#pao voice: do I tell someone about this. or do I get rid of the best tea maker i've ever had. hmmmmmmm

[discordiansamba]

There is a werewolf in his tea shop.

Pao's mother was a superstitious woman, and had raised him on all of the old spirit tales. Among their number were stories about werewolves- humans cursed to transform into a wolf when the moon was full, driven mad by the wolf under their skin. In their human guises, they looked almost indistinguishable from a normal human- but there was one way to tell them apart.

Silver.

There was a werewolf in Pao's tea shop. Mushi's nephew hissed as his Uncle ran his hand underneath cool water, trying to soothe the burn that ran like a band across the back of his fingers. He had burned his hand on a teapot. It was not from heat- there hadn't even been any water in the pot.

But the teapot was silver.

The teapot was silver, and Lee's hand was burned.

"An allergy," Mushi told him with a smile, "-my sister had it as well."

Pao smiled back at him and nodded. He picked up the teapot and set it down, watching as Lee brought his hand out of the bucket and hissed. The burn is blistering and raw- fresh, unlike the one made by fire on his face. That was no mere allergy, much as Mushi might say otherwise.

"I apologize," Mushi said, "-I think my nephew will have to take the day off."

"Of course," Pao smiles, "-that will not be a problem."

Lee glowers at the floor, curling his fingers protectively around his burned hand. He says something quiet to his uncle, and then leaves. Pao feels himself breathing easier when he is gone.

He thinks about the young man. He is surly and unpleasant- difficult to deal with. Difficult to look at, with the reminder of the war branded into his face. His teeth are too sharp and his eyes are too bright- a solid gold, like Fire Nation eyes. Like the eyes of a wolf. It could not be more obvious that he does not fit in. He is not even trying.

When Lee comes back again the next day, his hand is bandaged. It stays bandaged for a long time. The full moon comes- and the lower ring is kept up by the howl of a wolf. There's frantic whispers amongst the populace. Disquiet, unrest of a different kind. Something made it's way into Ba Sing Se- an invader of a different kind.

Lee's hand is still bandaged.

[insanitysscribblings]

Reyna Writes: The Baker’s Son - A TomxSabine Ficlet

....

The Sin Squad (paticularly @breeeliss​ and @abadmeanman​) are entirely to blame for this.

~Reyna

           He was so tall.

           That was always Sabine’s first thought whenever Tom Dupain crossed into her line of vision. He stood a head taller than most of the boys in school, sticking out like a thumb that had unwittingly strayed into the path of a falling hammer. Naturally, anyone who saw him would assume he was an athlete of some type, with that height and his strong arms and broad shoulders…so anyone who didn’t know him was always shocked to find that he was a baker.

           Well, a baker’s son, to be more accurate. But he helped knead the dough, so the point still stood.

           Although Sabine was aware of him, she had never had the occasion to speak to Tom Dupain—though he was friendly to everyone, they simply ran in different circles. The day she became officially acquainted with Tom was the day her heart had been broken.

           In her hands, she clutched a ruined qi pao, one of the nicer ones her mother had let her wear to school, since it was her birthday. She had been reluctant to take it off, but she had gym that day, and therefore had no other choice. But when she came back to change, it was to find that the beautiful qi pao had been ripped and stomped on, courtesy of the self-appointed mean girl in school and her cronies. Sabine could do nothing but pick up the pieces as they all laughed around her and quietly leave the locker room, not saying one word. Now, she sat on a bench a block away from her home, tears gathering in her eyes as she stared down at the no longer beautiful piece of heritage that her mother had carefully saved up to buy. What would she even say to her? How could Sabine explain what had happened without bursting into tears? How could she ever repay her mother for letting something so beautiful be destroyed?

           “Um! Excuse me, miss?” Said a tiny voice suddenly, “can you help me?”

           Sabine turned, startled to find what looked like…a rabbit-shaped bun?

           “I’m lost,” the rabbit bun said, tilting its little head in what appeared to be concern. “I’m meant to join all my other friends in someone’s belly somewhere, but we got separated! And brrr, it’s cold!” The rabbit bun shivered. “Do you think—if it’s all right—I could make your belly my new home?”

           Sabine stared at the bunny bun. After a moment of silence, a head popped up from the other side of the bench, and Sabine was surprised to find none other than Tom Dupain, looking sheepish.

           “Er…should I take that as a no?” He asked in his normal tone of voice. Sabine stared at him some more, unsure of what to say. What was he doing here?

           Tom stretched up to his full height, rubbing the back of his head as red colored his cheeks.

           “Erm, sorry,” he apologized, cringing, “I don’t mean to bother you. It’s just, uh…I saw you sitting out here, and you looked real upset. I was just…trying to cheer you up.”

           He let out an awkward laugh, his sheepish grin widening.

           “Guess it was kind of stupid to try and cheer you up with a talking bun, huh? After all, you’re not five—”

           “Oh, no,” Sabine said, finally finding her voice as she dabbed at her eyes, getting rid of the excess moisture before she managed a smile. “It was cute. I’m just…not in a very good mood is all.”

           Tom appeared to have nothing to say to that. Instead, he sat down on the other side of the bench, his brow furrowed as he tugged a little at the bun in his hands. Sabine watched him, taking in his large forearms, well-muscled from all the dough-kneading. And yet, his hands remained so kind, if he could make something as delicate as a bunny bun. She felt the corners of her mouth tug into another smile.

           “…Do you,” Tom began slowly, glancing at her from his peripheral vision, “want to talk about it…?”

           That made the smile leave Sabine’s face, and she glanced down at the ruined qi pao in her lap.

           “No, not really,” she muttered, glum once again. She sighed heavily, and then, despite her words, talked anyway. “My mother paid a lot of money for this qi pao. And here it is, beyond repair. I don’t know what I’m going to tell her.”

           Silence fell between them once again. Sabine glanced over, wondering once again what Tom was doing here. When she glanced behind her, she realized with some surprise that she was right in front of the bakery his father owned. Ah…had he seen her sitting out here, crying all by herself…and come out to comfort her…?

           “…So you need to buy a new one?”

           Sabine snapped back to attention; it took her a moment to realize what Tom was talking about.

           “Well, I would if I could,” Sabine fretted, biting her lip as she delicately touched the ruined silk underneath her hands, “but I don’t have the money. I’d have to get a job…”

           But who would hire her? She didn’t really have any talents, and she hadn’t found her calling in life yet. Sure, she supposed that meant that she could do absolutely anything with her life, but that was a little daunting as well. If she could do anything, didn’t that mean she was also easily replaced…?

           “…Y’know,” Tom began again, still tugging at the bunny bun in between his hands as he glanced over at her again, looking shy for a reason Sabine didn’t understand, “my pa keeps saying that he needs an extra pair of hands around the shop. Y’know, to sweep and stuff. It’s not very exciting…but it’s work.”

           It took a second for Sabine to realize just what he was offering. Her eyes widened when the message sunk in.

           “Really? Oh, but you don’t have to—”

           “It’s fine,” Tom assured her, smiling when she bit her lip, unsure. “He’s the kind of guy who likes to help people out when they’re in need.”

           …Huh. Sabine wondered if that trait was hereditary. Because as far as she knew, Tom’s father wasn’t the one sitting out here with her, offering her a job when she desperately needed it…

           “C’mon, I’ll introduce you,” Tom said when Sabine didn’t disagree right away; he stood up, and she was struck once again by how tall he was. It was almost intimidating to get to her own feet and stand beside him, but he just smiled kindly down at her, waving her forward as he crossed the street to head back to his bakery/home. At the door, however, a thought seemed to occur to him—he turned and finally handed the bunny bun to Sabine.

           “Here, for you.” When Sabine gave him a questioning look, Tom smiled warmly. “Happy birthday.”

           Sabine stared at him. She…didn’t remember mentioning to him that it was her birthday…

           With that same smile, Tom opened the door to the bakery, ducking under the bell that chimed above the door, holding it open for her. After one more moment of stunned silence, Sabine followed him inside, realizing that her face was warmer than usual.

           She blamed it on the warmth of the bakery.