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the-yellowturtle · 4 years

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The Curious Case of Master Katara (Pt.3)

Summary: In the sixth year of Fire Lord Zuko’s reign, Katara of the Southern Water Tribe is assassinated. (OR: Katara Becomes the Painted Lady! AU)

Chapter Summary: Sokka reacts to Katara’s passing.

Part 1 (Toph), Part 2 (Toph & Gran Gran), AO3 Story Link, & special thanks to @levitatingbiscuits for enabling this :)

The Surprising Origins of the Squiggle Meme

Xin Jizhe

Omashu Times News Reporter

You’ve seen it. Your mom has seen it. Spirits, even your pet fire-ferret has probably seen it! The latest comparison meme that’s often paired with the caption, “Ink Brush Painting is My Passion” is everywhere! However, the origins of the painting are much more heartfelt than you could have ever imagined.

The physical copy of the painting is currently hosted in the Caldera City Art Museum as part of the “Heroes of the Hundred Year War” collection. According to the museum’s website, it was painted by Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe as an outline for the paintings that would appear in his picture book about his younger sister, Master Katara, who had been assassinated by extremists in 106 AG. The paintings used in the published copy of the story are also available for viewing in the Caldera City Art Museum.

(Fun Fact: The official versions were painted by his wife, Suki of Kyoshi Island. Yes! That Suki! The one and only President Suki that fought for Kyoshi Island’s right to self-determination, and became the third president!).

Anyway, back to the matter at hand! Sokka reportedly decided to publish the picture book about his sister as a reaction to the growing popularity of a woodblock print that depicted Master Katara in her last moments. Sokka wanted the world to remember his sister as she was living, not a romanticized image of her death.

Try to see this touching meme in real life before the collection ends this spring.

___

When Sokka hears from one of the shaken villagers that after being shot Katara vanished into thin air, he gets an inkling about where she really is. When another local presents the pendant of Katara’s necklace to him, the sinking feeling in his gut tells him that his suspicions may be correct. And when he gazes up at the full moon later that night, he knows for certain.

Katara is gone.

He doesn’t need to travel to the Spirit World to know this. It has happened before. Before his very own eyes and between his very own arms. Some people are not destined to rejoin the earth; some are destined to be among the Spirits. He can only hope that she didn’t suffer too much in her last moments; that it was quick.

When he looks up at the moon, up at Yue, he pleads, “Please take care of her for me.”

Yue is probably far too busy being a beautiful celestial goddess to listen every time he talks to her, but he thinks she’s listening this time. She has to be.

___

Sokka was in the Southern Water Tribe on break from his studies in Ba Sing Se when word came that something had happened to Katara in the Fire Nation. Something that had warranted a personal letter from the Fire Lord, and had turned Zuko’s normally pristine penmanship into a barely decipherable mess. Katara was missing.

Truthfully, at the beginning of the letter Sokka was not worried at all. Zuko had a knack for worrying and exaggerating, and Sokka was certain that Katara would be back from wherever she had wandered off to before he could even set sail for the Fire Nation. Katara had probably found some wayward child or koala-sheep that needed assistance along the way, and she was so caught up in being benevolent that she forgot to hawk Zuko.

But then his dad and him had gotten to the part of the letter that informed them eyewitnesses were claiming that Katara had been attacked. That someone had shot her with an arrow. That they had watched her be struck, fall back into the river, and never rise again. That Katara was missing. That Katara might be dead.

It took more than one person to restrain him from immediately running off to the Fire Nation. Not that dad was any help, frozen, rereading the words over and over and over again. Katara might be dead .

When preparing to depart from the Southern Water Tribe, Sokka had promised his family that he would bring Katara home safely. That he would find out what happened.

He only manages to keep one of his promises. And it’s the one he cared for the least. When his dad and Gran Gran meet him at port, red-eyed and bags heavy, they know with one glance at Sokka’s face.

“She’s gone,” Gran Gran states, gripping his arm.

Sokka presses the carved pendant into his father’s hand. “She is.”

___

At first, it’s easy to pretend. With all the international guests and foreign dignitaries flocking to the Southern Water Tribe to personally pay their respects, it’s easy to slip into the role of being just Sokka. There are people to accommodate and details to smooth over. The South needs a planner, so Sokka becomes the mastermind.

It becomes a mask he slips on and off. One moment he is only Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe, the next he is Katara’s brother. When it becomes too much, one of their friends is there to comfort him or one of the guests is there to exasperate him. It’s easy at first; ignoring that nothing is ever going to be the same.

All things must come to an end, however, and the funeral is the same. The world must continue onwards, and gradually all of their friends return to where they are needed. When it’s only Gran Gran, dad, and him left, that's when the cracks begin to show.

It’s in the way that Gran Gran accidentally burns the sea prunes because she thought someone would be watching them when she was turned away. It’s in the way that dad leaves official correspondence from the Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom off to the side of his desk because he thought someone else would be looking over them. It’s in the way that Sokka reaches into his pocket and is surprised to find a necklace pendant because sometimes he still thinks that she’s somewhere out there wearing it.

Their family already had cracks, but now they no longer had the glue as well. After their mom passed away, Katara had taken it upon herself to be what everyone had needed. An eight-year old had done everything she possibly could have to fill the gaping hole their mom had left. At twenty-two years old, Sokka still has no idea how she found the strength to do that. But Katara is gone now, and the cracks in their family have transformed into an unmeasurable crevasse.

___

Sokka quickly learns the crevasse encompasses the entire Southern Water Tribe. This becomes abundantly clear one afternoon when three of Katara’s students confront him at the docks.

Akia, the shortest of the three and a refugee from the Northern Water Tribe, speaks first, “Sokka, we have a request.”

“Sure, what’s up?” he responds, setting down his catch.

The three young women exchange glances before Aqpik, from one of the interior clans, says, “We were wondering if you would allow us to enter Master Katara’s private study.”

Sokka freezes. No one in their family has been in there since her passing. “Why would you need to do that?”

“Spring is coming, and that means so are the seasonal waterbending students. We need to be prepared for when they arrive, and Master Katara always kept the lesson plans and personal scrolls in her study,” Akia pleads.

He begins to respond before he’s abruptly cut off by Mirae, a mixed waterbender of Water and Earth descent. “Master Katara fought long and hard to revitalize Southern bending, we can’t let it die with her. We were all so close to being declared masters, and we can continue the tradition in her stead. We need to do this.”

Meeting her determined gaze, Sokka knows immediately that this conversation was only for propriety’s sake; Mirae would most definitely break in if his answer was anything but the one she wanted. It’s a look he had seen so many times on Katara’s very own face. He had been so caught up in remembering Katara as his sister that he had forgotten that she was so much more than that to the South. She was the one who had painstakingly travelled the world to bring back the South’s stolen heritage, and Sokka would never be able to live with himself if he was part of the reason her efforts became in vain.

“Of course, you can,” he replies, “But first there’s something I need to do.”

___

In the Southern Water Tribe, when someone passes away you offer them to the sea along with an assortment of their earthly possessions. The objects that would feel wrong for any other to use are submerged with them, and the objects that would be a shame to waste are passed on to those who need it most. There is no fear surrounding the usage of things the deceased have touched; to use one of their belongings is to honor their memory.

This ceremony is an essential step in the mourning process of the South, but the most important by far is the telling of stories. For it is through stories that a person’s life is truly seen and celebrated. It is through stories that they are remembered and may continue to be remembered generations after they are gone.

Sokka has a feeling that the stories about Katara will be told for so long it will become impossible to discern myth from truth. A part of him is satisfied knowing that others will appreciate the person she was long after he is gone, however, they will never have the privilege of actually knowing Katara. Future generations will hear about the Hundred Year War, the Avatar, and the restoration of Southern Bending, but they will never learn about the time she broke her wrist penguin sledding as an adult . They will remember Master Katara of the Southern Water Tribe, but they won’t remember Katara.

No, remembering Katara is up to them. It’s up to Sokka and Gran Gran and dad and the rest of the gang to remember who she was. This is why the night after his conversation with the waterbenders, Sokka brings Gran Gran and dad with him to go through Katara’s study. Katara may have been the glue of the family, but this does not mean that Sokka can’t be the rope.

At first, it’s quiet as they work together to sort through the rest of her belongings. Unsurprisingly, she had meticulously organized everything. The waterbending scrolls are divided by style and skill level, the letters by country of origin and sender, even the hanging art is suspended according to the changing of the seasons. Sokka feels antsy just looking at how neat it is.

Dad is the one to break the silence. “She’s always been like this,” he comments, looking around the room, “Even as a toddler, she was extremely insistent on things being returned to their proper place.”

Gran Gran chuckles. “I wouldn’t say always , Hakoda. She could get pretty messy at times.”

“I’m gonna have to disagree, Gran Gran. Even as kids, Katara would only get messy if she had a statement to make. Didn’t like the way I folded my clothes? Then she would throw them about. Didn’t want to go to bed? Then she would refuse to get washed.”

“Ahhh bath time, that was always such an adventure with you two,” Dad smiles.

Sokka scoffs, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I was the best bather! Katara was the one who would get water all over the place”

“Sokka,” Gran Gran grins, patting his shoulder, “You would run around naked and we would have to catch you. In Winter . Thank the Spirits, you never attempted to go outside.”

The conversation goes on like this for hours; the waterbending scrolls forgotten. They laugh and cry and tease and debate. They remember.

When the embers are low and the sun is on the horizon again, Sokka reaches into his pocket and freezes. The pendant.

He hesitates before slowly pulling it out and tracing the carved waves with his finger. “Gran Gran? Dad? Do you think we should have submerged this, too?”

It was often a thin line between deciding what objects were inseparable from the deceased, and what objects the living could not bear to part from. When the time had come to select the belongings for Katara’s funeral, Sokka had found himself unwilling to hand over the necklace. There was no object more symbolic of who Katara was as a person, Sokka was well aware of that. However, for as long as he could remember, Katara had always been there. Even when they were far apart with her scouring the world for Southern waterbending scrolls and him in Ba Sing Se furthering his engineering studies, they had written constantly and made frequent trips to visit each other.

Katara was his sister; she would always be his sister. He knows she is gone, probably gallivanting about the Spirit World with Yue and telling Spirits how to do their jobs, but he needs to hold onto this piece of her. Just for a little bit.

“No,” Gran Gran finally answers, “We shouldn’t have.” Sokka meets her unwavering gaze. “That necklace has always been worn by women with the conviction to do what was right. Surely, Katara will not be the last.”

___

Gran Gran , Sokka thinks to himself as he watches his daughter from afar flip one of the Northern boys over her shoulder, really was always right. Some parents would probably be concerned that their child is getting into fights during the Winter Solstice celebration, but if Sokka may say so himself, he and Suki are excellent parents and that boy most definitely deserved it.

Sokka’s instincts are proven to be correct when Senna comes to join him and Suki where they are waiting to watch the waterbending performance.

“That was a good throw, sweety. Great form,” Suki compliments, hugging their daughter to her side.

Senna huffs at the reminder of the event and promptly launches into what happened. “Those little tiger-seal shit eaters were saying Yuki shouldn’t have been given the main role because apparently it’s only for girls ,” she rolls her eyes, “So I informed them that eating snow is only for narrow-minded, sexist boys, those fucking iceholes.”

Being interested in architecture and mathematics, people often assume that Senna mostly takes after him in looks and personality. But the focus, fighting and cussing? That was all Suki. And the ferociousness for justice? That was most definitely from Katara.

He likes to think that she would be immensely proud of his daughter, the new owner of her necklace, for never backing down. Sokka certainly was. He’s sure that she would also be overjoyed to know that the storybending performances she had revived were flourishing and that her nephew had worked his butt off to earn one of the main roles. Funnily enough, the role of Katara.

Yuki had been nervous, going over his routine again and again these past few days to make sure it was perfect. He had only managed to calm down when Suki had given him her protective amulet for good luck, and Sokka had reassured him that Aunt Katara would be honored by his performance no matter what.

When the storybending officially begins, Sokka can only beam with pride as he watches his son flawlessly reenact the freeing of the earthbenders. Yuki has certainly come a long way from accidentally splashing his sister to manipulating a stream of water to look like coal soaring through the air. He wishes Katara was alive to see it, but a part of him gets the feeling that she knows.

Sokka is aware that the Painted Lady is out there somewhere running around trying to help those in need, but on nights like this when the moon is bright and the sky is full of lights, he gets this feeling . Even if he can no longer meet her, sometimes it feels like she’s still there.

So when the performance is over, and the kids are finally off to bed, he takes a moment to gaze up at the full moon. “I’m happy, I hope you are, too.”

#katara #sokka #water tribe siblings #atla fanfiction #katara & sokka #mine

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