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Zutara Week: ManipulativeKatara was pretty certain that all this was Zuko's fault. The duties together (most likely swapping with Toph or the Duke); the accidental meetings (how accidental were they?); the constant cuts and scrapes that required her healing abilities (no one could be that klutzy): all were masterminded by that Firebending jerk.
Zuko was no fool. Katara disliked him- to be honest, dislike was far too mild a word to use. But as his uncle had always said, familiarity breeds contentment.
Or was he remembering that wrongly?
Anyway, he was pretty confident that eventually shed warm up to him. Patience was the key.
Katara got more and more irritated, and more and more irritable, as this continued. Finally, as Zuko accosted her in the woods on the pretext of hunting for mushrooms to add some savour to that nights dinner, she blew up.
WHY are you always following me around? she raged. Do you realise how annoying that is? You- you-
Zutara Week: SmugTold ya so, Toph said smugly, arms crossed in self-satisfied pride. Aang was frozen in a state of shocked horror and wretchedness.
Hakoda and Sokka were sputtering, the father holding his head, the son pounding his head on the wall. Neither seemed to have taken in the scene before them properly; if they had, they would have been strangling Zuko.
The latter was scrambling up from the resident Waterbender of the team and pulling on his tunic, while Katara was hurriedly dressing.
I Ill never doubt you again Haru murmured, head in his hands, his vision of Water-Earth babies destroyed.
Zutara Week: ElectrifyingAll he can think of, when he shuts his eyes at night, is her. Her and her mocha skin and her sky blue eyes. Shes not the most beautiful girl hes ever seen, speaking objectively. Nor is she the best female fighter- his sister trumps her quite spectacularly. But theres something in that gentle face, that tumbledown brown hair, those blue, blue eyes, that sweet voice, more persuasive than any girl he has ever known: unnameable, enchanting, an excellence he can never quite describe.
He brushes against her sometimes, when theyre doing some household duty together: cooking, or laundry, or foraging for supplies. Her hands are slim and her fingers are long and graceful- perfect for a Waterbender. These brief touches mean little to her, much to him. The spark- the electrifying spark- that he feels, when they touch, goes through his body, so suddenly, and its all he can do to show an impassive face, so shell not notice anything amiss.
Every move she makes, eve
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