Oh wow, it's been a while. O.O
In the dawn of the morning, she smiles.
They've all awoken, yawning with sleepy eyes and stiff limbs, but she smiles and hands each a bowl of rice as they trickle one by one into the dusty living area. Zuko's always the first, then Aang, Sokka and Suki, and usually a half hour after everybody else, Toph comes stomping in. The mornings are calm, careless, and happy. It's the time before training and work, stressing and planning; the time that her smiles come easy, not forced. She can almost believe they're just a normal group of kids on a normal, leisurely vacation.
x
In the heat of the day, she sweats.
Droplets of persperation collect on her forehead, the hollow of her throat, the backs of her knees. It coats her skin, soaking into every crevice of her body, only to be evaporated by bursts of fire that barely avoid touching her. They circle one another, twin smirks, glistening, heaving chests, and rippling muscles. She manipluates her water to icy points, and he breathes his fuel into flames that lick hungrily at her. They twist around each other, tan against ivory, sweat blending together. But underneath their competitive demeanor is a longing desire for a different way to sweat, a new way to fight for dominance. Their spar is just a personification of all the words left unsaid.
x
In the cool of the evening, she laughs.
It's back to joking, back to playful shoves and good natured ribbing. The sun begins to sink slowly below the horizon, last rays of light disappearing in the black, star dotted sky. Her hips swing gracefully, heavy chocolate locks brushing to the side as she glides from person to person giving out food, cleaning up dishes, serving tea. The large island house seems limited to this little group huddled together, lounging on elegant red and gold sofas. They are laughing and smiling. They are forgetting.
Her bright blue eyes sweep across the room, taking in a boy with blue tattoos creating a mini tornado of his breath and tiny flames and leftover stew and chunks of rock on his plate. She stares. Breath. Flame. Stew. Rock. Their laughter fades to the back of her mind. Air. Fire. Water. Earth. Forgetting is so much harder than they make it seem. Avatar. Duty. War. Loss.
Her gaze flickers to each face, each person that she's come to love unconditionally. She loves each equally, but in such different ways. Her life would be nothing if any one of them were to leave. And that's why she dreads the coming days. It would be foolish to think that war's casualties will ignore them just because of status. If anything, it would be so much more imminent. It tears her mind apart just to think of losing any of them. There isn't time to regret anymore. She almost laughs aloud. Time; what a fickle thing.
Her heart is bleeding with every day that passes, every sunset she encounters. But she patches it up, tells herself to square her shoulders, and marches on. They're all counting on her to be the hopeful one, because if nobody else keeps the optimism, their resolve will crumble. After all, they're still children. They're all strong, all courageous, and all brave. But she's a different kind of strong. She's the kind of strong that chases nightmares away. The kind of strong that doesn't give into bitterness or apathy. The kind of strong that bears pain and hurt that isn't hers. The kind of strong whose arms are a home to any and all in a world without refuge.
She is their hope.
x
In the dead of the night, she crys.