Summary: She unfurls herself, like a bobbin, into their tapestry of politics.
Genre: Political/Drama
Pairing: Katara/Zuko
BLACK SNOW
Katara awoke to the black snow. It was so haunting and so familiar that at first she had considered herself in some kind of hell, removed from one torture and placed into another. The ghost faces of her brother and father, who she had seen die in Ozai's terror, hovered by her side. They were pale and tear stricken, an expression she imagined herself to mirror.
So they were dead together. Perhaps, she thought, her family had been cursed to an afterlife of agony, doomed to relive the day her mother had been taken, because they had failed. The comet had passed and Ozai had engulfed the world as they knew it in his hot fiery maw. Some had run, but there was little to no place to go. As such, the few rebels left had met in the middle and ended their lives in harried hugs and handshakes. As was Katara and Aang, their embrace a final wave goodbye.
But the grief consumed her lavishly, for it was many long minutes – it had seemed like hours – before she stirred for her kin. It was a morbid curiosity that brought her to look at their faces, still anguished but younger than she had first accounted for. Her father's face lacked the sallow appearance and aged lines she had seen on him in most recent times. All Katara saw was the recognizable horror etched upon his brow as they sat, fallen against each other, in the cold snow. Sokka's eyes were large on his face, too dewy and delicate. His features were fresh and round and when Katara reached out to touch him, she found herself to have the hand of a small child.
Word count: 283
A/N: You know what? YOU KNOW WHAT? Each chapter will be 300 words or less (it seems to work well enough for 'forthright'). This is a challenge to myself. I will be efficient, evocative and beautiful. Hopefully. Glad to know the first chapter was appreciated. I'm trying to go crazy on my prose skills for this story. So enjoy!