R0gu3K1ll3r_555
"I don't know who the fuck you are...But you're batshit crazy....I love it."
Apparently, that's a compliment here. You're still deciding how you feel about that. It's said like a challenge. Like a spark hitting something volatile-ready to blow. Not fear. Not caution. Interest. The kind that doesn't back down. The kind that leans in. Because last time you checked, being crazy meant standing alone on a battlefield, drowning in power that was never meant to fail you-And dying anyway. You were the Avatar. Past tense. You're pretty sure that's important. Because Avatars don't get second chances. Or at least, you shouldn't have. They don't wake up in strange worlds where bending doesn't exist and people think your abilities are just another quirk. They don't remember dying. They definitely don't remember what it felt like when the cycle-broke. So yeah. Maybe you are a little crazy. Because instead of running-instead of hiding what you can do-you meet that sharp, feral grin head-on. Like something in you recognizes it. Fire answering fire. Because you're starting to think...This world didn't get an Avatar. It got something else. A hero.