literature

Day One: Calor

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Day One: Calor

“Katara,” Sokka starts, all serious, or rather mock-serious, standing in the doorway, arms crossed, leaning against the frame. “The Fire Nation is hot.”

She almost laughs out loud – at his tone, at the hidden double meaning of his words, although she’s sure he hasn’t realized the ambiguity. She looks up from the dress she’s in the middle of folding.

“I am aware of this fact. I’ve been there before. With you, if I might add.” It’s hard not to let the corners of her mouth tilt upwards.

“I know – I’m just trying to refresh your memory.” Sokka continues, strolling into the room and taking place on the edge of her bed. “Do you remember how miserable we were? How terribly hot it was, how we couldn’t even think straight some days? How we were always sweaty and gross? How our clothes would cling to our skin, how strong the sun would beat down on us… And the humidity!” he goes on, wildly gesturing with his hands.

This time a chuckle does escape her lips – her brother is simply hilarious when he is trying to make a point.

“I think it’s the matter of adaptation.” She places the folded dress in her trunk, and reaches for the next one. “Remember, for example, when Master Piandao first came here? He couldn’t stand the cold, but in a few days he started to get used to it,” she shrugs. “And anyway, the people of the Fire Nation have their own ways of cooling down when it gets too hot – fans, bathhouses, these kind of stuff.” She looks up at him, her cerulean eyes bright. “And really, the weather is just a minor inconvenience. You put up with it, enjoy everything else, and it’s the end of the story.”

“But…” Sokka starts, one hand rising, but trailing of mid-sentence. Eyebrow furrowed he closes his mouth and rubs his chin, deep in thought. Katara smirks to herself. “But what about the cuisine? That’s also hot,” he comes up with his next anti-reason with such enthusiasm, one would think he has just find the solution for a decade – if not century – old problem.

“You have always liked Fire Nation food,” she points out in a calm voice, not even looking at him.

“Yes, but that’s not the point,” he admits and deflects in one sentence. “I like it on occasion – but to eat it every day? Pff, please. I’d go crazy. And it’d would burn through my tongue after some time, I am pretty sure.”

Putting yet another folded dress into the trunk, Katara straightens her back and looks at her brother.

“One,” she counts the item on her fingers, “not every traditional Fire Nation dish is spicy, and two, I am pretty sure that there is at least one Water Tribe chef in the capital city, alongside with several Earth Kingdom ones.” Still smiling, she lets out a sigh. “And you know, if I ever get so desperate,” she lowers her voice for the second half of the sentence,  leaning a little closer, “I might even cook for myself.”

Sokka huffs.

“And what about the stuffy nobles? Who can stand them?” he goes on.

Katara snorts, her gaze once again turned to her dresses.

“I don’t want to shatter your illusions, but with the current political situation, wherever we are, we’ll get our fair share of ‘stuffy nobles’ – and I am going further: I am sure that for some people we are the ‘stuffy nobles’.”

Sokka crosses his arms and leans back against the wall, his eyebrows knitted together. He groans, then opens his mouth a couple of times, but always closes it before he’d say a thing. Katara only smiles to herself and continues packing.

“There isn’t even any snow,” Sokka says after some time, as a last resort, although Katara can tell from his tone that by even he has troubles taking himself seriously.

“I guessed so, considering the all-year-round hot temperature,” she sasses, then placing the last dress into the trunk and closing the lid, she gets up from the floor and sits down next to her brother, taking his hand. “I know that you’d rather have me stay here, wash your dirty socks until both go grey and wrinkly, maybe marry some nice tribesman, if I must, but…” she squeezes his hand, her gaze never moving from his eyes. “I love him, Sokka, and he loves me. I’d go to the end of the world for him.”

Sokka lowers his head; he chuckles, and yet it’s the most serious Katara has seen him since the end of the war.

“Jerkbender…” he murmurs. “I still have I hard time processing it,” he sighs, raising his head and gesturing towards the betrothal necklace in Katara’s neck, the golden pendant resting just above her collarbone. Her fingers fly to the jewel seemingly on their own, carefully caressing the smooth surface.

“You are not exactly alone with that – I still can’t believe that I’ll be a wife within a month!” she exclaims almost breathlessly.

Sokka is out of words; he is just gazing down at his baby sister, trying to match this beautiful, confident, glowing young woman with the gangly, awkward girl she once was, before they started their journey.

“Just tell me one thing,” he asks. “Will you be happy there? Living there, with his royal highness, with the Fire Nation’s heat and spicy food and stuffy nobles… will you be really happy there?”

A wide smile blossoms on Katara’s face. She lets go of his hand, places her left palm on his cheek – it’s rough under her skin, the stubble tickling her –, leans in, and peck his other cheek.

“I will. I promise.” She is tearing up. She didn’t mean to cry, but now tears are welling up in her eyes. “And it’s not like I’ll be a prisoner there,” she assures him, “I’ll able to visit. And you can come, too, whenever you’d like to.”

“You’d better,” he says, then rubs his eyes. “Damn it, something’s got into my eye.”

A watery laugh escapes from Katara’s lips. She leans forward and hugs her brother.

“I love you, my silly big brother,” she whispers into his ear. She feels as his arms find their way around her waist, pulling her closer.

“And I you, little sis.” Then, as quickly as he sneaked his arms around her, he lets her go – he doesn’t want to compromise his manliness with a way too long, way too emotional moment. “Are you done packing?” he asks, looking around the small room, taking in those couple of trunks and bags she is taking with herself to the Fire Nation.

“Yes; everything’s packed,” she nods.

“Then what do you say about one last snowball fight?” he says, playfully punching her shoulder. “Before we sail off tomorrow to take you to that snow-less hotland?”

Katara chuckles.

“Let’s go,” she says, nodding towards the door, already standing up, pulling Sokka with her. “I wouldn’t pass the chance to kick your ass one more time.”

And today, Sokka doesn’t even put up a fight.
A/N: Welcome once again this year, Zutara Week! It’s been a while – nearly six months – since I wrote anything Avatar-related, but I was surprised I quickly I found my way back to these characters – that must mean something, doesn’t it?
But still, I have been lazy, and as I am writing this I have only 2,5 stories written – which is kind of pathetic –, but I am determined to still make the most of this week. Well wish me luck :) In exchange, I wish you good reading :)
Rating: T
Word Count: 1183
Disclaimer: [Insert funny text here that tells you I don’t own Avatar – the Last Airbender]
© 2013 - 2024 Orlissa
Comments4
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trillean's avatar
So sweet. You got Sokka's personality just right. I love reading his and Katara's interactions.