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Katara of the Southern Water Tribe (k_waterbender) wrote in mirage_rpg,

Katara’s cheeks turned scarlet as he pointed out that she wasn’t being honest, either. She wished she could just curl up in a ball and disappear. “Nothing.” She responded quickly- too quickly. The inspective look in his eye didn’t change. The waterbender had never been a good liar; it simply wasn’t in her to be a liar. She was too expressive, and her acting skills were over the top and effectively worthless.

Why was he still holding her like this? They weren’t even moving! Katara scrambled to remove herself from his hold, to right herself to standing. At first, Katara’s struggles were met with resistance. He didn’t want to let her go. Simultaneously, two conflicting emotions erupted in her, but she knew she had to stand or she would go insane. “I can stand on my own.” The waterbender snapped. Finally, he released her, and she took a step away from him.

“Look, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” It was only half a lie, but this was far more convincing sounding than her first comment had been. “Ever since last night I’ve just been… confused.” Katara remembered her own reaction to his kiss. She’d never done that before, even the first time Aang kissed her. Only her lips had reacted that time. She hadn’t actually touched him or curled her fingers through his hair- not that he actually had hair at that point. The waterbender felt as if she’d reacted far more intimately with Vincent than she had with Aang when they were together, and she had no idea why. She wished she knew herself better, so she would have an easier time of figuring out her own emotions, her own responses.

Katara looked up at him. Moonlight shone down upon them, making her eyes appear lighter. She wished the spirits could help her, but she wasn’t the Avatar. The only spirit she’d ever had communicate with her was The Painted Lady after she’d helped that village recover in the Fire Nation. The spirits didn’t exist in this world, though. It was only the Planet and the people it had kidnapped. She took another step back, to give herself room to breath, but she’d misjudged the distance from Vincent to the edge of the roof. Her moccasins slipped on the shingles, and she felt herself descending.