#fyrbends

mischief twinkles in the avatar's eyes for all of a second before a composed mask —-- perfected over years of impersonating the monks --— falls into place. ❝ he who wants the rose , must respect the thorns , zuko. ❞ brows lift. chin drops. grey eyes fix the firebender with a knowing gaze as aang imparts the weathered wisdom of his ancestors as if it were one of the most precious things on earth ( and it kind of is ... to him , at least ).

unprompted. / always accepting.

she doesn't mean to startle him. really, she doesn't. it's become second nature - slipping in & out of spaces soundlessly, moving as lightly as an evening breeze through the leaves. it takes her a moment to understand what intimacy she's interrupted, to squint through the haze of moonlight to piece together the moment she's witnessing: zuko, the mirror, his scar, his expression.

when his gaze meets hers in the mirror's reflection, katara almost jumps.

❝ sorry, i didn't -- i should have knocked. ❞ the words come pouring from her quickly, nearly catching on each other in their haste to explain. out of respect for his privacy, initially, she lowers her gaze. tries to find something interesting in the floor beneath her feet to stare at instead. but katara's curiosity, traitorous & ever present, doesn't let her avoid him. couldn't let her. despite the shame beginning to burn along the back of her neck, katara swallows hard, shifting her weight from one leg to the other as she slowly lets herself straighten up, lets herself look. compelled forward, she crosses the distance from the doorway to him. never once looking away from his bare torso.

❝ ... it's healed nicely, ❞ she murmurs, as if trying to make easy conversation could mend the gap of awkwardness spanning between them. as if there was any question. as if the lightning was still coursing through his veins, & not years away. she's already raised her hand from its place at her side, curling back minutely as she - finally, finally - lifts her eyes to his. ❝ is it okay if i ... ? ❞ she wouldn't dare, not without his permission. only once he nods his assent, stiff yet sure, does she nod in return. then, she's reaching.

gently, her touch lighter than a valley dove's feathers, katara traces her fingertips over the scarred skin just beneath zuko's chest. her thumb moves in slow, wide arcs over its center. her index finger delicately traces one jagged edge. all of her unflinching as she confronts this part of him, this part of their shared past. somber, sea-blue hues drink in every inch of of scar tissue, as if she could have ever forgotten the pattern after the first time it was burned into her mind, into his skin. she wonders if it still hurts.

katara exhales a low, shuddering breath that she hadn't realized she'd been holding, pressing the flat of her hand against the stretch of the star-shaped mark. the cool of her palm eclipses much of the damage.

barbie prompts ! / accepting.

❝ any question ? ❞ katara asks, turning her gaze from the half-moon above to instead focus her attention on the older teen beside her. her hands rest on her stomach, rising & falling with each relaxed, measured breath. it's nice, having this fleeting moment of peace. come morning, she'll have to wash the sand from her hair, & he'll have to teach aang more firebending techniques, & they'll all be carrying the weight of a world at war on their shoulders. but they still have this, right now. just two teenagers on the beach. staring at the stars, & pretending that nothing else mattered. even if just for one night.

she knows what question zuko expects her to ask. unconsciously, her fingers twitch, remembering the feel of scarred skin just beneath a burning, golden gaze. a room glowing green, its walls covered in crystals. a city falling overhead. the world tilting beneath her feet.

part of her wonders if he still thinks about that day, too. another part tells her that she doesn't want the answer.

barbie prompts ! / accepting.

the question brings her pause, her hand stopping mid-air before the cup of plum wine can be raised to her lips. for a moment, katara wonders if she heard him correctly. if maybe all their easy flowing conversation & easy flowing drinks had made her confused. but with zuko reclining so casually, so comfortably, on the plush cushions on the floor, she can't imagine what else he could've said. could've meant. for once, he seems almost at ease, supporting his head with one hand, the other resting atop the rim of his chalice.

in the low glow of the fireplace, zuko looks ethereal. she watches in quiet awe as the mindless pulse of the flame, almost in sync with his breathing, practically dances over his face. the light carefully illuminates how time has sharpened his features. & his eyes ... katara's breath catches in her throat at the softness of his gaze. it's mesmerizing, the way the evening has transformed him - his eyes a molten pool of liquid gold threatening to drown her if she stares too long. & yet she can't look away.

with the dim of night settling around them, katara could almost swear that she caught sight of the softest hints of pink decorating zuko's cheeks. a wine blush ? the thought is strangely endearing, in a way that makes her smile unabashedly, wide & adoring.

nonverbal prompts ! / accepting.

it was one of the greatest honors of katara's life, that she was trusted as a political figure to represent her tribe in the other nations. she was able to use her experience, her knowledge, her compassion to make real, tangible differences in the world.

the mountains upon mountains of paperwork, however ... she wasn't much of a fan of.

the light is dim, flickering irregularly as the heat melts away the last of the candle's wax. it wouldn't last much longer. & the barely-there sliver of moonlight from above wasn't enough to continue working by. even the creak of the library door is not enough to tear the waterbender's attention from the scroll in her hand. she knows who it is anyway, without even lifting her gaze. no one else would know that she was still working at this late hour. no one else would be wandering here, knowing that this is where she'd hidden away to drown in the weight of her responsibilities.

but she cannot help the small, oddly warm smile that curves over her lips at the soft fabric being draped around her. she's so hunched over, frame curled up tight as katara lost herself in the seemingly endless texts before her. with a reluctant sigh, she lowers the scroll to her lap, pinching the ends of the blanket now cradling her. had she even been cold ? did it matter ?

                 Oh - - - how  he  did  not  know  what  he  just  brought  forth .  While  Toph's  can  range  from  mild ,  every  day  endeavors  to  the  truly  bizarre  with  something  a  sprinkle  of  morbidity ,  there  was  truly  no  telling  what  she  might  pull  from  the  dome .  The  fun  part  is  that  certain  things  could  spider  web  off ,  creating  even  more  lines  &  webbing  &  before  they  knew  it ,  there  would  talking  conspiracy  theories  with  the  focus  not  being  disproving  the  task  at  hand ,  but  going  over  facts  to  prove  the  contrary .  Listen ,  until  someone  could  explain  why  Mothman  is  impossible ,  delusions  were  allow  to  run  free .

unprompted (always accepting) - @fyrbends