Zuko paces the length of the back wall, twelve steps across. It's freezing in this cell, and he has a suspicion that the cold was probably amplified by whoever decided to kidnap him. The fire in his veins is lurking just out of reach, retreating a little bit further every time he tries to gather it, and he knows from painful experience that hypothermia will not help him melt down these bright green walls that throw his twisted reflection back at him.
"You're not helping," Katara says, not looking up from where she's sitting in one corner. It's clear that she can't feel the pull of her bending, either, even though the full moon should be high in the sky by now. She's always been a waterbending prodigy, a shining light in the darkness for the Southern Water Tribe, and her frustration at the skill she's spent two decades perfecting being out of her grasp is obvious.
"I can't keep still," Zuko retorts as he turns again. From the appearance of the walls around them, they are in the crystal caves beneath Ba Sing Se, the site where the Avatar died and he made one of the most idiotic decisions of his life. It's been twelve years since that day, a bit over a decade since he started wearing the Firelord's heavy crown, and they're back here again, trapped without an escape.
"I know, but we need to get out of here," Katara replies evenly, "and I don't think we can count on our bending coming back." Her eyes meet his and flick towards the walls. I don't know if they can hear us. Zuko nods slightly and plops himself down by her side.
"What's the use? We have no clue where we are." How many?
"I need to get home. The solstice festival's tomorrow, and I'm supposed to be officiating." Three guards approaching. One of them is planning to open the wall behind us.
Time to raise hell?
You bet. Silently, they wait for the faint tremble that signified the wall would disappear. Their talents don't just lie in the elements in their blood and bones, after all, and it is time to remind people of that.