↪ 【 the caretaker 】kalon tryout

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tryout form
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kalon tryout by tonketzu
please do not post

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I...N...F...O.....&.....N...A...V
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main post / character info / entry one / entry two / entry three / entry four / entry five
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notes ; i wanted to be really extravigant since there's no word limit for the prompt and i have too much free time, the answer to the prompt is in one of the entries and all the others are basically backstory, though i would suggest reading them all to get the full picture C:

in these entries, zuko has 'nightmares' in which she stands in for the dead during judgment. the ability is purely for writing purposes, just to make things a little more unique and interesting ( like an au almost…? ) i figured it would be a nice lil challenge. in my mind the context kinda seems childish?? but it sounded like a fun way to show personality and answer the prompt so i continued with it. enjoy!

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shiro suekixx//xxfemale xx//xxheterosexual

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↳ shiro sueki ( zuko )...↳ cis female ( she / her )...↳ mid teens - early twenties ( 16-25 )...
↳ gemini ( may 27 ) / intp...↳ heterosexual ( heteroromantic )
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O...N...E
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after 108 hours, four and a half days without sleep, your body starts to cope in extremely strange ways.

mine was exploding with adrenaline and shutting down simultaneously.

my heart hammered in my chest despite the fatigue that was inches away from consuming me. the ringing in my ears was so deafening i couldn’t even hear the whistle of the breeze as it blew through the trees that towered around me. the inside of my skull throbbed and my eyes ached so horribly i wanted to hurl. if i looked in a mirror, i knew they would be bloodshot and swollen. i felt neurotic and paranoid, jumping at every shadow i thought i saw dancing in the corner of my eye or on the surface of the inky black lake below me.

i was so tired.

don’t fall asleep.

i paced on the dock, the brightly lit moon shining above me like a lamp in an interrogation room. i couldn’t fall asleep; i wouldn’t let myself fall asleep. sleeping meant nightmares, nightmares meant terror.

i counted my steps as i walked, the dock sloshing around in the lake from the shift in balance. fifteen… sixteen… seventeen… i felt insane, like a caged dog. like a feral animal struck with rabies and shot with psychosis.

i just needed to stay awake for a few more hours. that was all i needed, then i would be prepared to face the terrifying events that occurred when i slept. i would have to stand in and recieve the judgment of those who called themselves ’angels’ and of those who couldn’t even be considered anything close to divine. i had already made it 84 hours, my body could handle a few more. hopefully, my mind could too.

unfortunately, i was wrong. i felt the unsteady haze of sleep clawing at my brain, begging for me to fall under it’s ruthless spell. i knew better than to fight this hard after staying conscious for this long.

my breathing rapidly increased as i compelled my legs to move towards the deserted house i called home. my head started to spin and i feared that i might pass out right there on the cold wooden planks.

i reached the house without practically fainting and wrenched open the door, the bare white walls meeting my gaze. i had been the caretaker for one of the houses on the lake for about a year, but the couple who owned it never came to stay. probably for the best, considering they would know i was close to crazy after a few days.

hysteria seeped through my system as i stumbled through the door and down the steps to my basement apartment. my eyelids were losing the battle of consciousness, sliding shut and fluttering back open again. i staggered through my bedroom door, my knees buckling in fatigue, leaving me to collapse, barely landing on my bed, a victim to the oncoming flood of melatonin.

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T...W...O
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i’ve always counted. in a weird way, numbers almost feel like a safe haven. i could block out everything that surrounded me by concentrating only on the numbers. numbers made sense. they fell into the correct order and no matter how you rearrange them, they can still be identified as numbers.

i had counted to 238 by the man came to get me from the cell i was locked in. it was always the same cell and always the same man who bound my wrists and lead me through the weaving halls of a compact tunnel to the place where i would eventually stand in for the dead while judgement was being passed. as we walked, i almost wished the man would say something comforting, but he never did.

a wave of panic rushed over me, my blood felt like it was going to boil over. forty-five… forty-six… forty-seven… my lungs picked up their pace, breath coming out in sharp, painful spurts. i slowed, but the man tugged on the rope connecting my hands. i would rather have sat in that wretched cell for all eternity than face what i knew was coming shortly. my count to sixty-four had run out and i was exposed, away from the safety of the tunnel and into the light.

the man had pulled me into a large cylindrical room, a narrow catwalk sprung from the tunnel and extended to the other side of the cylinder, running into a solid wall. mounted directly onto the vertical wall before me were ten perfectly carved marble chairs. the man walked me to the center of the catwalk, then went back into the tunnel alone.

i tried to avoid looking up and stared intently at my bare feet on the cool concrete. the sound of feathers rustling above me was enough to send fear over me in a crashing wave. i knew exactly what my surroundings were, the same as always. above me, perfectly blue skies stretched infinitely beyond the opening of the cylinder. below me, the walls plunged down into an endless inferno of misery. before me sat the council that would be passing judgement, five who were exalted, five who had been condemned.

all of them were breathtakingly beautiful, men and women alike, but once they opened their mouths you could tell which side they were on. the condemned let hateful words flow out of their mouths like a waterfall, while the exalted sat silently, waiting, almost politely, for the trial to begin. if you looked close enough, you could see the physical differences as well. the exalted had eyes as blue as the sky above them while the condemned possessed eyes blacker than ink.

i waited, twisting my hands together in fearful anticipation. the rope in which they were bound looked feeble, but i knew from experience that if i strained against it too hard, it would draw blood.

“isaac davis”, one of the council members started. it was the man i stood for trial tonight. my name isn’t isaac, it’s zuko, i chanted to myself. i often had to remind myself who i really was, it was all too easy to lose my grip on reality and fall to pieces.

the familiar sensation that i was about to pass out began and i wished more than anything in my life that i could.

“the deeds done in your lifetime have been accounted for and judgment will be passed. your actions must be made known.”

i fought back the urge to scream as i heard the ruffling of feathers and the deranged, hysterical laughter coming from below. my breathing was so shallow it felt like no oxygen was getting in or out, my head felt like a balloon about to pop.

“isaac davis, the deeds of your lifetime will now be revealed,” two scrolls were procured, one was very long, the other all too short. the items on the lists were read aloud, one list recounted all the good deeds of isaac davis, the other all the bad. the latter was the longer list.

next came the part that exemplified just how unjust my, or isaac’s, presence had been. sentencing. the council would cast their vote as to where it would be deemed fit for me to be sent. up meant exaltation, fluffy clouds and freedom, down meant branding, never-ending torment and torture. based on acts i didn’t commit.

the five condemned members squirmed in their seats, knowing full well where the trial was going. they leaned forward excitedly, waiting for their turn to pass judgement.

“down”, the first began.

“down”, the second sentenced.

“down”, the third.

as the judgments continued, i closed my eyes, rattling numbers off in my head. twenty-three… twenty-four… twenty-five. i counted quickly but i knew it wouldn’t save me from the fate i was about to suffer.

“down”, the tenth smirked.

a scream erupted from my lips as the deranged laughter of the black-eyed council members reverberated off the walls of the chamber. i clasped my restrained hands to one ear, a feeble attempt to block out the disturbed cackling, it only made them laugh all the more.

my eyes shifted back to the council, to the one who led the condemned. a wicked grin spread across his face, his ebony eyes unfocused with glee. another one of the condemned walked up from behind me, holding a rod, one end glowing a bright white. my body was trembling violently as i feel to my knees, pushed down by the man’s free hand. i squeezed my eyes shut, i knew what was coming, it was the same every time i was sent down.

a flash of white hot pain shot through my body as the gleaming end of the rod was forced into the back of my neck. i could feel the sizzle and blistering of my skin as it gave way to the mark i knew all too well. the rod was removed and i was jerked to my feet, incoherent with pain.

“isaac davis”, the first of the council members spoke, “judgment has been passed.”

at his words, a new feeling washed over me, like insects crawling under my skin, trying to break free. when i thought i couldn’t take it anymore, a searing pain ripped through my back, my flesh tore and gave way to a set of large, black, shimmering wings. even the damned were made beautiful.

with this, hell broke loose. those with black eyes leapt from their seats and flew straight for me, cold hands clasping around my arms and legs, pushing and pulling from every direction. too many bodies. too much weight. we were going to fall, and the only way to fall was down.

i slowly tipped sideways.

the darkness enveloped me.

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i woke the same way i always did. screaming. my hand instinctively clutched the back of my neck, feeling the risen edges of the scar that had chosen to reside there since i was ten. my fingers tingled, the memory of burning flesh still crisp in my mind.

my eyes drifted towards the clock. i had slept four and a half hours, a relatively short trial. it was six in the morning.

working hard to slow my breathing, i rolled out of bed and staggered to the bathroom. i flipped the switch, squinting through the sudden blinding light. the bathroom was generic, white-wash walls, a sink, a toilet and a shower. nothing special. i slipped out of my sweat-soaked shirt and stood before the mirror, turning my back and peaking over my shoulder.

my parents, friends and therapist all said the nightmares weren’t real, that i was faking it for attention, but the scars that covered my back clearly stated otherwise. a beautifully detailed X was branded into the back of my neck, a pair of intricate wings spreading from above my spine to the edges of my shoulder blades. the skin was swollen and tinged scarlet just like after every other time i woke up. after a few hours the marks would disappear, no longer swollen, just a few raised scars.

to make myself feel better, sometimes i compared the marks to those of african tribes i had heard of that would cut their flesh, leaving beautiful scars that covered their bodies. i believe it was called scarification. my scars looked similar except for the metallic tinge that glimmered within them right after i woke up. some might say the scars were beautiful, but i hated them, they were a reminder that i would never have a normal life. i was a freak.

i changed into a thick knitted sweater and a pair of comfortable jeans, trying to get as far away from the clothing that held the memory of my nightmares. i stared at my reflection in the mirror. i looked like crap. the dark bags that always resided under my eyes were still there, my hair looked like a bird’s nest. i grabbed a brush and attempted to work through the knots, but it was useless. i threw the brush back into a drawer in frustration. the long strands almost hung to my waist, i needed a haircut.

satisfied as i could possibly be with how i looked, i ambled out to the corner kitchen in the apartment. i hadn’t eaten for a few days, just more proof of how much of a freak i was.. i was hardly ever hungry, the same went for sleep. i knew it was almost impossible for a normal human to go as long as i did without sleep, but i guess i couldn’t hold myself to normal standards.

reluctantly, i poured myself a bowl of cereal, using up the last of the milk i had in my fridge that would expire in a couple days. i sat at the kitchen island and flipped open my laptop, the screen lighting up after a few seconds. once i was logged in, i pulled up the internet browser.

isaac davis. i reluctantly typed the name into the search bar and clicked enter. it was probably too early for anything to show up. the small buffering swirl popped up for a few seconds before giving way to results. there was an artist who went by the name, but nothing looked promising. the obituary would probably be out in a few days, that was the way it usually was anyway.

i was 12 when i realized the names i stood trial for weren’t just some randomly generated names my subconscious was spitting out. i had stood trial for an amelia gray, a good woman who was granted blue irises. a few days later i had glanced at the newspaper and seen her obituary. she had been thirty-two, a victim to a brutal car crash. i checked every name after that.

nearly every name i stood trial for popped up in a newspaper obituary somewhere. those i couldn’t find i just assumed hadn’t been published in the papers.

i glanced at the clock at the top of the computer screen. it was almost seven, the stores in town would be opening soon. i left the laptop open, moving back towards the bathroom to brush my teeth and make sure i was presentable enough for the public eye, not that anybody actually cared. after grabbing my bag and keys, i walked up the stairs leading to the rest of the house and made my rounds, checking to make sure everything was in order. once i was sure everything was where it should be, i walked out the door and down the steps of the porch.

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it only took me a couple seconds to almost slip and fall straight on my butt, mud squelching beneath my boots as i warily made my way to my car. sliding in, i put the key in the ignition and turned, the engine roaring to life. last year i had crumpled my toyota like a soda can when i crashed it into a ditch, trying to reach the 120 hour mark. of course, i had fallen asleep.

i had later found out one of the neighbors had passed away and his wife, not knowing or caring how much it was worth, sold me a 1967 pontiac gto for whatever i had on me. considering housekeeping doesn’t make much for the bank, it was a pretty good deal. the outside wasn’t pretty, but the interior had been mechanically updated to perfection and was close to brand new.

i threw it into reverse and backed out of the curving driveway, onto the dirt road that circled all the houses built along the water’s edge. once free of the houses, the evergreens towered along the sides of the narrow road that led to the freeway, making it seem as though i was driving through a verdant tunnel.

it always seemed to take a lot longer than it should to get to the heart of bellingham, considering i technically lived in bellingham. lake samish was about as far south as you could go and still be within city boundaries. between the lake and city, there wasn’t much but imposing trees and low rolling hills, occasionally a house.

as i pulled into the parking lot of a grocery store, i closed my eyes and took a deep breath, counting back from ten. four days and then it would all be over, at least until december decided to roll around. i usually tried to avoid venturing this far into town, but my food supply was getting dangerously low and i needed toilet paper.

as soon as i walked through the automatic doors of the store, i was greeted with a forceful blast of warm air and what i had been trying so hard to avoid. all the candy and gifts were set up right at the entrance of the store, red and pink streaking through the store as far back as my eyes could see. i didn’t have anything against valentines day itself, it was the chubby-cheeked, fluffy little cherubs that came along with it, smiling up at me from heart-shaped chocolate boxes like a cruel joke. i didn’t think it was funny.

i could almost feel the deranged laughter echoing through my body like i was back in the pit. christmas was worse. angels were everywhere in december, on top of trees, on ornaments, costumes in nativity skits, even in music. if people knew the true nature of angels, they wouldn’t be so quick to place them everywhere in their homes. i closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and walked further into the store.

as soon as i had made sure i had everything i needed on my list, i quickly handed the cashier my credit card, and walked out of the store with my bags as fast as i could without looking like a mental patient.

dark clouds sat low as i made the quiet journey home, resting near the top of the evergreens. as i neared the road that led back to the lake, a downpour erupted. small beads of rain flattened down onto my windshield and a hypnotic rhythm was being slowly beaten on the roof of the car. i loved the rain, it was always peaceful, leaving the illusion of silence and the smell of wet earth in it’s wake.

finally at the end of the road, i pulled back into the driveway of the house, turning the key and pulling it out of the ignition. the rain had finally slowed to a mist and the sun was making a feeble attempt to break through the dark veil of clouds. i stepped out of the car and popped the trunk, grabbing my bags and making my way back to the ever-so-lonely house.

i stepped through the door of my apartment and set the grocery bags on the kitchen island, unpacking them into the fridge and cabinets until all i had out were two plastic bags and a 12-pack of toilet paper.

i plopped down onto the leather couch that occupied a wall of the minuscule apartment. the material was so worn that it was almost soft to the touch.

the days passed slowly in the winter, there was nothing to distract me during the day. there was no yardwork. not including the trees, everything was dead by now. the rest of the house only needed to be cleaned once every two months since nobody but me was living in it. one major disadvantage of living in washington in the winter was that it got dark at four-thirty. when trying to avoid sleep, darkness is the ultimate enemy.

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i looked up at the clock hanging from the wall above the kitchen sink as i wiped my hands dry on a towel. two forty-nine am. i felt rather good despite the late, or rather early, hour. the fact that all the dishes were now sparkling clean probably contributed to my mood. i hated doing dishes.

as usual, i had every possible light on in the apartment. the temperature was turned down as low as i could stand it and still wear a tank top and pajama shorts. wearing anything else at this time of night was just… too uncomfortable.

i grabbed a can of coke from the fridge. as ashamed as i was to admit it, i was addicted to caffeine. i had to be; how else was i supposed to go so long without sleep? even though i didn’t need as much sleep as a normal person, i wasn’t a superhuman. i popped open the top of the can and took a long draw of the bubbly liquid, letting it flow down my throat and into my stomach. i downed the can in twenty seconds and crushed it, disposing of it into the recycling bin under the sink.

i walked to the opposite side of the apartment, to the window that led onto a small deck. i flipped the latch and swung the large pane open, the hinges squeaking in protest. i clambered out onto the floor of the wooden deck, the cold of the wood slowly seeping into the skin of my calves as i shut the window.

i was generally content with being anywhere as long as i was awake and there of my own free will, but the small deck in my apartment was one of the places i kept coming back to. even if it was small, just like my apartment, it was my favorite place. at night, if the moon was full, it could light up the whole lake and what seemed like miles of the trees surrounding it.

i loved looking at the reflection of the moon on the lake. if it wasn’t raining or windy, the lake could almost be mistaken for a tremendous mirror, the image so vivid. in the winter, i could come out and sit on the deck wrapped in a blanket, mug of tea in hand, staring at the stars. i could lose myself looking up into the sky, stuck in a trance for hours on end. the sky was just so infinite, stars winking down from the cosmos.

on cold winter nights like this one, the wind would blow through my hair, the chilled air sinking into my bones. it almost brought me back down to earth, like a firm hand on my shoulder, reassuring me that my dreams are just a passenger, that when i’m awake, i’m in control.

the deck was lightly nestled in between of a couple of bushes, so it was pretty well concealed, but it had a wonderful view of the edge of the lake nearest to the house. a small gate was installed into the fence that could be opened if enough pressure was put on it, and during warm summer nights, i liked to walk out and stick my feet into the soft sand, letting small waves lap at my ankles.

the air had become cold enough for small goosebumps to form on my legs and my head was clear. i opened the window and started to crawl back in through the opening. when half of my body was through, i stopped. a small sound disturbed the otherwise silent house.

the muffled sound of a lock clicking within the house, and a door creaking open.

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