A/N: For Kainora Week Day 6: "Time." GAH so sorry I'm late with this; I didn't get back home until really late last night and couldn't post without my computer . I'm currently working on my last piece for "Harmony" so that will either be up later tonight or tomorrow :)
The first time he holds his daughter, she is feather-light, brown hair matted against her forehead, swaddled in a white blanket. Brown eyes blink up at him with frank curiosity, and as Tenzin traces a finger over his daughter's forehead, stopping at the tip of her nose, he knows there will be no end to her fascination with the world.
The first time Jinora produces a gust of wind, Tenzin feels the air escape him in a gasp.
He wishes that she could have had a chance to meet her grandfather. This feeling only grows when Jinora pads into the room with a book in hand, holding it out and asking, "Daddy, will you read me a story?"
He traces the name inscribed on the cover—The Journey of Avatar Aang—and flips the book open, pulling Jinora into his lap.
"Long ago, the Four Nations…"
When Jinora turns eleven, she takes the world upon her shoulders. Tenzin watches his daughter slip into the Spirit World with Korra and feels there is something intrinsically wrong with a child going where her parents cannot follow. But he prays that his daughter's goodness—her light and warmth and understanding—will be enough to protect her from the coming darkness.
And then she is twelve and tattooed, but still his little girl—still radiant, still soft-eyed, still the first breath of his lungs.
She is also, it seems, on the brink of…love. Tenzin rolls the word around in his mind reluctantly, because he considers Jinora far too young for such things, but he knows his daughter well enough to know the depth of her affections. The boy is green-eyed and silver-tongued to start, but an underlying goodness emerges as time progresses, and Tenzin lets it unfold. He has learned that love is much like the wind: unseen, manifesting itself through the flutter of a touch, the butterfly of a blush, a wisp of hair tucked behind the ear. Sometimes it is just a breeze passing through, on its way to another destination, but other times…
Other times, it lingers. Kai and Jinora grow up. Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen; saplings to sturdy trees, long-limbed and never far apart. Tenzin looks at their entwined fingers, studies his daughter's face: lean and intelligent and wise, but still youthful. Always beautiful. Always radiant. Always his little girl.
And in love. At dinner, Kai pushes some of his snow peas to the side, where Jinora snaps them up, scooping her pickles onto his plate in return and smiling softly. Pema squeezes Tenzin's hand, a knowing smile gracing her face, and Tenzin's brow relaxes.
He hopes they will continue to make each other happy.
Only time will tell.