(time and names do not matter when your hand is in mine)
A. N. : I can literally not tell you how this happened but eh, I like the result well enough.
The Lady is… perplexed.
It is not that she hasn't met kind humans before – she remembers the times of before, before humans built that steel-making house on her shore, before her chest started hurting with every breath, her skin itching not matter how much she clawed at it, remembers the times when the village would sing for her and children would set lights on her waters as gifts, remembers times long before that, filled with touch and warmth and things she could almost regret – but the kind humans were never this forward.
The human girl brought food to the village. She took up a mantle not unlike the Lady's when she saw it would help the minds of the people – the Lady let her, for she was weak and the human girl was not, and the girl walked on water like in a dance, the girl had water in her heart and blood as she healed, and so the Lady watched. The Lady watched as the human girl destroyed the steel-making house, let her own course be changed to help in this endeavor, felt the girl's touch as she bent and marvelled at its strength. The Lady watched still as the human girl readied herself to fight, as she shed angry tears for a village she didn't belong to, as she shrouded herself in mist and a mantle too big for her – and once more the Lady let her.
And then the Lady could breathe again.
She simply wanted to give her thanks – no words would ever be enough to express her gratefulness, but words would have to be enough in this situation – and instead she found herself looking at the human girl's clear blue eyes and wondering when was the last time she saw such a beautiful color.
The human girl left, along with her friends and the Bridge, and the Lady was left to watch over her own humans – for as much as recent times were difficult, the village remains hers, and with her newly recovered power she will continue to protect it.
When the human girl comes back, the Lady doesn't recognize her at first. Time was the first thing to disappear, first muddling between days and years, then simply ceasing to matter, and so the Lady has long since stopped trying to grasp it, has long since stopped attempting to make sense of human lifespans and growth. She sees no reason that a human she remembers would remain alive if she cannot see it happen.
So the Lady doesn't recognize the girl – she travels alone now, dresses in blue rather than the deep red she used to wear, and she is no longer a child. But then the girl bends, the girl heals, and her touch remains the same as it was before, warm and full of heart and of things the Lady could almost regret, and something bubbles inside the Lady.
The girl's eyes are still as blue as before, bluer than her clothes, more vibrant than the mother-of-pearl around her neck, and the Lady finds herself wishing she could match. Her waters were never this blue, too shallow and calm for this, dust rising at the slightest move. The girl's eyes feel like high sea, like the place the Lady should have reached eons ago, the place the Lady wants to rest in for the remaining of time.
It perplexes her. The feeling isn't unpleasant or unwelcome, no, it simply… it is like a long-lost memory, like mist covering the sun and leaving only a searing white in its stead, like diving in deep water and never wanting to leave.
And so the Lady appears once more to the girl, not out of gratitude, but out of feelings she doesn't quite understand and a wish she doesn't know yet.
She finds words to be quite insufficient again. Feels that this time they will not be enough, even in their barest and simplest form. But she cannot find anything to do anymore than she can talk.
The Lady sits next to the girl in silence. It is a quiet night, with no clouds to cover Tui's eyes as she smiles gently over them, before politely focusing elsewhere.
The girl gives her name, finally. She is Katara, of the Southern Water Tribe. Names also went pretty quickly, right after time, losing meaning as they accumulated – the Lady is Jang Hui, she is the Painted Lady, she has been the Gray Lady, she has worn many names that she has long since forgotten, names erased by the winds of time, names from the times of before and the times long before that. Names are mostly empty to the Lady, but she will remember Katara. And she will remember that quiet night, sitting next to each other, Katara's hand brushing against the Lady's and so warm –
She will remember Katara, when she comes back years later with children in tow, when she practises bending on her own by moonlight, when her hair has turned white and when the village invites her to celebrate the solstice, when she dons red once again and when she smiles softly and says we will meet again –
She will remember Katara and her warmth, and someday the Lady will meet a Spirit from the South with deep blue eyes and she will hold her hand once again.
And someday the words might follow her touch.