beliefovermisery | (no subject)

Current Mood: exhausted

(no subject)

Eventually bullied into lying down and closing his eyes, Sokka has a hard time getting to sleep. But each time an idea forms, a new project, something he has to write down, there's someone there to push him down the second he pops up. After so many scoldings, so many hours of sleepless work, he does eventually conk out.

It's a deep sleep. Not a dreamless one.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I don't know where you learned to lie like that but it isn't working!" he'd snapped back, glaring at her over his shoulder as he started loading up the canoe. "Every time you go with me, the water's always bad and the I never catch any fish!"

That part was true.

Mostly because they hadn't yet discovered that an upset Katara created upset waters.

"You act as if that's my fault!" she exclaimed. "That's nature. It's just coincidence."

"That's luck - I don't even believe in luck, but I know you're bad."

But, of course, she went with him.

And he didn't catch a damn thing.

"--stop saying it's my fault! I am not bad luck!" exclaimed, stepping onto the shore and helping Sokka tug their kayak up onto the snow.

"No?! Then why did the boat capsize just as you were calling me an idiot?!"

He was batting at her, trying to get her away from the boat. He would curse at her for the next week, but he remembers reaching for her when the boat flipped, grabbing her hand and pushing her to the surface-- even as he sunk further below the waves.

"It wasn't! My! FAULT!" she exclaimed, backing away from the boat, shivering as she stamped her foot down on the ice.

Once, twice, three times. Once for each syllable.

The ice cracked, but instead of falling apart, chunks of it were thrust upward and refroze, making a series of little steps all around her.

He froze. He blinked.

He frowned and threw his head back, groaning at the sky.

"Like you weren't enough trouble ALREADY!"

They'd seen Waterbenders before. Later, he would be proud. At the time, he was worried about what sort of havoc it would play with their lives next.

Her eyes were wide and perhaps a little scared.

"What did--how did--?"

A pause and she went to the water's edge and reached out, concentrated hard, trying to tap into that feeling she'd had when the ice cracked, that cold, flowing, wonderful feeling.

She waved her hand upward, upward, tugging and pulling, and some of the water spiraled upwards.

"Sokka! Sokka, look! Look what I'm doing! I'm bending!"

His crankiness would not and could not dampen her joy.

He remembered trying to stay angry.

He remembered failing, too.

He remembered staying outside and nearly freezing to death, refusing to leave her side as she played with the water, joining in her laughter and her joy when she succeeded...

Katara was twelve now and Sokka was thirteen and their father had left for the ships. Gran-gran was off consoling some of the other women.

And Katara sat there, glaring at her brother in his war paint, as he packed his things, petting Flo the highly flammable cat-seal.

GranGran was there. That's what he told himself - GranGran was there and she would look after Katara. He couldn't spend his whole life watching over her, not when there were other people to protect, not when there were bigger threats out there.

GranGran was strong. She would watch her.

So he put his boomerang in its sling and packed and-- ignored the singing guilt that came from her eyes.

Eventually, when he happened to glance her way, she said quietly:

"You promised."

He didn't flinch. He would have now, but then... the only break was in his heart.

"They need everyone, Katara. I can't just stay here while they fight. I'm old enough, I can fight."

"No, you aren't," she said, frowning. "And if you're old enough, then I'm old enough to go--and I'm a Waterbender."

His chin lifted sharply and he scowled at her. "You are not - you aren't even trained! You still ice yourself more often than your targets!

"You're staying here where it's safe." Where she's safe, protected by their tribe.

"I'm only a year younger than you!" she protested. "And if I should stay here safe, you should too."

"But I'm trained!" he snapped back, eyes up and glaring at her. Don't make it harder than it already is, he has to choose between his sister and his father already. "I'm a man of the tribe and I should go, just like the rest of us! I don't want the Fire Nation coming back here, do you?!"

"No! But I don't want you to go to them either," she said plaintively, burying her face in Flo's neck.

If something happened, and he and dad didn't come back, all she would have left was gran-gran.

His face had fallen and he dropped the rope he held, holding out a hand to her.

"Come here."

She stood up slowly and walked over.

"Why? So you can just say goodbye to me and then leave?"

"No."

He took her hand and pulled out his knife. He knew then, knew now she hated blood, so he cut her palm first, a small slice, barely an inch. He mirrored the cut on his hand and then clasped hers tightly in both of his, blood mingling, his free hand holding them together.

His eyes found hers and held them.

"We've share blood with our parents, Katara - now we share it with each other. I'm coming back. But I can't stay here when I can go and make sure you don't get hurt again."

"Ow! Ew, gross, Sokka!" she said, but it was important, and after he said that, she leaned in so that her forehead rested on his chest and mumbled, "I don't care, I still don't want you to go. I'll miss you."

"You're such a girl," he'd muttered, rolling his eyes and keeping his hands tight on hers. But he sobers quickly, using the uncut hand to pet her hair when she leans against him.

"I'll miss you, too..." he pauses before he uses it, this word he knew but never said, "...nukka.

"But I don't want you hurt."

And he didn't want to lose his father, didn't want to be a man of the tribe at such a young age.

She was silent now--a rare occurance in their household-- and then she pulled away and went over to sit down next to Flo, her back turned to him as he finished getting ready.

Cupun, seeming to sense that something was amiss, waddled over and nipped Sokka on the leg.

He didn't shout - he didn't even swat at the stupid penguin. For the first time, he ignored the slight and stood, picking up his pack. It was too big for his arms, but it was no less than what the other men were bringing and he had to keep up...

He wanted to tug her braid, to say he was kidding, to bring her along because someone would need to irritate him on the trip...

But he left.

When he came back hours later, he had laid down on his sleep roll and ignored her questions. It was the first time he'd cried since the raid, in his father's arms. He wouldn't do it again.