@fyrbends sent: he's focused on the man in the mirror, the scar that stretches on his abdomen. he looks down as fingers touch the soft pink skin, a constant reminder of that day, that he doesn't hear her come in. a soft sigh escapes him as he traces the outline of the scar before he looks up and sees her. heat flushes his cheeks and he scans the room for his shirt in embarrassment. ā katara ! i didn't... ā
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.
ā sorry, i didn't -- i should have knocked. ā 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.
ā ... it's healed nicely, ā 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. ā is it okay if i ... ? ā 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.
ā ... you know, i still don't know how to thank you for - ā saving her ? being there ? everything ? ā - for what you did. ā