposed to be chaperoning him. And how I found out only just now over breakfast. Steward Jingyi will be arriving with some tea shortly. Please, have a seat.”

Shock had Lt Kavi’s eyes widening as he crossed the room and gingerly lowered himself to the cushion on the floor. There was no guilt nor distress from Iroh’s words. He appeared genuinely surprised.

“My apologies, General Iroh. That’s entirely my fault.”

Relief and guilt twisted in Iroh’s stomach. He so sorely doubted this young man when-

“I didn’t think Zuko would tell you,” Lt Kavi continued, as if perfectly reasonable words were leaving his mouth. “Sorry, let me rephrase. I didn’t think he would tell you they were anything more than fishermen or fellow travelers. They knew of him as Hui through the obvious Water Tribe spy network Zuko has already encountered, so there was no risk for either of us in the exchange. There’s nothing to be concerned about.”

“Nothing to be concerned about?!” Iroh slammed his hands on the table as he rose to his knees. His pulse pounded in his ears and his throat felt too tight after raising his voice. Where was Jingyi with their tea? Forcing himself to sit again and breathe deeply, Iroh tried again. All the while, Lt Kavi watched him impassively. “Regardless of your opinion of safety, I should have been informed the moment you returned last night. Zuko said they were aware of this ship, and I’m under the impression we’re lucky they’ve chosen to ignore us. Why did you think it was appropriate to keep this a secret?”

“Again, my apologies, Sir. I didn’t take the possible threat lightly. I spoke with the helmsman to adjust our course, and tasked the deck crew with increased watch for the next few days.” A flash of shrewdness broke Lt Kavi’s aloof act, so swift that Iroh would have doubted he saw it if not for the following words. “I suppose old habits die hard. It was common for us to- for Lu Ten to omit things that may upset you when he could handle it himself, or if everything worked out in the end. I’ll remember in the future that you want to be fully informed.”

Words escaped Iroh. Was Kavi alluding to his relationship with Lu Ten? Or was it something much bigger Lu Ten had kept from Iroh? His son had been so worn down, so exhausted during the siege. What else could he have been hiding?

In Iroh’s stunned silence, Lt Kavi stood with a genial smile. “Is there anything else you need, General Iroh?”

“I- No. That will be all. Thank you for your due diligence in keeping the crew safe.” Iroh cleared his throat again. “And- Yes. No matter what Lu Ten may have believed, I would rather be informed than avoid possible stress. Please don’t- Please don’t hesitate to speak to me about anything.”

Lt Kavi bowed with polite words of parting. As he turned for the door, Jingyi came stumbling in, narrowly avoiding a collision with quick steps. She appeared thoroughly harried as she glanced between them.

“I’m so sorry I took so long. Do- Do you still want tea?”

“Feel free to have my share, if General Iroh wants company,” Lt Kavi said, waving casually over his shoulder as he left Iroh’s office.

Jingyi turned her wide eyes to Iroh, the picture of an apologetic steward. Yet Iroh could not help but wonder as she set the tea down and gratefully accepted his invitation to share it.

Just how deep were the bonds between the crew of the Sazanami and a man who had as many reasons to earn their respect as he did reasons to despise Iroh?

After weeks passed without a representative from Hui’s group approaching them, Hakoda pushed the encounter and thoughts of the Avatar far from mind. He had a fleet to coordinate and keep alive, there was no time to waste hoping for outside support. The Southern Water Tribes knew they would be taking a gamble by actively joining the war so late. They knew that even with the Earth Army supporting them, they would largely be working alone.

“Hakoda, one of Atka’s is here,” Bato announced, poking his head into Hakoda’s tent with a concerned frown. Direct communication between the warriors and the Water Tribe spy ring was a risk they rarely took. Only something urgent could have Atka sending one of her spies to them.

“Is she injured?” Hakoda asked, fearing the worst.

“Travel weary, but unharmed. Got her set up with some jerky while the boys started dinner early. Should I send her in now?”

“Did she ask to see me immediately?”

“Nope. Honestly, she seems a bit nervous about meeting you.” Bato snorted with a shake of his head. “I know Atka needed a mix of girls, but I don’t know how this one’s fared for so long if meeting you has her getting shy.”

“Hey, I take offense to that!”

Bato laughed as he saw himself out, his job done now that Hakoda knew about their visitor. Sighing, Hakoda turned his attention back to the pile of correspondence spread out across his table. His latest letter from Atka was only a few weeks old. She hadn’t written anything about sending one of her women, so what could have changed since then? Was it merely Hakoda’s status as the fleet leader that had her jittery, or was there something larger going on?

Not wanting to unsettle the girl, Suluk, more, Hakoda took his time finishing his work and went out to join dinner as usual. He didn’t try to approach her through the meal, merely watched her interact with the young men who crowded around her. They were eager to hear personal news of their family and friends who’d left the south with Atka years before the warriors set out.

Suluk was quiet and polite. She answered the best she could about the wide-spread system of Water Tribe spies, which was surprisingly more information than Hakoda thought she could provide. From how she spoke, Suluk was aware of every member of the spy ring. Or at least, coincidentally, all the women with relations to those present. Hakoda didn’t know Atka trusted others beside herself to be so well informed. Was she training Suluk to be her second-in-command? It was a smart move, no one person could juggle all Atka did forever. But why hadn’t she mentioned anything about Suluk before?

Despite her clear connections with the spyring, no one in Hakoda’s camp personally knew Suluk. She hailed from the Qutailaq Tribe, which was so small they had been unable to provide any ships of their own for the Southern Fleet. Several men were scattered throughout the fleet crews, but none were currently with Hakoda. The Qutailaq Tribe’s meager contribution to the fleet was hardly a point of contention, for a disproportionate number of their women had joined Atka in the Earth Kingdom several years ago.

At the northernmost regions of the South Pole, the Qutailaq Tribe had remained connected with the rest of the world where other tribes became secluded and wary. Even before Atka organized their spies, members of the Qutailaq Tribe had footholds in the Earth Kingdom and disputed territories. For years, there was tension between them and the rest of the south for their dealings with even Fire Nation merchants, but now that history and knowledge was valued. Without the Qutailaq women to guide those who’d never left the South Pole, their spies would not have succeeded.

It would make sense for Atka to respect that contribution and elevate a Qutailaq woman to a position of responsibility. Suluk had the appearance of a good choice, for her paler skin and lack of defining Water Tribe features surely allowed her to travel without drawing much attention. Was her quiet meekness also part of that protection to keep attention off her? Perhaps so, but it still didn’t answer why Atka never said anything before sending Suluk.

When dinner came to an end, Suluk excused herself from the crowd that had gathered around her. She approached Hakoda with downcast eyes and fidgeting fingers.

“Chief Hakoda, sir, perhaps we could talk now?”

“Of course. Would you rather stay out here, or shall we move to my tent?”

Suluk didn’t hesitate despite still not meeting Hakoda’s gaze. “Perhaps this is best spoken of in private.”

Once relocated, Suluk sat a little straighter and glanced up long enough to grace Hakoda with a smile. “Thank you for letting me have time to orient myself before talking together. I’ll admit, I’ve been a bit nervous about this meeting. The women I work with are the first I’ve met of the other tribes.”

That put her behavior in a new light, and increased Hakoda’s evaluation of her fortitude. He didn’t acknowledge her admission beyond a laugh and light joke about his warriors’ eagerness to speak with Suluk. She again smiled and relaxed enough to stop fidgeting.

“So what’s brought you here, Suluk?” Hakoda asked, done waiting for answers. “Atka didn’t mention sending you in her last letter, and I cannot fathom why she’d risk you meeting with us.”

Suluk raised her hands and moved them in a unique sign reminiscent of flight, one Hakoda had decided to push from his mind. “Does this mean anything to you, Chief?”

A flare of hope leaped forth in Hakoda’s chest. The fleet was constantly on the move. Of course Hui’s group would have difficulty tracking them down. Meanwhile, they already knew Atka and now were aware of her connection to the fleet. It made sense that they would approach her first.

“Indeed it does, though I do not know the spoken name of the group. We met with the scholar boy, Hui, several weeks ago and were promised a representative of their group would approach us. What did they have to say?”

Suluk’s eyes widened. Firelight from the lanterns danced in her dark gaze. She quickly shook her head to clear her surprise, then said, “Sir, someone from the Wings approached Atka months ago.”

“What?” Hakoda fought to stay seated, he had a strong desire to pace off the sudden rush of nerves. His mind raced to recount his brief conversation with Kavi. What had he said about these Wings?

‘A group that’s been working against the war long before rumors of Hui started spreading.’

At the time, Hakoda believed the group had been hiding and supporting the Avatar before he ventured into the world. But Hui was young. He couldn’t have been involved in much before Atka heard rumors of him. Were these Wings formed to support him, or had they shifted their goals when Hui became a player in the war?

“Sir?” Suluk questioned, breaking the silence that had stretched too far as Hakoda lost himself in his thoughts. He nodded for her to speak. She began fidgeting again. “Um- I have heard of the Wings before they approached Atka. Which is why she sent me here to speak with you. Because she wants your opinion on what to do with them…”

At his prompting, Suluk continued. The cause for her hesitation was all too clear with her following words.

“Do you know anything about the Fire Nation’s Prince Lu Ten?”

Hakoda nodded, the iron taste of dread spreading across his tongue. “The son of their former crown prince, Iroh, whose death in the siege of Ba Sing Se led to Prince Iroh abandoning the siege and his throne. What does he have to do with anything?”

“I’ve heard whispers from some of the Earth Kingdom about him, and the Wings,” Suluk said quietly. She glanced over her shoulder as if afraid to find an eavesdropper. “Apparently he was a leader of these Wings, and they were operating in the Fire Army to sabotage the siege.”

“The Wings are Fire Nation?”

“Fire Nation and against the war, Sir.” Suluk suddenly sat straighter, her eyes meeting Hakoda’s straight on for the first time. The lanterns created the oddest effect, as if a halo of light was within her irises. “You know the Qutailaq Tribe has worked with Fire Nation merchants despite the war. While we never met the Wings, we know the entire people are not our enemy. And the Wings are offering us resources beyond what the Earth Kingdom could hope to offer. Medical aid, intel of Fire Navy movement, insider knowledge of the area.”

She clenched her fists in her lap, but charged forward.

“We’ve believed Hui to be from the Fire Nation colonies, and learning that the Wings are working with him only confirms that. So if we want to trust in what Hui’s doing, then we need to be able to work with people of the Fire Nation.”

“That’s if we believe Hui is the Avatar,” Hakoda said with a sigh. This was a tidal wave he hadn’t expected out of Hui and Kavi’s offer of help.

“Avatar!?”

Suluk’s cheeks flushed bright red and her lips pinched together after her outburst. She coughed and said in a strained voice, “I thought he was searching for the Avatar.”

Hakoda frowned. While none of them said it outright, Atka and her spies believed Hui’s research was a cover for teaching himself to be the Avatar. He had thought that it was the general consensus, or at least the theory was common knowledge. Perhaps Atka was keeping that kernel of hope closer to her chest than he realized.

“It’s a theory. But regardless of who he is, upon meeting him, Hui’s desire to aid us seemed genuine. If Atka believes we can trust these Wings, then it won’t hurt to open a line of communication. Did the contact who approached her speak anything of the logistics of this offered aid?”

Suluk shook her head. “No sir. Only that upon your acceptance of it, aid will find you. But- Chief Hakoda. Are you sure you can look beyond the Wings’ origins? Many are soldiers, even if they’ve turned their back on the war. Their leader was a Fire Nation royal. You know, I heard the Earth Kingdom targeted Prince Lu Ten despite learning about his work to aid them. What if we discover someone else like that is hiding among them?”

All valid points, and ones Hakoda would need to counter when he discussed this turn of events with the fleet council. They were likely the same questions Atka mulled over before sending Suluk to him with this proposal.

“We are not like the Earth Kingdom, with the numbers and resources to scoff at allies found beyond enemy lines.” Hakoda laughed wearily. “If the Wings prove to be true in their aid, I don’t think we can afford to turn them away even if we discovered Prince Iroh took up his son's cause upon his death and now leads them.”

A smile with a hint of teeth flashed across Suluk’s face as she stood. It was so brief, it could have been another trick of the light.

“I’ll pass that on, Chief Hakoda. I’m happy to hear you have the same mindset as Atka. If you don’t mind, may I rest the night before returning home?”

Hakoda laughed as he also rose. “Atka might come hunt me down herself if I didn’t see you well fed and rested after your long journey. Bato’s surely already arranged a tent for you, and you’re welcome to rest another night if need be.”

With a shy duck of her head and a light giggle, Suluk accepted his hospitality. Come morning, she was packed and gone before breakfast began cooking.

A few days later, Hakoda found a stack of scrolls and papers in his tent. There were several maps of the area with secluded coves expertly detailed, as well as locations where they could find medical aid or supplies. Just that would have been enough of a goodwill gesture to begin their relationship with the Wings, but the rest were all military documents. There were stacks and stacks of meticulously recorded personnel files and correspondence that provided a glance into the Fire Navy’s decision making process.

It was priceless information to better understand their enemy.

Several weeks later, Hakoda received a response from Atka after thanking her for sending Suluk and inquiring if she returned safely.

“Who?” was all it said.

Hakoda sat back and didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Perhaps he could convince the Wings to give them pointers on espionage as well.

#:3 #just cuz #who knows when im going to finish this part and properly update #its burning a hole in my pocket

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mybeautifulchristianjourney · 5 months

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Photographs can speak volumes, and one of the loudest messages being communicated this week comes from images of students at the University of North Carolina Chapel Hill protecting the American flag.

On Tuesday, anti-Israel protestors pulled down Old Glory from Chapel Hill’s Quad and replaced it with the Palestinian flag. Adding to the disgust and outrage, the American flag had been flying at half-mast to mourn the deaths of four Charlotte police officers killed in the line of duty.

As university officials stepped in to pull down the Palestinian flag and restore the Stars and Stripes to its rightful place atop the pole, members of the Pi Kappa Phi and Alpha Epsilon Pi fraternities moved to protect the effort from an angry mob pelting the workers. Fraternity brothers also prevented the flag from touching the ground.

The Pi Kappa Phi fraternity dates to 1904, and was called “Nu Phi” which meant, “non-fraternity.” It seems the three young men who began it in Charleston, South Carolina, were frustrated by...

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batsarebetterthanpeople · 1 year

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Jack and Stede could never be friend not just because Stede is a bullied nerd and Jack is a toxic jock but also because if they were buds, Jack would suggest things like "what if we cut the bottom 3/4ths off of all of Eds shirts", and "what if we clipped Izzy Hand's drawers to the flag pole and ran him up the mast while he was still wearing them just for fun imagine how mad he'd be." And Stede simply would not say no to either of those proposals.

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octagonal-pole-manufacturers · 8 months

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#Puf Sandwich PanelsManufacturers #Octagonal Pole Manufacturers #Conical Pole #High Mast Pole #Swaged Pole #Solar Light Pole #HT-LT Line Pole #Decorative pole #Tubluar pole #Flag Mast Pole #Stadium Mast Pole #Octagonal & Street Light Pole

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conicalpolemanufacture · 26 days

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Top 10 Quality Flag Mast Pole Manufacturer

Mactec specializes in manufacturing Flag Mast Poles Manufacturers, offering sturdy and reliable solutions for displaying flags proudly. Our flag mast poles are crafted with high-quality materials to withstand diverse weather conditions and ensure long-lasting durability. As a leading flag mast pole manufacturer, we provide customizable options to suit various flag sizes and installation needs. Mactec's commitment to quality and customer satisfaction makes us a preferred choice for flag mast poles in Karnataka and beyond. Enhance your flag display with our superior flag mast poles that combine functionality and aesthetic appeal. Contact us today to explore our range of flag mast pole solutions.

Address : Khasra No. 536, Sikhera, Road, Industrial Area, Modinagar, Uttar Pradesh 201204

#flag mast pole manufacturer

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howtowhumpyourhiccup · 11 months

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The Axe & The Dragon

Prologue

Summary: A Circus and Magic AU mixed together. For months Hiccup has been missing and Astrid promised his parents she would find him. Whispers lead her to Fantasmania; a place where magic, greed, and dragons collide.

Warning: /

Rating: General

Characters: Astrid, Hiccup, Heather, Johann

Pairing: Hiccstrid

Words: 2 008

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Prompt: Memory loss

Whumpee: Astrid

Author’s Notes: Suddenly got this idea a couple of months ago and I needed an excuse to post it, found it in this AI-less Whumptober prompt and my lack of ideas for the actual day 17 prompts.

Enjoy!

@ailesswhumptober

XOXOX

Fantasmania. It’s the name of the circus Astrid has been trying to track down for months now. Like most it travels, that's why it’s been so difficult to track down. She followed lead after lead, go told flyers shoved in her face, hisses and whispers were all she had to go on. One would think a traveling circus would stand out, but it was like this one didn’t want to be found.

Luckily, she’s persistent.

Despite the journey she had to make to get here, Astrid finds herself admiring the sheer size of the tent towering over everything. It’s gigantic size reaches for the skies, hiding the caravans placed strategically near the back. It’s a blood red color with golden flags on strings connecting the main mast to the other poles standing in support of the heavy cloth, rows of the gold hang on the rim. They make it stand out even more against the greenery of their surroundings. There’s nothing but trees beyond the plains Fantasmania has decided to settle.

The carriage she’s taking a ride on comes to a stop on the dirt road, the coachman halts the horses.

“We’re here, missus. Fantasmania,” he says gesturing with the whip towards the entrance of the tent. It’s wide open, welcoming guests from all over the area.

And perhaps welcoming new artists as well.

Astrid glares at it in suspicion, elbows on her knees and her antique axe over her shoulder. It belonged to the Vikings once and it still looks that way. If not for her gentleman’s vest and pants, it would stand out like a sore thumb on her. Instead, all of her is strange.

Her mission is not quite suited with a dress and corset.

She can already feel it. Her fingers are tingling, butterflies are fluttering in her chest.

There's magic here. The rumors are true.

"Thanks," the woman thanks him and gets off. She might come across as a bit rude, but the ride here from the nearest town was unpleasant.

The coachman clears his throat, she gazes up at him from over her shoulder. He extends a hand towards her and Astrid sighs. It’s only fair, she did promise him payment if he could show her where the nearest traveling circus was and he did deliver.

She pays him and he leaves, urging his two horses forwards with a crackle of his whip. She watches him go before hiding the rest of her money in her breast pocket. Just like the circus before her, it, too, is magical. Her wallet disappears into it as if it was never there at all. The previous owner of the leather vest she wears is a fan of pockets that are bigger on the inside. And there are four of them.

Swinging her axe back over her shoulder again, Astrid takes her first steps towards the big red tent, there’s determination and strength in her stride. She can already hear music playing, though there’s no show scheduled. Someone must be practicing.

Passing some kind of imaginary threshold, the tingling she started feeling moments earlier suddenly becomes so much stronger and she halts. She has to struggle for a deep breath, that’s how thick the weight of magic suddenly is. Looking down at the ground, she notices she’s passed a couple of strangely white crystals.

Boundary Stones.

They must’ve been placed all around the perimeter. They’re usually placed for several reasons. For protection, for example. Or as she thinks is the case here; to hide something.

The sudden growth of magic in the area is certainly something they’re trying to cover up.

It makes sense. Magic, while perfectly legal, is still seen as taboo. Whoever owns this place wouldn’t want to scare paying customers away, certainly not when they happen to be sensitive.

But her senses going into overdrive isn’t the only thing that’s happened since she crossed the threshold. She’s getting stares.

A clown in full face paint, but in his underwear with his clothes under his arm can’t keep his frown away from her. A crew man passes her by, his gaze not obstructed by the hay bail he carries uncomfortably on his back. An acrobat who’s clearly not chilly stares the newcomer up and down with her hip cocked to on side, her mirror in hand yet forgotten. Just as Astrid watches people go about their business, they watch her.

Initial glances aren’t very welcoming, though the tent’s figurative open arms say something else. She’s clearly trespassing here.

But if Astrid planned on letting a mere couple of unwelcome stares keep her from what she came here to do, she never should’ve left home in the first place.

So she readjusts her axe, puts on her best game face, and heads on over to the tent. She wants to talk to the person in charge and one place to find him would be the center of the circus.

Walking in, Astrid finds that her earlier assumptions about the music are correct. There is someone preparing for the upcoming show.

The current act enjoying another round of perfecting is a knife-throwing act. A skinny man with a beard wearing a multicolored suit with stripes that shimmer in the spotlight holds four knives by the blades in each hand. He shows them to the absent audience.

“Here they are, my esteemed guests!” The tune played by the circus band takes on a different and quieter tone as the knife-thrower begins his speech.

“These are the knives that I will throw at my lovely assistant!” The man has a sing-songy voice as he explains his act. With a swift motion, seven of them disappear in their individual holsters aligning his belt. The eighth he holds up, showing off the bejeweled hilt as well as the long blade. Even from this distance, Astrid can see how razorsharp it is as it gleams in the light. She knows her weapons.

The band dies down completely.

“Please, give me silence, dear guests. For this part I need absolute concentration. Please wait with bated breath!” The artist takes the eighth knife, now his first, and Astrid gazes upon the assistant for the first time.

She’s a lady around her age, scantily clad with an overwhelmingly decorated one-piece. It is covered in rhinestones that make her shimmer in the spotlight. Her thick black braid hangs over her shoulder as she stands in front of a big angry bull’s eye covering a hay bail. She stands still, her smile big and unwavering.

She seems strangely familiar. This despite the swan-like mask hiding most of her face.

Just as the performer asked, Astrid waits with her breath held. Mostly because she’s nervous about someone other than her throwing weapons around. Especially when they’re being thrown at someone and she’s not the one throwing them. The drum in the band returns with repeated strikes and a quick rhythm. She tenses up as the knife is lifted, held by the very tip. Absolute silence adds to the tense atmosphere when the drum suddenly stops again.

After a momentary eternity, he throws the knife. It soars through the air in only a split second before an audible thump. The woman steps away from the hay bail, a triumphant trumpet plays as she presents herself. She’s unharmed. The knife-thrower throws his hands in the air, too.

“Thank you! Thank you!” He cheers as if able to hear deafening applause.

Astrid decides to make his dreams a reality. Her axe falls with a heavy thud on the ground, head embedded in the dirtied carpet, and begins to clap. Immediately she gains all of their attention.

“I’m sorry?” The man’s tune changes at the interruption. “The show isn’t until tonight, young lady.”

“Oh, I’m-I’m sorry, I’m not here for the show, I was looking for the man in charge and I couldn’t help but notice your excellent performance,” Astrid compliments him. It’s always the best way to get on someone’s good side and perhaps get something in return. In this case, Astrid wants the location of the ringmaster.

“Aha! Well-“

“Wait, Astrid?” A familiar voice calls to her, the woman takes off her mask to reveal the face hidden behind it as well as all this shiny stone.

Astrid lights up.

“Heather!” She shouts out her friend’s name and climbs into the ring. Heather has barely opened up her arms before she’s in them. They hug each other as tightly as they can, nearly falling over in the soft dirt. Astrid pulls away.

“Heather, is this where you’ve been this entire time? At the circus?” She asks her, desperate for an answer.

For months her friend hasn’t given her a sign of life. Not a single letter, not even to her penpal, Fishlegs. If she and the others weren’t already knee deep in problems, she would’ve gone looking for her by now.

But that she finds her here… Maybe it’s fate telling her that she’s in the right place at long last. Months of searching… of worrying… Her journey might actually come to an end.

“Uh… yeah,” Heather replies nervously with a shrug of her shoulders. “I’ve just been here. Thought that I needed a change.”

Astrid pulls away from her friend completely. Her nervousness doesn’t go unnoticed by her, but she chooses not to mention it. Until she feels like they’re free to talk, she won’t mention anything.

“How are you? How is Windshear?” She asks instead and watches as Heather visibly relaxes.

“I’m okay, she’s okay-“

“Excuse me,” the knife-thrower interjects. “But we are on a very tight schedule. Heavens, I wouldn’t know what the Big Boss will do to us if we don’t perfect tonight’s show.”

He chuckles anxiously and Heather tenses up at the mention of this “Big Boss.”

“Johann’s right, Astrid. It’s been really great seeing you again, but we only have a limited time to practice. So if you could go,” suddenly, Heather turns her around.

“Just… go home. Tell Dagur I said “hi,” she pushes Astrid towards the entrance with some hurry.

“Go home? Dagur? Isn’t he here with you?” Astrid asks, grabbing her axe before they make her leave without it.

Heather stops coaxing her out the door. She regards her with a look of utter shock. “My brother? Here? No, he’s supposed to be-“

“Okay, Johann, not that I want to rush you, but if we have to wait any longer for you to “perfect” your newest move, Toothless will eat someone. Probably you.”

A fourth voice steals the show. Someone else besides the band joins them and Astrid whirls around to face them so fast she might actually hurt herself. She knows that voice. It’s all but engraved into her soul.

Time stops. Her heart may have as well. The world melts away and nobody exists beyond the two of them.

“Hiccup,” tears well up in her eyes as she chokes up. There he is; the person she’s really been looking for all this time.

Hiccup stops in his tracks upon hearing his name, but Astrid starts, running towards her boyfriend.

“Astrid, no!” Heather’s warning falls on deaf ears.

“Hiccup!”

“Careful!” Hiccup yelps as she throws herself at him. He loses his balance as he catches her, they both fall to the ground. There’s a dramatic “ow” moaned, but she pays it little heed. Her tears flowing freely, she squeezes the life out of him before peppering him with kisses. Finally, she stares at the face she’s been missing for months now.

“You’re okay. You’re alive! I was so worried about you, we all were!” She cups his cheeks. Her smile is wide and bright.

Hiccup takes her hands away, worried. He shoots Heather a glance and that’s when Astrid reads the room. Or she at least tries to.

Something is terribly wrong here.

“Astrid…” Heather speaks her name, but nothing else leaves. She doesn’t know how to say it.

So her boyfriend says it instead.

“I’m, uh… This is going to sound really awkward, but, uh… Who are you?”

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