Sin of Living
Jan. 3rd, 2008 11:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kolTitle: Sin of Living (while betters failed)
Summary: After battle, Toph seeks a celebration of a different kind.
Prompt: 31_Days, #3: A Mountain of Violent Sins
WC: 813
* - * - *
It was night, Toph guessed, the earth beneath her bruised heels sharpening with chill and her crown no longer warm from the sun. Night was the time of whispers and thoughts and rest, but she continued on, lips settled in a thin line and hands beginning to shake.
Her stance was still perfect, though a small trail of liquid crept down her leg, marring her concentration. Blood or sweat, she couldn’t tell, but it was ruining her focus.
She settled in her stance again, concentrating on the vibrations instead. The insects had long left for their nests, finding the autumn chill too much for their thin skins. But Toph was stronger, she endured. The field was mostly black, revealed to her by tiny ripples betraying the fall of leaves and their slight impact upon the torn ground,
She was surprised the trees had any leaves left after the firebenders had come.
At the edge of the field, beyond the faint ripples, pure silver boomed, so many joyous vibrations they blinded her to individual sources. The solid entrenching silver was unsettling, and had grown as the heat of day gave way to the quiet chill of night.
It was too far to capture the revelers with her other Senses.
Trembling hands rose palm up, tender feet slid into well worn grooves, and Toph pulled the blackness around her mind. The earth rippled uncertainly, testing her strength, grudgingly sinking the row of blood and bone, taking within it the lost. No celebrations here, men and women reduced to lumps, earth’s cold embrace blanketing each grave against the curious eyes in that realm above.
Ears twitched, and Toph’s head swung toward the heavy crunch of footsteps. The vibrations followed, dull silver radiating from wooden crutch first, his feet artless and heavy as they stumbled through the disturbed terrain towards her.
She had wondered what was taking them.
“Katara thinks it might rain tomorrow,” his voice was still touched by the shock of battle, rasping past a throat parched from hours of Firebending. It seemed fitting he would evade the subject, standing on the graves of three men who had died to protect them. HIM.
“Good. The Waterbenders won’t need to douse the last fires.” Her words were short, because she feared if she spoke more he would hear the tremble in her voice and know.
“Toph…” His vibrations were heavy as he slowly worked the crutch forward, feet following with exaggerated slowness. “There’s plenty of time for this later.”
“This is my celebration,” Toph said flatly, although she pulled herself from her stance. Lock-kneed and stiff, phantom of the strength that mastered this field only a day before.
Aang made no comment, slowly working his way closer. She felt the others’ vibrations, just outside the field.
Shifting mass wobbling on steady rock was Sokka; he was always the first she felt, so exaggerated his motions, so loud to all her Senses. He held a stick— had he been wounded again?
The figure beside him would have to be Katara. Toph had no doubt that if she were closer, the still figure would vibrate worse than Sokka, trembling with worry and the sorts of smothering instincts that drove Toph to distraction. At this distance, Katara was barely visible, overpowered by Sokka’s nervous vibrations.
Yet in Katara’s hand, Toph sensed a stick as well.
“I’m not one for parties,” Toph swung her ears back to the approaching Avatar, his crutch but four steps beside her. “Fireworks don’t do much for me, and…”
Aang said nothing, his vibrations slow and measured, not the typical fluttering heartbeat she had known all these months. It was older, steadier, a heart that had carried the weight of the world and survived. Toph tapped a heel, the vibrations revealing his body. Bandaged toes, mangled muscles, bandaged torso, blank face tilted at the sky.
He, like everyone else, was entangled by that void beyond the Senses.
“Gravebending doesn’t seem like a good celebration to me,” Aang said after a time. “But I’ll try it.”
Toph said nothing, response enough.
The crutch fell to the ground as Aang, despite his wounds, assumed the same stance as Toph. The vibrations of Sokka and Katara crept forward, their steps slow, wary of earth’s grim dance before them, sinking, cradling, smothering what was once flesh.
Toph’s earth wall cracked and shattered as the vibrations of two hoes marred the field where Sokka and Katara stood.
For the first time since the battle had ended, Toph’s useless eyes began to burn, not moved by grief, but by the quiet solidarity of her friends.
Together, the four buried the dead, silent beneath the burden of living, when so many lay forever in the new mountain. And while the victorious army celebrated survival just beyond, the four shared their own celebration of the lost, working together well into the dawn.
Summary: After battle, Toph seeks a celebration of a different kind.
Prompt: 31_Days, #3: A Mountain of Violent Sins
WC: 813
* - * - *
It was night, Toph guessed, the earth beneath her bruised heels sharpening with chill and her crown no longer warm from the sun. Night was the time of whispers and thoughts and rest, but she continued on, lips settled in a thin line and hands beginning to shake.
Her stance was still perfect, though a small trail of liquid crept down her leg, marring her concentration. Blood or sweat, she couldn’t tell, but it was ruining her focus.
She settled in her stance again, concentrating on the vibrations instead. The insects had long left for their nests, finding the autumn chill too much for their thin skins. But Toph was stronger, she endured. The field was mostly black, revealed to her by tiny ripples betraying the fall of leaves and their slight impact upon the torn ground,
She was surprised the trees had any leaves left after the firebenders had come.
At the edge of the field, beyond the faint ripples, pure silver boomed, so many joyous vibrations they blinded her to individual sources. The solid entrenching silver was unsettling, and had grown as the heat of day gave way to the quiet chill of night.
It was too far to capture the revelers with her other Senses.
Trembling hands rose palm up, tender feet slid into well worn grooves, and Toph pulled the blackness around her mind. The earth rippled uncertainly, testing her strength, grudgingly sinking the row of blood and bone, taking within it the lost. No celebrations here, men and women reduced to lumps, earth’s cold embrace blanketing each grave against the curious eyes in that realm above.
Ears twitched, and Toph’s head swung toward the heavy crunch of footsteps. The vibrations followed, dull silver radiating from wooden crutch first, his feet artless and heavy as they stumbled through the disturbed terrain towards her.
She had wondered what was taking them.
“Katara thinks it might rain tomorrow,” his voice was still touched by the shock of battle, rasping past a throat parched from hours of Firebending. It seemed fitting he would evade the subject, standing on the graves of three men who had died to protect them. HIM.
“Good. The Waterbenders won’t need to douse the last fires.” Her words were short, because she feared if she spoke more he would hear the tremble in her voice and know.
“Toph…” His vibrations were heavy as he slowly worked the crutch forward, feet following with exaggerated slowness. “There’s plenty of time for this later.”
“This is my celebration,” Toph said flatly, although she pulled herself from her stance. Lock-kneed and stiff, phantom of the strength that mastered this field only a day before.
Aang made no comment, slowly working his way closer. She felt the others’ vibrations, just outside the field.
Shifting mass wobbling on steady rock was Sokka; he was always the first she felt, so exaggerated his motions, so loud to all her Senses. He held a stick— had he been wounded again?
The figure beside him would have to be Katara. Toph had no doubt that if she were closer, the still figure would vibrate worse than Sokka, trembling with worry and the sorts of smothering instincts that drove Toph to distraction. At this distance, Katara was barely visible, overpowered by Sokka’s nervous vibrations.
Yet in Katara’s hand, Toph sensed a stick as well.
“I’m not one for parties,” Toph swung her ears back to the approaching Avatar, his crutch but four steps beside her. “Fireworks don’t do much for me, and…”
Aang said nothing, his vibrations slow and measured, not the typical fluttering heartbeat she had known all these months. It was older, steadier, a heart that had carried the weight of the world and survived. Toph tapped a heel, the vibrations revealing his body. Bandaged toes, mangled muscles, bandaged torso, blank face tilted at the sky.
He, like everyone else, was entangled by that void beyond the Senses.
“Gravebending doesn’t seem like a good celebration to me,” Aang said after a time. “But I’ll try it.”
Toph said nothing, response enough.
The crutch fell to the ground as Aang, despite his wounds, assumed the same stance as Toph. The vibrations of Sokka and Katara crept forward, their steps slow, wary of earth’s grim dance before them, sinking, cradling, smothering what was once flesh.
Toph’s earth wall cracked and shattered as the vibrations of two hoes marred the field where Sokka and Katara stood.
For the first time since the battle had ended, Toph’s useless eyes began to burn, not moved by grief, but by the quiet solidarity of her friends.
Together, the four buried the dead, silent beneath the burden of living, when so many lay forever in the new mountain. And while the victorious army celebrated survival just beyond, the four shared their own celebration of the lost, working together well into the dawn.
