Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim to own any characters or concepts related to Avatar: the Last Airbender. This is a nonprofit work of fanfiction.


Five passions, in no particular order


1. The water at her fingertips

Katara stands in the river not as an earthbender would, with feet planted wide and strong, but as the reed along the river's edge grows, arching with the current.

The moon is high. She bends with the river and the river bends with her. Eddies issue forth from her toes. Currents cling to her shins.

Ripples: Aang crouches in the shallow water. The river laps at his toes. He says, "I didn't mean to disturb you."

Katara flicks a bead of water at him. "You didn't," she says. She holds her hand out to him. Like the river, Aang comes to her.

*

2. Sing the song that wakes the moon

In the Southern Water Tribe more so than her thriving Northern sister, parchment is a luxury, ink an extravagance. Their histories take the form of songs which ebb and flow like waves lapping at the shore. Katara knows them as she knows the beating of her heart or the weight of a coming storm.

Her mother taught her the first song, a children's song for a children's game.

Clever Moon hides away
White face behind the cloud
Ocean says, Moon is lost,
And weeps and weeps and weeps.

Mother said, "Do you think Ocean will find Moon?"

"She will!" said Katara.

"Let's see," said Mother, and she sang.

*

3. All the places I have seen, all the places I have been

She travels often, to more places than she could have imagined when she was young and her world ended where the ice gave way to the ocean.

Lu Shan Lu rises in spires, each twisting tower a testament to the delicacy of its construction. The jungle mountains of Guo Hu Bo are lush, spackled with riotous color. Xin Xue Xie rests, a gleaming oasis at the heart of the Yousha desert.

When Katara journeys home she sees as if with unveiled eyes the brilliance of the ice, the deepness of the ocean, and the strength of her people. This is beauty, too.

*

4. A hand to guide them

Of her students, Chuan is the most frustrating. He stands like a stone. He walks like a rhinobear. He cannot even swim in place for fear of sinking.

Katara adjusts his stance once more. "Remember: stand your ground, but don't ground yourself. Water is fluid. It flows."

Chuan nods and sets his jaw, but the line of his mouth is soft. Uncertain.

"Don't worry," she says. "You can do this."

His lesson is drawing to a close when Chuan shouts, "Oh!" and "I did it!"

His hands tremble, but the shimmering ball of water neither breaks nor bursts.

"What did I tell you?" says Katara.

*

5. The man in her bed

"Wait, wait," Aang says as she fumbles at his clothes with wine-stupid fingers. "The bed--"

"Oh!" Katara says. "There it is." She shoves him down and climbs in after him.

Aang nuzzles her throat; he combs his fingers through her hair. "It's just you--" he kisses the corner of her jaw "--and me--" and the swath of skin tucked behind her ear "--now."

Katara trickles her fingers down his sides. "Stop talking and take off your shirt."

"Yes, ma'am," says Aang.

Even in the dark, she knows his body as she knows her own, as she knows the ocean currents. Beneath her fingers, he bends.


This story was originally posted at livejournal on 08/23/2009 for the 08/23/2009 prompt for Kataang Week (Summer 2009 Edition), "passion."