generalflirt | ~♥THIRTY-SIX♥~

[And also at the implication she'd underestimate her own granddaughter, but essentially--]

Yes!

[With a stomped foot, even.

And you know what? She's not dealing with this right now. Chew on that, she's turning on her heel and walking off.]

Edited 2012-07-15 02:20 (UTC)

[...

Oh fine. Here's the reply. He starts to follow behind Katara, holding up the book so it plays back this reply]:

I know a bit about his world, but not lots yet. It's too bad he didn't get to go, though. Does Katara still have the clothes you got her? Where'd you get money? Or did you keep it when you got here to begin with?

[...Shit he didn't want to play that part back. Oh well, too late now.]

Katara's my family, but she's not GranGran yet, 'cept I keep calling her that, 'cause she kinda is. I dunno - no one says how long she's been here, 'cept Smoker's been here two years and thinks she's been here longer than him, 'cause when I asked she just said "a long time", 'cause sometimes grown ups don't tell me things, but then some other grown ups do so I can usually figure it out anyway.

But y'know, GranGran is old and taught the Avatar and lives in the South Pole, and she's got a voice that's warm and old and she's patient and whenever we see her she'll give us hugs that are home even if they're not.

Katara hugs me like that, but she doesn't remember me being born or my sister or my brothers, and she remembers stuff GranGran wouldn't, and she says I can't have soda and candy 'cept sometimes like mommy would, and makes sure we always have enough veggies, and I help set the table and cook when I can, and she sleeps in all the time and I never knew GranGran did that, and she worries 'bout me 'cause she mentions things and talks 'round things that other people talk about.

Katara is Katara and GranGran is GranGran and they're the same but they're different, too. I really, really love them both.

[ Ikki trails off, humming, for a moment ] Oh! But, y'know, Katara should probably go on more all day dates. 'Cause she does almost all the shopping and stuff, and I'm gonna try to do more of it when I can, and I try to clean the vegetables and stuff, and I always clean up my room, but I think she should go do fun things more, too. 'Cause I do fun things, even though I do airbending training for a few hours a day, y'know?

Edited 2012-07-15 02:27 (UTC)

[Katara stopped walking when he started following her playing his journal. Ikki's voice deserves her attention and whatever point he's proving isn't one where she wants him to be advertising this while following her around.

She can't help but wonder what brought on this long analysis of the distinctions between herself and Ikki's "GranGran," but her heart is warmed when she hears that she hugs them in the same way, however small and humble and lost the rest of it makes her feel. Humbled, lost, and also loved.

...but when she hears the ending paragraph, Katara's jaw sets. She did work hard to provide a happy, healthy, clean and comfortable home for her family. She didn't work alone. She roped them all in on Cleaning Day and made sure to have help for the big things. Everyone contributed. That was the way a community worked. Play more? Be more fun?

It breaks her heart and it grieves her, because she works so that Ikki can see this as an option. Some people have been taken care of their entire life. Others move into caregiver positions far too early. And for Katara, the choice had already been made. It was a loss that she grieved, that she couldn't be fun, that they all thought her too serious and practical, the wet blanket.

But she was who she was. She couldn't take it back. And she chokes on a sob and she's irrationally angry at Ikki, who is speaking into things she has no knowledge and no concept of, whose vision of the world was so childlike that airbending training was the extent of her perceived personal responsibilities - and she was furious at Masaomi for seeking to use this against her.

So she waits. Until the message is done. And without looking back at him starts to walk away. She's tempted to break into a run, because she doesn't think she's going to be able to keep herself from crying further.]

[...Not quite the result he expected, but he rationalizes that Katara needed to hear that. It was necessary for her to understand Ikki's commentary so that she could move past it. So that she could grab her own happiness. He's tempted to say the line that he's been waiting to say this whole time... but now isn't he time. He'll say it later. Or he'll say it if she stops when she hears what he has to say next.]

Edited 2012-07-15 03:33 (UTC)

For the record, I admire your dedication! But I also love when we do fun things together, and it is for that selfish reason that I'm going to be seeking to do more of them with you from now on!

[That and he promised Ikki. He doesn't follow her more, he just calls this at her retreating form]

But in the realm of less selfish whims, when you want help, never hesitate to ask for me, because I will help!

[And he might help her even if she doesn't ask]

[No. Just no. The words are on her tongue to turn around and yell at him, but she won't do it. Not enough fun, huh? Seeking to do more of it?

No. She's not going to show him how much this hurts, and she won't bother putting down a blanket refusal right now because that would mean talking to him.

And she really doesn't want to do that. He thinks he can just - tear her down whenever he pleases, destroy the value of her life, call it perverse - and then offer to come in and fix it as if accepting help was all that she needed?

A sob does escape - and she stops walking for a moment, stands stock-still with both hands clenched into fists. She's trembling.

Her voice is very low:]

Walk away.

Edited 2012-07-15 03:45 (UTC)

[...If he walks away now, is it cowardice?

If he walks away now, are they friends?

He doesn't know the distinction, and that terrifies him. He knew going into this he was going to rip her to her core to force her to face some very necessary truths about her own happiness. He doesn't know if he succeeded. He doesn't know if he planted the seeds for him to see her smile. He wants to hope he did the right thing. When she's there, sobbing and trembling with something he knows is probably fury at him, he can't help but want to go up to her and hug her from behind. He really wants to do that.

I'm sick of being the bad guy all the time.

But no, he resolved that this role was necessary. Had he done anything else, she would have ignored him. Had he done anything else, the status quo would persist. And frankly speaking, the status quo will kill her. The status quo will swallow her alive. But it hurts to see her talking to him like this. It hurts to feel like he has to poke areas he didn't even know were there just to make any progress.

He didn't advance towards her. He doesn't bother to try to get in a last word. He just takes a sharp inhale of breath and then crouches down to sit there. None threatening, devoured by his own...

Shame?

It can't be shame, because he did the right thing here. He holds on to that: ultimately, what he has done, he has done for her, and it was the right thing.

Still, he's barely comforted as Linda races up to leap onto his back. He keeps looking at her back, but hopes she takes it as the sign he's not going to pursue her more. He... doesn't even know where he could walk now.

This sucks. Are they still even friends? He hates risking that.]

[He doesn't walk away. Which is unfortunate. Because neither does she.

It's not in her to take these kind of hits and not strike back. It's not her nature to allow someone to devalue her and her choices.

She doesn't want to rip in to him.

But yes, she does. He hurt her, deeply, in areas of her heart already broken.

She gave him a chance to walk away.

Slowly exhaling, her pride won't allow him to see the evidence of her pain so clearly on her face, so she bends away the tear trails before she turns around and walks back over to him.]

[He is, frankly speaking, only dimly aware of the fact she turned around. He's only dimly aware of the fact she's walking back over. He's still curled up in a ball on the ground, Linda now on his back. But.

Ah, Linda.

Mostly to occupy himself as he waits for what he probably deserves, he pulls out his pokeball to call Linda back into it. Better that she not be involved. She makes a noise of protest, but can't resist vanishing in a flash of red either]

[She stops a few feet away from him.

There are any number of ways to go about this.

How old were you when your parents split up?

When was the last time you had to worry about what you were going to eat?

Have you ever had to sit there and watch while the only other person your age in a village got to go off and play soldier while you were stuck doing laundry?

You have no right to judge me.

You've trampled over my preferences, attacked my friends, deliberately torn into my heart, attempted to shake my faith in the person I trust most in all the world, used my granddaughter against me, completely disrespected me, and in general proven that for all your stated intentions, the practical application of our relationship is one which will only bring both of us pain. And I'm tired of being hurt.]

I was eight when my mother died. She was killed in a Fire Nation raid.

[...Ah.

His eyes widen in his crouch. Did he know that? No, I didn't know. He knew that her mother meant a lot to her. He had guessed, by implication, that her mother was the one who supplied her with that necklace (her or her father, one of them, but this confirms which) but he had never-

The conversation they had on the bridge takes on a new dimension. He didn't know he had more tears left, but it turns out he does, because with his eyes wide more of them start to flow out on his hung head. Because he also comes to a realization. A realization opposite of the one he has had for the whole time he has known her, a realization which suddenly puts so many of their disagreements into context. He doesn't want to interrupt her with it though. He knows now though:

Wow, your world is awful too.]

[She doesn't want to dwell on her mother's death. She doesn't want to talk about how her mom gave up her life for hers - it's too painful and raw - and right now, too precious to trust him with. She doesn't want to dishonor her mom in order to make a point. She's just setting the scene. But she can't help one more comment-]

This is her necklace. She always wore it.

My GranGran was already old. My father was grief-stricken, and responsible for helping to rebuild the village. It was just me and Sokka. Dad made time for us when he could, and those were the best days. The other women of the village helped for a time, but they had their own concerns. I had to find a way to help them so that they could help us.

Do you want to know what a typical day was like?

[This is a pause, but this isn't an option. You're going to have to hear it.]

We'd get up at sunrise, stir up the fire, maybe there would be some leftover fish from the night before, or maybe we'd be working off the fat - it was my job to help cut it. Sokka and Dad would go out to hunt or fish, and I would stay home to clean. The making and mending of clothes is extremely important in the South Pole - too much exposure can quickly kill you. So I had to learn skinning and tanning and sewing, and find a way to do the same share that my mother would have done. At noon, in the warm part of the day, the men would come back and do work around the village. They would be hungry. We'd feed them.

Sometime after that Sokka and I might have a lesson with GranGran, or I'd be put in charge of babysitting while the women did more complex work and Sokka and Dad went out again. It was how I paid them back for doing the work that was too complex for me and GranGran.

[She pauses for a breath.]

Edited 2012-07-15 05:02 (UTC)

[But that's not right. That's not how it should be. That can't be right. She had said live at the South Pole was hard and he believed her - of course it was, it was the South fucking Pole (why would anyone even live there?) but he had harked on about community and family and-

That's fair at all. How in the fuck can she go on about fairness? How can she tell him he's not being fair, how can she even care after being subjected to that?

His eyes are wide and tears are still streaming down them, but he's no longer looking down, instead, he looks up at her face. Wide eyed, pale, looking like he's about to be sick. That's not right. It's not right. The war was a hundred years old. She had said that, hadn't she? The world was in turmoil, but it was old. The war couldn't have caused that level of suffering that long after. It couldn't have. It doesn't make sense]

[She sees him looking up at her like that, and though her heart twists, she doesn't stop. She's numb and determined. He wants to tear into her? He wants her to have more fun? Let him see what he's ripping into. Just a glimpse. Even now, she's careful not to talk too much about how it made her feel.]

There were a lot of little kids in the village - all at least four years younger than I was - although there were less after that last raid. People moved. The village split up. It was safer that way. I'd have probably wound up spending a lot of time babysitting anyway, but this was different, and everyone knew it.

[Do you know what it's like, she wants to say, to watch little girls be taught by their mothers? Do you know what it's like to try to show that you're finishing up just fine so that your father and your brother won't be lacking?

But she doesn't. She won't talk about that.]

After the afternoon chores, the men would come home again for dinner. We'd eat together. Sometimes the men would play games. Sometimes the women would sing. Then we'd go to bed and start again the next day.

[She's not done.]

I was twelve when my father took all the men in the village and went to war.

Edited 2012-07-15 05:33 (UTC)

[I was twelve when my father took all the men in the village and went to war.

He knew that already, he distantly realizes. He knew that her war started two years before her journey started because her father had left. At the time, he had pitied her, hadn't he? Pitied that she too was denied a father the way he was. But now, he realizes his own arrogance, because it wasn't the way he was. His father doesn't care about him and his mother wishes he didn't exist, he suspects, but Yori Kida still gave him money, still helped him so that he didn't starve. Her father had left them alone.

Completely alone in a community she goes on and on about every single time being a close knit group, but a group she needed to repay? A group she needed to barter he life away to for basic comforts? Her mother was dead, her father had abandoned her, and from the stories, Sokka was an entitled useless piece of shit by comparison to her.

Three images shatter in his head all at once. Her ideal of family is just that, an ideal. Her own never had that, and she is subjecting what she wishes or perhaps believes it was on the world. Sokka isn't a perfectly respectable paragon of masculinity and composure - he too was a worthless asshole in his youth. And finally... Finally, her world isn't just. Defeating a villain won't fix that. Ending the war won't fix that. People will still be suffering for decades after they win. She had mentioned rebuilding, and she had sounded reluctantly hopeful the one time they had talked about it.

...I never knew anything.

I never knew, I couldn't know.

He has to speak, he has to say something to let her know that he understand a little more now, that he knows what he did wrong, that he didn't realize how much this would hurt her. He opens his mouth-

and when he does, he keels over and vomits all over the space in front of him.]

Edited 2012-07-15 05:42 (UTC)

[Vomit, no matter how many disgusting things you've seen, is still disgusting, smelly, and disturbing to watch.

And in this case, it was also completely unexpected.

Fortunately, she was standing several feet away, so the vomit didn't hit anything, but.

Her lips form a flat line.

She had more to say. She'd wanted to talk about how life was after their father left, about how she and Sokka had been in charge, about how there were less mouths to feed but less food to feed it with, about how she'd had to watch Sokka take on the responsibility of being a man for the whole village with next to nothing she could do to help, about how he'd taken on the training of the boys, about quiet nights, with no games, and no singing, and just staring out over the ocean in the watchtower her brother had built.

If she took this sickness to be a sign that she was getting through to him, she could have cut to the point: You don't get to call my decision to care for my family perverse. You don't get to judge my life by how much fun I am. This is who I am.

But she doesn't push the point home. She could break him, right now, if she did that, and she doesn't want to break him. But she is still so hurt from what he said, from what he did... She doesn't say anything. But she doesn't move to help him, either. She'll glance politely to the side and let him clean himself up in silence.]

[He throws up some more. He keeps going and every time he thinks he's stopped, he tries to speak, he keeps looking up and over to her. But... he never manages it. He just keep heaving there on the ground. He dimly recognizes it's all over his feet now, and as he braces himself his hands are in the resulting puddle. It gets all over his him, as it is coming out of his mouth and his nose. His nose burns. His eyes burn. And when he's finally kneeling over a pool of his own vomit, panting, he knows he's done.

And when he is, his eyes now bloodshot both from crying and from the force of vomiting like that-] For... for a world like that, for a fate like that- I was wrong. [Pant, pant] "Perverse" was the wrong- [Pant] word. That's wrong. That's unfair. You-

A world like that is awful.

[he says this through gritted teeth. His positioning here is unstable, at best]

[All this vomiting is starting to make Katara concerned. At first she thought it was just a result of being upset, but now she's starting to wonder if something physically wrong with him.

She's starting over to check, when he starts to speak.

Yes. Yes, it was unfair that her mother was taken away from her. Yes, it was unfair that her father had heard the call of larger responsibilities than his two children, had felt it necessary to protect them by leaving them alone. The Fire Nation was awful. The things that they had done would take years to heal. Why did he think the Avatar was so important - the Avatar him/herself, distinct from Aang?]

Why do you think I'm trying so hard to make it better!

[She takes a breath and meets his (frankly, she wants to take her water and blast that vomit off of him, it's incredibly gross and her own stomach turns) eyes.]

But you don't get to call my choice to care for others perverse. You don't get to devalue my existence and my commitment to make sure that no one else has to go through what I did. This is who I am.

[And she's proud, she's so proud, that Ikki doesn't have to know the pain and fear that she did. And she's glad that people from world's like Masaomi exist. And she's so bitterly jealous that there are those who can just relax, and just have fun, and not worry, and be cared for - but that's not who she is. Not outside of trust. Not when she doesn't know that the ones dear to her are being cared for.

He wanted her to go have fun, spend time for herself, weeks after a draft and in the same week her family was being tossed around and torn apart and patched together in a strange new configuration? Didn't he know her at all?]

[What? Why would she understand it like that? How could she understand it like that? His reaction to the second half hits him mush faster than a delayed reaction to the first half. Heaving, he tries to force himself onto his feet. His legs are shaky, and he takes a step forward] Who would?! I never said that! I never would say that! I am in awe of that, now more than ever, that you survived a perverse fate - not only here, but at home too! Your dedication to that is beautiful, and flashes of that are why I fell in love with you!

[He coughs. Something got stuck in his throat. He threatens to trip, to fall back into the pool. He tries to steady himself

Other things come to him in that moment when he falters. In a flash, he realizes:

"Why do you think I'm trying so hard to make it better!" + "There's a good reason for that, you know. He brought everyone hope when we had none."

"I know the story, Toph-chan. In another life, I even lived it."

So that's why the Prince of Omashu loved Aang so much.

Stupid. He was so stupid. It wasn't Aang the person, of course it wasn't, it was the Avatar. It was the promise of freedom, the promise of hope. All this time, he'd thought that it was Aang that was important. It wasn't. Aang was personally important to Katara and become personally important to his friends, but it could have been anyone. It could have been that Korra girl. He's been so preoccupied with the narrow lens of Katara's well being, he'd failed to see her circumstances.

I couldn't have known.

He's crying, still, isn't he? As he stands in vomit, trying not fall over.

That's not all you are. You are so much more. I have seen so much more.

But even as he thinks that, he knows, he's depended on her too. She was his Doctor, he had just sworn that. She was his doctor, his rock. The thing which had allowed him to become a better man. He had given her as many or more burdens than all of them.

And he was so.

Stupid]

[...he's really standing there, protesting what it was he'd said, in vomit.

This entire conversation was taking place after him being sick and with the results of that sickness all over him.

It was so disgusting.

And it was wrong. As angry as she was with him, as hurt as she was, she couldn't just stand there and let him - accept this, let him do this to himself, let him be completely covered in filth.

And he's crying.

And he's protesting her understanding of what he said.

Ha.

She can't take it anymore, she starts slowly towards him, her hand going to rest on her waterskin.]

All right, we'll talk about this more later - first you need to get cleaned up. Are you strong enough to get in and out of the river yourself, or do you need me to help you?

[She'd really rather not have to personally attend to that mess, but she would if there weren't any other options.

...ew, he was standing on it. She might have dealt with animal entrails and surgery, but that really only increased her awareness of disease passed on through filth and her personal standards of cleanliness.]

I am! I am! [It's all but snarled.

Help.

Help him, after all he said. She's going to help him. She's going to allow him to be a greater burden on her. No.. He can't allow that. He stands, more erect, running more on determination than anything. He's still crying. His mouth tastes awful. His nose is full of snot that he knows is tinted in color by his vomit.

He's been so sure of his own worth, until this moment. He turns to take his first shaky step towards the river, surprised at how sure his footing is. was he really okay? How could he be okay?

A second step.

...He can't let it go. He can't let it end like this. He has to say something, anything]

That's not all you are.

[A third step. His knees buckle because he stepped awkwardly on a rock. he forces himself to stand upright again]

You are so much more.

[Another step. He's near the bank. He stumbles a bit, but catches himself]

Edited 2012-07-15 07:18 (UTC)

[She's not eager to touch him. He's a mess. But she doesn't want him to hurt himself, or worse, drown either. So she follows a few paces behind him, making a mental note to come back and blast that puddle of filth away later.

He's still trying to talk to her. Like this. It was somewhat amazing.

She reaches for him when he stumbles, but pulls back in time when he catches himself.]

Careful.

[Easy now - in you go.]

[...He's at the water. He doesn't want to step into it. Wading in would take effort. He grits his teeth, grinding them together as he stands at the bank]

You don't- [He steps forward, his shoes into the water now. He's up to his ankles. It's much less cold than he expected.] People live for themselves, and you help others with that.

[What is he even saying. Another step in, wading. The current... is sort of strong. Hah]

You live and help, not live to help.

[She probably always knows this. He's worthless, isn't he?

No.

His worth is more than that. It's more than nothing. It has to to be. He tries to inhale through his nose, but he ends up coughing on the snot he inhales, and falls forward into the river]

[...and then he coughed on something and fell face-forward into the river. Considering the weakness vomiting can cause and that Katara was still halfway concerned that there was something more than emotional upset causing his reaction, she immediately wades in after him.]

Masaomi!

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