Hello Readers!
It has been a minute. Life has been busy, but I've sorely missed writing these little drabbles and other fics.
My wedding is just a few weeks away, so I'll have more time and plenty of inspiration afterward.
For now, I had a little time and spark of inspiration this morning so I thought I'd jot this out quickly. Enjoy!
Disclaimer:
I do not own ATLA or any of its characters.
Hands had always been a big part of his life.
As a baby, his hands had selected toys that indicated to the monks that he was the Avatar.
As a child, they guided the currents of air around him and made him a master airbender.
As a teenager, his hands bent the elements and beat the odds to save the world.
So, for Aang, hands were something of a tool to accomplish a destiny set out for him.
But hands meant something so much more important when it came to her.
Her hands were the first thing he felt when he had been released from the iceberg. Her warm touch a stark contrast to the crisp South Pole air stinging his cheeks.
Her hands were soft and slender, but not fragile. No, certainly not fragile. Those hands could split the ocean to its bottom and stop the rain mid-fall. Those hands could catch falling bodies and bring waves crashing down on their adversaries. They held everyone together when their world was falling apart. Yes, her hands were strong. They were powerful.
She was powerful.
Oh, but her hands were also gentle. The first time he had felt them, her hands had awoken something in him. It was as though with one touch of her hands, his spirit had known Katara was going to be vital to his existence.
But that was a notion so profound, he had not come to fully understand it until months later.
Even still, her hands, much like her bright ocean-blue eyes, captivated him. Her hands were not just bender hands. No, they were so much more than that. Those hands had warmed him, comforted him. Her hands had healed him, brought him back to life, in fact.
Katara's hands reminded him that he was not alone.
They sent shivers up and down his spine each time they grazed his. Each time she cupped his face with one hand, he'd sneak a peek at the other, wanting nothing more than to hold it tenderly in his.
As time passed and their relationship evolved, he learned that his urge to hold her hands had certainly been warranted. It was perhaps one of the best feelings in the world, the permission to hold her hands whenever he wanted.
He loved her hands. He was never more happy than when his hands were holding hers.
Hands. They had never been more important to him than in the moment he had been asked to take Katara's hands in his as he vowed to love her in wedded union for the rest of his spirit's existence.
That is until he watched those hands hold their baby boy's tiny hands, entertaining him every so often with small swirls of water in the air. Aang felt a swell of emotion envelop him as he crossed the room just in time for Bumi to take hold of his hand in his tiny baby grip. Katara smiled lovingly at him and cupped his face gently.
He felt dizzy with happiness.
Hope you enjoyed!
I'll post more regularly after my wedding. I may start with a Kataang wedding fic, so keep an eye out in July!
Until next time, readers!