Title: Sky above, earth below
Summary: In which Pema finds a curious thing in the storage rooms. Hints of Lin and Tenzin. Oh, and Katara. An AU moment set before the events of Book 2. I guess.
A/N: A short thirty minute writing exercise. Hastily edited. Mistakes are mine.
She's not as young as she used to be, Katara muses. Her fingers no longer nimble or light against the spools of thread. This was her little ritual of sorts, something she fell into doing while patiently awaiting the arrival of her sweet Bumi. She'd made another for Kya as well, and later, Tenzin. It was a long time ago, and the wave of nostalgia engulfs her like the gentle breeze. Oh, but she still has the skills, could still weave a fine pattern. Anyway, this wouldn't take long. It was a tiny little thing.
Pema makes the long trek to the far east end of Air Temple Island, where the storage rooms were housed. The new acolytes needed a specific kind of incense for a mid-spring thanksgiving meditation rite, and the auxillary storage cabinets in the meditation halls were lacking of the precious incense. So she volunteers, jokes to the other acolytes to take a nap since she'll be travelling quite far.
It was a rather secluded part of the island. One that she hardly ever sets foot in. They kept emergency supplies here, a few important relics, and air acolyte paraphernalia; decidedly away from rowdy airbending children.
She quickly scans the room for the chest of incense. Before she could open it, a small gift box, though inconspicuous enough, catches her attention. So she inspects it, takes the lid off, and lets out a small, "Aww" at the sight.
It was a light blue onesie, and its patchwork threads were distinctly of water tribe tradition. She'd seen nothing quite like it before, the tint of blue one would find on a bright, cloudless sky. The ankles and wrists of the impossibly small garment had mint green bands delicately sewn in. Its focal point, however, what really draws the eye, is an embroidery of a peculiar creature on its front, where the baby's stomach would bulge—a raccoon of sorts, or perhaps a badgermole. But it had wings cutting across the sky of the fabric with threads of white and light gray. Blind badgermoles didn't have wings.
Pema caresses the fabric and entertains the thought of little Rohan donning this outfit. It could still fit him in a few weeks, at most; he was a rapidly growing baby. Then again, she thinks as she breathes in the scent of the fabric, almost expecting lavender and baby powder but recoils at the hints of moth balls and dust, it was practically a relic—a well-preserved one at that. How long has this little thing been in the storage room, forgotten? A decade, possibly more?
She returns the garment inside the box and carries it with her, suddenly excited at the prospect of showing her husband her curious discovery, and almost forgetting the incense she came all the way there for.
She finishes it in a week, adding the final touch - small wings on the miniature badgermole. Aang chides her about flying badgermoles before he himself tears up at the sentiment. Her softie of a husband. Katara folds the onesie into the box and instructs Aang firmly, "Give it to Lin, and send my congratulations to both of them."