Whining time: I guess I'm not getting through to people at the moment. ...Do I offend? *sniff-sniff*

Or maybe it's my tendency to play mind games with my readers (because I'm mean like that)?

Well in any case, I'm determined, and I'll keep churning out fics if it kills me.

So here's Clay, whom I usually don't pay enough attention to but am going to as of now.

He was the Dragon of Earth.

Surely he could withstand any taunt, any insult, because he was built like a rock. Solid, strong, and unwavering.

He wasn't supposed to feel things; he was a man, after all. The tough blonde hair guarding those soft eyes gave proof of such an expectation.

Sitting outside the temple walls in ever-stoic solitude, he watched from the base of a tree as clouds rudely rolled into the way of the sun. The sun always reminded him of the disembodied head of a certain Water monk. At this point in time, however, Wind and clouds were beginning to shroud that happy-go-lucky yellow light.

Rai and Omi would, every so often, bicker over the silliest issues, and the Dragon of Earth would in turn go right on into la-la land if he had the fortune of being in the wrong place. Such ideas about what was "cool" or "hip," or the finer arts of adequate joke-telling, he simply did not care to hear. But he played along with it all because he was polite – when he had the power to be.

But if Omi managed to irritate his Shoku leader good enough, the leader would storm away, only to later sneak off with the cowboy hat and stash it somewhere where it couldn't be found. It was a maddening domino effect the Dragon of Earth had no hope of escaping from. And this "prank" was getting old.

He suddenly heard the rumble of thunder carrying overhead. He saw lightning flash up in the mountains, and recalled those flashy techno-gizmos Kimiko tinkered with. Both she and that no-good outlaw Jack Spicer accused him of "technological ineptitude," and moreover of his "misguided love for all things simple."

He'd felt a kind of "love" before; but would his stone cold nature even allow that?

Rain started to sprinkle onto the land, and it soon amplified into a harsh pouring. The rain poured so much, it could've choked toads. Texas had toads. It also brought strong feelings of affection where the Dragon of Earth was concerned.

And he thought of Jessie, his one and only sister. A nice gal, if not a gal led astray from wholesome tradition and the desires of her parents. The Dragon of Earth, presumably protective of friends and family members alike, allowed her to dip into a life of crime.

He hurt; he never knew exactly what he had done wrong, but Jessie envied his birthrights too much. She upset herself.

The rain and thunder kept on going like a racehorse running laps, unaware that the race had ended. With all this forever looping in his mind, the Dragon of Earth finally got up and headed back to the shelter of the Temple and back to his friends... if he could call them his friends.

Yet he was the Dragon of Earth. Surely he could withstand any taunt, any insult, because he was built like a rock. Emotionless brute, emotionless Warrior.

Feedback, por favor! (And yes, I use a word other than the word "review." Why? Because... I DARE TO BE DIFFERENT.)