ZW 2013 Day 1: Calor
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A/N: This was written in 2013, and on the one hand it hurts me to read it again and edit because holy cringe Batman, but on the other, I'm kind of enjoying the throwbacks.
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In Tongues
Most of the ancient languages have been given up in favor of a common tongue. That doesn't stop Katara and Zuko from speaking an obscure, almost-extinct Fire Nation language (she picked it up surprisingly fast, after all).
If anyone asked, she would be in her room. Not, of course, that anyone ever asked.
If anyone asked, he would be in the throne room, staring steadily into the sweltering heat of the flames. Not that anyone would dare ask.
If anyone asked, no, they were not avoiding each other. It was a simple disagreement, in the heat of the moment, objects thrown, dishes broken, hearts crushed.
Aang walks silently into the kitchen, light footsteps crunching broken glass. He frowns and picks up the largest piece, a shattered plate. Dismissing it, he calls for a maid (normally he'd pick it up himself, but as the Avatar it's his duty to look out for his friends first and broken plates later), and continues the search for Katara, whom he found sitting on the floor in her bedroom, hunched over, knees to her chest, murmuring in one of the ancient tongues.
Sitting down next to his girlfriend, Aang puts a hand on her shoulder, but she doesn't look at him. "Katara, what's wrong?"
Finally, she notices the boy, for he is just a boy at 15. "Usted es un chico."
Aang does not understand her, of course, but he tries. Not that it makes a difference. "Katara? If you want to practice, I'm probably not the best person for it. Sorry."
"No usted me entienda. No me comprende."
If Aang remembers correctly, those two verbs mean similar things, but he's not sure if Katara is trying to say two slightly different things or if she's asking him to differentiate the two for her. Either way, "Uhhhh…"
"Necesito otras cosas. Otras personas. Quiero calor."
Aang sighs. She is deliberately confusing him now. Not that she seems to care enough to translate. He never did get the hang of this particular language. "Katara…"
"Aang es un muchacho, Katara," a low voice corrects.
Aang is doubly confounded now. Katara, it seems, is interested in the purring roll of the 'r' in her name.
Katara shoots the boy a look of what he can only describe as regret. He can't say why (last Aang checked, they were very happy together). Not that he allows such glances to ruin him. Nor does Zuko appear to glory in them, which, Aang supposes, is a good thing. With all the time the two have been spending together, he's been feeling a bit on edge (although the prospect of confronting Katara about it is decidedly distateful). She enters the Fire Lord's arms in a gesture of apology and forgiveness, and something different. They have their own language, Aang realizes, and it is one that he does not yet understand-but he will soon. He and Sokka are reporting to the library first thing in the morning. These things that Katara seeks to explain to him fly over his head like arrows skimming over the hedge. Just the same, when he's being honest with himself, he thinks he knows what she wants to say but isn't ready for him to understand. Not, of course, that the realization will stop him from loving her. He'll wait as long as it takes for her to come to her senses. Maybe they'll take a vacation soon; go to the Southern Air Temple and make fruit pies. Aang repeats this as something of a mantra throughout the night as he tries to drift off to sleep.
Fire and water have never well melded before, and Aang knows they would face considerable difficulty. Heat evaporates water, after all, when turned up too high, and water extinguishes fire. Not, of course, that fears of mutual destruction ever held back the elements before. And not, of course, that Zuko and Katara have ever been particularly bound by their elements, now that Aang thinks about it.
If Aang were still in Katara's bedroom, he'd see that Zuko twirls a finger in a chocolate brown curl, and Katara smiles, knowing perfectly well that it is he who is wrapped around her finger. Not that any of this matters. Aang believes-demands, even-that passion, heat, the purring warmth of this calor she speaks of, is fleeting, at best.
Still, it would be nice to know where they stand.
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A/N cont: Sooooo I'm not sure how I feel about this, but I couldn't really come up with anything better for calor. Maybe I should have gone modern AU, but those are always so hit-or-miss. Hope y'all liked. Love to all readers and reviewers.