A/N: Hello, ForestFireSong here! I have so many stories, and look, I've started another one :D Great….Thankfully, this one is pre-written, so updating should be easy.

Anyway, this is my Avatar adaption of the songs "Prisoner" and "Paper Planes" sung by the Vocaloids Kagamine Len and Rin. (Which I don't own. The same goes for Avatar.) These are really great songs. They're not necessary to listen to since everything will be explained in this fic, however they will provide more information and are just emotionally wonderful all around, making for beautiful background music.

Finally! Toph will be somewhat OOC in here. I shouldn't be making excuses at all, but trying to align Toph's personality with Rin's in the song and vice-versa was hard. I'll try my best, but please take note of that.

Blue was an interesting color. It was the color of the sky, the sea, and the unobtainable flowers in the field beyond the fence. Blue was the color of my people, those of the Water Tribe. And blue was the color of my sister Katara's eyes, which used to shine so brightly.

I had lost all that blue. Even the blue clothes I used to wear, like a true warrior of the Southern Water Tribe, were gone. I now wore battered gray clothes, prisoner's clothes. The pure white of the snow was gone, replaced by the worn brown earth of the camp. No longer did I live in a cozy home made of snow with my Gran-Gran and my sister, but instead an Earth Nation camp, packed into cramped and dirty bunkers with people of all different sources.

Sokka of the Water Tribe. What a warrior I was now.

The Water Tribe had been locked in a war with the Earth Nation and the Fire Nation for awhile now. The airbenders were technically on our side, but seeing as they were composed of pacifists, we couldn't and didn't expect much help from them. And that was the good way to go, the way of not hoping or expecting anything better. The Air Nomads had been easily conquered by the Fire Nation. There was even an air nomad boy here, one barely twelve years of age. I didn't know his name, but I saw him every day. Downcast gray eyes, arrow tattoos on his hands and shaved head. He seemed so frail- he could barely finish the tasks of digging and laboring on the walls and fences.

But if that boy, or anyone, failed to do their tasks, they would receive a rock to the head or back or face, or a severe physical beating from our Earth Nation guards. I'd been in the camp for weeks, maybe months, and I'd seen it happen. So whenever I saw that air nomad boy fall behind in his work, I'd reach over and take the shovel, or carry some of his load. We rarely spoke. He never smiled at me- no one in this camp smiled. But I could feel his gratefulness in the way he quietly allowed me to help him.

I wondered how much longer he would last.

I wondered how much longer I would last. The Earth Nation guards were appreciative of hard work and skilled laborers. But no one made it out of these camps. Not that I could tell, at least. I had seen so many people come and go….be led away, never to come back…

The Southern Water Tribe had just about all of its men away fighting. We didn't stand a chance. We were so small, we were bound to get overwhelmed.

That was when it happened. Katara, my younger sister, a budding waterbender, fell in love with a horribly scarred Fire Nation soldier. We had tried so hard to keep ourselves hidden, but she couldn't stopit, just like she couldn't stop that quick blast of fire.

Well, the way things ended up, the Fire Nation soldier ended up being killed for treason. Our village attacked. And Katara, my younger sister, whose blue eyes would shine so brightly, was gone. So was her only source of happiness as we remained trapped in our own land.

And I came to this camp.

Sometimes, I wonder if Katara is the lucky one.

It was absurd, but whenever I could go outside- which wasn't very often- I would pick up small rocks and place them in my pocket. They would stay in the drawer of my bedside table, until I was all alone- that was when I would take them out, and Earthbend.

It drained my already meager health, but it was exciting. For once, I wasn't Toph Beifong, the sick girl on floor two of the hospital, room 108, whose father worked in the nearby camp and wouldn't live much longer. I could pretend I was like one of the Earthbenders in a fight match that I always liked to watch on TV, when the channels weren't filled with news on the currently occurring war.

Earthbending rocks while no one was around was fine, but even having a rather boring existence overall, I eventually wanted something more exciting. My curiosity was drawn to the camp where my father worked. He never told me what he did there, even though a nurse had let it slip it was a camp for prisoners of war. That piqued my curiosity even more.

So after another long examination and complicated medical explanations from my doctor to my father, I'd had enough. I was strong enough to walk, if I were to be allowed out of bed. Being granted permission didn't matter though. My father, doctor, nurse, everyone was gone from my room.

I wasn't sure I'd be able to. I'd walked to the bathroom before, but walking a long distance…I didn't even know if I could get out a bed without help. Breathing in a bit, I climbed out of bed, making my way around the tubes.

When my feet touched the cold floor and held me up for the first time in so long, I felt dizzy. The world seemed to sway around me- this new world that wasn't limited to hospital machines and a condition defining me. My feet would take me wherever I wanted them to.

I went down the hall of the hospital. The walls were stark white, a sanitary sign, and nurses and doctors clicked down the hall. Most of them had to tend to overwork and starvation, not a terminal condition like mine. I wasn't entirely sure I knew the way outside, but simply the thrill of finding it was enough for me. Barefoot and in a white robe, I was probably a strange sight, but miraculously nobody tried to stop me. I kept out a sharp eye for anyone that might've recognized me as I walked down winding hallways, down the stair, and gradually out the door of the hospital. But there was no one.

I finally made my way out of the hospital, admittedly out of a side entrance. The entire complex was surrounded by nothing, literally nothing, save for the camp in the distance. I wanted to head there, but I stopped for a moment, observing my surroundings. I felt exhilarated and overwhelmed. Every time I'd gone outside before had been in a wheelchair. But now there was this- I had gotten myself here. Feeling the earth under my feet and the sky stretching above me was amazing-liberating.

I gazed around again at my surroundings. The camp wasn't far. I wasn't sure how far I could walk without collapsing. My legs were thin, and my breaths were coming out quickly from having just spun around in exuberance. But I wanted to take the risk.

After walking a bit my legs were shaking underneath me, and I was sweating profusely. The sickness had definitely taken its toll on my body, but I wasn't as weak as everyone had assumed, if I'd managed to make it as far as I had. I could only hope I would hold out on the journey back.

I approached camp from the side, not the entrance where guards would definitely see me. The fence was tall and barbed, maybe electrically charged. There was a watchtower, but it was unguarded. Looking into the camp, I didn't know what to think.

There were rows of houses, looking flimsy and unprofessionally made. I could see people sitting out around them, talking quietly. They were so thin it was shocking, and looked dirty and desperate. Farther on I could see more houses, these larger and looking better taken care of. Right in front of me, blocked only by the fence, was a huge pit. What for, I had no idea and couldn't guess. But maybe that was the reason the guards who were milling around didn't come close.

In a way, looking at the camp made me want to cry. All of these people were prisoners of war. But there were kids, old men and women, just ordinary people whose lives were being stolen. They had no place there. And this was where my father worked every day? He was confronted with walking examples of human starvation and desperation. Despite the sun, despair seemed to hang over the camp.

Turning away, I looked to the ground to avoid looking at the camp. Maybe it was time to head back…I kept my eyes on the ground, and to my surprise, I saw something bright white standing out against the crumbly brown earth.

I knelt and picked it up. A paper airplane.

Unfolding the intensely white paper (so white, just like my robe and the hospital walls…white seemed to be my life…) my eyes widened to see words written there. Not a paper plane for amusement, but more like a message.

Raising my eyes back to the camp, I was surprised for them to meet a pair of blue ones from afar. A boy stared back at me, from across the ditch. Or maybe he was looking at the paper at my hand.

He had wide blue eyes that, unlike the rest of the camp, don't seem to have lost their luster yet. He had a tall and lean build, I could tell, but that has dwindled down into simple malnourishment. His skin is much darker than mine, and his hair dark brown, pulled into a spiky ponytail. He's wearing some torn clothes that I can tell match what the rest of the prisoners are wearing.

I glance back down at the words, reading them over, and then look back to him. Briefly I wonder what he did to get into this camp, until I realize it, as strongly as I had when I had first looked upon the camp.

Nothing.

Then with help of a brush and ink I was planning on using for the schoolwork my father teaches me every day after school, my own words are on the paper. I just can't forget how human that boy across the fence is. His letter talks of his life in camp, his sister, his home in some strange icy place. Whether it made him feel more homesick and sad, or better, I don't know.

But before long, the paper plane sails into the seemingly eternal blue sky, away from the ugly barbs of the fence and right before the feet of the recipient, who is probably as lonely as the sender.