thesisyphuscycle

[thesisyphuscycle]

i'll make a cup of coffee for your head

Katara is not in love with the hot barista, no matter how much Sokka seems convinced to the contrary.

"Smoochie, smoochie, someone's in looooooooove," he says, drawing out that last word until it loops round and round like a ribbon tied in a butterfly knot.

Katara shoots him the kind of scowl that would have eviscerated him if looks could kill. Unfortunately for her, they don't quite work like that, not for lack of trying. "Sometimes I wish I never came out to you."

That is wholly untrue, no matter how much she tries to mean it. Spending her late nights in high school filling out "Am I gay?" quizzes on Buzzfeed and agonizing over the answers would fill her with an endless amount of anxiety, but as a sophomore in college, Katara is just getting comfortable in her own skin. Him knowing and generally not being weird about it helps more than she will ever admit.

"Why don't you just ask her out?" Suki asks, trying to placate the situation.

Katara's cheeks redden. "I told you, it isn't like that!" she says indignantly, her words coming out so high pitched that they sound squeaky to her ears.

Sokka chuckles under his breath, and she elbows him so sharply that he doubles over, clutching at his ribs for some kind of relief. "You didn't have to do that," he chokes out.

"Do what?" she asks with faux innocence.

It's Sokka's turn to glare at her, but his accompanying pout is so pathetically childish that Katara can't help but laugh. He lunges for her, and she dances out of his grasp before he can get any amount of fair retribution. Watching his misery is almost enough to make her forget where they're going and why, and the tightness in her chest she has grown so accustomed to is nowhere to be found.

"We're here," Suki announces. "Do we want to study in The Jasmine Dragon or head to one of the libraries instead?"

Katara freezes when she stares up at the green lettering spelling out the letters of the coffee shop's name, then gulps. "One of the libraries," she replies, her mouth forming the words before her brain can fully catch up.

The immediacy of her response makes Sokka snort. "One of the libraries," he mimes, earning him another jab in the same rib. "Let off, woman! Have you no mercy?"

"Not for you."

"I hate you sometimes."

Katara just sticks out her tongue to him and pushes the door open, a bill ringing above her head to announce their entry. Like most days around noon, there's a long, winding line in front of the counter. Unlike Sokka and Suki, who are probably impatient and want to get their hands on some caffeine, Katara is glad for the buffer. She can mentally prepare herself for the hot barista, and hopefully come out of this encounter not seeming like a complete idiot.

Because while Katara is not in love with the hot barista, the barista is certainly hot. She's tall and lean in a way that reminds Katara very much of a willow tree, and a wide smile that always reaches her stormy gray eyes and never fails to make Katara's eyes light up. She's always dressed in bright yellows and blues, like a slice of the summer sun given human form. And though her hair being shaved down to a stubble makes her seem more severe than she perhaps is, Katara quite likes it.

My name is Katara and I want a lavender blueberry latte, she mentally practices.

Wait. That isn't right.

Why would the hot barista need to know her name? It's not like Katara knows hers.

The line moves forward while some more people grab their receipts and stand off to the side, waiting for their numbers to be called out. With each step Katara takes forward, her heartbeat gets louder and louder, a steady drumbeat echoing through her ears. She clenches and unclenches her fists, gulps. Then, finally, she catches sight of the barista manning the cash register.

The knot in her chest undoes itself and she nearly sinks to her knees in relief.

The boy standing there—he can't be much more than Sokka's age—has a permanent scowl on his face, dark hair lazily uncombed, and a scar over his right eye that makes Katara startle at first glance. He is, decidedly, not the hot barista, and for her nerves, that is more than enough.

"What will it be for you today?" he asks dryly.

"A small lavender blueberry latte," Katara replies evenly, eying the nametag on his chest that says 'Zuko' in a messy black scrawl. Suki orders the hibiscus tea, while Sokka gets himself a caramel mocha. Zuko dutifully notes everything down while Katara tries catching a glance over his shoulder to see if the hot barista is here at all.

"You coming?" Suki asks, tugging at her forearm.

"Give me minute."

Zuko shoots her a dirty look that makes Katara smile at him sheepishly. "Next!" he barks out, and she dutifully bows out of his way.

-x-

Katara passes the five-ish minutes it takes for her drink to be made on her phone, which is admittedly not the best habit. Flicking through her friends' Instagram stories makes thoughts of a certain barista flit to the periphery of her mind instead of the forefront, safely out of the purview of her consciousness.

"Order forty-five!"

Katara stills, her blood turning to ice in her veins.

Shit. Shit.

"One small lavender blueberry latte for," a pause, "Katara?"

Even the way she says her name makes Katara's stomach swoop.

"Going once, going twice!"

Sokka shoves Katara in the middle of her shoulder blades, earning him another withering look. He rolls his eyes and mutters something under his breath, and it takes all of Katara's self-control to not flip him over her shoulder and onto his back.

Katara slowly walks up to the counter, the lub-dub of her heart unbearably loud. She breathes in sharply through her nose, but that just makes her chest tighten even more. Why is the prospect of merely making eye contact with a marginally attractive barista terrifying her so much more than her organic chemistry finals ever did?

She's not going to remember you, Katara tells herself. You're just one paying customer among, like, a hundred.

"You're Katara, right?"

Katara carefully tilts her head up and nods, hoping that her somewhat darker skin is able to hide the warmth she feels spreading in her cheeks. Or maybe they'll just assume that she has blush blindness, or something equally asinine.

"Here's your latte," the barista says, handing her a paper cup with the lid off.

"Thanks," Katara murmurs, lowering her eyes, because she thinks even the smallest bit of eye contact will reveal the atrocious choke hold that this stupid, stupid crush has on her. She catches sight of the barista's name, written in a loopier but neater font than Zuko's.

Aanya.

Huh.

Katara files that information away for later, folds it into a paper crane and tucks it into a pocket behind her heart. Her name feels like honey on Katara's tongue when she tries to form it into a word, not daring to speak it aloud.

"Hope you enjoy your drink," Aanya offers, then picks up another paper cup and receipt. "Order forty-six!"

Katara feels her face flush when she recognizes the dismissal for what it is. Her gaze remains stubbornly fixed on the familiar bluish purple of her latte, but something is different about it this time. There's a pattern on its surface, carefully drawn in swirling brushstrokes of white milk, and even the slightest sip would have disrupted it.

It's a heart.

An honest-to-goodness heart.

Katara's own does a funny little dance inside her chest, and she thinks that she might need a pacemaker. She feels a little dizzy, her steps faltering as she seems beset by a sudden strike of vertigo, or maybe it's just that she's a little weak in the knees. The hot barista—Aanya, she has a name—certainly doesn't mean anything by it. She's heard of friends who've gotten drinks with latte art from The Jasmine Dragon, along with nice notes.

What is this, some kind of trademark?

If it is, it's a really lovely one. Sweet, even. It makes Katara warm in a very different way than the urgent, blinding rush she's been feeling every time she comes here lately. She smiles to herself when she lifts her cup to see if there's a note for her, and that turns out to be her first mistake.

Probably even her last.

In the same loopy, curling font that made Aanya's nametag, Katara finds the words, I hope your day is as beautiful as you are.

That vertigo returns again, everything inside Katara's brain going into a tailspin. Her heart beats wildly, and her knees give out from underneath her. One moment, the world is utterly still, and the next, it's sliding to the side, like a singular earthquake has affected her and only her. There isn't much more she can process before the piping hot drink spills all over her arm.

-x-

"I'm so sorry!" Aanya exclaims, abandoning her post to come kneel by Katara's side.

"It's fine," Katara murmurs quietly, casting uneasy glances about at the crowd that has gathered around them. Their attention starts to disperse after a few short moments, giving her some kind of relief, but Katara is still in so much shock that she can barely register that she should probably be feeling embarrassed right now.

She gingerly lifts a hand to her scalded skin while Aanya rushes off, her fingers reaching towards the paper cup she dropped. I hope your day is as beautiful as you are. The heat Katara feels now isn't from the latte she just spilled over herself, that is for sure. She forces herself to exhale, feeling the quick rush of her breath on her upper lip, how shaky and delicate everything inside her still feels.

"I brought you some ice."

Katara looks up to see Aanya standing there with a Ziplock bag filled with ice cubes, and before she can say anything, Aanya kneels and presses them to her skin. Katara hisses a little with relief, trying not to explode into a million little pieces when Aanya wipes at her forearm with a wet paper towel.

"I am so, so sorry," Aanya repeats. "I didn't mean to— I didn't think—"

"It's alright," Katara snorts. "I didn't either."

Aanya cleans off one last bit of latte from the back of Katara's hand, and their fingers brush.

An unmistakable blush blooms across Aanya's face when their eyes meet.

A heartbeat passes between them, then another.

"You know," Katara says, trying to make light of things when she feels her stomach turning to lead, "you owe me a drink."

Aanya raises one black brow. "Do I, now?"

"This is all your fault." Katara picks up the now-empty cup in demonstration, tilting it just so that Aanya can see the note.

"Guilty as charged." She ducks her head and laughs in response, running a nervous hand across her scalp. "How do you propose I make it up to you?"

Katara pretends to think on it for a moment. "Are you free this Friday afternoon?"

"I have lectures till three," Aanya offers apologetically. "But dinner works! If-if you're free, that is."

"I am."

Aanya shoots her a small, hopeful smile. "So it's a date then?"

Katara feels her lips twitch, despite herself. "It's a date."

[thesisyphuscycle]

the girl in the iceberg

All Sokka wanted was one normal day, where he could go out and do normal things, like go fishing. But of course, Katara and her magic water had to ruin it, no matter how much she insisted that bending is a sacred art, Sokka, not magic. By the time the sun hit its peak in its arc across the sky, the clouds were torn open by a brilliant white light, and they found a girl frozen in the iceberg.

Sokka wanted to chide Katara for almost breaking his spear, but the girl just blinked her wide, grey eyes up at her and asked her to go penguin sledding before insisting that her bison could fly. Now, Sokka was covered in bison snot and the girl was ten feet in the air, and his mind was cracking open like a gecko-puffin egg.

The girl landed on her feet, falling like a snowflake in a dizzying spiral. "I'm Aanya," she said before sniffling and rubbing at her nose.

Sokka blinked. "You just sneezed and flew ten feet in the air!"

"Really?" Aanya squinted up at the sky with a thoughtful frown. "Felt higher than that."

Katara gasped, eyes lighting up with triumph and awe. "You're an airbender!"

Aanya grinned. "Sure am!"

Giant light beams. Flying bison. Airbenders. This was starting to feel like a story Gran-Gran would tell them before bedtime, the kind Sokka had outgrown years ago. "I'm going home to where stuff makes sense," he declared.

-x-

Zuko had spent three years of his life preparing for this moment. It was like destiny itself was nudging him towards the Avatar, his banishment a blessing in disguise. He would return to Caldera City triumphant, and take the throne with all the pomp and ceremony afforded to the Crown Prince of the Fire Nation. Between pirates and twiggy old Gurus and the six months he'd spent chasing the Northern Lights, he was finally due a break.

"Looking for me?" The voice belonged to a girl younger than even Azula, younger than even he had been when banished. She was draped in orange, with blue arrows marring her face and hands.

"You're the airbender?" Zuko asked incredulously. "You're the Avatar?"

The half-witted villagers had enough room for logic in their minds to stop gawking and give them a wide berth. This is going to be so easy, he told himself.

"I've spent years preparing for this encounter. Training. Meditating. You're just a little girl!" he sneered. Never mind that he hadn't gotten to the advanced set yet. What use would that be against a child?

The girl just stared at him, confused. "You're just a teenager," she pointed out, and Zuko attacked.

-x-

(It wasn't until Zuko found himself crushed between his bed and the steel roof of his room that he began to reconsider this assessment.)

-x-

Katara was the single most beautiful girl Aanya had ever seen. It wasn't just because of her eyes, which were the exact color of the sky right before a storm, though Aanya had to admit they were very pretty eyes. They'd been the first thing she'd seen when she woke up from that iceberg, and they sparkled like snow every time Katara laughed-

"Why are you smiling at me?"

Aanya turned away, her face completely red.

-x-

"According to legend, you need to first master water, then earth, then fire, right?" Katara asked, unable to contain her excitement, words bubbling up from inside her.

Aanya nodded shakily. "That's what the monks told me."

"Well, if we go to the North Pole you can master waterbending!" Wouldn't that be nice? Master Katara of the Southern Water Tribe.

"We can learn it together," Aanya added excitedly, now smiling widely. It was a very nice smile, like the tundra unfreezing over fresh grass, or the sun peeking out from behind a cloud. Katara didn't like to think too hard on why she found that smile so nice.

"And Sokka, I'm sure you'll get to knock some firebender heads on the way."

Sokka sighed dreamily. "I'd like that. I'd really like that."

"Then we're in this together," Katara decided. The Avatar and her loyal companions, the saviors of the world.

Aanya produced a map from within Appa's saddle, and though she couldn't understand the language it was written in, Katara was proud to recognize the terrain. "All right, but before I learn waterbending, we have some serious business to attend to," Aanya pointed at the map in random places, "here, here, and here."

"What's there?" Katara asked eagerly.

"Here ," Aanya pointed to the Earth Kingdom, "we'll ride the hopping llamas. Then way over here," she pointed to a spot on the southern Air Nomad islands, "we'll surf on the backs of giant koi fish. Then back over here we'll ride the hog-monkeys. They don't like people riding them, but that's what makes it fun!"

Katara's smile froze on her face. This was either going to be really good or really, really bad.

-x-

(Aanya was right about the hog monkeys. No matter how much Sokka complained about the bite, it was fun.)

-x-

Pakku was a man of tradition. He had grown to recognize that there was a reason people did the things the way they did, that centuries of wisdom stood behind every practice in his tribe. He believed wholeheartedly that a woman had no use for waterbending outside of healing and nurturing.

The villager from the Southern Water Tribe didn't agree. "What do you mean you won't teach me?  I didn't travel across the entire world so you could tell me 'no'!"

"No," he repeated, wishing that she would just shut up.

"But there must be other female waterbenders in your tribe!"

"Here the women learn from Yagoda to use their waterbending to heal. I'm sure she would be happy to take you as her student despite your bad attitude." He wasn't sure if she even had the spiritual acumen to heal, since she appeared to be nothing more than a pent-up ball of undignified rage.

"I don't want to heal, I want to fight!" Katara insisted loudly, and he could feel a really sharp headache coming on.

"I can see that. But our tribe has customs, rules."

"Your rules stink," she snapped.

Aanya had been quiet this whole time, and Pakku was silently cursing the spirits for forcing the Avatar into a female incarnation. She would be emotional about it, no doubt. "If you won't teach Katara," she said quietly, voice oddly inflectionless, "then you won't teach me."

She took Katara's hand and they walked away together, utterly silent.

-x-

(Yagoda did a double take when she found Aanya sitting in her healing hut alongside Katara, trading her saffron robes for a blue tunic, hair done up in the braided loops of the Southern Water Tribe.

"I thought Master Pakku was going to teach you," she frowned.

Aanya just shrugged and grinned. "His loss.")

-x-

The ice walls surrounding the city were melted to nothing by armies of firebenders and their flaming trebuchets. The sea was strewn with mangled armor and sinking ships, the ocean's depths waiting to swallow them all just as it did with every other half-precious treasure. The moon hung in the sky, round and bright, its light illuminating the tears of everyone Princess Yue had left behind.

A monster stood over Agna Qel'a, its shadow covering the shaking bodies of those prostrated at its feet, dark blue skin pulsing with magic. Katara was the only one who didn't look away, the only one who ran towards it instead of to safety. In the end, some things never changed. The Avatar was back, and the world would remember her name forevermore.

[thesisyphuscycle]

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