Agh, I'm sorry about how long it's been since I've updated. My Avatar muse misunderstood the meaning of my vacation and just took off. Still, I'm crossing my fingers because I hope to finish a Maiko oneshot this weekend... I still can't wrap myself around the fact that a week from now, Avatar will be over. It's so depressing! D': But the fandom will live on - of that I'm sure.
Well, here's some more Kataang... a different side of it this time I think. I appreciate all of your reviews!
I was always afraid of the air.
It wasn't a flat out fear of it, no, I suppose that wouldn't the best way to describe it. Yet, it was the only way I could. Air was perpetual, constantly within you and around you, something you could never escape. Air was freedom and the desire I had to lose myself within it... and being scared of what I would do if I forgot all of those years of rules and boundaries. Because I was water, and when water became out of control, it was a very dangerous thing. Somehow, a thing I wouldn't mind at all... but I tried not to think about that too often.
Nevertheless, the longing was always there and would never leave my mind. In the isolated South Pole, waiting for a rush of wind to come by and sweep me into the world of the unknown epitomized the dreams of my youth. Well, seeing the Avatar return and save us all was also a hope I clung to... but those two wishes have always been one and the same. I'd always imagined the Avatar as an airbender, even though my tribe thought otherwise. I never knew what they looked like, the people of that nation, only heard rumors of their nature; but that sense of mystery about their culture... that feeling of freedom about their element, only served to make me fantasize about them more. Them, and the Avatar.
The Avatar would be strong, wielding all the power of the earth to do its bidding. But what if I were to inadvertently irk this spirit? My young mind found it amazing, beautiful, and frightening all at once. Even after I found Aang, that was how I had always seen him. He awed me with his balance among the elements, I marveled over his kindness, and he shocked me with his anger, but I understood that. There was, however, something else that I simply couldn't grasp about him.
It was air that fascinated me. Not so much the Avatar as Aang.
How enthralling and threatening to know this was one element from which you could never run from, hide from, defend against. Not when it was everywhere. He was always around me; speaking to me, walking with me, watching me, touching me, sleeping next to me, running through my thoughts and dreams relentlessly. He could have been half a world away and still manage to invade my heart and soul. Yet, I would never give up those years with him for anything. He had gradually become essential to my life, a part of me that I thrived on. Like water to a weed, he encouraged me to grow, expand my horizons, slowly become even that much less controllable to everyone except for him. It was thrilling and dangerous to have water tossed and soothed at the whim of the wind, an obsession for me to be wild with him. He became my lifeblood, my one and only high and link to reality. It gave my sense of control every reason to be afraid.
It was incredible, how much I needed it - needed him - and yet it was so fleeting. It was a desire I simply couldn't repress, could rarely fulfill: the freedom of racing above the clouds - soaring on his glider in his arms; the calming breeze that licked your face - the feathery caresses of a caring touch; the battering winds that were indiscriminate in their destruction - the fury of Aang only I could calm. It was daring to claim those moments of passionate, unrestricted love along with the unavoidable storms of rage, turning the tables and using his vehemence to fuel me but soothe him. It was having the courage to withstand the biting winds. It was coming to hunger for any moment I could have with him, even if it was one of danger - rerouting the energy of a dark sadness toward myself, transforming it into tears and butterfly kisses. Because he needed the release. Because I did too. No, the air in the South Pole had always been much too thin. I couldn't help the suffocation I felt. I had to place myself in the path of the onslaught - I just could never drink in enough air.
And then it wasn't just a fear for myself anymore. It was a wild worry for him. What if he hurt himself or someone else? What if he locked his pain deep inside of him only to wear him, tear him apart from the inside out? He needed me as I did him. And when the waves would quell and the howling cease, you could finally see the sun shining through the summer clouds. For a second, I'd forget the danger, the violent cycle we created together. I'd see the air and adore its beauty and lighthearted spirit. I'd get caught up in its freedom and suddenly, I'd lose myself within him. I'd throw away those rules and boundaries becoming out of control. Together, we created such a rapturous, dangerous thing. And I feared - loved, adored - the air for it.
Perhaps, just as he feared the water.
