(A/N: Hey everyone, so I decided I'd post up these drabbles finally! I've been working on them forever! I felt kind of bad about pretty much completely stopping my other drabble story, though I might continue it in time. But I thought to entertain, I'd put this up. Except that it's not very entertaining because a lot of them are depressing. So if you enjoy reading sad stories, like I do, then go ahead and read on! But if not, I strongly suggest not reading this. J) (Thanks!)
(P.S, SOME OF THESE STORIES CONTAIN NO MAIN CHARACTER! BUT THEY ARE NOT MADE UP CHARACTERS. BECAUSE I HAD PEOPLE IN MIND WHEN I WROTE THEM, JUST NEVER ACTUALLY PUT DOWN WHO THEY WERE, BECAUSE I THOUGHT YOU MIGHT ENJOY DOING THAT YOURSELF!!!!! THANK YOU!!!)
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DRUMBEATS
He kissed her softly, ignoring the angry tears that trickled down her cheeks; which were being held between his cuffed hands.
She kissed him back, praying he wouldn't pull away just yet. But he did, and she was left choked by grief and anger.
"I love you." he whispered, attempting to pull closer to her.
The guards prevented him, dragging him away roughly. Her own hands were bound and she was set back with the other prisoners.
She, in her dark cell, could hear the drumbeats that drifted into the prison; each strike felt like a horrible blow to the stomach. The dreadful feeling of loss was slowly inching its way into her. It would all be over soon. He would be gone.
The drumbeats suddenly stopped. She sat in an eerie silence, holding back the sobs.
The abrupt sound of cheers caused her to break down, hands and head pressed against the cold hard floor.
She sobbed, unending tears streaming her small face. She raised her head, lips trembling. "I love you too."
LIFE AND DEATH
There are always losses in battle. There is always pain and hurt. It's an uncontrollable thing that occurs, that can never be taken back. And every time a life is taken, a new one is born.
And this is exactly what happened to Sokka of the Water Tribe. He knew that when death would come for him, a new life would be brought. And under the circumstances of what life would come into the world, he embraced death kindly.
So, as sword pierced through armor and flesh; he did not fight back.
Because, as he lay dying in middle of a bloody battlefield, he knew his son would be born anytime. And he also knew he was giving the boy one of the most precious gifts of all; his life.
So when the cries of the child entered the world; his cries of death left. And Sokka of the Water Tribe died, knowing he'd done for his son what would have taken a lifetime if he had lived.