#but yeah that shade of sage green + gold is so alluring it was what finally broke me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bellatrixobsessed1 · 6 years

Text

A Boy With An Arrow

I wrote this way back when for the headintheclouds Kataang zine but I’m under the impression that it’s not happening, so I just decided to post it lol.

Fantasy style AU: Aang is something called an Archer. He has never left the Air Temples before. He is sent on a journey of self discovery and meets a water nymph named Katara.

A boy with an arrow meets a girl with a shell by the seaside where the sand intermingles with foamy water. Perhaps it is wrong to say that the boy meets the girl, in truth she is more than that, like nothing he has ever seen before. And how he wants to stay with her forever. He, this boy, came to stand at that spot after a long journey. A journey that began with a simple request from his long time mentor, Gyatso; “Discover yourself, my boy. And discover that which makes you happy.”

The boy named Aang came from a humble little place, a place tucked away high in the mountains, where the monks still listen to the wind and how it calls when planning their days or embarking on quests. A place where all children must embark on ventures of self-discovery. Before Gyatso had instructed Aang to tackle his, the boy was an archer. Not an archer who hunts nor makes battle, no, that is an occupation from another world. In this one, an archer is a person tasked with firing a single arrow into the sky and seeing how the wind carries it; does it veer west or east? How long does it stay in the air? Is the sailing smooth? The archer will then report their findings to the elder monks and the elder monks plan accordingly. It was a simple life and a joyful one. But the time had come to set down his bow, pick up a pack, and take on the freedom that made an air nomad an air nomad. So on the night of his sixteenth birthday he heeded Gyatso’s gentle command. He filled his pack with nothing but fruits, a waterskin, a few changes of clothes, and his lucky arrow.

For the longest time he followed the wind south, enjoying all of life’s simple pleasures. Pleasures like a soft sprinkle of rain upon his skin and the sparkle of the raindrops that had settled on the tips of grass. He marveled at sunsets in watercolor shades of pink and purple and pastel oranges and yellows—not one looked the same as the one before it. At one point, a little over a week into his journey the wind called him slightly off course, taking him to a field of rolling meadow grasses. He thanked the wind profusely for showing him such a splendid and fresh sight. He’d seen fields from a distance, looking down upon them from the mountain. He always was fond of how alike the grasses were to waves, a sea of green that announced the movement of the wind. But he had never had the chance to find himself standing in such a meadow as he had never been outside the temple walls before. He quickly discovered that viewing a field and standing in one were different sensations that evoked different emotions altogether. From the mountainside he couldn’t smell the heather nor the daisy.

After that, the wind had called Aang again, and this time, quite a way from where he thought he was supposed to be headed. Eastbound, he had followed it to the ocean side.

For his obedience he stands now, before a vast body of water, the taste of salt tickling his tongue and nose. He knows nothing of the ocean at all, it is something he hadn’t spied even upon his majestic mountain. He sets his pack down and casts off his shirt. He is hesitant, he doesn’t know if it is safe to enter the waves. But they call to him, enticing him. He spreads his arms wide and feels the direction of the breeze. It whisks by in the direction of the ocean and he knows he must enter its vast liquidy expanse. He realizes much too late that the ocean is ferocious and merciless and that the current has no qualms about stealing his feet up from under him and pulling him further from the safety of the sand. His arms are much too weak to fight against the dangerous pull of the current, he feels helpless.

He doesn’t understand why the winds have lead him to his peril.

His lungs burn and cry. He thinks of monk Gyatso and his other friends expecting him back a few months from now. And his heart breaks, knowing that he won’t be returning. He squeezes his eyes shut even harder and he silently begs the wind to carry his apology to the air temple.

A feeling of calm overtakes Aang and he decides to let himself fall deeper and deeper still. He opens his eyes and the water burns them. But he is glad that he did, because he sees a face. The most beautiful face he has ever seen. She must be a specter. A spirit sent to ease the burden of death. Or mayhaps she is of his own imagination.

Either which way, he smiles and reaches out for her.

She swims passed his outstretched hand and grabs him under his arms. Through his oxygen deprived haze he scarcely notices how she gently kicks and sends them towards the surface. He doesn’t realize he is out of the water until she lays him on the rough sand and draws the water from his lungs.

A water nymph, he realizes. He has only heard of them in legend. They are said to be graceful and peaceful beings that dwell deep with in the ocean or at the bottom of a lake or even in the murky depths of a lagoon. He didn’t know that they were real. He must be imagining things.

Her hair tickles his face has she leans over him and he knows that he is not. This girl…this nymph, she is real and she is breathtaking.

He has never seen a girl like her before. A girl with vibrant sapphire eyes and skin of such a deep color. Her brown hair falls in ripples over her shoulders.

And he understands. The winds wanted him to meet her, this girl with her deep blue eyes and her dark skin and her soft lips and her long wavy hair.

She puts a hand over his heart as if to double check that he is still breathing before she brings a sweep of water over his chest. Such is the power of the water nymphs. They can wield the water they swim in with such mastery it’s a wonder that they haven’t conquered the world. No, the water nymphs—the nymphs in general—a often shy and tend to keep to themselves. Aang is rather surprised that she had approached him at all. He decides that it makes sense though—for as shy as the nymphs are, they have the gentlest hearts and couldn’t bear to see an innocent wither. Especially not at the hands of their sacred waters. It makes Aang wonder what would have happened if he came across a fire nymph instead. Or an earth nymph?

The girl holds a shell out to him.

When he doesn’t take it himself, without a word, she grabs his hand. Carefully, as if her were some delicate meadowsweet, she unfurls his fingers and sets the shell in his palm with a pat to his hands. And with a voice like sea spray she says. “Yours.”

He closes his fingers around the gift and replies, “mine.” He smiles to himself. She’s adorably charming and reminds him of himself, he was never one for words either. “Thanks.” He adds quickly.

She returns his smile cheerfully, it reaches those ocean blue eyes and adds an alluring sparkle to them. He looks at the arrow in his other palm. Surely Monk Gyatso wouldn’t mind if he gave her just one; he always did tell Aang that it was always better to bestow a gift than to take one. The monks believed in even exchange, when one receives a present it is only kind to offer one too. Aang has always felt more comfortable doing just that. So he takes his arrow and holds it out to her.

“Mine?” She asks.

He nods, “yours.”

She runs her fingers over the feathered end and is about to do the same along the tip.

Quickly Aang speaks up again, “That part is sharp!” She flinches, he hadn’t meant to be so loud. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes, “I didn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“Sharp.” She repeats.

He holds up the jagged end of the shell and points to the sharper edges.

A look of understanding crosses her eyes. She nods at him and repeats the nymph word for sharp. She goes back to running her fingers over the feathers of the arrow. They are salmon in hue and tipped with gold glitter. “Beautiful.” She notes. She carefully inspects the stick of the arrow; it is also gold. Faux gold, the monks never saw a need for over-extravagance. Not like the fire sages—nice enough people they are, but they have an opulent flair that the monks disagree with. Etched into the ingenuine gold are the teeniest spirals and loops as well as the four elemental symbols. “Pretty.”

Aang thinks that the arrow isn’t the only pretty thing. He gives another lopsided smile, not really knowing what else to say he just utters, “yeah, pretty.” He almost…almost lets it slip that he thinks she’s prettier. He wonders how much of his language she speaks and if she has ever left the ocean before. “Thanks for saving me.” He finally remembers to say.

“It was easy to do. You are light. Like air.” She knows more of his words than he initially thought. But every other word she seems to pause to recall meaning for. Words like ‘light’ and ‘air’ are somewhat foreign to her. So when she say them she points at the sun and softly blows against his cheek.

“I’m from the southern air temple.” Aang says. “I’m Aang.”

The nymph extends her arm. “Katara. From southern ocean.”

“We’re both from the south.” He laughs. He immediately blushes, of course they’re both from the south. He has been traveling south-east the whole time. “I’ve never been to the north.” He adds.

“I haven’t either.” She replies. “I’ve been here forever.” She tries to elaborate but the numbers don’t come easy so she holds up her fingers. Ten of them and then after curling and uncurling them, another four.

“Fourteen.” He fills in. “You’re fourteen. I am twelve.” He mimics her hand gesture.

She stretches her arms and comes fully out of the water. “I like you Aang. I have never met a monk before.”

“I’ve never met a nymph.” He says.

“Have you ever seen a pingpeix?”

He furrowed his brows, having no clue at all what that could translate to. At his confusion she says, “let me show you.”

He adjusts his bang over his shoulder, eager to see what she has to show him. For a while they trek over sand dunes, listening to the water lap against the shore. “There she points.” Standing upon a miniature cliffside where the water smacks mercilessly, is a large penguin koi. He has seen them only in old air temple textbooks but never in person. He thinks that they are splendid, majestic even.

“I haven’t seen a real one.” He speaks.

“I like to catch them sometimes.” She says.

“I heard that they are good for sledding in the frost lands.” Aang notes. He has also never seen a flake of snow, but he doesn’t think that this is something she can introduce him to. “I’ve never been to the frost lands though, so I don’t know.”

“Do you want to see a frost?” She offers.

“You can show me snow?”

“Snow is made from water, komnoi.” It is another nymph word which he thinks may mean silly, but he can’t be sure and he doesn’t know how to ask her.

“I’d love to see snow.” He has heard that each flake is different from the next and wants to find out for sure.

“It will be…” she wraps her arms around herself and fakes a shiver.

“Cold.” He gives her the word.

She raises to her full height and holds her arms out, elegantly she sweeps down dips down and raises her arms slowly, following them with the rest of her body. Water droplets begin to gather around her, adorning the sky like liquid diamonds or tiny glass beads. Aang resists the urge to touch one. Katara smiles. “Now, watch.” The air around them seems to cool significantly and the drops of water begin to shrink. Shrink and freeze into a light fluff that rains down upon him. The young monk is amazed at the spectacle, but even more captured by the look of the water nymph. Up until then he has only ever heard tell of their ability to shift the tides. She looked so gently powerful, so marvelously magnificent. With the snow collecting in her thick lashes and spotting her deep brown hair. Majestic, is the word he was looking for—she looked majestic. The temperature rises again and the white flakes revert back to specks of water, a soft mist to moisten his skin. “Can monks control the wind?” Katara asks. It takes him a moment to fully translate the question.

“Only a few.” He replies. “We mostly listen to the wind, we can…” he thinks for a moment, “speak to it, kind of.” He points to his arrow. “We have air dancers, sort of like you but they live in the clouds and don’t come down often. The monks told me that if I listen to the wind close enough it might start to listen to me as well. So, maybe one day I will be able to move the wind.” He was hopeful but he hasn’t known anyone who had suddenly gained the ability. With Katara for company he didn’t need it—her water manipulation would be bending enough.

“My kin also can’t control water.” Katara nodded. Upon further inquiry, Aang learned that Katara has a brother named Sokka and a grandmother whom she refers to as ‘Gran’. They sound perfectly wonderful and he is all at once curious of the girl’s parents. So he asks.

It takes her a bit of time but she opens up. Her mother was claimed by the fire spirits and her father fled to fend them off. The Fire Nation, from what the monks told him had always been infested with lost spirts. The people of the Fire Nation themselves were mostly friendly or so he was told. But he has never met one. It was the spirits; creatures that lingered after the passing of a particularly spirited Fire Nation citizen. Aang couldn’t imagine going off to battle such a creature. “That sounds hard.” Aang vocalizes.

Katara nods in agreement. “It’s pretty…hard.” She tries the word.

The wind is calling to him again, tenderly requesting that he should follow the shoreline to the west. He doesn’t question its reason, but he faintly wonders what lies to the west. He points in the direction and asks Katara if she knows.

She says, “my home.” She is wearing a wide grin. “And the Earth Kingdoms too. I know some of the earth dryads.”

He thinks to himself, so the wind wants me to learn about the Water Tribes first. He is as eager as one young man could be about the prospect of learning a completely new way of life. And what luck! What luck is it that the breeze would be carrying him to meet Sokka and Gran. He would know more real Water Tribe people!

“Will you take me?” Aang asks Katara.

Katara speaks, “yes, Gran would love to meet you.” She adds, “Gran has always wanted to meet an air monk.” Again it takes him a few minutes to understand her in full, but eventually they comprend each other’s tongues.

She leads him quietly along the coast and he listens to the squawks of lizard-gulls as they swoop down to snatch up unsuspecting shrimp-crabs. The only sound that comes to overpower those victorious caws is that of ocean waves lapping against the sand. It is no wonder that the water nymph is such a serene being, she is surrounded by nirvana and blessed with such peacefulness. If Aang had known about the ocean before, he might have begged the monks for a trip or two years ago. Katara has taken to humming a charming little tune, Aang doesn’t recognize it in the slightest but chooses to hum along anyhow. Her expression is so light and joyful. So hopeful and filled with just as much innocent wonder as his own. He wonders if she has ever been in love before or if she is like him and still has to give it a try. He doesn’t know what has prompted this thinking, after all, he has just met her. Even so, without thinking, Aang takes the nymph’s hand. She jumps and he apologizes. He tries, red in the face, to explain that he was trying to be friendly. She nods and wraps slender fingers around his hand. He is delighted, he has never held a girl’s hand before. He is even more thrilled that her hand is his first experience with it. He decides that he likes holding a girl’s hand and he hopes that she likes holding a boy’s hand too. “How much further?” He questions.

She to a place that seems to rest just at the horizon. Off in the distance are a cluster of huts and bungalows crafted from driftwood, sandalwood, palm fronds, and other sea debris. This kind of architecture was, like most things, new to him.

Seeing them Aang realized just how much about the world he didn’t know. The monks had sent him to learn and learn he would. But he did know one thing. And that was that he loved Katara and that he wanted to learn about the world with her by his side.

#Avatar #Kataang #Aang #katara #Fanfiction #One Shot

15 notes · View notes