This ones extremely AU, and I would really appreciate feedback.
It had been so easy—too easy. The way the mother's hands were hard and callused, (water-bender hands were always smooth), the way her eyes flickered desperately to the little girl who'd stumbled in, the way her voice caught when she told him she was the one he was looking for.
"I'm not taking prisoners," he said flatly, and then he extinguished her life with a flick of his wrist before spinning and taking the girl's life in the same movement. It wasn't difficult, but nor was it as easy as he'd hoped. He'd hoped months of killing would have deadened him to the uncomfortable prickles that persistently itched at what was once his heart. Obviously, he still retained a bit of a conscience.
What a pity.
He sighed, turning his back on the two corpses on the ground and walked out. Mission accomplished. It was over.
Things had gone perfectly to plan.
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"Things have not gone according to plan!" the Painted Lady was furious, her normally calm demeanor shattered as she raged.
"Why do you even care?" Koh asked, "More importantly, why am I here, listening to you rant? I should be off stealing faces." She turned and glared, but the face-stealer just yawned. He was bored, there were faces to steal, and while the one yelling at him was one he'd love to possess—stealing another spirit's face was taboo.
"While he's putting it in an extremely humanistic way—that is to say, he's being barbarically rude—Koh raises a good point." Enma wrapped his long legs around the rock he was currently perched on and blinked at the Painted Lady curiously, "Forgive me, my dear, but aren't you a bit far from home?"
"The Spirit World is my home," the Painted Lady snapped, "Just because I choose to spend my time productively—"
"Ahem, yes, of course. Keeping the humans from destroying your river and yet healing them so they can attempt to pollute it time and time again, very productive." Enma swallowed hard as her glare, which had been firmly fixed on Koh, turned on him. "What I meant to say was," he said quickly, "Why are you so interested in a Water-Tribe girl? Perhaps she is the last of the water-benders in her tribe, but that has nothing to do with you."
"It has everything to do with her. It has everything to do with all of us." The voice was like sand, and the three jumped like children who'd been caught bickering by an esteemed teacher. Long-Shen was the first dragon ever to exist—which basically meant he was as old as time itself. He fixed the three spirits with a stern, heavy-lidded eye. "Sit."
They sat—even Koh forsook his dignity and plopped down on the nearest stone. Long made a noise that was suspiciously like a snort, and then moved out into the open. Even in the Spirit World, where he was free to control his shape, he was massive—his head about the size of Koh's entire body. Enma quaked.
"I have called you all here," Long said, (oh, that's why I'm here. I knew Ms. Go Green couldn't have had the authority to force me here.), "Yes, Koh," his voice, if possible, had gone even drier, "I knew you wouldn't listen to her, so I summoned you. And you as well, Enma. Now stop fidgeting and pay attention, both of you."
The two spirits froze, leaving the Painted Lady to smirk under her hat. Long shot her a wry look, but didn't comment. "This girl is not as insignificant as you seem to think," he rasped instead, "Katara of the Southern Water-Tribe is essential to the survival of the Four Kingdoms. Without her, the human world will be covered in flames within the year. Even with her, there is no guarantee it will survive the trials it is about to go through—and has been going through."
"So let the humans destroy themselves," Enma muttered, "Good riddance, if you ask me."
"No one did," the Painted Lady said, "As usual."
"No need to get uppity, my dear," the monkey-like spirit said, "I'm just stating the obvious fact that the humans are not exactly the most magnificent creatures in existence."
"I know that more than anybody," Long-Shen's voice hardened, "Little spirit, do not forgot that these people attempted to destroy my children."
"Then why try to save them?" Enma asked, his fur shaking but his tongue still as agile as ever, "Why not just let them go?"
Long-Shen's eyes slitted, the golden pupils dilating and filling both his eyes until they were like pools of liquid gold. "These humans may be monstrous at times, but they are also beautiful, resilient—unique. You and I will never change, for we have no reason to, but to change is their nature. When you have been alive as long as I have, you will understand."
"So how shall we do it?" the Painted Lady asked eagerly, "How shall we send her back?"
"Is it even possible?" Koh asked lazily, "As far as I know, only a select few can pass between the mortal realms and the spirit realms. The only human among those few happens to be trapped in a ball of solid ice."
"As far as you know," Long-Shen mused, "Well, we are fortunate the fate of humanity does not rest on what you know, Koh the Face-Stealer, or even I would despair." The Painted Lady made a sound very close to a snort, but covered her mouth as Koh turned to glare at her.
"There is a way," Long-Shen continued, "But it will involve a sacrifice from all of us, and from her as well." He motioned, and suddenly the glowing body of the little girl materialized in front of them. "She is dead. That is certain. However, she is the most powerful water-bender to be born in centuries, and her body has already healed. All we need to do is revive the soul."
"Which would mean—" Koh sounded disgusted, "You'd have us play nursemaid to this child."
"Yes, that is the sacrifice we would make. The process of placing her soul in her body will render a part of your energy part of her forever. She will always be able to communicate and travel between the spirit world and the mortal one, as well as extremely attuned to each of us. And because of this it will be our responsibility to guide her. She was powerful before—but this kind of ability will make her unprecedented."
"Yes, well," Enma coughed as the huge golden eyes came to rest on him, "Ah—of course I will be happy to educate the child. She is still young, and perhaps I can—ahem—rectify some of the flaws seemingly inherent to her kind."
"You already have my support and gratitude," the Painted Lady said, eyes fixed on the little girl's face, "This child will have all the guidance I can give."
Koh shifted as all three pairs of eyes came to rest on him—the only sign of discomfort he'd shown since Long-Shen had surprised them all by showing up. He gave a sigh, "Fine, I won't take her face. Maybe it'll be interesting to have a live human around."
"Very good," somehow the dragon-spirit sounded both dignified and smug as their energies flowed into the little girl. His eyes softened as he watched her body slowly filling with colors again. "I'm sorry, little one."
"Ah yes," Enma said, catching the words, "What will this child need to give up? She cannot return to the human world exactly as she left, it is not how the universe operates."
Long-Shen's breath escaped his scaly lips in a long hiss, "From this moment on, Katara of the Water-Tribe will be unable to utter a sound. Though she will perform healing wonders on others, she will never be able to heal, or be healed by anyone or anything. Only here, where such things are insignificant, will she have a voice."
The three spirits nodded in solemnity, recognizing the seriousness of the moment. As Long-Shen's pronouncement faded away, the girl's body slowly melted along with it, until she was completely gone. And in the next moment, the clearing where a life had been restored from the dead was completely empty.
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The Water-Tribe boy cried as he huddled beside the cold body of his little sister. His mother had been carried away and buried hours ago, and his father was sitting at the other side of the tent, cheeks wet but eyes steady. His son needed him. "Sokka," the man said gently, "You need to let go. Katara needs to join her mother in the ice."
"She's not dead," the boy insisted stubbornly, "Dad, she can't be dead. There's no wound."
"I know, son, but she's not breathing." Hakoda walked over to his daughter and touched her cheek with one gloved hand. He could see why his son was so adamant that his sister was alive. Katara didn't look injured, but she'd been lying there without breath for almost half a day. There was no way she could be alive.
And then, suddenly, she was.
Hakoda would never forget what happened next. Katara's face bloomed with color and her eyes opened—blue, frightened, but conscious. She coughed silently and opened her mouth to cry, but nothing came out. A dark scar spanned her throat, marking her for life, and Hakoda knew she would never speak again.
As he crushed her to him in a hug as full of desperation as it was love, however, he knew it didn't matter.
She was alive.