Window To Your Soul - A General Iroh II Fanfic [Avatar: TLAB-LoK WA 2017]

Chapter 1

"Stupid. Stupid. Stupid." You say to yourself as you fumble around your desk-space. "Where did I leave it?"

Your eyes eventually rest on a rectangle of red cloth. You triumphantly reach out, pulling your red-wrapped sketchbook from beneath a gathering of other sketches. Finally having everything, you head out of your house, not before locking the door, and making your way past the noisy vendors and shouting merchants of the bay. One particular merchant advertises something he holds in his palm. The shimmering jewel tones catch your eye and you shift focus from the busy street to the glistening jewellery. You don't notice the tall stranger in your path until it's too late. Suddenly, a shocked grunt as the air is forced out of your lungs, a heavy mass hitting you, your body swinging over it. Then you hit the ground. Hard. Your sketchbook and all the stray doodles tucked within the pages fall to the ground like descending snowflakes along with all the other art supplies you were holding onto.

"Are you alright?" A warm raspy voice asks you.

The guy you just ran into offers a hand, and you graciously take it.

"Yeah... Yeah, I'm fine. I--"

You are just about to thank the kind stranger when all of a sudden, you are taken aback. Most of his face is covered by a scarf. All you can see are his eyes. His hypnotising eyes. Golden in colour, they shine like the sun. Most people of the fire nation have yellow tinted eyes. But you had never seen a more distinct pair as his. They seem to almost sparkle in the sunlight, as clichéd as it sounds.

Maybe it's the light playing tricks on you, you reason. Maybe it's just because his other features are covered, that his eyes stand out so much. Or perhaps...

Before any more words can tumble out of your mouth, he bends down to pick up your things off the ground. You are still stunned when he hands them back to you, his honeyed eyes crinkling with what you can only assume is a smile.

"Be careful next time," he says to you, winking as he leaves.

Oh boy. You could only hope there would be a next time.

As you make your way to the pier, your thoughts are jumbled and disjointed. You inwardly berate yourself for taking so much interest in a stranger you've never met in your life. He was no one special. Anyone could have helped you up. Anyone could have just as easily winked at you. But his eyes; those were something's special. You came to the broken down pier to draw the sun as it slipped past the sea, and the boats in the distance, casually dotting the fiery horizon. But you can't seem to focus on the sunset. Your mind stays fixated on that strange person.

And those striking eyes.

You look down at the blank piece of paper sitting on your lap. Finally deciding to put pencil on paper, you start out by sketching the smooth curve of his eyelids and the gentle crinkles alluding to his smile, followed by the sharpness of his eyebrows.

You sit there for so long, you suddenly realise sunset had already come and gone a long while ago when you finish. Not in a hurry this time, you gather your belongings together, and head home. No sooner had you left the pier, we're you forced back for the second time that day. This time however, a strong hand catches you arm before you fall, and this time the only thing that tumbles down is your sketchbook that you were holding in the opposite hand. You look up to your rescuer and to your surprise, it's the same man from earlier that day, with the same scarf wrapped around his mouth. He looks down at you with those ever-dazzling eyes.

"You've really got a thing for me, huh?" He asks playfully.

Like their previous encounter, he reaches down to pick up the fallen object. Except this time you don't want him to see what's inside. You scramble down to the ground, eager to take a hold of your book before he does, but it's too late; he's already holding onto it. In the dim light, he has to strain his eyes to see the fine lines marked on the paper. Then his smiling expression turns into something unreadable.

"Is... Is this me?" He asks.

"Uh... Yeah?" You quietly answer.

He hands back your red covered sketchbook, and his playful expression returns.

"Keep up the good work." He says with another wink.

"Yeah." You repeat. Too stunned to say anything else.