11 | the king of omashu

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I'll see the veins of my city like they do in space.

AANG'S LATEST PIT-STOP proved more beautiful than Crystal anticipated

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AANG'S LATEST PIT-STOP proved more beautiful than Crystal anticipated. Standing on the edge of a dusty cliff, she made out pyramids of stone among sandy clouds and long, winding roads twined through the city. Omashu was large and imperial, simple, yet effective. She thought that was how architecture ought to be.

Omashu was also home to Aang's old friend Bumi. He'd been recounting their adventures the whole way here. Crystal kept thinking that Bumi was definitely dead, so she just let him keep talking. Maybe this was his way of processing.

Her friends all skirted down the cliff to meet her. She really hoped Omashu was more peaceful than the other places they'd been recently. Constantly being on the run from some angry firebenders wasn't light work. She needed a break!

"They have buildings here that don't melt!" Sokka said behind her. It was true—living your life surrounded by nothing but snow was polarizing when you saw a kingdom built from the ground up. It felt like she was on the border of a different world.

"Well let's go, slowpokes, the real fun's inside the city!" Aang leapt off the cliff and down the hillside, kicking up a nasty dust cloud that had Crystal hacking violently.

"Don't you think—you need a—disguise or something?" She coughed, clutching at her chest. Spirits, when they said Earth kingdom, they really did mean, like . . . earth.

"She's right," Katara pointed out as she patted Crystal's back. "We can't let people know you're the Avatar."

That familiar voice of reason took Crystal by surprise. Katara hadn't talked much on the way here. Whenever Crystal looked at her she was always staring into the sky, with a curious sort of arch in her brows. It was strange. Crystal hadn't had the opening to ask about it.

Aang's large eyes peered up from the side of the cliff. "So, what am I supposed to do? Grow a moustache?"

Beside her, Sokka's eyes lit up. "I got it!"

By the time Crystal had coughed all the sand out of her lungs, Aang sported a white moustache and an upstanding head of hair, courtesy of Appa's itchy fur. "Great, now you look just like my grandfather."

"Criss, you don't have a grandfather," Sokka snickered. She slugged him in the arm.

"Technically, Aang is a hundred and twelve years old," Katara quipped.

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