Post by Ilise on Feb 14, 2007 21:47:03 GMT -5
It's been four years since he left.
Four fat, empty years, filled with tears and longing and my poor heart's throbbing. Four years since I've smelt his smell, heard his voice, felt that spidery-light touch of his hand on mine. The other two try to comfort me, but it's no use.
Because I know he won't come back.
I remember the first time we traveled together- out on the open sky, the wind ruffling my hair, done back in that hairband I used to wear... I reached over and I could feel Appa's soft fur, hear the soft breathing of him next to me. I used to be so shaky up in the air, so unsure. I never showed it. I was always strong. Always.
I remember when Appa went missing, and Aang just screeched at me. I tried to be lenient; I knew he didn't understand. No one understood me.
I remember when I stood there, holding his arm, his slightly muscled arm, warm to my touch. He was so tall. His robes smelt slightly of musk and deep things, felt like coarse wool, not like his light, cheerful personality. I supposed that his tribe down below was really cold, and I only held tighter to him. He didn't pull away, and I remember that slight breath into my sensitive ears, hot and cold and exhilarating all at the same time. I remember it all.
I remember the day that Aang defeated Fire Lord Ozai, and Katara helped make alliances with Zuko, the new Fire Lord. I remember Iroh, chuckling after he waved goodbye and then realized, as usual, that I couldn't see.
My face would always split into a grin after he did that, and then my friends would laugh with me. Always. He was so funny, Uncle Iroh.
I remember the day, my thirteenth birthday, that all the Fire Nation soldiers went home. Most of their faces were streaked with joyful tears, or so the others tell me. I could feel their light steps on the ground, the speeding of their racing hearts, and once again I held his arm, to get my balance as they thundered by in hordes. That day was so wonderful... I still have that small, blue pendant that he carved for me. It fits perfectly around my neck.
Sokka was the best friend that I ever had.
I was fourteen when it happened.
A few fire nation rebels who supported Ozai had built a secret resistance and planned to overthrow Zuko and Iroh. I remember their heavy footsteps, these not laden with relief, but with secrecy and certainty that they would succeed- after all, Zuko was still only eighteen.
We lived in a house just over the border between the Fire Nation and the Earth Kingdom at that time.
They had grabbed Zuko and Iroh and forced them into caves, then had a guard vigil day and night- and they'd started rebuilding the armies.
We were the first to know. A huge road led right by our little village- Sokka painted his face with paint that smelled sweet and felt sticky, like blood. I had loved him- and he I- for eight months. Rarely a day went by that we didn't talk, spend time with each other, smell each other's smells, make ourselves fall even more in love.
I didn't want him to go.
Those rebels. They took him and bundled him into a cart, along with several other young men- not Aang. He still looked twelve. I staggered around, coughing in the dust, listening to the Earth, and ran towards the cart.
Mid-leap I was caught by a sudden blast of flame from the top of the cart. I toppled over and lay still, feeling myself lose consciousness.
You know how that cliche line goes- I saw my world turn black? I couldn't see, but I still felt everything turn black, and red, and silver, with sword and blood and loss and death- I could feel my heart break as I heard him scream my name, loudly, once, and then I heard a distinct thump, and he was silent.
They left there to rampage all over the Earth Kingdom.
A year later, they were still going strong, adding young men to their ranks, forcing them to use their many bending techniques to defeat anyone in their way. Aang often left to help. An official war had been declared.
Two years passed. The village had slowly recovered. News of newly captured towns and cities still reached my ears. I was sixteen and beginning to lose hope. I took more and more time to bend. I heard news that Zuko and Iroh had escaped, running away from at least fifty guards on a flying badgermole. Honestly.
Three years. Ba Sing Se and Omashu were still standing strong, collapsed cities all around. My bending was mastered- I was still teaching Aang the fine-tuning of it all. He still left every once in a while to aid the Earth Kingdom's many cities.
And now it's been four years. My eighteen-year-old self has felt the part inside of me which was him die. I know that I will never see him again... I stand on that hill where I once held his hand, that childish excitement I got from breathing deep his clothing. I wish I could smell that smell again. Wish I could feel his skin again, have his breath mingle with mine.
I wish he was here with me.
It's a more mature love- more tender, not just driven by passion, but by longing. Driven by tenderness. Driven by my desire to be with him, just one more time. Just once more.
Aang calls. I don't want to come- but I guess I must.
"Raid," he says. I nod and flick my blind eyes from side to side as if I can actually see.
I feel an awful tremor crashing towards us. It must be three tanks-full of those rebel soldiers. They're pouring out now, I feel them coming.
I stick up my hands in submission, and just as they slow, I crash my arms down and a cage of earth engulfs them. The raw power of my own bending still never fails to amaze me.
I stomp once, hard, on the ground, and feel a body flying through the air. I hear a scream and go to see who it is.
Putting my hand on their head, I recoil. It's a Fire Nation soldier. Slowly, I yell "Katara," and she hurries to heal the man I stand over- no doubt he was taken against his will.
Just like Sokka.
And Katara screams.
I turn wildly. "WHAT? What is it?" I yell.
Katara only takes my hand and places it on the man's face. Weakly, he says my name.
I stumble backwards, away from him. I can smell it now- that smell he always has. I reach out a hand and feel under his armor. His robe is still coarse and rough, just like it always was. I feel my eyes water, hear the tears splat onto his hand. He reaches up his hand, still large, just like always. He touches my face and wipes my tears.
And then I keel over. I felt something wet on my back, realized it's my own blood, realized that I was hit by some weird bit of metal, and I fall, just like that.
I wake up two days later, feeling like something's clawing at the inside of my stomach. I have a warm bedsheet over me- how strange.
"Toph?" I hear. It's that low voice, the one I've been longing to hear for four years, husky and sweet. He takes my hand and sits by my bed, and slowly we share a slow, long kiss. The tingle I feel when I kiss him is back- I can feel life and love surging through my body in a torrent of angry joy. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull away.
I hug him, just hug him, simply happy to know that he's there for me.
I can feel Katara's dainty steps and Aang's flat-footed bound. They have entered the room.
"Is it over?" I manage to say, my voice cracking with emotions I haven't shown in four years.
"No," Katara says, "this war's far from over."
But I know, in my heart, although this war is far from over, everything will be alright.
As long as he's here, just to talk to, just to hold and love and feel and cry on, just to be himself.
Just to be Sokka. That's enough reason to stay alive- that's enough reason to wait. To wait four fat, empty years for someone you don't even know is alive.
For him, I'll wait forever.
Well. That was interesting, eh? I spent forty-five minutes on a ONE-SHOT. It's not even, like, three pages! I think! Sheesh!
I think it's okay, though, so it was a 45 minutes well spent.
Please leave a comment if you feel like anything needs to be changed!
Four fat, empty years, filled with tears and longing and my poor heart's throbbing. Four years since I've smelt his smell, heard his voice, felt that spidery-light touch of his hand on mine. The other two try to comfort me, but it's no use.
Because I know he won't come back.
I remember the first time we traveled together- out on the open sky, the wind ruffling my hair, done back in that hairband I used to wear... I reached over and I could feel Appa's soft fur, hear the soft breathing of him next to me. I used to be so shaky up in the air, so unsure. I never showed it. I was always strong. Always.
I remember when Appa went missing, and Aang just screeched at me. I tried to be lenient; I knew he didn't understand. No one understood me.
I remember when I stood there, holding his arm, his slightly muscled arm, warm to my touch. He was so tall. His robes smelt slightly of musk and deep things, felt like coarse wool, not like his light, cheerful personality. I supposed that his tribe down below was really cold, and I only held tighter to him. He didn't pull away, and I remember that slight breath into my sensitive ears, hot and cold and exhilarating all at the same time. I remember it all.
I remember the day that Aang defeated Fire Lord Ozai, and Katara helped make alliances with Zuko, the new Fire Lord. I remember Iroh, chuckling after he waved goodbye and then realized, as usual, that I couldn't see.
My face would always split into a grin after he did that, and then my friends would laugh with me. Always. He was so funny, Uncle Iroh.
I remember the day, my thirteenth birthday, that all the Fire Nation soldiers went home. Most of their faces were streaked with joyful tears, or so the others tell me. I could feel their light steps on the ground, the speeding of their racing hearts, and once again I held his arm, to get my balance as they thundered by in hordes. That day was so wonderful... I still have that small, blue pendant that he carved for me. It fits perfectly around my neck.
Sokka was the best friend that I ever had.
I was fourteen when it happened.
A few fire nation rebels who supported Ozai had built a secret resistance and planned to overthrow Zuko and Iroh. I remember their heavy footsteps, these not laden with relief, but with secrecy and certainty that they would succeed- after all, Zuko was still only eighteen.
We lived in a house just over the border between the Fire Nation and the Earth Kingdom at that time.
They had grabbed Zuko and Iroh and forced them into caves, then had a guard vigil day and night- and they'd started rebuilding the armies.
We were the first to know. A huge road led right by our little village- Sokka painted his face with paint that smelled sweet and felt sticky, like blood. I had loved him- and he I- for eight months. Rarely a day went by that we didn't talk, spend time with each other, smell each other's smells, make ourselves fall even more in love.
I didn't want him to go.
Those rebels. They took him and bundled him into a cart, along with several other young men- not Aang. He still looked twelve. I staggered around, coughing in the dust, listening to the Earth, and ran towards the cart.
Mid-leap I was caught by a sudden blast of flame from the top of the cart. I toppled over and lay still, feeling myself lose consciousness.
You know how that cliche line goes- I saw my world turn black? I couldn't see, but I still felt everything turn black, and red, and silver, with sword and blood and loss and death- I could feel my heart break as I heard him scream my name, loudly, once, and then I heard a distinct thump, and he was silent.
They left there to rampage all over the Earth Kingdom.
A year later, they were still going strong, adding young men to their ranks, forcing them to use their many bending techniques to defeat anyone in their way. Aang often left to help. An official war had been declared.
Two years passed. The village had slowly recovered. News of newly captured towns and cities still reached my ears. I was sixteen and beginning to lose hope. I took more and more time to bend. I heard news that Zuko and Iroh had escaped, running away from at least fifty guards on a flying badgermole. Honestly.
Three years. Ba Sing Se and Omashu were still standing strong, collapsed cities all around. My bending was mastered- I was still teaching Aang the fine-tuning of it all. He still left every once in a while to aid the Earth Kingdom's many cities.
And now it's been four years. My eighteen-year-old self has felt the part inside of me which was him die. I know that I will never see him again... I stand on that hill where I once held his hand, that childish excitement I got from breathing deep his clothing. I wish I could smell that smell again. Wish I could feel his skin again, have his breath mingle with mine.
I wish he was here with me.
It's a more mature love- more tender, not just driven by passion, but by longing. Driven by tenderness. Driven by my desire to be with him, just one more time. Just once more.
Aang calls. I don't want to come- but I guess I must.
"Raid," he says. I nod and flick my blind eyes from side to side as if I can actually see.
I feel an awful tremor crashing towards us. It must be three tanks-full of those rebel soldiers. They're pouring out now, I feel them coming.
I stick up my hands in submission, and just as they slow, I crash my arms down and a cage of earth engulfs them. The raw power of my own bending still never fails to amaze me.
I stomp once, hard, on the ground, and feel a body flying through the air. I hear a scream and go to see who it is.
Putting my hand on their head, I recoil. It's a Fire Nation soldier. Slowly, I yell "Katara," and she hurries to heal the man I stand over- no doubt he was taken against his will.
Just like Sokka.
And Katara screams.
I turn wildly. "WHAT? What is it?" I yell.
Katara only takes my hand and places it on the man's face. Weakly, he says my name.
I stumble backwards, away from him. I can smell it now- that smell he always has. I reach out a hand and feel under his armor. His robe is still coarse and rough, just like it always was. I feel my eyes water, hear the tears splat onto his hand. He reaches up his hand, still large, just like always. He touches my face and wipes my tears.
And then I keel over. I felt something wet on my back, realized it's my own blood, realized that I was hit by some weird bit of metal, and I fall, just like that.
I wake up two days later, feeling like something's clawing at the inside of my stomach. I have a warm bedsheet over me- how strange.
"Toph?" I hear. It's that low voice, the one I've been longing to hear for four years, husky and sweet. He takes my hand and sits by my bed, and slowly we share a slow, long kiss. The tingle I feel when I kiss him is back- I can feel life and love surging through my body in a torrent of angry joy. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull away.
I hug him, just hug him, simply happy to know that he's there for me.
I can feel Katara's dainty steps and Aang's flat-footed bound. They have entered the room.
"Is it over?" I manage to say, my voice cracking with emotions I haven't shown in four years.
"No," Katara says, "this war's far from over."
But I know, in my heart, although this war is far from over, everything will be alright.
As long as he's here, just to talk to, just to hold and love and feel and cry on, just to be himself.
Just to be Sokka. That's enough reason to stay alive- that's enough reason to wait. To wait four fat, empty years for someone you don't even know is alive.
For him, I'll wait forever.
Well. That was interesting, eh? I spent forty-five minutes on a ONE-SHOT. It's not even, like, three pages! I think! Sheesh!
I think it's okay, though, so it was a 45 minutes well spent.
Please leave a comment if you feel like anything needs to be changed!
