Summary: She unfurls herself, like a bobbin, into their tapestry of politics.
Genre: Political/Drama
Pairing: Katara/Zuko
SEA-SALT WOMB
Hakoda wrenched his daughter out of the water sphere. She came out spluttering and half-lucid; as she was, a little girl in blue birthed from a sea-salt womb into the tundra. Water bubbled over her lips, pumped desperately in sporadic jets from her lungs, and she stared up at the sky through smarting eyes. The world span and blurred before her, yet she thought she had never seen it more clearly. It was beautiful.
Clutching Katara close to his chest, Hakoda knew he couldn't find it within himself to be angry and, instead, tears scored his cheeks like hot welts, flowing freely as his daughter's no longer could. He pat and rubbed circles into her small back, weeping.
Sokka was some paces away, his presence quite forgotten by his father until he cried in delight, "That was amazing!". He staggered forward, reaching Katara's side to demand of her, "How'd you learn how to do that?"
"Sokka," Hakoda let out a pained admonishment, sparing a meaningful glance at his son before returning his full attention to Katara. Sokka shrunk back a little, still not wholly understanding, but having the mind to heed his father's que to quiet down. Still, he buzzed where he sat, up to his lap in snow but excited for the moment he could beseech his sister with questions.
Hakoda had come here in hopes of resolving his and Katara's earlier argument, enlisting the help of Sokka to find her nearby haunt, but all thoughts of that fled him once he saw Katara writhing in a death-trap of her own creation. He could not believe he had almost lost more family. On the back of losing Kya, Katara's death would have ruined him. If he had only been a few moments later… He could not bear the thought.
Word Count: 300
