“Are you a dragon?”
The little girl is smaller than Toph, but just as dirty, brown eyes wide as she crouches next to him. He’s sitting on the stoop, trying to take in as much of this pale winter sunlight as he can before they head back into the forest to find Appa with their supplies. Zuko frowns—what is it with people in this country and dragons? And why do they always ask him?
“Excuse me?”
“She said you was a dragon, and you got turned into a person by a wizard.”
“Who said—?”
“Is that why your eyes are gold? Bran says dragons have silver eyes, but I know he’s wrong. Dragons like gold, not silver. They like it so much, their eyes changed color to match.”
The gold eyes in question narrow. This is not conducive to being undercover. (Really, it’s his fault for not staying in the woods with Appa, but it’s safer for the girls if they travel with someone visibly armed. Jack got bison duty this morning. Jerk.) But it’s such a backwater town, and she's so small—he’s grown a soft spot for the little ones before they’re jaded—he doesn’t exactly say no.
“Do you believe all the stories you hear from strangers?”
“Only the good ones!”
“… Right.”
More children are approaching—of course, he’s wearing red. This might not be home, where people can tell where you’re from based on the colors you’re wearing, but his tunic is still the brightest thing in the drab village square. Whispers run their course, and then there's the inevitable, "Dragons aren't real!" from some boy in the back. The girl, the little not-Toph, bristles.
"Shatup, Issac! He's got gold eyes! Err'body knows dragons have gold eyes!"
It all goes downhill from there.
The little girl is smaller than Toph, but just as dirty, brown eyes wide as she crouches next to him. He’s sitting on the stoop, trying to take in as much of this pale winter sunlight as he can before they head back into the forest to find Appa with their supplies. Zuko frowns—what is it with people in this country and dragons? And why do they always ask him?
“Excuse me?”
“She said you was a dragon, and you got turned into a person by a wizard.”
“Who said—?”
“Is that why your eyes are gold? Bran says dragons have silver eyes, but I know he’s wrong. Dragons like gold, not silver. They like it so much, their eyes changed color to match.”
The gold eyes in question narrow. This is not conducive to being undercover. (Really, it’s his fault for not staying in the woods with Appa, but it’s safer for the girls if they travel with someone visibly armed. Jack got bison duty this morning. Jerk.) But it’s such a backwater town, and she's so small—he’s grown a soft spot for the little ones before they’re jaded—he doesn’t exactly say no.
“Do you believe all the stories you hear from strangers?”
“Only the good ones!”
“… Right.”
More children are approaching—of course, he’s wearing red. This might not be home, where people can tell where you’re from based on the colors you’re wearing, but his tunic is still the brightest thing in the drab village square. Whispers run their course, and then there's the inevitable, "Dragons aren't real!" from some boy in the back. The girl, the little not-Toph, bristles.
"Shatup, Issac! He's got gold eyes! Err'body knows dragons have gold eyes!"
It all goes downhill from there.
