Hello! I'm back. I didn't think I'd have much time to write since school's started up again, but all it's done is leave me wondering why I have so much free time. Free time that needs to be filled! Hence, this.
Not much has been elaborated regarding Smellerbee's character. Her history and her age and a lot of her relationships and even most of her personality. So I hope I did okay here. Any errors or mischaracterization, if noted, will be improved later. Okay?
Formalities
I'm sure you've heard the story of the notoriously tomboyish girl who gets a makeover or cleans up for some fancy event and everyone who thought of her as "one of the guys" before suddenly realizes how feminine she really is. Sometimes they don't recognize her at first, and are smitten until they hear her voice and are overwhelmed with disbelief and further infatuation. Because, really, a girl with the attitude of a guy and contrastingly delicate looks is the epitome of perfect in the mind of a teenage boy. And the girl always declines in a characteristically blunt manner, and waits for her best friend – the one she went through so much trouble for – to see the improved version of herself. And once he shows up, he tells her that the frilly clothes and intricate makeup aren't who she is, and although she looks beautiful, she's even prettier when she's being herself.
Yeah. I'm not that girl. My story doesn't look like that at all, sorry to disappoint.
The first time I made any effort to look girly was when I was almost fourteen, shortly after the Hundred Years' War was over. There were a lot of festivals and celebrations held in the Avatar's honor, but this was more of a traditionally formal occasion than the prior ones had been. It was being held in the Earth Kingdom, a rather large city that was uncomfortably close to the Fire Nation, so that the Firelord would be able to attend without much of a hassle.
I didn't have a significant part in ending the war or defeating Firelord Ozai – in fact, I wasn't included in Sokka's massive invasion, either. It didn't really bother me; Longshot and I were able to busy ourselves otherwise, thanks for asking. It's not like I felt excluded, but my lack of knowledge on the rest of the Avatar's comrades was very vague, and I was rendered rather uncomfortable that night, regardless of my startlingly novel appearance.
I was orphaned at a young age, before Jet found me. I never had an older sister, and the Freedom Fighters consisted of only men. I was never really taught how to be a girl, and it's always bothered me. Still, I'm not conventionally feminine in appearance. I'm lanky but I'm not tall, and my shoulders and hips are both narrow. My hair's shaggy and wiry, the color and shape of a coconut. I'm often mistaken for a boy, actually, because I don't know how to behave like anything else. My voice is low and raspy and my language isn't necessarily dainty, but I'm still female. I'm still a girl. Even if I'm clueless as to how a girl should dress and act.
My eyes are magnificently dark and round, like two black olives, and regularly outlined with an even darker shade of charcoal. That night, I'd eased up on the eye makeup and settled for a plethora of earthy tones instead. My robes were cool and silky, smooth green in color and delicately stitched with something that resembled gold. I'd refrained from the crimson tribal markings that usually adorn my cheeks, because blood-red doesn't match jade very well.
I didn't feel like myself. I couldn't move as freely without pants on and I couldn't tousle my hair without jostling the dragon-shaped barrettes that were pinning my bangs from my face. I felt heavy and dollish, like I should be sitting tranquilly. Seen and not heard, that sort of thing. But I still didn't feel pretty.
I'm not like Toph, the blind Earthbender. I don't choose to be impolite and boyish like she does. Toph can appear delicate and feminine if she wants to; her hair is long and smooth and dark and it contrasts beautifully with her ivory complexion. Like night and day, boyish and girlish. I'm brown all over, like a grotesque intrusion of masculinity into what would have been a fairly normal girl. Do you know what else is consistently brown? Mud.
Of course, Aang greeted both Longshot and I with the politeness the Avatar was expected to uphold. "Nice to see you again," he'd said, and then proceeded to re-introduce us to the rest of his close friends – three I had met before, and then there was Sokka's soft-looking and womanly girlfriend Suki, a new addition, as well as the Firelord himself, who later proved to be far more awkward than one would anticipate.
"I'm Smellerbee," I said blankly. "And this is Longshot."
Longshot only nodded to the table.
"Look at you," Katara cooed with a smile. "You sure clean up nice."
"Thanks." My statement was solid and impassive; not really how I wanted it to sound. I've never been great at taking compliments. "Uh, you too." I mustered a smile, as friendly as it could be.
Katara looked like she knew her way around a mirror. Half of her hair was tied up neatly and the rest cascaded over her shoulders and down her back like a chocolate waterfall with thin, unsystematically placed braids throughout the chestnut tresses. A silvery shadow covered her eyelids, accenting her full lashes and complementing the peachy tone of her cheeks. It all looked divine and so nearly natural; Katara was glowing.
She smiled, drawing the corners of her painted lips upward in a genuine fashion. "Thanks, Smellerbee."
I took a seat and Longshot did the same, although we both knew we wouldn't remain there for long. It was an honor just to be associated with the Avatar and his friends, really, and just for that I was grateful. There's no use crying about being left out when you can't help the exclusion, and I enjoy their company while I can. I suppose you could say I'm selective; private, and besides, I have a feeling that I wouldn't quite be able to handle any of these people in large doses.
"Now that the war's over and you're no longer Freedom Fighters, I have to ask you something." Sokka proposed.
"Yes?" I prompted.
"What's your real name?"
"Sokka!" his girlfriend hissed, and by the way he jumped I assumed that she kicked him from under the table.
"My name is Saeng," I answered after a few moments. "But don't call me that! I hate it. It's too girly."
"You look pretty girly right now," Katara argued.
"Yeah, I guess."
But I didn't feel girly.
And I still don't.
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