Avatar Rose: Dawn

Chapter 17: Rose

"I could never figure it out. Now what the heck was that for?!" I growl.

"I really didn't mean to take your foot off. You WERE the one who blasted it off," he splutters nervously, staring at my metallic foot worriedly. He seems somewhat defensive as well.

I glance at it for a moment, and then laugh. "It's been fragile ever since a past fight. Funny how much I've lost my foot. Sure it's metal, but it's weird."

He smiles a little as well. "You can fix it, right?" He asks.

"Umm... Not really. I can metal bend and sear the metal back to place, but it's still easy to break. Plus, it hurts like crazy," I reply.

His smile turns into a grin. "Okay. We first find you a mechanic, then I teach you waterbending."

I smirk. "Good luck with that. I'm in as long as you don't try to tie me up in a chair until you get your way again."

He chuckles. I grab my boot and foot that has disconnected wires hanging from it and begin to hop on one leg. Nathan rolls his eyes and scoops me up, carrying me back to Kelvin's house. I turn bright red, but don't resist.

He sets me on the couch and I stare the pieces of automail.

"Isn't it just metal? How would it hurt?" Questions Nathan curiously. I hold up the colorfully hued wires.

"These connect to my nerves. So expect me to be unable to move for a few hours. I won't be able to resist this time," I explain.

I connect wire by wire, wincing every time. When I'm done, I'm drenched with sweat and wear a grimace.

"How'd it happen?" Asks Nathan.

I look up irritably. "I got caught up in a Fire Nation raid when I was little, in my Earth Kingdom home. I tried to get my foster parents out of the home as it was collapsing. They died and I was half crushed. Can I please concentrate now?" I snap.

"Oh... Yeah. Sorry," he mumbles awkwardly.

I take a deep breath and metal bend the automail back into place. I sear the opening with fire, which makes me gasp in pain. The whole leg flares up, then my body. The side effects of metal limbs are excruciating.

"I'll be okay. It's just a side effect," I reassure Nathan, noticing his terrified face.

"That can't be healthy. You really need a mechanic," is all he says.

He's probably right, but I don't have time for a mechanic. I lie on my back on the couch, clenching my eyes closed. The pain is overwhelming, but I try my best to hide it from Nathan. I don't like sympathy from others.