Charumati loved her routine. It wasn't so much she absolutely had to have one, but it made day-to-day life much simpler.

One of her routine stops was the newsstand. Working for The Republic Times allowed her to have free copies of the paper delivered to her home, but there was something about the feel of going out and purchasing a paper that appealed to her. Many news stands were operated by the poor, who were very frequently also nonbenders. Poverty affected bender and nonbender alike, but nonbenders were more likely to be hit more severely by financial strife.

Nonbender or no, though, Charumati loathed socioeconomic disparity. The gall of the bending elite, sitting atop their high horses, acting as if no problems existed...! It was enough to make her Galgori blood boil.

The local newsstand was owned by a bearded man named Deng. She didn't know if Deng was a bender or not — she was not blessed with the gift of the Monks, after all — but he was a humble man working an honest job just trying to get by. Charumati respected him for it, regardless of his bending status. He gave her a small smile and wave as she approached his stand; a young girl was already there, poring over the morning edition of The Republic Times.

"Good morning, Deng," she said in her quiet way, placing her yuans on the counter before picking up a copy of the Times herself.

"I’ve always wanted to meet Rohana."

Charumati nearly dropped her paper. She looked down at the girl completely absorbed in reading. It had been twenty-some-odd years since she had begun writing 'Dear Rohana', but the thrill of hearing someone compliment the column without knowing who she was never fully went away.

"She always seems so calm and level-headed. It’s like she knows just what to say… She must be a brilliant woman…”

Charu cleared her throat. "Good morning," she said, bending a little to peer at the young girl over the paper, the short locks of brown hair framing her face waving gently with the movement. "You seem a little young to be a fan of that particular column."

One of today’s queries had to do with a long-time relationship between a bender and a nonbender. It was heartbreaking, Mei Ling thought, that even the strongest of bonds were starting to erode under the stress of the city. No, perhaps she didn’t understand the bond one held with their partner… But she knew the paranoia that came with losing trust in family, oh yes, she knew it quite well indeed…

Mei Ling heard someone clear their throat and looked up. A well-dressed woman, old enough to be her mother, stood before her, appraising her with dark eyes. “Good morning,” she said, very gently but quite clearly, her voice rich as velvet. Mei Ling wasn’t much shorter than her, but she was immediately impressed by her stature. This stranger’s clothing seemed impractically soft and frilly, but she knew better. There was strength hidden there.

Something about her struck Mei Ling in a way she couldn’t quite place – almost like a sense of déjà vu. Before she could think of a thing to say, the woman went on, “You seem a little young to be a fan of that particular column.”

Young…? Though the word felt a bit odd to Mei Ling, she dismissed it as a flash of insecurity and fought it with a smile. “Perhaps I’m older than I look,” she teased cheerfully. “No wonder Deng keeps asking me out for tea.” She sent a wink his way, but there was a nagging feeling in the back of her head that she couldn’t place, and it directed all of attention toward the older woman; perhaps it was the way she dressed that signalled wealth, or the posture which radiated self-confidence. She sensed that the comment wasn’t really about whether the column was age-appropriate.

“I’ve read Ask Rohana since I came to Republic City,” she explained, “and she always has a story to share. Rohana gives a voice to those who are afraid to speak out, and I have always admired that.” Mei Ling shrugged, pinging with what was almost jealousy. With her position, Rohana was blessed with the emotion of the city… but also burdened with what could be an immense amount of influence. She looked back into the dark woman’s eyes, struggling with the sense that she somehow knew her. “I figure it’s important to listen to those who are hurting, especially in these troubled times. Don’t you?”

“Perhaps I’m older than I look."

Charu hid a small smile. If she had to guess, the young woman was no older than thirty. Having only a few years ago crossed the threshold into quinquagenarian, she still remembered the fire and vigour of youth. "Perhaps you are," she murmured amicably.

“I’ve read Ask Rohana since I came to Republic City and she always has a story to share. Rohana gives a voice to those who are afraid to speak out, and I have always admired that. I figure it’s important to listen to those who are hurting, especially in these troubled times. Don’t you?”

The words touched her likely shrivelled heart. Regardless of whether or not this young woman was a bender, it was good to hear these words come from one still in their youth. Perhaps there was hope, once the bender-centric oligarchy was dismantled, that young individuals such as this would be the prevalent mindset. Charumati tucked her newspaper under her arm and turned to go. "Oh yes," she agreed softly, "The disenfranchised deserve a voice."

It was a line she had often repeated in her column, when advising nonbenders on how to deal with the benders in their lives. She smiled, almost imperceptibly wider this time, and began to walk away.

(OOC: I'm not ending the thread so please feel free to continue / stop her / follow her, etc)

The older woman was reserved, and a beat passed. Her expression was hard to read, but then she folded the Times under one arm and moved to leave. Mei Ling was about to bid her good day until she heard the soft, soothing voice. "Oh yes," she said with a gentle smile, "the disenfranchised deserve a voice."

The woman turned away, and Mei Ling recognized the words in an instant. Staring, she slowly folded her own paper, comprehension steadily dawning. Surely it couldn't be her, she had time to think. At least, had time until it all clicked. A young woman met at a noodle shop, a worker of the Times, with the description of her famous co-worker...

"Excuse me!" Mei Ling called, jumping into stride, heart pounding in her chest. A small part of her said she was being childish, silly, but at this point she was convinced and overwhelmed with excitement. She was not about to be rude enough to physically stop the woman, but she quickly caught up, trying not to skip. Unashamed, she asked, "You're her, aren't you? You're Rohana!"

Her cheeks were pink and she felt breathless, and not from physical exertion. "I can't believe it's actually you!" She wasn't sure whether it was more appropriate to extend a hand to shake or bow - she landed on bow. "I know you're probably very busy but I would be honored if you had a few minutes to spare."

Mei Ling tried to keep her excitement from slipping into anxiety. No, there was no reason to think that just because Rohana may or may not be influencing the nonbender agenda that she was anti-bender... Right? Mei Ling forced herself to silence the thoughts. She had plenty of time to process them later: right now, before her, was a golden opportunity to speak with who might just be one of the wisest women in the city...

"Excuse me!"

Charumati bit gently on the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing; she always did have a flair for the dramatic, and her cryptic exit had the desired effect.

"You're her, aren't you? You're Rohana! I can't believe it's actually you! I know you're probably very busy but I would be honored if you had a few minutes to spare."

The young woman caught up to her breathlessly, keeping pace, the thrill and excitement apparent on her face. Sedately, Charumati inclined her head in acknowledgement. "I am," she said. "But please, do keep your voice down."

Charu pulled a delicate pocket watch out of her inner pocket and checked the time. "I have to be in the office in about an hour," she informed the young woman. "I know of a tea shop not far from here — would you like to join me for a cup of tea? My treat."

Assuming the answer would be 'yes', she changed direction and headed for the tea shop in question; a small, family-owned affair called The Lotus Cafe. The young proprietor was an earthbender, she knew, but one who never used her abilities and so Charumati had no problem patronising her business. The walk took only a few minutes; Charu could smell the tea cakes baking before they even arrived at the shop's doors.

It was a small, dainty place, with a small section cordoned off for the traditional tea ceremony. Otherwise, booths capable of seating up to four lined the other three walls, with a half dozen tables for two to four people in the open area.

She sat at her prefered booth in the back, accepting two menus from the plump, dark-haired owner with a small nod of her head.

She still couldn't believe her good luck. If she had instead taken a few moments more at a neighbor's, or perhaps taken a different street, she wouldn't be standing beside this woman of such influence. Mei Ling nodded at the soft admonishment, and saw her glance at the dainty pocket watch. "I have to be in the office in about an hour... would you like to join me for a cup of tea? My treat."

Mei Ling smiled, her initial excitement simmering down. "I would be honored," she said, far more calmly than before, and she followed Rohana towards the Lotus Cafe. It was not a place Mei Ling frequented, but she had visited once or twice - and she always caught the smell of fresh-baked pastries when she passed.

As they moved to be seated in the quaint tea shop, Mei Ling was struck again with a nervous pang. She had to be sure not to give too much away, she thought as she accepted her menu with a smile and a "thank you", and it meant she had to be sure not to dig too deeply. She had only a bit of time, which meant not only asking the right questions, but getting the right answers as well. Rohana was influential enough that this face-to-face was intimidating... but also exhilarating to be so near a woman from which she could learn so much.

"Thank you again for your time," Mei Ling began, lacing her fingers demurely. "And I apologize for my rudeness earlier. My name is Mei Ling Song, and I have hoped to meet you for a long time." She bowed her head respectfully. She breathed in and out, and for a moment her dress was soft on her skin and the charms hidden and heavy on her chest.

She looked up into the woman's dark eyes and breathed again. "I must ask," the firebender said, her voice gentle and curious, "how did you get to work for the Times?" She stopped and shook her head briefly. "Well, I suppose I mean to ask, what led you to creating Dear Rohana?"

It struck Mei Ling that Rohana was almost certainly not her real name, but at the moment it was entirely impertinent. She was more interested in the story, in the state of Republic City when the column was created. Perhaps it might give her insight into what was going on in the city today...

"Thank you again for your time, and I apologize for my rudeness earlier. My name is Mei Ling Song, and I have hoped to meet you for a long time."

Charumati kept her face solemn as she inclined her head in acknowledgement. "Apology accepted, Ms. Song. I am flattered to have piqued your interest." She glanced down at the menu, her eyes quickly sorting through the familiar items for something that struck her fancy. She handed the item back to the proprietor. "I'll have the four steamed rice cakes, a small side of butter, and if you have it, some grated cheese."


"I must ask, how did you get to work for the Times?" She stopped and shook her head briefly. "Well, I suppose I mean to ask, what led you to creating Dear Rohana?"

She gave a small smile. "Order first, please."

When Mei Ling was finished ordering, Charumati also asked for a small pot of hot water and whatever tea they were showcasing that day.

The proprietor nodded and walked away. Charumati then turned her full attention to Mei Ling, her brown eyes noticing, for the first time, the ochre-hued irises of her new acquaintance. Hm.

"It was a stroke of luck, honestly," she answered, glancing past Mei Ling in that way people do when they're reminiscing about the past. "When I was young, I worked for the Times in the warehouses, moving cargo from the presses to satomobile, from satomobile to presses. Some time later, " — here, Charumati neglected to say just how much time — "I was on break giving advice to one of my co-workers. An editor for the paper happened to be nearby and found he enjoyed my advice-giving and asked if I could read and write." She suddenly came back to earth, looking at Mei Ling again. "Not everyone could, you know. Most manual labourers couldn't even read simple street signs, and there were many instructions that had to be delivered verbally instead of written."

She paused as the proprietor brought there food and drinks to the table.

"Thank you," she said softly, before continuing. "Where was I? Oh yes..." Charu smeared butter over the top of her rice cake (it wasn't a hard disc of dried rice puffs, as the kind sold in stores, but rather a small, squishy sweet little white cake that looked almost like a cupcake) and topped it off with a sprinkle of cheese. "When I told him I could do both, he asked if I would like to write an advice column. It was better pay than what I was receiving at the warehouse, and after some negotiation I began to write Dear Rohana. It was a small article, at first. The first print's letters were from other writers at the office. To this day I don't know if any of them were really asking me for advice!" She laughed softly.

Mei Ling did as she was bid, and glanced over the menu. Though she was momentarily torn between sweet and savory, the smell of the baking pastries made her decision for her. “I will have a sweet dumpling, please,” she ordered, “just plain.” She also requested the green tea, to offset the sugar, and also passed the menu to the woman, thanking her.

Now, back to Rohana, whose dark eyes were appraising the younger woman. It gave Mei Ling a strange feeling, and again the charms felt heavy on her chest. Still, she forced herself to take slow, even breaths, and after a moment the woman began her story, gazing off almost wistfully as she began. Mei Ling wouldn’t have imagined the Rohana once working in a warehouse… though she supposed one must start somewhere. And how amazing it was that all one needed was to be overheard to be offered the opportunity of a lifetime…

The older woman looked back down at Mei Ling, explaining, “Not everyone could, you know. Most manual laborers couldn’t even read simple street signs…” She nodded, but it was a bit strange. She couldn’t remember the last person she met who didn’t know how to read. Then again, Mei Ling had to admit that she was very lucky to have literate parents, who appreciated her readiness to learn. Before either of them could say anything, their food arrived. Bright green leaves lined the bottom of her teacup, which she immediately doused with steaming water to begin the steeping. Her dumpling was dusted with a fine white powder to keep her fingers from sticking to it. Dainty, she took a small bite as Rohana continued, and found herself quite pleased that the bean paste within wasn’t too sweet for her liking.

Rohana described how small her column used to be, joking about the first print. Mei Ling smiled. “Well, whether they were sincere or not, you made such a name for yourself anyway,” she thought aloud. “I figure not a lot of women can say that nowadays.” Though her tea had not been steeping long, she still gave it a sip, savoring the heat of the water and aroma of its steam.

“I do have to wonder,” she admitted, fingers wrapped around her teacup, “how the letters you got in the beginning compare to what you get today.” She shrugged, a finger playing on the rim of her cup, and looked back up at Rohana. The time to ask was now, or she might never get the opportunity again. She shoved away the fear of outing herself. “I haven’t been in the city that long, so maybe it’s just my point of view… But it seems like most of your letters have to do with some of the tensions between benders and nonbenders. Did you always get letters like these, or have they just picked up since Amon came into the public eye?”

All she knew was that the Equalist movement was underway long before Amon was a household name, and his death had only inflamed tensions instead of soothing them… How public they had been, however, she did not know. She sipped her tea again.

“I haven’t been in the city that long, so maybe it’s just my point of view… But it seems like most of your letters have to do with some of the tensions between benders and nonbenders. Did you always get letters like these, or have they just picked up since Amon came into the public eye?”


Deliberately, Charu took another bite of her food instead of answering immediately. Her face was expertly composed: attentive enough to avoid looking vacant, but still bland enough to avoid making any implications.

After a short silence, though the kind that may seem to some to take an eternity, she swallowed, took a sip of tea — a lovely autumn spice blend — and answered:

"Have you noticed how history seems to gloss over the contributions of nonbenders?" It was a rhetorical question. "Ask anyone, bender or not, to name a famous person, and you'll find that the name of a bender is readily on their tongues. You'll hear a variety of names, from Avatars of our ancient history, to contemporary probenders. Rarely will you hear the first response be the name of a nonbender.

"But press them for the name of one, and you'll be met with awkward fidgeting and the same names: Sokka. Suki. Ty Lee. Lady Mai. Perhaps the occasional mention of the bounty hunter, Jun, if one were particularly well versed in the final battle of the Hundred Years War. The Satos.

"But in reality, nonbenders outnumber benders by a significant margin. The majority of the population of the Earth Kingdom cannot bend. They have flourished, as a nation, on the backs of unnamed nonbenders, at best a footnote in the pages of history. Do you think benders were the ones who toiled to keep the shops running, the ones who grew the crops and tended the livestock? In the Fire Nation, who stayed home while the Navy and Army went to war? In the Water Tribes, do we memorialise the nonbender lives lost in indiscriminate killings, or only the fact that benders were targeted under the assumption the Avatar would be born to them following the Cycle?

"Even within the history of our own United Republic, benders dominate the scene. We hear the exploits of Fire Lord Zuko, of Avatar Aang, of Toph Bei Fong... our government, our police force, consist entirely of those with bending ability. There is no opportunity for a nonbender to even attempt to contribute to the larger forces of the city, simply because they cannot bend. There are no protocols in place, no training, no education, to allow nonbenders to compensate for lack of what is, in essence, a happenstance occurrence of nature."

Charumati took a long, deep drink of her tea, her eyes fixed on Mei Ling's, an eyebrow ever so slightly arched. 

"There has always been unrest," she said bluntly. "Think critically. Even outside of the city, think back. How many benders have gotten away with a slap on the wrist, while nonbenders have received jail time for the same offence? How many nonbenders have been elevated to a prominent status in your hometown? When nonbenders take up arms to defend themselves against benders invading their lives, which ones are charged with assault with a weapon? Is it the benders, who weaponised their inherent control over the elements? No."

She refilled her cup with hot water, the steam rising off the surface and giving Charumati an otherworldly appearance.

"Amon," she said, her soft voice even softer, showing a hint of exhaustion. It wasn't physical, but rather emotional, as one might expect after fighting the same fight for half a century, "was only effective because he had resources at his disposal. Resources that would be unavailable to a majority of nonbenders." Charumati paused, clenching her jaw briefly to prevent the bitterness in her voice from seeping through.

"Be critical of what you read, child. The papers and the radio only ever speak what they are allowed to speak."

It took Rohana a moment to answer, which Mei Ling took as a good sign, even if she wasn't sure she'd like everything that she heard. The younger woman chose to mirror her actions - another bite of her dumpling, its sweetness washed down with the bitter, fragrant tea. And then Rohana began.

She started with a question. "Have you noticed how history seems to gloss over the contributions of nonbenders?" Though she knew she needn't answer, she gave a small nod regardless, gold eyes glinting over the rim of her teacup. This was what she wanted to hear. Rohana went on, only just mentioning the most famous of nonbenders, and mourning those lost to history. Nothing she said was incorrect, of course.

"But in reality, nonbenders outnumber benders by a significant margin." As she went on, Mei Ling nodded again, using her small meal to distract her gaze if not her attention. Though she was intrigued, she didn't want to stare. Rohana was intelligent and more impassioned than Mei Ling had been led to believe. Though she was careful to mask the small movements of her eyebrows with nibbles here and drinks there, swallowing was becoming just a bit harder, a bit more painful. A lump had started to form in her throat. "...our government, our police force, consist entirely of those with bending ability."

As Rohana took a long drink of her tea, Mei Ling stared at her dark eyes, glanced from one to the next. Of course she was always aware of her nonbender leanings. But as she went on ("When nonbenders take up arms to defend themselves against benders invading their lives...") Mei Ling was forced to ask herself where the older woman drew the line between nonbender and antibender. And as steam cloaked the dusky woman's face in a veil, she realized that there might not be a line, not for Rohana.

As she discussed Amon, she sounded weary, and Mei Ling was forming an understanding as to why. She looked down into her tea, doused the leaves again with a dash of water, pressed her fingertips against the hot ceramic. Breathe in... breathe out... She checked her heart rate - a bit fast, but steady, smooth. She was okay, at least emotionally. But she was feeling very small. "Be critical of what you read, child. The papers and the radio only ever speak what they are allowed to speak."

She inclined her head in respect. "I try to be." It only took her a moment, and then she looked up at Rohana again, eyes flashing. "I keep records at the police station, and I see how much is hidden." It would, of course, go unspoken, that only half of what was hidden was bender on nonbender aggression. The other half...

"So what do you think, then," she continued hypothetically, though keeping her voice soft to avoid being overheard, "of the rumors about the Galgori Six? I'm sure you get letters about them all the time..." Mei Ling was, of course, genuinely curious. Between what she knew of the Galgori (at least, what the books she'd read told her) and the stance Rohana took, she wouldn't be surprised if the journalist knew more than she let on. "It seems like everyone treats them like the boogeyman, but it's hard to tell, don't you think?" She took another drink. Breathe in... Breathe out...

Charumati looked at the young woman blankly. "The Six?" she echoed. "My grandparents spoke of them, sometimes. I don't particularly know much about them beyond legends and stories."

She took a long sip of tea, glancing briefly at her pocket watch. "Forty-five minutes left," she announced. "I should probably leave about fifteen minutes before that, so I can catch a cab."

"According to my grandparents, the Six were incredibly ruthless and completely shrouded in mystery; to listen to them, you'd think they were immortal. Completely ridiculous, of course. Even the Avatar dies, even if they are reincarnated. It's more logical to think they were simply silently replaced covertly." The older woman shrugged, polishing off another rice cake. If she could eat just one snack for the rest of her life, it might be these.

"I do get letters, of course." Her gaze on Mei Ling suddenly sharpened. "People are afraid and want advice. If you work at the police station," she added, "I'm sure you are well aware of the injunction against the media... what was it..." Charumati raised her fingers and gestured, "...'spreading rumours and inciting public panic'."

"But if you're asking my opinion, I honestly couldn't say who is behind the rumours and ... strange happenings." Charumati was well aware the disappearances were not widespread knowledge but figured working at the paper afforded her a good cover. It's why she stayed for twenty years, after all. And, she wasn't lying about not knowing, exactly. "All I know definitively is that Amon is dead, and the Equalists, if any remain, clearly lack a unifying force. It's entirely possible that the Six have been 'revived' for the purpose of being something for us as nonbenders to rally behind again. Don't misunderstand me," she said suddenly. "I am not against individual benders. I am against the system of power that allows the oppression of nonbenders with little to no consequence, that allows the Triads to extort hard working people, that creates situations where a man like Amon can exploit the disenfranchised. Not all benders may actively oppress nonbenders, but all benders benefit from the system of power even if they don't realise it."

She took another drink of tea, eyeing Mei Ling keenly over the rim of her cup. "All of this is, of course, off the record."

Rohana seemed surprised by the question, and took a moment to glance at her watch. "Forty-five minutes left," she said bluntly, and Mei Ling dipped her head. "Of course," she said politely, and took a drink of her own tea. She wasn't about to keep the woman from her job, and she had already learned a lot from the brief time they'd been together.

She went on to discuss how the Six seemed half myth or legend, which was no surprise to Mei Ling. Even the most well-read had little else to say about their past. But the younger woman had a feeling they both knew it wasn't the past she was asking about. "I'm sure you are well aware of the injunction against the media... what was it..." Rohana said, then gestured about. "...'spreading rumors and inciting public panic'."

She went on before Mei Ling could reply, so she just nodded again, hoping she seemed more polite and less like a dumb bobble-head. Then again, for a journalist who gave advice for pay, she wasn't especially more or less chatty than the firebender expected. But her gaze was keen and Mei Ling chose to avoid a staring match with the convenient distraction of her tea and dumpling. "Don't misunderstand me," Rohana said, almost sharply, "I am not against individual benders."

After sipping her tea, she concluded "All of this is, of course, off the record."

Mei Ling smiled in response. "Of course," she said softly. "I may work at the station, but I'm no cop." She shrugged. "Believe me, it's not just the media that are hushed up..." It wasn't just the public statements they gave out either. One simply didn't speak of the Galgori or the Six inside the station. Not if you were an officer, not if you were a clerk, not even if you were a criminal. Mei Ling loved her job, but it was hard to put up with the silence sometimes.

She took a small bite and thought for a moment, then something came to her. "I know right now this is all speculation, but given what history tells us about the Galgori, I wonder why they would even wait. You'd think after Amon was exposed, it would be the perfect time to bring nonbenders and their allies together to work towards change..." She shook her head, hating how she had to hide her own bending status, but knowing she was safer doing so. "But it's been a year, and things are worse than ever... I mean, I see violence against nonbenders just getting worse all the time."

She took a drink and mused, "I figure if the Six were real, you think they'd help instead of hide in the shadows..."

Charumati shrugged noncommittally, a small lift of her shoulder as if there were a vaguely annoying fly hovering near it. "Even if they were, there's no guarantee that they'd act overtly, which is why I find myself doubting if they've reformed."

All of which were true statements technically. Technically. She disliked lies, and strove always to tell the truth as much as possible. But there were always ways, of course, of not speaking false without exposing too many details.

She ate a few more bites of her rice cake. The proprietor caught her eye, and Charu smiled and nodded, lifting up the rice cake to indicate her enjoyment. After she swallowed, she continued.

"From what my grandparents told me, even during the Hundred Years War the Six were poorly understood even among the Galgori. Even between each other, my grandparents squabbled about what they did and who they might have been. My grandfather thought they were all high ranking members within Galgori society with double identities. My grandmother on the ohter hand, was adamant that they were nobodies, lurking as beggars or vendors in the street.

"All that we know for certain, because of Avatar Aang, is that they commissioned the Hunt. If you look at the historical accounts of the Hunt's involvement in the War, you'll see its leadership changed shortly before the final battle on the Solstice. We have no idea why, and the original leader is never mentioned again."

She looked at Mei Ling, keeping careful care to show just a hint of tiredness to her face; tiredness she felt in her soul, not in her body. "If the Six were returned, based on a history such as that, do you believe they would show their hand with the city in such disarray?" Charu wrapped her hands around her cup of tea, studying the surface of the liquid intensely, as if the cup held the answer to her question. "But I agree with you. The violence is escalating."

The crack in her voice was unintentional. She cursed inwardly. It was hard to toe the line between being honest about the state of the world and keeping an impassive front. "But what can nonbenders do? There's nothing in place for us to seek justice. At its very core, this city is designed to uphold the status quo: our government and law enforcement are required to bend. Who can we go to who will amplify our voices? The lone nonbender on a four person council? Do you think the other three wish to upset the balance of power out of their favour?" Charumati was painfully aware of how tired she sounded suddenly, but after twenty years of seeing the same injustice repeated day after day, it was impossible not to be tired.

She looked up from her cup, her eyes boring into Mei Ling's. "Amon was supposed to be that voice. You see how well it worked out."

Rohana gave a shrug, mentioning offhand, “…there’s no guarantee they’d act overtly, which is why I find myself doubting if they’ve reformed.” Though the older woman appeared to pay it no mind, Mei Ling found the wording odd, and took another bite of her dumpling during the still moment that passed between them. Rohana could have just as easily said that, without any solid evidence, doubts of their existence would be cast. But instead, she used the word reformed… As if the question wasn’t about whether they were real, but whether they were here…

Still, Mei Ling wasn’t about to interrupt. Rohana went on to discuss the Six, the rumors she’d heard from her grandparents, which the young firebender was grateful for. Oral histories were almost more important than written ones. If enough people couldn’t read in this day and age, it was that much fewer one hundred years ago, and fewer still the earlier one went. While Mei Ling enjoyed reading to get the big picture, she knew that listening was the key to filling in the gaps.

“All we know for certain, because of Avatar Aang, is that they commissioned the Hunt.” Mei Ling nodded, listening intently. She’d read very little on the Hunt, quite possibly because there was little to read, and the details were convoluted and fuzzy. But they weren’t called the “Hunt” for no reason. While it was widely accepted among historians that the once-assassins had a change of heart and joined with Avatar Aang, the details of the Six and the change of leadership were sparse. Mei Ling refilled her teacup once again, committing Rohana’s words to memory. It was speculation, yes, but important nonetheless.

Her face grew weary, and for once the older woman looked down at her tea. Her voice cracked as she said softly, “But I agree with you. The violence is escalating.”

At that point she bemoaned the state of nonbenders in the city, and Mei Ling was moved by the tiredness of her voice. Of course she was a writer, and heard the words of nonbenders, but the younger woman hadn’t considered that perhaps Rohana wasn’t just a passive voice, but an active one. Perhaps she was one of the nonbenders on the front lines, fighting with words instead of weapons. As she stared into Mei Ling, saying, “Amon was supposed to be that voice. You see how well it worked out,” the firebender was struck by the notion that perhaps Rohana was new the voice of the nonbenders, growing in influence in broad daylight under the cover of the most-read agony aunt column of any newspaper in the city.

She tried to cover her discomfort, keeping her voice steady as she replied, “Yes, but Amon was revealed to be a bender after all. If he wasn’t a bender…” It was a bit silly to hypothesize, considering the man was dead, but still. “I wonder if things would be different. Even the Hunt worked with Avatar Aang to take down Ozai, who some argue was the greater threat to nonbenders.”

She shrugged and decided to throw caution to the wind. The time they had allotted was slipping away, and Mei Ling figured that, without knowing if she’d get another chance, it was better to ask forgiveness than permission. Her fear was her worst enemy. “Perhaps you’re the voice nonbenders are looking for,” she said softly, keeping her hands still by wrapping them around her teacup. Only a moment ago, she had been considering whether Rohana was an alias, and if the fact was even pertinent. Now, though, she was almost certain that it was crucial. “I mean, you’re basically a household name in the city – or, at least, Dear Rohana is. When you speak, people listen, really listen. People pay to hear you speak.”

Mei Ling shook her head, but locked eyes again with Rohana. Again, she felt a sense of intimidation, of impression radiating from the woman. In a bizarre stroke of imagination, she pictured an elephant rat cornered by a canyon crawler, and blinked the image away. “Government and councils and laws are only as strong as the peoples’ belief in the system. The Equalists are still out there, whether they have a leader or not. Someone in your position could tip the scales, as I’m sure you know… As you always say, ‘the disenfranchised deserve a voice’…”

She realized what she said could almost be taken as an accusation. But now was past the time to avoid blunt words and language. Still, the woman was quite sharp, and Mei Ling felt compelled to continue and shrugged a shoulder. “Maybe you inspire people to make those changes from the inside out, bender and nonbender. Have you ever thought that maybe you would be the one bring peace back to the city?” She finished off her dumpling, and wiped off her fingers delicately on the napkin.

For the first time in a very long time, Charumati grinned. It was a wide ear-to-ear smile, the kind that a writer might say made someone's eyes sparkle and take ten years off of someone's face. A soft, but genuine, laugh bubbled up from somewhere inside her. She reached over and gave Mei Ling an appreciative pat on the arm.

"You are very sweet," she said, still smiling. "Your faith in my abilities is, while perhaps unwarranted, very moving."

Of course, the young woman had no idea quite how near the mark her comment had come; it was a very narrow miss indeed. Charumati poured the last of the hot water in her cup and polished off her last tea cake, pondering as she chewed how best to answer — and yet not answer — Mei Ling's question.

"I have thought about it, of course," she said after a time, her tone as if recalling some deep introspection. "I think when you are young, visions of being a force of nature are very alluring indeed. My grandparents had some very... interesting ideas for my future, you could say." Her pure Galgori lineage hung over the air unspoken. "But ultimately, my strengths are only to amplify the voices I hear." Whether that be verbally or physically, she added to herself.

"But you!" She turned the full force of her gaze onto Mei Ling, her eyes blazing with a good-natured challenge. "You are young still. You have the passion. And," she added softly, in a low voice only Mei Ling could hear, "you listen to nonbenders like me." The word choice was deliberate. Nonbenders like Charumati; not like Mei Ling. Of course, it was only an educated guess. Yellow eyes on nonbender individuals of Fire Nation descent were — while not impossible — not exactly the norm. In all her years in Republic City, Charumati had only encountered a handful of individuals who could not bend and yet had some variation of yellow irises.

A little chirp came from her pocket. Charu pulled out her pocket watch and smiled at her new acquaintance ruefully. "Alas, I'm afraid our time has drawn to a close." She pulled out her wallet and set down more than enough yuans to cover both orders, plus a small gratuity for the proprietor. After a pause, she also took out a small white card, flipped it over, and pulling a pen seemingly out of nowhere, scribbled something on the back. She handed the card to Mei Ling.

"My home telephone," she said with a smile. "I would love to have another meal with you when I have more time. I do some volunteer work on the third and fifth nights of the week, but I'm free at night any other day."

She stood and began to leave. Just before she passed Mei Ling's seat she paused, then put a calloused hand on the young woman's shoulder. "Remember," she said, tone grave. "This was off the record. And something to carry in your heart as you explore this city: Those who make peaceful revolution impossible will make violent revolution inevitable."


OOC: Sorry for the abrupt ending but I think Charu needs to leave before she lets something slip, haha.
I am totally up for RPing another encounter! Feel free to PM me so we can plot it out ^^