She always needed to sleep with the window open, regardless of how cold it was outside. For whatever inexplicable reason, Ren's body needed the combination of the cold air on her face and the warmth of her bedding for a good night's sleep.

Unfortunately, today, that meant she woke up with a cold. Luckily it was the runny-nose kind and not the stuffy-nose kind; she'd take a million tissues and a raw nose over being unable to breathe comfortably. On top of that, she had a cough. With a sigh, she wrapped her futon blanket tighter around her shoulders and trudged over to the window to close it. The shopkeep across the street waved to her and called out a greeting. She waved back.

"Could you call Mr. Singh please?" she called out in between fits of coughing. "I don't think I can make it to transcribe his speeches today."

The shopkeep nodded and headed for his telephone. Ren reluctantly closed her window and shuffled into the kitchen to boil a pot of water for tea. As she waited, her gaze fell on the newspaper she'd left on her countertop. 100 WOUNDED IN DEVASTATING ATTACK the headlines blared, but instead of sadness she simply felt numb. It didn't surprise her that benders had decided to take the fight to the streets (literally and figuratively), or that the RCPD and hospital were claiming they were never called for help.

In some ways, Ren felt that the Air Acolytes and Monks of Koh served a similar purpose, to preserve their people and their beliefs... but not once could she think of Air Temple Island opening their doors to help the sick and the wounded. The days at the island served for tranquility and solitude, not for reaching out to the needy. There was a growing dissatisfaction in her gut as she contemplated that.

Her quiet reflection was interrupted by a couple of knocks at her door. Startled, Ren dragged a hand through her wavy gray hair and pushed her glasses up her nose in an effort to make herself somewhat presentable. She grabbed a tissue and wiped her nose before opening the door.    

"Johar!" The surprise caused a coughing fit as she stepped aside to let her friend in. "What are you doing here? Is everything okay?"

The wait was agonizing. What was he going to do if Ren wasn't home? Truth be told, Johar hadn't thought that far ahead. He'd acknowledged the possibility, but hadn't actually given it any thought. The most obvious answer was that he'd just turn around and go back home, but he didn't know that he could do that. If he didn't talk to someone soon, he didn't know what he'd do.

The Spirits took pity on him, and soon after he knocked, Johar heard the door begin to open. Ren greeted him, and almost immediately began coughing. The part of Johar's brain devoted to healing zeroed in on the coughing, trying to determine the source. The coughing was dry, so it wasn't likely Ren had fluid or mucus in her lungs; it was probably just an allergy or mild illness.

As this analysis came unbidden to his mind, Johar felt like screaming. What use was all of this knowledge if he couldn't use it to keep others from harm? One hundred people had been hurt in one coordinated attack, and from what the Monks had told him, it didn't seem like all of those wounded would survive. He wasn't sure if he angrier with the Triads for attacking innocent people, or with himself for failing to help the victims as much as they needed.

"I'm sorry if this is a bad time," Johar said as he entered Ren's apartment. "I meant to call, but I know you don't have a phone, and I didn't want to disturb whoever's in the office just to ask if you were around, so I just got on the train and came over. But if you're busy and you don't want me around, I can go home; I don't want to bother you." These were the first words he'd spoken aloud in several days, and now that'd started, he was finding it hard to stop.

Johar forced his mouth shut. His fingers were curled into fists, nails digging into his palms. He took a deep breath in through his nose. There was an endless well of emotion inside him threatening to pour out all at once the moment he opened his mouth again, and he was not going to let it happen. Not yet.

"It's just…I needed to talk to someone, and you're kind of the only friend I have." His lip was quivering. "I was near the Temple of Koh when…" He couldn't make himself say it. "They needed help with the wounded and I tried to help…" He cut off with something approaching a sob. "One hundred people injured, Ren. Five of them were children."

Trying very hard to keep her nose from dripping, Ren put an arm around Johar's shoulders and lead him to the kotatsu just as the tea kettle started whistling. "Sit," she instructed, shuffling off to deal with the tea.

She settled in at the kotatsu herself after a few minutes, bringing two steaming cups of ginger tea and a pot of honey. She sniffed a little and pushed a cup towards Johar. "It's ginger," she said unnecessarily; the scent was already a dead giveaway.

Sipping her own tea, looked down at the table in thought. "I can't imagine what that must have been like," she said softly. The chaos of an organised attack against the Air Temple gave her some idea, but unlike the people outside of the Temple of Koh they did, at the very least, have some form of defence — Master Tenzin's family, the Order of the White Lotus, and eventually Chief Beifong and her forces as well as the Avatar. The Monks of Koh, to anyone's knowledge, never fought (despite rumours of their innate connection to the Face Stealer), and most nonbenders were not skilled in the art of self-defence.

And, as for the Air Temple attack, only a handful of people were injured or dead; a vast majority of its inhabitants had gotten out alive, with no physical injury.

"I hear the children are mostly okay though, barring a few relatively minor injuries. Thank the Spirits for small favours." The words rang a little hollow. Thank the Spirits? Where were the Spirits when the attack happened? Shaking her head to clear it of such unkind thoughts, she reached over and gave Johar a little pat on the arm.

"I am glad you were there," she said encouragingly. "There haven't been a lot of reports on the details, unsurprisingly, but I'm sure with your skill you helped it from becoming much worse."

Ren trailed off, unsure of how to proceed. "Was there something in particular that bothered you? I mean..." she fumbled over her words, feeling like she was sounding insensitive. "Like, was there something in particular that stood out.. or..." The woman trailed off, feeling wrong-footed.

Ren put an arm around his shoulders, and the turmoil wracking his brain calmed for just a moment. Johar allowed her to lead him to the kotatsu, and he sat at her command. Left alone again as Ren moved away, he stared down at his hands. The imprint of his nails still showed in his palms, and he tried to rub them away, with little success. Hopefully Ren didn't take too long; he'd been alone with his thoughts for too long as it was.

A few moments later Ren was back, now bearing two cups of tea and some honey. The scent of the tea hit hard: ginger. It would be rude to refuse, but his nose still wrinkled a bit. Ginger was fine as a compliment to other foods, as a palette cleanser, but on its own or in tea form it was much too strong. But if that was what Ren had chosen to make, he'd just have to make do. So Johar added quite a bit of honey to his tea and sipped it. He frowned, then added a bit more honey. Now the ginger tea didn't taste remotely like ginger anymore. Perfect.

Ren was trying to make him feel better; he should appreciate that for what it was. But that was easier said than done, when her talk of the children made him remember the way they'd cried in pain. Was it a small favor that they'd not been badly hurt? Maybe. But those same spirits had allowed the attack to happen in the first place. Were they really worthy of any praise, then?

Ren did have a point, though: had he not helped out, the situation might have been much worse. Surely that was worth something. When she continued, though, asking what had bothered him, all Johar could do was stare at her. Was she serious? She'd been in the city a year ago when the Equalists had sown chaos throughout the city's streets. From what he'd heard, the level of destruction and violence then far eclipsed this attack. She should understand what she feeling. If anyone should, she should.

He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He closed it again. He had to say something, but what could possibly sum up everything he was feeling? There weren't enough words, nor enough time to get it all out. But he had to start somewhere.

"I've never seen anything like this." He stared into his tea; particles of ginger that hadn't been strained out swirled about in the cup, joining to create intricate shapes, then drifting apart again. "Even in my time in the city, I've rarely had more than one patient at a time. One hundred people, all needing help at once, is…" There was a lump in his throat. He drank more tea. It didn't really help. "I don't understand why the Triads would do this." He raised his head to look at Ren, and felt tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. "I won't pretend I have any love for the Monks of Koh, but they were just preparing for a ceremony to honor Koh; they weren't causing a disturbance or doing anybody any harm. But the benders attacked them anyway, for no reason. They used their bending to attack innocent, people, Ren! People who couldn't fight back. What kind of monsters would do that?"

As he spoke, sorrow turned into anger. This shouldn't need explaining. Bending had always been presented as a blessing, a gift meant to benefit all humanity. And it was that, when it was used to power factories or create beautiful works of art. But it wasn't meant to be used like this. How could Ren not see how obviously wrong this all was?

Ren frowned deeply. Her words had hurt Johar, and she wasn't sure how she could explain her meaning better. She was a scribe, not an elocuter; words were for her to print, not to bandy about cleverly like some great orator of the times.

His anguish was almost palpable as he described the turmoil of the makeshift hospital, but then he was angry. She flinched at the strength of his words, staring into her teacup as if it would provide the answers.

A silence fell between them, and Ren could distinctly hear the crackling of the charcoal under the table.

After a few moments, she spoke, hesitantly.

"That's... that's not what I meant, exactly. Try to think about what you saw, and leave, just for a moment, the horror of it all. Was there something in particular that stood out about the attack?"

Ren took a shuddering breath. "When the Equalists attacked Air Temple Island, it was different from all the other attacks they had tried before. It wasn't just about numbers, but they moved with purpose. It wasn't about trying to rough us up a bit for Amon to impart his... wisdom. They moved deftly, with a plan. It stood out. They were organised, as if they had been planning it for such a long time. That's what I mean... did this seem planned to you, or was it all happenstance?"

Another pause, then she plunged ahead.

"I don't think," she began, "that it matters to the Triads whether or not they were doing anything wrong." Her voice seemed too loud for the small room, and she shifted uncomfortably.

"I think this was revenge." She hadn't meant to say it, but now that the words were out there, they seemed to ring true. "Amon humiliated the triads, took down their leaders and removed their bending. Amon may have been a bender, but it's still their fault — our fault, even if we personally had nothing to do with it — that he garnered so much support."

The ginger tea helped to clear her sinuses. She took a few deep, clear breaths before continuing.

"Without their leaders, without the ability to show their strength, they decided to punish us by banding together. What is an easier target than a Temple of Koh? In the heart of the poorest district in the city, where most of us live?"

Ren fell silent, thinking. Even if what she said were true, what could the Triads hope to gain? The city was still reeling from the last battle, still trying to rebuild and pick up the pieces. It seemed like revenge, punishment, and a preventative strike all rolled into one.

"We don't have the benefit of being trained in martial arts," she resumed, thinking aloud. "Whereas benders have their abilities cultivated and their skills honed as soon as they display any sign of ... " Ren paused. She had been about to call it a gift. It seemed tactless to call it that now. "... Any sign an element," she finished awkwardly.

"Odds are, it was a numbers game to them. Nonbenders may outnumber the triads twenty to one but what is the skill of a trained bender against a potter with no element at his disposal? The greengrocer? A street sweep?"

She traced a circle on the kotatsu's surface with her index finger. "I read about something like this in the Air Temple library," she murmured. "A battle tactic, of sorts, when the Fire Nation first landed on these shores to claim their colonies. They couldn't bring their troops out in force without forcing Ba Sing Se to act, so they quietly took over, overwhelming innocent villagers until there was nothing but compliance."

Then an idea occurred. "Perhaps with all the rumours of the Galgori Six, and the fact that the Monks were once part of their culture exclusively, the actual target was the Monks themselves? To ... to force them to act, or to force the Galgori Six to act, if the rumours have any credence to them."

Silence fell between them, and the pounding of his heart rang in his ears. This was why he tried to avoid letting himself get worked up; it was hard enough to express himself normally, and this was not helping. But why did he have to explain himself at all? The Temple attack was a tragedy with no possible justification. What did it matter if nothing "stood out" to him?

But there Ren was, asking the question again, as though repeating it would somehow make him understand. She was…asking him to forget how horrible it was? Where was the sense in that? How was he supposed to think of innocent people with burns all over their bodies, with water forced into their lungs, and not see it as the atrocity that it was? Maybe she could view such tragedies objectively, but he wasn't so callous.

If he opened his mouth, he would say something he regretted. It was just as well, then, that Ren preempted him and kept talking. She wasn't making much sense, though. What was the point of trying to see the reason behind the attack? Organized or not, it had happened. The benders had shown their true colors, and the police had proven themselves to be unworthy of respect or trust. The why of it all didn't matter. What mattered now was how they moved forward. That was a question he didn't have an answer to. Not yet.

Then Ren said something about revenge, and Johar's breath caught. He must have misheard her. But no, he hadn't. She was going on, explaining that the attack may have been in response to Amon's actions, but that was ridiculous. She was right that Amon would have gotten nowhere without the support of nonbenders all over the city, but Amon was dead, had been for over a year now. Attacking innocent people a year too late wasn't revenge; it was cruelty, plain and simple.

Still Ren went on, explaining some theory she'd come up with, but he wasn't really paying attention anymore. A numbers game? A battle tactic? Ren Was talking about the attack like it was some sort of hypothetical situation, not a real thing that had left one hundred people injured, some gravely so. True, she hadn't been there to see it herself, but that shouldn't matter. He didn't need to experience something first-hand to empathize with those it affected; why should she?

Finally, Ren stopped talking. Johar opened his mouth immediately to respond, but said nothing right away. There was a right way to say what he was feeling; he just had to find it. But he couldn't wait forever to figure out the perfect way to voice his thoughts. He had to say something.

"You're wrong." Johar's breaths came quickly, his nostrils flaring. "The Monks weren't the targets. None of them were hurt, only the people who'd come to help set up for their ceremony. It's not like the Monks are hard to spot in a crowd. If the benders had wanted to hurt them, they would have. This wasn't meant to be a strike on the Monks or the Temple. This was benders making it clear how they feel about nonbenders daring to do things for ourselves and not for them. You can come up with all the theories you want about what this attack was supposed to do, but that doesn't change the fact that innocent, harmless people were hurt. That's what matters to me. That's all that matters."

Ren was not the sort of woman who was quick to temper, but even she had her limits. Meditation had never been her strong suit. Her eyes flashed as Johar rejected her hypothesis out of hand, despite the fact that he was the one who had wondered why someone would do such a thing.

"There is more than one way to skin a cat," she said sharply, her knuckles turning white as she gripped her cup. "Do you think the nonbenders of the Temple were the real targets of Amon's destruction and murder?!" She tried to take a sip of her tea, but her hands were shaking too badly to raise the cup to her lips; she set the cup down again, a little harder than was necessary. "They only reason we weren't hurt was thanks to the sacrifice of Master Tenzin and his family, Chief Beifong, and Avatar Korra, which is what Amon wanted all along." She slapped the table with her open palm. "We were targeted to force them to act, and to save us they gave their lives."

Ren stared at her friend, brows knitting together in a mix of anger and sadness. "Do you think so little of me that I wouldn't care that people were hurt? That I would so dishonour my master, that I would dishonour Hangetsu, who gave their lives helping the people of this city? That I would forget little Meelo, so young he didn't even have his teeth all in, died in order to allow us — to allow me — to flee to safety?" Ren's voice broke, remembering Meelo's wide smile as he raided her quarters in search for a bag of candy.

She was breathing heavily, her nose running. It was an unpleasant sight, but she couldn't care less. "If the Triads believe that the Six are back to put benders in their place, attacking the worshipers of Koh could force them to act to defend their people. Just because that is a possibility doesn't mean that I don't care that people were hurt, that people could die."

With a sweeping gesture around the room, Ren continued. "Do you think I would so easily forget the horror of an organised attack? I should be on the Island with my fellow acolytes, not hiding here from the ghost of screams and phantom smoke that fill my ears and nose every time I step foot on the blasted Island!"

Now Ren was resorting to silly idioms to argue her point. There was no good way to respond to it. She didn't need him to, though, and just kept going on. Apparently she knew exactly what had been going through Amon's mind when he'd attacked her home a year ago. Well, if she was a mind reader, then it was no wonder that she'd come up with her smokescreen theory for this attack.

Suddenly he was the bad guy for pointing out how callous she'd sounded. Johar huffed at that, looking away and crossing his arms over his chest. As soon as he got a moment to get a word in edgewise, he'd have to correct her. He wasn't just going to sit here and let her make him into a villain when she was the one who'd wanted to talk about battle tactics. He reached for his tea cup, sipping at his tea. The overabundance of honey, which before had been a welcome burst of sweetness in his mouth, now tasted sour. He set the cup back down, keeping his fingers wrapped around it. It was good to have something to hold on to while he was being yelled at.

Somehow Ren managed to twist the topic and make it about herself and her own personal trauma. Finally, Johar had a moment to respond.

"Why aren't you, then?" His eyes narrowed, his mouth setting in a firm line. "If you want to go back to Air Temple Island so badly, then go. You said yourself that visiting on New Year's was fine. The only person stopping you from going back is you, Ren." His normally endless well of patience was running dry. It was time for Ren to face reality.

"And Ren, you say you care, but I'm sorry, it just doesn't seem that way. Amon attacked your home, and I can't imagine how much that hurt you. But then benders attack the Temple of Koh, and instead of focusing on those people and their pain, you want to talk about numbers and battle tactics like we're soldiers in a war! You can't pick and choose which tragedy matters to you. You want to help Air Temple Island fully recover, that's great, but you can't turn around and disregard innocent victims of violence just because it's not personal."

He clenched his hands, and the teacup in his right hand shattered. Shards of china went flying, the dregs of the tea dripping out from his clenched fist. The golden tinge of the tea was clouded with drops of something deep red, and then pain lanced through his hand. He uncurled his fingers. Several small cuts marred his palm, and one deeper cut that was the one bleeding. He stared at his hand as blood collected in drops that ran down his hand and wrist.

"Huh."

Ren gaped at him. "Y-you — !" Her stutter returned, but this time out of frustration instead of nerves. "Y-you were the one w-who wondered how — how someone c-could, could do such a th-thing! Y-you asked, and I — I p-provided a th-theory! But n-now I do not care b-because I-I answered your, your q-question!"

She flinched when Johar smashed her teacup, her eyes narrowing. Her belief in nonviolence was more than what the acolytes instilled in her, so the act of breaking something in her own home proved to be more effective at stopping her short than Johar's impassioned words.

"I... I am not dis-disregarding them," she said through clenched teeth, moving to the kitchen and grabbing a clean dishcloth from a drawer. She tossed it to Johar. "I an-answered the quest-- question." She took another dishcloth and began pouring some of the still-warm water from the teapot over it. She brought it back to Johar and knelt beside him.

"I know you are — are hurting," she said, her voice clipped. "But I am n-not your ene — enemy. I m-mentioned the a-attacks on the Island b-because you f-found my idea ludi--ludicrous. I wa — wasn't trying to rationali — se the attack on the Temple-goers."

She sat on her heels and absently shoved her glasses up her nose, sniffling from her cold (and if she were being honest, an impending crying spell).

"I will re-return to the Island when — when I am ready." She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. Then another. And another. When she spoke again, her stutter was much less noticeable, though not completely gone.

"I wanted to show you that — that I care, not just because I am human but be — because I have been attacked. I am not saying that I do not care, or that we shouldn't, shouldn't think about them. Far from it."

The grey-haired woman sighed unhappily. "I can care and hurt and still think of the whys, can't — can't I?" she asked. Her eyes were wide, magnified by her thick lenses. "How do you expect me to show I care? To cry and beat my chest and tear at my hair while questioning empty sky? How is it that my way of care — caring cannot be to think of the whys to perhaps see how it can be prevented?"

Ren stood again, her hair swishing behind her as she disappeared into the nearby bathroom. When she returned, it was with a small bottle of antiseptic, a roll of bandage, and tape. "And for — for your information," she said, a bit sullenly, "I have been going to the temple every week since the Festival."

His hand was throbbing. He should really see to that; left untreated, the cuts could easily become infected. And infection, left to fester, could cause permanent damage, even loss of function in the limb. It wasn't all that likely, to be honest; Ren kept a clean home. Still, better safe than sorry.

But Johar didn't move, just kept staring at his hand as blood dripped down onto the table. His physical ailment could wait; first, he had to see this disagreement through to whatever its conclusion was.

Ren spoke as she got up and moved away from him, and suddenly something soft hit him in the back of the head. Johar reached up with his good hand and pulled on the object. A towel. He wrapped the towel around his cut palm hissing as he pressed down and caused himself more pain. Breathing deeply, he glanced over as Ren knelt next to him and presented a damp cloth. "Thanks." The word was a grunt. Taking the cloth, he unwrapped his hand and gently dabbed at his cuts. The cloth was brown, but once saturated with a mixture of water and blood it darkened to be almost black.

As he cleaned his cuts, Ren continued speaking. Her stutter had returned, and so it took him a bit longer to understand what she was saying. Between parsing her words and cleaning his cuts, he had no brain power to devote to responding just yet. He was forced to let her say her piece uninterrupted.

Still, Ren's argument wasn't entirely convincing. How would conjecture about why the benders had attacked prevent future attacks from happening? At any moment any bender with a grudge could hurl a fireball or a rock at anyone who looked at them the wrong way. With living weapons walking the streets, what good was trying to figure out why they did what they did? He'd asked the question, yes, but the answer really didn't matter. That was clear, and he was about to say so when Ren got up and left the room. Johar sat silently until she returned, damp cloth pressed to his palm. With the other cloth he sopped up the spilled tea.

Ren returned with medical supplies and the news that she'd been visiting Air Temple Island on her own. "I didn't know that." Johar nodded his head as he took the supplies from Ren. He fumbled at the antiseptic bottle with his good hand, bracing it against his chest as he twisted it open. Of course it had to be his right hand that had been cut; he was right-handed. Ren was right there; he could ask her for help. But his pride wouldn't allow him to do that, not right now. He'd manage on his own. His left hand shook as he tilted the antiseptic bottle over a bit of dry cloth, and he just managed to pull back before spilling the whole bottle. He pressed the cloth to his cuts, gritting his teeth. What capricious spirit had decided that something meant to heal had to cause pain to do so?

Once he'd done his best with the antiseptic, Johar moved on to the bandages. He used his teeth to tear off a sufficient length, which he wrapped around his hand. He repeated the process with the tape, flexing his hand when he was done to make sure the binding was secure. It wasn't a work of great skill, but it would suffice.

Setting the medical supplies down on the table, Johar slumped back. The effort of tending to his wound had left him exhausted, and no longer in the mood for a shouting match. He looked over at Ren and attempted to soften his gaze.

"That's good—that you've been going to the temple." Johar sighed, wriggling the fingers of his bandaged hand to ensure full mobility. "I can't say you're wrong for expressing your feelings the way you think is best. I just…I have trouble seeing the value in discussing the why of the situation when I should be trying to help instead. I don't think I'll ever be able to make sense of why attacks like this happen, and I guess I just have to accept that and do what I can in the aftermath."

Silently, she watched as Johar struggled to use the bottle of antiseptic; her arm jerked as if to reach over and help him, but she let it fall limply to her side. If he wasn't going to ask, she wasn't going to offer.

When Johar spoke next, his voice was calmer and his eyes, though still troubled, looked more tired than anything. Ren shrugged at his comments, not in dismissal but in a helpless sort of way. "It's just the — the way I think, I guess. If, if a large-scale attack can be prevented, or if there was a pa-pattern, maybe we could fight back, like the Equali — oh...."

The realisation hit her like a satomobile going at full speed. Agitated, she ran her fingers through her hair, her thoughts racing. Is this what the Equalists stood for before Amon perverted their cause? By all accounts, the Equalists had stood for longer than Amon had been their leader, it's just no one seemed to care until he was. The senseless fighting, was it all to prevent something like this?

Coughing, she made her way back to the bathroom and returned with a box of tissues. She set the box on the kotatsu and settled back into the warmth of the table, drawing the heavy blanket around her legs comfortably. Reaching for a tissue, she turned her head to blow her nose a few times before turning back to face her friend.

"I guess it's hard." Now that she was calmer, her stutter had vanished. "Maybe I'm just trying to provide answers to make sense of it. I don't know. Maybe I guess I thought if you had noticed something, we could go to the police. The news article said they couldn't investigate if they had no information, so maybe..." Ren trailed off. It seemed like such a long shot. The Monks had no reason to lie to the reporter about whether or not they had called the RCPD or healers to come help, considering they had turned their place of worship into a temporary hospital to deal with the aftermath.

After a few moments, Ren reached over and touched Johar's arm. "I'm sorry for getting angry," she said softly. It didn't matter if she thought she was right, or if she had a valid point; Johar had come to her for comfort and support after an ordeal, and she should have been more aware of what he needed emotionally. Johar had been there for her these last few months, not even knowing who she was, and she had failed to reciprocate when he needed it most. "You didn't deserve that, and I'm truly sorry. I hope you can forgive me."

It had been a long day. He wasn't sure what he'd expected when he got on the train this morning, but things had not gone to plan, and it was as much his fault as Ren's. He'd come seeking comfort, but that wasn't something Ren could provide if he was going to reject her worldview out of hand.

Ren's comment about fighting back was troubling. The thought of violence made his skin crawl; no matter the situation, he wouldn't raise a hand against anyone else unless absolutely necessary. And even then, not without thorough consideration and a search for alternatives. But perhaps there was some wisdom to be taken from the Equalist cause—Amon notwithstanding. The marches and protests were pointless—what use were signs and chants against the power of benders? But there were those in the city who taught martial arts, and, more specifically, a form of chi-blocking specifically created to temporarily disable benders' abilities. So long as it truly was only temporary—Amon's permanent removal of bending ability was much too harsh—that might not be a bad thing to look into. If not for himself, maybe, then as something to spread for the benefit of others looking to be a little less afraid as they walked the streets of the city. He filed that idea way to consider more at a later date.

Ren got up, and returned with tissues. She was sick. How had he not noticed that before? He'd shown up unannounced at her home and argued with her, all while she was battling some illness. Oh, he was a great friend.

The anger he'd managed to put to rest resurfaced when Ren mentioned the police. They never come. Not to the Temple. That was what one of the Monks had told him on the day of the attack, and there was no reason to doubt their words. After all, he'd been at the Temple for the entirety of that day, and had not seen a single member of the RCPD around. "Going to the police wouldn't help." He shook his head at Ren, but kept the anger out of his voice. He wasn't upset with her anymore. "The paper says the Monks didn't call for aid, but they told me they did, that the Police never help them. It seems pretty clear that we have to protect ourselves."

Johar smiled a bit as Ren touched his arm and offered an apology. It was perhaps more than he deserved. "Of course I forgive you. Just because I disagree with you, that doesn't mean your opinions are invalid. I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have shown up out of the blue like this, especially when you're sick. You didn't ask to be burdened with my problems."

"It's not a burden. I'm happy to listen, and I should have done before trying to suggest anything." Ren patted his arm affectionately. "And besides. We're friends, but we're bound to disagree. I'd be suspicious if we never did." She laughed a little at that.

Sipping her tea, which at this point had gone lukewarm, Ren struggled with her next words. She didn't want to start an argument again. "I'm ... shocked that the police wouldn't help. Not — not that I doubt you, or what the Monks said, it's just..." She sighed. "Han...Hangetsu is — was — a police officer. I can't count how many times he'd sprint off to help someone in need, regardless of where or when or who. I mean, I know the RCPD isn't a monolith but I did think they were better than that."

How would Hangetsu feel about the department's actions, if he were still alive? She glanced over to his grandfather's shrine, the smoke from the incense she had offered that morning floating up in an almost lazy movement. He had wanted to help people; that's how they met, even, him coming to her rescue after being bullied on the streets. Perhaps that was more indicative of Hangetsu, however, rather than the force as a whole.

"I can't even begin to comprehend the magnitude of it. A hundred people! That's about the entire population of Air Temple Island, give or take folks coming and going. Sometimes I wonder if the Equalists had a point. Not Amon — obviously he wasn't interested in nonbenders at all — but just in general. I mean, a hundred people injured, and the only people who look after them are an order that is associated with a Spirit that everyone thinks is the epitome of evil — if Spirits have such alignments, anyway."

Whether or not that was the case was another discussion entirely. The prevalent school of thought among the Air Nomads was that there were no 'good' or 'evil' spirits, but simply spirits that existed to create balance: light and dark. While the Mother of Faces was viewed more as 'good' than her son, the Face Stealer, but wasn't the granting and removing of faces simply two sides of the same coin? But for all the Mother of Faces was 'good', there was no temple to venerate her, no order devoted to helping the needy in her name. Whatever Koh's faults or dubious personality, at the very least those who honoured him moved with purpose and brought good associations to his name.

Even if they gave you the heebie jeebies looking at them.

"The Council must do something, surely. There's a nonbender representative there now, a petition, or... or an audience or... something..." Ren trailed off. Master Tenzin's seat on the council was now occupied by a member of the Air Acolytes, and while the addition of an unaffiliated nonbender council member had been a step forward, the council itself seemed more and more absent as the weeks went by. They didn't even issue a statement when Chief Sunwoo Tai was found dead.

Ren sighed again. "What a mess," she murmured.

"You're a great friend, Ren." Johar laughed at her talk of suspicions. "I suppose the occasional disagreement is healthy, but I hope when we disagree in the future it doesn't get that bad. As arguments go, this was a good one…or, a bad one?" He scratched his head, and shrugged. She understood what he was saying.

Johar sighed heavily as Ren brought up the police. "I had trouble believing it too. I didn't see any Monks call the police while I was there, but I was busy with the injured people who needed my help. Even if they didn't call, though…an attack that big would've attracted police attention, wouldn't it, call or not? But I didn't see any police at the Temple all day." Ren had her personal attachment to the RCPD, and the one police officer he'd met in person had been very nice. Maybe there was just a rule in the police department that they couldn't help the Temple of Koh. But that would be a horrible rule to have in place, and it was difficult to think that officers would willingly go along with it.

Ren was right when she called the situation a mess. It was a tangled knot with no clear path to follow to untie it. Placing faith in the Council wasn't likely to lead anywhere, though. When the city was less chaotic they were vocal, praising themselves and the police for keeping the peace. But a famous former Probender had gone missing, and then the Police Chief had died, and where had the Council been? They'd sequestered themselves in their chamber and said nothing. Sooner or later, the people of the United Republic would decide that they'd had enough of ineffective leadership.

"I don't know how much good petitions or speeches can do at this point. I think nonbenders have to take things into their own hands, whatever that means." His gaze was on a nearby window. Outside, clouds gathered in the sky, threatening rain, maybe even snow if they felt malicious. "I don't think violence is the answer, especially when we don't know exactly who it was that attacked the Temple." The Triads were comprised of several gangs, each boasting many members; singling out those responsible for the attack on the Temple would be impossible. "But if not that, then I don't know what the answer should be. But if benders are going to keep attacking us like this, we have to be able to defend ourselves, especially if the police won't defend us."

"I thought the victims and witnesses said that it was all the Triads working together?" Ren sighed, glancing at the counter where her copy of the Times sat. It was a very jarring, very uncomfortable thought that she couldn't trust what was being reported, not because the integrity of the reporter was necessarily in question but rather because each 'side' had a conflicting story. The RCPD was adamant that there was just no evidence the Triads had been part of the attack or that it was a coordinated effort, but the witnesses and victims refuted that entirely.

And Johar brought up a good point about the Council. Ren shook her head sadly. "I met the fellow they sent up to the Council, briefly. He seemed like an all right person to me, but as far as I know no one has heard from him since." She chewed her lip. The manifestos that had littered Republic City when she lived there had started to spread outside the city limits. Even now, there were flyers about unalienable rights possessed by nonbenders, and accusations that despite their efforts the Council remained as biased as ever.

What if whomever — whatever — was writing those claims had a point? It was a discomfiting thought, if only for the fact that if it were true, then the Equalists had a point that the government was corrupt through and through.

There was a rumble outside and Ren glanced out the window and noticed the darkening clouds. "Have you eaten?" she asked, eyeing the sky. "I don't particularly feel much like cooking but there's a place down the street that makes some amazing congee that would really hit the spot with this cold." As if on cue, her words were arrested by another coughing fit.

"They did." Johar sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "But that's a wide net to cast. Who knows how many gang members that is, or which ones actually attacked the Temple? Sounds like a wild cranefish chase if you ask me." The was the problem with this whole situation, and proof that the Triads were not made up of stupid people. Any member of the Triads was a possible suspect, and it would be impossible for the police to track them all down. There would be no justice for those injured in the attack.

It was hard to figure out where the Council stood on these issues, mainly because they hadn't actually said anything about what was happening. What was the point of appointing politicians to run the city if they hid themselves away the moment they were called to action? Amon had revealed himself to be a fraud, but the movement he'd started had given nonbenders something to believe in, a cause to fight for. Of course, there was no excusing the destruction they'd wrought in defense of that cause, but these days the speeches Equalist spokespeople yelled out on street corners didn't seems quite as ridiculous as they once had.

Thunder growled outside like an irritated goat gorilla. Johar looked again to the window. More clouds had gathered, grown darker. It would rain soon. He turned back as Ren spoke, and waited for her coughing to subside before responding. "Truth be told, I haven't eaten much in the past few days." That was a bit of an understatement. Yesterday, his food intake had consisted of tea and a couple boiled eggs in the morning, then a bit of bread in the evening to quiet his rumbling stomach. Being weighed down by the memory of the attack had made finding the energy to do much of anything difficult. Now, though, Ren had helped lighten that load. "Congee sounds great. Hopefully we can get to it before the rain starts."

Ren nodded and slipped off to the downstairs office to place a quick phone call. She had no telephone of her own; while theoretically a telephone wasn't against the acolytes eschewment of material goods (the temple had several), having one just for oneself seemed to her to be against the spirit of the thing. She may not be living with her fellows at the moment, but she could still uphold their shared beliefs.

With the order placed (two congee bowls with all the toppings, plus a side of chicken in case Johar wanted meat in his), Ren returned. She shut the door tight behind her and shivered as she coughed and sniffled. "I don't think that's going to be rain," she said hoarsely, rubbing her arms as she shuffled hurriedly back to the kotatsu. The warmth was so inviting and she slipped a little further down than necessary, covering herself with the thick cloth up until her chin. She gestured to the other side of the room. "Could you turn the radiator on, please?" she said, her teeth still chattering. "I feel like a popsicle."

With the radiator on and the room beginning to warm up outside of the kotatsu, Ren inched a little further out of the blanket with every passing moment. The pile of tissues next to her grew a little higher, and she was embarrassed by their presence. On the other hand, being a healer, Johar must have seen his share of goopy noses, so her embarrassment was purely vanity.

She sniffed and turned to her friend. There was a small ache beginning to seep into her joints, but she ignored it. "I found a new book," she said quietly, trying not to further irritate her throat. "It's called, A Thousand and One Uses for Household Herbs. Have you read it?"

Ren stepped out to order the food, and as soon as she was gone, Johar slumped down, his chin resting on the kotatsu. He was still exhausted, and had been doing his best not to show it thus far. Food would help. The whole not eating thing he'd been doing the last few days had not been wise, and now he was paying for it. Hopefully the congee delivery wouldn't take too long.

Ren was not gone long, and Johar straightened up when he heard the door open. Ren's proclamation about the clouds made him frown. Snow would make getting home more difficult. It was early enough that the trains would still be running for a few hours yet, but they tended to run less frequently when it snowed. And waiting on a train platform in the falling snow was not a fun time. But maybe it wouldn't snow. Maybe the clouds were just there to look ominous. Maybe.

Johar smiled as Ren burrowed under the kotatsu's blankets. He stood, reluctantly leaving the table's warmth as she asked him to turn on the radiator. "Sure." Fortunately, it was a short journey across the room, and soon the radiator buzzed as it slowly came to life and began producing heat. "That should help," he commented as he returned to the kotatsu.

He leaned in when Ren spoke, her tone quiet. He nodded as she said the name of a book he was familiar with. "Yes, I've read it. It's…interesting." Interesting was a good word for it. There were better words that came to mind, but it might be rude to speak ill of what most might consider a very useful, informative book. Still…it was not without its flaws. "I never know how to feel about books like that," he finally added. "On one hand, I admire the ingenuity of whoever realized you can use blue beetlegrass to help remove stains from light-colored clothing…but most of the herbs in the book have medicinal properties, and it bothers me to think that healers who need them might not be able to find them in stores because homemakers want to have a slightly easier time cleaning."

He shook his head, smiling sheepishly. "Sorry, I don't mean to talk your ear off about it."