Kyoshi Dresses

By: Shutterfly Simmons

Sokka did his best not to openly gawk at the outfit laid out in front of him. He was expected to wear this? Why were there so many parts to it? Why did they have his size? How did they know his size? When Sokka asked Suki to teach him, this was no at all what he had pictured. He thought that she'd show him a few moves or something. He'd also hoped to impress her with how quickly he'd pick it up or make some witty quips. Anything to make up for the serious blow to his pride a few days ago. Nowhere, did he expect to find himself alone in a room facing down the dress and make up that he was expected to wear.

He took a deep breath. He could do this. It was just a pile of clothes and some face paint. How hard could it be?

Apparently a lot harder than he had thought. Sokka realized this a little too late. He was still suffocating in green cloth that smelled like cinnamon. He had spent a decent amount of time wondering about that. Why cinnamon? Did someone spill some on the dress? Had it been sprayed with cinnamon perfume? Did they wash it with cinnamon soap? Did cinnamon soap even exist? Where did you buy it? What was a person who sold soap called? A soap seller? Soap merchant? Soapsmith? After what seemed like half an hour later, he had made very little progress. In his defense, he was thinking of very important questions. Okay, not really. But, it wasn't his fault that he had somehow zoned out while changing. How long did it take the Kyoshi Warriors to get ready in the morning? They probably had to get up an hour earlier just to get dressed. Maybe this was why girls took so long to get ready in the morning. He was glad that this was (hopefully) just a one time thing. The gaang barely got enough sleep as it was. Appa, while a fast flyer, was definitely not the most comfortable guy to sleep on. Not that the ground was any better. And, their sleeping bags didn't make it any more comfortable. The last thing he needed was to lose more. His foot caught on the edge of the dress and, he stepped backward a bit. His foot landed on something round. Sokka felt himself losing his balance and tumbled back first onto the floor.

Sokka cursed quietly. Picking himself up, Sokka found what he had tripped on. It was a dusty old wine goblet. The kind that people used on fancy dinner dates or whatever. What was that even doing here? Wasn't this a room for, Sokka looked around the room, trying to figure out its purpose in life. He found nothing. He tossed the goblet into a corner of the room in annoyance. He winced when he heard the light crashing noise as it landed on an old mirror. Where were those thing even coming from?

"Everything okay?" he heard Suki ask from the other room. Great, she must have heard the goblet falling.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he answered, hoping that she wouldn't ask what the noise was. Thankfully, she didn't reply at all. Sokka straightened everything out and looked in the mirror. It didn't seem as bad as he had thought. It was n't tucked in right, everything seemed to hang more on his right, and his overall appearance seemed pretty ruffled, but other than that, he looked like he could fit right into the girl's group. Sort of. Now, he just needed to do his make up.

Sokka was all too aware how quickly he seemed to be losing his manliness. He blamed the island.

Sokka squinted in the mirror and tried to see what he was doing. He had his face painted white. He'd somehow managed that without too much trouble. The layers were uneven and several strands of his hair were now a pale white, but he was pretty sure it was good for his first time. At least it was similar to his intended result. Now for the eyes. This was going to be annoying. He tried closing one eye and applying the best he could. It dripped down his eye lids and into his eyelashes. Sokka resisted the urge to touch it and did the other eye instead. Unfortunately, this caused the paint to drip into his eyes. He groaned in frustration and tried to rub it out. He only succeeded in spreading it around. He grabbed a damp rag and dumped into a bucket of water he found in a corner of the room. He frantically rubbed the paint out of his eyes and waited for the rest to dry.

Before this, Sokka had considered himself a decent artist. Staring at his face in the mirror, almost in horror, Sokka wasn't sure he could still say that. To put it simply, he looked like a dead guy with his eyes clawed out. Grabbing the wet cloth, he tried to rinse the excess paint off. It didn't work out exactly as he had planned. All it did was smudge the colors around. He was going to need a lot more water.

Sokka was finally finished. He was ridiculously proud that he actually managed to get everything done. The whole thing had made him more stressed than he had expected. He needed a nice calming cup of tea or something.

"What took you so long?" Suki asked, when Sokka arrived after what felt like hours later.

"Nothing," Sokka answered, quickly. "I was just, um, inspecting the quality of your cloth." He mentally slapped himself. Suki looked at his face and outfit. He saw the corners of her mouth twitching. She grabbed his arm and dragged him back to the room.

"What on earth did you do?" she asked, clearly struggling to keep the laughter out of her voice.

Word Count: 1,009

Episode: The Warriors of Kyoshi

Prompts:

Object (Goblet)

Smell (Cinnamon)

Genre (Humor)