Smell
Katara would always complain about how smelly he was. She claimed he smelled like sweat, tears and blood. She would plead with him to take a bath.
But Suki didn't mind it. To her, he didn't smell like the war the way his sister thought he did.
Every night when he held her to his chest, she would take a deep breath, savoring his scent. To her he smelled like bravery, like strength, and like safety.
To her he smelled like courage; he was the scent that got her through the dark nights in prison.
To her he smelled like warmth; he was the scent that got her through the cold pain of isolation in prison.
To her he smelled like endurance; he was the scent that kept her alive long enough, to wait for the right moment to escape.
Every night when he held her to his chest, as she breathed in his scent, and let it fill her from head to toe, pouring warmth into the furthest contours of her being. She would think about how thankful she was for his scent. For him.
She would plead with him not to take a bath.