XXXI - La Rosa de los Vientos

(Aang)

The wind was shaking the shutters in anger. It was a wild wind. Toph had been right. The wind was extreme, a howling adversary that refused to listen to reason or to assuage its fury on anyone's favor. The caretakers of the house had said that it was not always an enemy, only in winter, when it would bring the cold air from the North Pole. In summer, it was a friend that would bring clear blue skies and relief from the heat. 'La Tramontana', as the caretakers called it, accelerated as it passed between the Mountains that served as backdrop to the coast full of summer houses for the Earth Kingdom aristocracy or the rich. The summer houses were built like quaint dreams, little palaces designed to offer their owners respite from the summer heat - very different than the houses on Ember Island. Over there, the purpose was the heat, and the sand, and the sea, and the tropical feeling. Over here, the intention was different and thus it lacked the exotic feeling.

Aang remembered the first time he flew over this area when he was a child, on his way to the Northern Air Temple to visit the monks, accompanied by Gyatso, unaware that it would be the last time he would see the temple in its original splendor. It had been summer, the best time of the year to travel from the South to the North and avoid the inclement weather that would sometimes hang over the Northern Air Temple, thanks to its proximity to the North Pole. The mountains below looked painted, with white and blue houses along the coast, going up and down, following the sinewy shape of the peaks. He remembered how little the rich people looked, walking along the seashore, delighted that the water was cold. The little palaces looked like playthings from above and he wondered about the families living in splendor, and the children playing on the beach. It was weird to think that, probably, Toph's grandfather was one of the kids having fun in the sand at the time.

Aang turned in the bed. It was late. The moon was full, clear and very high. The incredible thing about the north wind was that it brought limpid skies with it. The shimmering light of the moon would squeeze through the shutters with the cries of the wind, like a whistle that would sound silver in the night. It was enough to light Toph's sleeping form. Her face buried in the pillow, her hair spread like a black aura, her lithe arms embracing the cushion. She was a sound sleeper, his earthbender. A fearless sleeper, not used to nightmares. He carefully moved her hair to one side to expose her back. Her skin looked silver, too, under the moon, the delicate vertebrae protruding like knots, little bumps that he would trace with his fingers one by one. Aang carefully pushed the covers down to expose the rest of her. The trail of bumps would mark a sinuous path to her lower back, where two dimples inviting kisses would mark the beginning of his perdition. She liked sleeping on her stomach. That meant that only part of the profile of her breast was visible. A delicate allusion that would stir volumes in him with what it suggested.

Aang traced her form with his fingers without touching her to avoid waking her up. He loathed to disturb her, partially because she could get cranky, yes, but mostly because he liked to see her rest. All her energy, all her force at an impasse. Paused for a moment, like a stop in the wind. Aang always had the feeling that if she didn't rest, she somehow would consume herself. But her energy was not wasteful energy. It was concentrated, intense, strong and unashamed, just like her kisses. She was not the kind to overwhelm anyone with her power, it was just that he had the feeling that left unchecked, her force would consume her without them noticing. And he felt protective. He always did, which was a weird feeling taking into account that she could probably do a better job at protecting him. But he couldn't help it. Maybe it was her slight physique. Maybe it was the translucent skin that was silk under his fingers, even if underneath he could feel the firmness of her muscles. Perhaps it was the small nose, the small ears, the fine, long fingers that were so wise at touching him. She was deceiving, his maiden, but not on purpose. He had heard the expression once, during a poetry reading at the temple. Steel Magnolia. She was like that, all soft petals covering a frame of iron and determination. But only the outer frame. Inside she was a long walk on an autumn afternoon. Cushy, refreshing, and lovely. Oh, so lovely.

Aang rested his head on his hand, supporting himself on his elbow, silently studying his lover. His lover. When did that happen? How did it happen? He knew he was at fault but he didn't regret it. Not a single bit. There was a moment when not amount of fierce meditation would assuage the pull that was tearing him from the inside. Only indulging the pull gave him relief. The really, really, extraordinary thing was that he honestly did not know that he was about to indulge on it until he was already at her door, debating between entering her room or not. Wishing so hard for her not to be there, and completely disappointed if she was not. He would feel so relieved when she would finally show up, sometimes surprised, sometimes grouchy, but always accepting. That was the thing. She could have been, she should have been distrustful, but she hadn't. She was accepting of him and his presence. It was like she always knew the best of him without expecting it. Or asking for it. And the way she would bring him to life! Since that morning when she had decided to teach him how to cure her hangover.

He didn't know he was so upset at the ongoing feeling of never been up to par, of never been good enough (even though he was supposed to be the 'most awesome') until that morning. Katara had kept complaining about him in public, and that had made him both irritated and reckless. He recognized now that his entire relationship with Katara had been a source of unspoken frustration. It had taken him a while to acknowledge this to himself, mainly because it hurt. Or it used to. A lot. It was a one-way liaison where she would let herself be loved and he was always the active partner, the one investing romantic feelings, fighting the sentiment that she was one step ahead. Somehow it always felt like she was making a concession. Aang had thought for a while that he had enough love for both of them. At the end, that had not been the case.

'You don't always get what you want.'

Aang couldn't honestly say that he knew what he wanted anymore. Maybe he would never know. Wanting something so bad was an illusion, one of those illusions Guru Pathik warned him about. What it was evident, though, was that he had stumbled upon what he needed. By mistake.

It was not like he didn't notice Toph before. By the contrary, when he saw her on that boat he was honestly impressed at how much she had grown and developed during the last year, and how pretty she had become. Not that she wasn't before, but now it was not hidden. It was highlighted by the long hair, her curvy figure and her movements, unconsciously sauntering. He had even discussed it with Zuko and Sokka, when the were having one of Sokka's manly conversations. The three had been a little surprised, and Zuko had said that it had to do with the fact that they all had met Suki and Katara fairly developed, but Toph was another story. Now she was clean, and that counted for a lot. They had laughed at her, true, but the real core of her impact came during their daily interaction. Her sense of humor was fantastic. She had always been sharp, but now her humor was refined by age and intelligence, removing the crass and leaving the wit. She would amuse him to no end. He didn't remember laughing so hard, or feeling this carefree, since before the comet, since before he had to step into his role of a fully realized Avatar and get involved in serious reconstruction efforts.

That was the thing. Toph had the gift to make him feel less important and less responsible. He hated making comparisons in his head or his heart. Comparisons were not fair to anyone involved. But he did know that when he was with Toph she would never confused him with his role, even though, she accepted him for what he was. She would celebrate that he was a 'butt kicker unable to seriously kick butt' and would make him feel that his function of balance was not a burden but a reward, that he may use or not to his advantage. She would make the weight light.

That morning, when the three girls had been in bad shape, and she had started guiding him through how to cure her hangover, he had felt for the first time in a long, long time that maybe, just maybe, certain feelings, certain needs, weren't wrong. Not that she had done anything overtly to provoke him or seduce him, far from it. But just the rightness of her shape against his, the stimulus of the flowery smell of her hair, and how comfortable she seemed without awkwardness, without spacing out or without ignoring him, had open a door of possibilities and maybes.

It had been wrong from him to kiss her when she was just trying to help him. He knew that. He just couldn't help himself. To a lesser extent it had to do with the fact that he could be honest with her about things like his 'repopulating obligations' without her freaking out or treating him differently. To grand extent it had to do with her charming face and her efforts at trying to be seductive, imitating some sexy voice and treating him like a little kid when at least he knew more about kissing that she did. He couldn't resist her, so enticing even though she was not trying to tempt him. But once he started, he couldn't stop. Seriously. He just couldn't. He could feel her wake up. Her body would shiver and her mouth would become a feast of joy, an anteroom of pleasures that will prompt his wants, until all he wanted to do was to cross the doorstep.

After that first kiss, things became confusing. As in 'this is bad, but it feels good, so it cannot be that bad.' Not once did she bring up the future, the wrongness or the guilt. He knew now that there were reasons for it. She knew more than he did about his relationship. But at the time he was just grateful that she was not judging him, or looking at him like a roach, or acting like anything he wanted to do was inappropriate or sinful. And the Spirits knew she was a natural. From zero to one hundred. Total enjoyment of them, together. And he loved her for that.

Aang reclined in the bed and moved her a bit to put his head on the pillow next to hers. She stirred, still asleep, shifting her position and curling up on her side, which made him grateful because now he could spoon her while letting his mind wander. It was the wind. He couldn't sleep with the call of the wind on his ears. The monks would teach about the winds, they were airbenders, after all. The winds carried fantastic, foreign sounding, magical names. And each wind carried with it a different talent, a different tale. There was Mistral, the Northwest wind, of the sharp voice. And there was Siroco, the Southeast wind, hot and full of dust. And Lebeche, from the Southwest, that would carry soft accents from the past, and Gregal, cool and dry from the Northeast. There were many other winds, all of which he knew by name, albeit not in person. He had wanted to chase them as a child, convinced that sooner or later each airbender should face all the winds. He never had the chance before war and life happened, taking away the monks and his past, leaving him alone with a future. Aang was now, finally, in front of Tramontana, the fiercest of all the winds, and he was happy for that. The monks used to say that unguarded people lost their way when facing the Northern Wind, that the continuous howling of the Tramontana had a disturbing effect on the psyche. There was even an airbender saying that went something like 'as crazy as the North Wind.' Aang, however, had only felt joy every time he had gone out to follow the air current. He had gone windsurfing that morning while Toph stayed on the ground, looking at the mountains with her feet. He had faced the wind in bliss, wondering if it was true that after a while his senses would go away with it. Instead, he felt like a wind of change, hearing voices in the howl, and ended up coming down on cheerfulness, tumbling Toph on the ground, making her laugh while kissing her, whispering those nonsenses that she would seem to enjoy so much.

Aang smelled her hair in the pillow.

Lust and love. 'Was there even a difference?' He had wondered at the beginning. And then he had discovered that there was, even before she had thrown it to his face. He loved her, he had no doubts. But he also lusted after her. He did not know what came first, and he didn't care. It made no difference to him, to them, if he lusted after her because he loved her or if he fell in love with her as a result of his lust. He had always cared for her, and that was a strong base upon which to build love and lust. Aang removed the hair of his sleeping beauty to expose her ear. He nuzzled her neck carefully, quietly.

They had been in the summer house for several weeks now, and together for almost two seasons. It felt to him like five minutes. Winter was coming to an end, and the north wind was not constant. When they arrived at the house, it had been dormant, gathering energy for its next assault – well, at least that had been the way the male caretaker described it. The caretakers. They were interesting - an old couple that Toph insisted came with the house and who were probably part of the foundations. The wife was the daughter of the previous caretakers, who had been the children of the caretakers before them and so forth. Her name was Guo and her husband's was Du. Guo's family had been serving Toph's family for generations. Guo did not approve of their scandalous relationship. After kissing Toph on the ground that afternoon they had gone to their room to make love. He could see the critical expressions of the caretakers while she walked with him, souring at her laugh, frowning in distaste at her leading the way while holding his hand. Guo had seemed particularly offended, as if Toph's open interest in them being together was a personal insult to the old lady. She had taken care of Toph when she was a little blind girl, loyalty to the family ingrained on her like religion. That the shy, fragile blind girl that was to be protected at all times would show up now hand in hand with a flying boyfriend, refusing to obey any rules, among them the unbreakable rule that the Tramontana was not a play-wind, and that it must be taken seriously, would defy all of Guo's preconceptions and incur her scorn.

Toph couldn't care less. She was not hiding the nature of their relationship, and even though she would not say it, he knew that she expected him to do the same. Secret. The word had a foul taste now. It had been a beautiful word between them for a while, until she made him feel ashamed of it. She had told him that he was not better than her parents because he was keeping her a secret. That had felt like a spear on his chest. Mainly, because it implied shame. And he had been ashamed. Of the entire covert relationship. It hurt because it was the truth, a truth of sorts, though. He was not, and had never been, ashamed of her, but of himself. It was hard to explain -or maybe not that hard now. But he didn't like remembering that he had made her feel that way. He had made her sad, and said ugly, unjust things to her. And he felt bad every time he would remember. The fact that she would get angry at him again every time she would remember helped assuage the bad taste. He never thought he would welcome her bad temper until now. It was his atonement for being so stupid to begin with.

The days that followed the Agni Kai had been hectic days. He was anxious to take Toph away from the ice. For many reasons, the strongest being that he did not trust the gods and wanted to give her a chance to defend herself if he wasn't nearby. Also, he did not want Kuei near her. After kidnapping Bosco, he was probably asking for Kuei to exercise full retaliation, kidnapping her instead. Okay, maybe this was a far fetched notion but better safe that sorry. However, Aang couldn't leave the peace summit without closing some open issues with the nations, sanctioning some treaties and imparting some judgment. As the Avatar, it was his role to act as judge for grievances among the nations. Also, his birthday was that week and his friends had planned a celebration, so he needed to stay. Aang talked to Zuko, Sokka, Yin, Suki, and Katara about his concerns and without Toph's noticing, they made sure that there was always someone next to her if Aang wasn't available. He remembered a particularly endearing occasion, after finishing a long covenant between the Fire Nation and the North Pole. He and Zuko were talking and walking when they happened upon a lively crowd. Toph, Sokka, Suki, the fire soldiers and even Katara were playing dice and placing bets. Toph had been laughing, that mischievous, almost wicked laugh of hers. And all he wanted was to freeze the moment in time, keep the memory in a box, to re-open it and enjoy it years later. She had turned to him when she felt his presence, and yelled "Twinkles!!" and ran into his arms. He loved it when she would do that. When she was open with him and would ignore the whistles and crass comments of the other soldiers.

Years would pass, probably, before he could really grasp the enormity of the love of his little woman, he was sure of that. Years before he would fully comprehend why he was such a willing captive of such liberating relationship. Aang shook his head and held her closer, spooning her even more. The warm contact of her soft skin brought an immediate reaction from him. Arousal was always the way his body would deal with Toph. The monks always referred to romantic love as something to be enjoyed but necessarily fleeting. Enlightenment required letting go. He had decided at one point that he didn't want to be enlightened, got electrocuted by Azula and then decided that it was his destiny to be enlightened anyway. But now he understood why the monks were wary of such overwhelming feelings, because they took away control from yourself.

Aang had always been very good at controlling the feelings. He had followed all the rules of communing with nature while controlling his impulses, and would not indulge in self-gratification. He would wake up certain mornings after unnerving dreams finding out that he had made a mess. He would use his waterbending skills to clean the mess and would try not to think about it too much. His engagement to Katara had not made things that much harder because of the platonic nature of their interactions. Now that she was with Zuko he could see the difference in her demeanor. The way she would look at the firebender and the implications of their relationship, he wondered why he didn't see it before. Not that he had been completely clueless, but the old adage 'the worse blind is he who doesn't want to see' had proven true. The entire thing had been screaming at him in the face. He had doubts before Toph came to the South Pole, all charm and fun. He had thought that a commitment ceremony would cure some of the problems and that, worse case, he and Katara would settle in a comforting relationship, like the one they had now, where they could do valuable work for the world and grow old together. He did not think in terms of riding koi fishes anymore, as it was not expected of him. Other things were, like responsibility, gravitas and children. Aang shuddered and buried his face on Toph's hair. He had been really upset when Zuko and Katara confessed, but it was a strange anger. He did not want to break Zuko's face as much as to break his own staff on his own head. It had hurt, a lot, but it was like settling a dislocated bone. Once the first shock of pain wore off, things made sense and he felt oddly free - and unreservedly stupid. He thought he was doing the honorable thing by choosing his intended instead of his lover, and found out that it was the worse illusion of them all. The illusion of doing the right thing while destroying that you cared about. There has been another, more insidious, illusion broken: that of the perfect Katara. That was a deeply hidden hurt, that he had not confessed to anyone and that he had not let permeate his outward actions. It was not Katara's fault. It was his, and the impossible expectations he had set upon her. Funny thing was, he never placed such expectations on Toph and somehow that leveled the playing field. When dealing with her, Aang was always dealing with an equal, with the same amount of flaws and virtues, and truth be told, it was a relief.

Aang moved a bit, separating his body from her sleeping form to better look at her under the moonlight.

He loved his delicate looking earthbender. He carefully and deliberately refused to control neither his impulses nor his wants when he was with her, partly because he couldn't … and partly because, truthfully, he didn't want to. Aang wondered if she was what his destiny had in store for him. The monks said that each airbender would face one day the wind that knew his secret name and that it would call to him like a furtive voice. He had heard the call, but not in the crazy accent of the Tramontana. He heard it on the ground, that afternoon, with his eyes closed, when Toph was teaching him to see the farthest peaks with his senses. It took him a while to digest that the call was not coming from the wind but from the earth.

And now, insomniac as a result of the wind's lament, Aang wondered about his destiny. Because on the flip side of fertility festivals and two hundred concubines was the fact that, if that was all you had, you were alone. Utterly alone, with a temple full of women and children that wouldn't know you. He remember his childhood with the monks. There was the presumption that the community was all that was needed emotionally, and that the search for enlightenment and inner peace should satisfy or assuage other desires, not all of them of the flesh but of the soul. Aang had been lucky. He had developed a deep bond with Gyatso, while some of his playmates and companions never had such relationship with anyone. Now, after seeing Sokka with Hakoda, and understanding Zuko's quiet pain about his father or his devotion, always tainted with remorse, to his uncle, Aang comprehended that his bond with Gyatso had been more than friendship, had been parental. And he understood more: he grasped that it has been as important to Gyatso as it had been to him, and that the attachment had eased the older monk's loneliness. Because Gyatso was a loving person, and sometimes is not possible to love the entire world. Sometimes, loving people just want to focus their love on a few. Aang felt a familiar pang on his heart while thinking that their connection and affection had probably cost Gyatso his life and the world to spiral into one hundred years of war. At the same time, and maybe for the first time he also realized that Gyatso would have sacrificed his life happily if it meant that Aang, his foster son, would get to live. Foster son. Gyatso probably had children of his own, scattered around the temples, that he wasn't able to acknowledge as such to keep the traditions of community. But not all monks were suited for the open concept community, and suddenly, the terrible notion of Gyatso's loneliness hit Aang square in the chest. He felt repelled at the idea of not raising his children, or sharing them with anyone else but the sleeping woman beside him, and he felt tears pooling in his eyes. He had never felt the need before to own anything. Appa was given to him as a companion, and his friends had all been gifts, but he had no real use for, or sense of, worldly possessions. But since that bizarre, crazy Contest, he couldn't look at Toph, or be with her, without feeling some level of possessiveness. And it was intense, and it was beautiful, and it was fulfilling.

Toph stirred again, probably feeling the prick of his stare. She would do that often. She would know when he was looking at her even if he thought her distracted. She rolled over on her back and suddenly opened her eyes, blinking, trying to place the source of the prick.

"Aang?" She asked, her fingers searching for his face. She found it and moved her fingers around his features, trying to understand the emotion coming from him. "What's wrong?" Her fingers touched his tears. He removed one of her hands from his eyes and kissed the tips of her fingers, without answering. She caressed his face.

"Tell me," she said.

"I don't think Gou and Du approve of our scandalous relationship," he said quietly, knowing that that comment would entertain her but not deceive her.

She shrugged, still half asleep.

"Guo used to hide me from the neighbors. She wouldn't let me go out and play on the beach unless everyone was gone for the day. She would scold my nannies if any of them tried to sneak me into town. I'm blind, I didn't care about the fact that it was not daytime, but I did care about the fact that she never let me interact with other kids. Her loyalties are to my dad. I don't care about her opinion. Let her disapprove all she wants. She still has to cook, clean and wait on us."

The moon fell full on her now, the wind still weeping on the outside, banging on the shutters. Her breasts, gorgeous by all accounts, shone silver like her back did before. Her flat stomach, her small waist, her navel, the promise of delights, everything shone under the moonlight and the moon shadows.

"I don't like people judging us," he said and let his fingers trace her, this time touching her.

Her expression was thoughtful.

"People will always judge. You're the Avatar, you're the last of the airbenders, duties are going to be imposed on you. It's the way it works."

She touched his face again.

"Now, tell me what's wrong," she said with a sweet tone that defied denial. When she was sweet, he was undone. That how it was between them.

He kissed her fingers again and this time he was crying.

"I love you. I don't want to be with anyone else. I don't care if my people die with me, I don't want to deal with that responsibility."

She embraced him and he put his face on her neck.

"You don't have to if you don't want to. You're still very young. Give time its due. It will tell."

He held her tight, his body against her, and felt her hands caressing his sides, moving skillfully to his arousal, making him tremble with her knowledgeable fingers.

"Now," she said on his ear. "I can tell what's right. Do you want me to help?" He nodded on her neck, like a child, moving on top of her, kissing her neck, nibbling on it. She moved gingerly, already an expert on what he liked, and precisely on how he liked it. When he was seated deeply inside her, feeling warm and comforted in his Toph-cocoon, he didn't move. He just wanted to feel her, so she caressed his back and raised her knees, crossing her ankles high at his back. He licked her neck and muttered.

"Marry me."

She did not bolt, he had to give her that. She caressed his ear and he felt her smile against his cheek.

"Why? So Gou and Du would stop judging us?"

He started moving, in and out of her, letting the sway of his pleasure point the conversation.

"I couldn't care less about their opinion," he said.

"You're lying." She started kissing him. She loved kissing while making love. He loved it too.

"I want to have legal flyingbabies."

"You're lying."

"I want everyone to know that you're mine."

She stopped moving, her frown burrowed.

"You're not lying." And then. "Why?"

"Because I never had anything that was really mine. I mean, only mine. Besides Appa."

She started moving and kissing him again, with joy and abandon, which was not the same as to say that she agreed with him.

"I thought I told you my opinion about 'mine'. Anyway, if I'm like Appa, go and marry Appa."

"Not the same."

"I can be your mistress. Appa can give me nasty looks every time you show up late."

"Nope. All of our friends ride on Appa. I don't want that kind of wife. Anyway, Appa is a boy."

They were building up to that point when conversation becomes superfluous.

"Shut up," she said, grabbing his lower back, picking up the pace following his rhythm.

"Say yes."

"Like that, yes, oh yes."

"Not that kind of yes."

There she was again, making him laugh. Against all possibilities, in the middle of their desire, while turning him down (for now), she could still make him laugh. And he was a trickster who knew the value of a good laugh, so he decided to let it go. There was time to convince her. She was not going anywhere, he knew that about her, and neither was he - he knew that about himself. Except for right now. When he was going into her, carefully stroking her need the way he had learned, making her forget about everything except him, forcing her to spend herself on him while calling his name. The wind was crying on the outside, carrying madness with it. He too could forget about everything except her. Yes, there was time for anything else.

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La Rosa de los Vientos: Foreign for Wind Rose, is a graphic tool used by meteorologists to give a view of how wind speed and direction are distributed. Wind roses typically use 16 cardinal points, such as N, NE, etc., although they may be subdivided into as many as 32 directions. You can see an image of a rose wind depicting the Mediterranean winds on my profile. Just click on it. In Foreign, the name of this device sounds so poetic, you have no idea.

I always imagine that Airbenders, like sailors, taught each other the secrets of the winds. The Winds' names carry so much beauty and music in them: the Trade winds, the Abroholos (Brazil), the Alisios (Caribbean), the Ostro (Italy), the Pampero (Argentina), the Chinook (US), etc. All cultures had at least one god of the Winds, most had several.

So I imagine the airbenders being versant on the winds, and the personalities that come with them. The Southern Winds are usually warm. That would explain Gyatso and Aang's personalities. Maybe those monks that wanted to make sure Aang was ready to fight were from the North. The Western Winds are usually mild, and the Eastern are welcoming. So the fact that the nuns were from the East and the West make complete sense in a windery way …

Anecdote: Once I was in the Spanish Costa Brava and experienced the north wind, La Tramontana. I almost finished head first in the sea.

Recommendation: If you read Foreign there's a beautiful short story by Colombian Nobel Prize winner Gabriel Garcia Marquez called Tramontana. This is the link if you want to read it:

http : / / www dot literatura dot us / garciamarquez /tramonta dot html

Fanart

Sorry for the lack of shame and pimping myself here, but I drew Aang's suave kissing techniques (you know the 'kissing by ambush' mastery that got him the waterbender in the finale, yeah, right) from chapter 7 of this story. Here is the link if you want to see it:

http : / / adridere dot deviantart dot com / art / AMoH-Kissing-Ninja-Taang-101962820 or just click on my profile.

I mentioned before that I'm not an artist, I never took a class so sorry for any lack of grace.

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