((Wait, I know!!))
**100 Years Ago**
"No, I won't I can't!" Aang argued, the air around him rippling. His eyes held unspilled tears, his tattooed hands balled into fists. "You have to, Aang. You are the Avatar." Monk Gyatso replied calm, walking away. Aang sighed, walking in the opposite direction. When he faced the Air Temple, whispers of his ti
tle wandered around in the morning air. He walked to his friends, smiling shyly.
"Wanna play?" He asked them, scratching his head.
"No, we can't play with you. That wouldn't be fair, you're the Avatar." They replied, turning their backs on him.;
"But.. I'm the one who created the game." He sighed, his shoulders slumping. He stormed to his room, scribbling a sloppy note and grabbing his air stick and walking out. He sneaked up to his Bison, Appa, giving the command and flying away. Around halfway across the ocean, a terrible storm hit. He and Appa fell into the cold arctic water. Aang got trapped, caught in the ropes that reigned Appa. He fell into unconsciousness, barely alive. All of a sudden, his tattoos glowed, a luminescent light that brung light into the dark water. The water around him and Appa froze, encasing them forever.
...
Or so it seemed.
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