avatar: GRIEF & PRACTICE
Title: Grief & Practice
Char/Pair: Katara
Rating: K
Words: 550
Note: written for comment_fic prompt Katara/any, waterbending practice
She never admitted that she was jealous. And even now, her aging heart left broken and alone on the frozen tundra of the South Pole, Sokka's arm draped over her shoulders in comfortless comfort, she feels a slight resentment. Katara guesses that her brother asked the tribe and its visitors to give the widow some time to herself, to grieve in private instead of in the eyes of the whole world. But her nephew gives her only seven days before cautiously entering her tent and asking for some lessons.
As Katara bends the snow around her ankles, she thinks this again was Sokka's doing. Waterbending can be calming, feeling like one with the nature that runs through her veins. It can also help release the anger piling up inside her. She concentrates fully on teaching, full well knowing her nephew is far beyond the moves she is showcasing. And as the snow turns to liquid and encircles her body, all her resentment surfaces.
The small boy, no older than Sokka was when he left home, is like a miniature of her brother - but for the top knot he wears on his head and the green band that holds it up. And just like the many years ago when Katara first taught a young boy how to create a wave, he is better at it than she is. Master Katara, the pride of the Southern Tribe, the Avatar's wife, the youngest waterbender master, is now just an old woman. And she is outclassed by a teenager.
And he's only half-Water Tribe. The minute she thinks this, her stomach turns. Her sister-in-law is an amazing person but still Katara hates that the Earth Kingdom woman gave birth to a waterbender when Katara's own son could only bend air.
Only, she thinks, again disgusted with herself. Her own son is no where near the master Aang was but he was the first Airbender born in more than 100 years. He is beautiful and amazing and strong. And even now he stays at the Western Air Temple alone to meditate and find his own peace. And yet ... yet he is not the daughter Katara had wanted. He is not the waterbender she had dreamed of. He is not like her young nephew, who she now watches snap a stream of water at a passing tiger seal.
"Good," she says with a smile that does not reach her eyes. She drops the water around her, turning it back to snow before it hits the ground. "I'm sure Sokka is proud of you."
The boy grins, wide and goofy. "Says I get it from you of course." And here Katara sees more than the respect novice waterbenders give her, she sees true inspiration behind his bright Water Tribe eyes.
"Nonsense," she responds, flicking her hand - and by result a sprinkling of snow at him. "I'm much better than you'll ever be."
And Katara herself is even surprised at how easily she can joke, the pain and anger still pounding her chest. But it is softer now and while now her smile is smaller, it is at least genuine.
"I saved the world when I was younger than you, you know." And he rolls his eyes like he's heard the story a million times.
Char/Pair: Katara
Rating: K
Words: 550
Note: written for comment_fic prompt Katara/any, waterbending practice
She never admitted that she was jealous. And even now, her aging heart left broken and alone on the frozen tundra of the South Pole, Sokka's arm draped over her shoulders in comfortless comfort, she feels a slight resentment. Katara guesses that her brother asked the tribe and its visitors to give the widow some time to herself, to grieve in private instead of in the eyes of the whole world. But her nephew gives her only seven days before cautiously entering her tent and asking for some lessons.
As Katara bends the snow around her ankles, she thinks this again was Sokka's doing. Waterbending can be calming, feeling like one with the nature that runs through her veins. It can also help release the anger piling up inside her. She concentrates fully on teaching, full well knowing her nephew is far beyond the moves she is showcasing. And as the snow turns to liquid and encircles her body, all her resentment surfaces.
The small boy, no older than Sokka was when he left home, is like a miniature of her brother - but for the top knot he wears on his head and the green band that holds it up. And just like the many years ago when Katara first taught a young boy how to create a wave, he is better at it than she is. Master Katara, the pride of the Southern Tribe, the Avatar's wife, the youngest waterbender master, is now just an old woman. And she is outclassed by a teenager.
And he's only half-Water Tribe. The minute she thinks this, her stomach turns. Her sister-in-law is an amazing person but still Katara hates that the Earth Kingdom woman gave birth to a waterbender when Katara's own son could only bend air.
Only, she thinks, again disgusted with herself. Her own son is no where near the master Aang was but he was the first Airbender born in more than 100 years. He is beautiful and amazing and strong. And even now he stays at the Western Air Temple alone to meditate and find his own peace. And yet ... yet he is not the daughter Katara had wanted. He is not the waterbender she had dreamed of. He is not like her young nephew, who she now watches snap a stream of water at a passing tiger seal.
"Good," she says with a smile that does not reach her eyes. She drops the water around her, turning it back to snow before it hits the ground. "I'm sure Sokka is proud of you."
The boy grins, wide and goofy. "Says I get it from you of course." And here Katara sees more than the respect novice waterbenders give her, she sees true inspiration behind his bright Water Tribe eyes.
"Nonsense," she responds, flicking her hand - and by result a sprinkling of snow at him. "I'm much better than you'll ever be."
And Katara herself is even surprised at how easily she can joke, the pain and anger still pounding her chest. But it is softer now and while now her smile is smaller, it is at least genuine.
"I saved the world when I was younger than you, you know." And he rolls his eyes like he's heard the story a million times.