Kaisel
Haters on my back like a backpack
"That doesn't look good," Kaisel declares with a grunt as he shifts his weight from a crouch to a proper sit. His hand reaches deeper into the canal water, fingertips tracking the crack's depth. It's at this time that some of the water users make themselves known, peeling away the liquid to reveal the real stretch of the problem. Others announce some similar concerns peppering down the line, and Kaisel sighs with resignation at the news as he gets back to his feet. "Let's patch it up with the concrete we mixed earlier," he suggests, leaving the non-water benders to the task of trotting back to claim pails of the still-wet mixing slurry.
He finishes scouting out all the claimed problem spots, confirming and delegating out the hands into useful teams of cement and water wielders. They can't do them all at once, but in their little groups they fan out, one holding back the water while the others slather up the cement like a pig needing sunscreen for a summer day—disgusting, dirty work. "Yep, this baby'll hold plenty of water now," he decrees with a moist, almost mucusy slap to the freshly embalmed side of the canal where he's finished layering it on.
Kai does mud masks (cement patching) for the canal
He finishes scouting out all the claimed problem spots, confirming and delegating out the hands into useful teams of cement and water wielders. They can't do them all at once, but in their little groups they fan out, one holding back the water while the others slather up the cement like a pig needing sunscreen for a summer day—disgusting, dirty work. "Yep, this baby'll hold plenty of water now," he decrees with a moist, almost mucusy slap to the freshly embalmed side of the canal where he's finished layering it on.
Kai does mud masks (cement patching) for the canal
Blowin' up I'm fucking flawless
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
