A. N. : I think one of the worst things to write is a purposefully inexact description of something. "Character doesn't know the name of the thing and has to describe it using only terms he knows" kind of thing. It's gotta be accurate, but also how do you describe a thing succintly with limited vocabulary. How. On the other hand, writing half-asleep people is fun. Silver linings.

Sokka can't sleep.

Maybe it's the stress. The anticipation. The joy. All of it. Maybe it's because the house is way too big for two people and a student to stay in it. Sokka wonders if Master Piandao often has guests around. That must be why this house is so damn huge. So huge Sokka feels crushed by the emptiness of it.

There is no one next to him. No Katara moving around to the point that she ends up on the other side of the campsite, no Aang mumbling in his sleep. No Appa snoring. Not even Momo snuggling up to him.

His window is open and he hears insect noises and the wind passing through leaves, but it's not enough to keep the loneliness at bay.

Sokka has never slept alone before.

He tries to focus on the good things instead. Tomorrow he'll make a sword. His sword. Master Piandao said he was ready.

Master Piandao praised him. Sokka failed all the creative exercises, but Master Piandao said it was alright. Said it was good.

Maybe it's too good to be true and Sokka will wake up tomorrow with no sword and no master. That's a scary thought. It doesn't help with falling asleep.

He should sleep. He's got a sword to make tomorrow, better be well rested. Plus, there's no way he dreamt all these blows he got from Phat. There is literally no comfortable position he can sleep in now. Thanks Phat, it doesn't help either.

The chamomile helps, though. Underneath the grumpy outside, the armor, and the total lack of hesitation when it comes to hitting Sokka with a wooden sword, Phat is actually a pretty nice guy. Probably.

Sokka still wonders what kind of sword Phat uses normally. He is completely sure it isn't a jian, Phat's style doesn't match at all. Maybe Sokka should go with a jian, just like Master Piandao. It's not really copying if it suits him, right ?

Or maybe he should go with a short sword like the one Suki used. He only held one twice, one out of curiosity and the other when Suki told him he wasn't ready for one and they should focus on the fan for the moment – too clumsy for that yet, Suki had said, and she had been right – but now Sokka thinks he could manage. The range would be shorter than with a jian, sure, but he has long arms.

It wouldn't feel right, though, using one when he isn't a Kyoshi Warrior. No silk thread, no insignia, pride and honor in the fluid dance he had tried his best to remember, the dance that saved his life on that spirits damned ship –

Did Suki kill before ? Maybe not – Kyoshi Island did its best to stay out of the War after all. Pride and honor and death. Sokka had never wondered how there mixed before, but now the question haunts him.

He did what he had to do. He isn't guilty of anything. But pride and honor as a warrior ? Maybe it's because he went ice-dodging too late that he doesn't get it. Maybe there's nothing to get and the men back home lied so they wouldn't worry anyone. Maybe the lie wasn't even for others.

That's fine. Sokka can lie. Pride and honor and the dance of the Kyoshi Warriors and the artful calligraphy of Master Piandao. No take-backs. Just like death. Art to hide the stench of bodies suffocating everyone around. Art to sublime empty eyes and cold hands and red –

Sokka has never been all that good at art.

He rolls on his side. He should really sleep now. Spirits, his shoulder hurts. Master Piandao probably doesn't even know how to make a Kyoshi Warrior sword. No way he could teach Sokka. A jian it is.

He wonders how different the process will be, compared to the boomerang Dad made him. Obviously, the mold won't be the same. Sokka remembers watching Dad polish the steel until he could see his reflection in it, remembers thinking how cool it was that this – this was for him.

He remembers asking how come metal was so shiny when the rock it came from wasn't. How come metal came from rock when they were obviously not the same thing.

Could metal come from any rock ?

The star that fell yesterday – it was only yesterday, spirits – it was just a big rock in the end. Could he make metal out of it ? Maybe not for the sword, though that would be fucking awesome, but even just in theory – ah, maybe he should ask Toph. If anyone knows about that, it's her.

A sword made from space rock would be so cool. Zuko and Jet would be jealous. Especially Jet, since he doesn't even have any sword at the moment. Ah, maybe Zuko could give Sokka some tips – wait, no, he uses – daos, and also two of them. Shit, Sokka should've asked Master Piandao how that sort of thing works.

But maybe it's better like that. He can train – using his boomerang while holding his sword in the other hand that way. And he – he can grab stuff while fighting. Yeah.

He yawns.

Once he finds Suki – it's getting really hard to think – once he finds her, he could ask – ask her to teach him more. She prefers the fan but she was – she looked – good, with a sword. Like a dancer. Master Piandao – Master Piandao would like her.

Sokka misses her.