Yay, it didn't take me forever. Now you finally get a taste of this whole lame musical inspiration thing. Didn't really expect any of you to spot a song by The Weakerthan's since they're not exactly well known. If you like punk rock, alternative, folk rock, or Indie, they're for you since they combine all the elements. Not all of it is punk though, so don't let that scare you away. Check em out on youtube, or better yet, buy an album. Without Mythologies is off their second album, Left & Leaving (I also took chapter name from the album). I suggest listening to it so you can get an idea of what it sounds like.

Again, another big thanks to Anson. Saved me from some crappy sentences.

Also, I know I don't have access to a scanner at the moment, but I'm willing to take requests for drawings for my fan fic. I'm not an expert or anything, and i'm out of practice, but give me something relatively simple (No four elemental bending whilst unloading a rifle into the side of a fire nation tank, i'm not that good) and i can give it a shot. Won't guarantee it, but if there's more than one request i'll try and do it.

Anyways, enough of me thinking i'm popular enough for you to give a shit about this story and anything else aside from reading it. The next chapter awaits.

Behold.


Aang did not jerk awake like he used to. He'd had this nightmare too many times. The young man took a few moments to gather himself. His breathing slowed, his heart settled, and he cleared his mind of the remnants of the awful memory.

As the airbender slowly opened his eyes, he could see the moon shining through the branches of the tree he was sleeping in. He glanced side to side, making sure no one was in the street below. It was the middle of the night, and the sky was pitch black. Aang stood up and grabbed his bags from the branch next to him before soundlessly dropping to the ground below.

The young man crossed the street and headed towards a small two-story house. Even in the dark Aang knew where he was going. Placing his bags on the ground, he bent a stream of air that carried him to the second story balcony. Without making a noise, he walked up to the glass door and peered in. Most of the room was dark, but a small lamp cast enough light to reveal a young woman had fallen asleep at her desk.

Katara.

Aang sighed as he let his eyes rest on her still form. She was no longer the young girl he'd left so long ago. Over the years he had been gone she had matured into a striking young woman, yet somehow managed to retain that innocent beauty she carried as a girl.

As he stared at her sleeping form, his emotions began to battle inside of him. For the most part he was angry and hurt. She was the person he depended on for support, the rock in his life, and she'd turned on him when he needed her most. Perhaps it had been foolish of him to expect things to be the same after four years, and perhaps he hadn't exactly opened up to her, but that didn't change facts.

Aang was also confused. Instincts told him that he should hate Katara for what she had done. But behind all that anger and resentment he felt towards her, Aang was sure of something.

He still loved her.

It was a withdrawn love, hurt and taken aback, reduced to a shadow of it's former self, but it was still there. Aang knew he couldn't hate her, as much as he wanted to.

Life was cruel, however, and while the years had turned her into an even more attractive young woman, they had also turned her into someone that no longer needed Aang. He wasn't sure if she even understood him anymore. That was what hurt the most.

He didn't have many people in his life. She was the one he had been closest to, and now she was the one he was farthest from. Instead of sticking around, which was the equivalent of twisting your finger in an open wound to Aang, he had decided to do what he had always done best.

Run away.


Katara slowly awoke from her sleep. She started to sit up when a pain in her neck told her she'd fallen asleep at her desk again. Rolling her neck and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she looked around to see what time it was. Outside, light was starting to return to the sky, but it was still a deep navy blue.

The young woman frowned as the dream she had been having started to creep beyond the edges of her mind. She tried to hold on to it, tried to remember what it was about. Had someone been crying? Her frown deepened when that part came back. She had indeed dreamt of someone crying. Or had she? The sound had been too real to be sure.

Walking up to the balcony, she slid the door open, breathing in the crisp morning air. It was late autumn, so the cold morning forced her to turn around and head back inside. As Katara reached for the sliding door, her hand froze over the handle.

The drowsy woman wasn't positive, but she swore she could see the fading outline of two hands that had been pressed against the glass.

She rubbed her eyes again, forcing herself to wake up more, before looking at the door again. The handprints were gone, but she couldn't tell if they had faded away or simply had never been. Sighing, she sat back down at her desk. She was tired, but had woken up too much to go back to sleep, so she went back to what she had been doing before she fell asleep.

Katara unfolded the piece of paper that was sitting on her desk. She must have read the note Aang had left her a hundred times, but it still sent chills up her back. She skipped to the end.

To most people, it just looked like a strange way to sign a note, perhaps implying everything that it said was the truth. Katara knew it was more than that.

"Without Mythologies" was a song that Aang used to play around the campfire 5 years ago, while they were still trying to stop Ozai. They had all loved it when Aang played and sang for them, but this song was different than the others he played. They both knew that he sang it for her.

Going over the lyrics in her head, she tried to decipher what Aang was trying to tell her. The entire song was already metaphorical, making it hard enough to interpret what the writer was trying to say, but it was Aang she was trying to understand. He always loved music that spoke meaning to him, beyond what the songwriter intended.

It was obviously a sad love song, speaking of unrequited love or a troublesome relationship. Standard writing for any song, but it was the metaphors that let her know it was more than that for Aang. The entire song alluded to the wind and to the rain and snow, their respective elements.

The part that confused her was that though the song was at times bitter, it was still loving. The ending in particular stood out to her.

If I could I would make you a raging river,
with angry rapids, supplied with rain,
so you could always meander
and forever be able to run away
without contending with myths wrongly interpreted, with pain.
A harsh wind.

Ever since Aang had first played the song, Katara had known from this part that he loved her. It surprised her that no one else had picked up on that, but then again, no one else had really listened as closely as she had. She'd always figured he meant that he would do anything for her, even let her go, letting her decide what she wanted.

Now, it didn't quite seem the same. Contending with wrongly interpreted myths and pain is exactly what she was doing. Even more puzzling, none of it told her where he might be. Frustrated, she shut off the lamp and crawled into bed.

The only thing she figured out by the time she fell asleep, was that a harsh wind obviously meant Aang was angry.


By the way, the handprint thing is totally metaphorical. I'm sure none of you spotted that, 'cause i totally didn't even do that intentionally. That's how awesome I am. Except not.