|More from Theavatardemotivator||Romance||G||Very Positive|
|And the Fish Could Love the Bird|
Chapter One-Hundred-One: And the Fish Could Love the Bird Edit
The evening is perfect.
She’s wearing the blue dress, the one that brings out the sapphire in her eyes, and she finishes the last of her meal. “Aang, this was delicious!” she announces.
He blushes . “Well . . . I haven’t served dessert yet.”
She glances up at him, and he can see the love that radiates from the shimmering centers of her eyes. “What’s for dessert?” she whispers, and he blushes again, even more fiercely, aware of their inside joke.
“How about a fruit pie?” he inquires. “It’s sea prune flavored!”
She laughs and nods.
He Airbends the fruit pie towards her, and she smiles.
It rises into view, and its purple curl is perfect. It is in the shape of the character for air.
The chakra of love.
It is perfect . . . as is the betrothal necklace hanging from its base.
She gasps when she sees it, and a swathe of red cloaks her cheeks; she seems unable to speak.
He gently sets the fruit pie onto the table between them and removes the necklace, holding the fragile thing in his hands as one would hold an infant. He carefully, lovingly, places his hand on hers, and her fingers intertwine with his.
He gazes, as he is wont to do, into her eyes.
Her are sapphire blue.
His are stormy gray.
They are the sky and the sea.
The horizon, so thin, keeping them apart.
Except at the ends of the earth, where they can finally touch, and caress, and love.
Like Oma and Shu.
Torn apart by war.
Brought together by love.
But if the sky could love the sea . . .
Then a bird could love a fish, he sings.
“Katara of the Southern Water Tribe,” he murmurs quietly, his voice barely audible, “will you marry me?”
For an instant, she doesn’t reply, and his heart beats swiftly; he is terrified that he has erred somehow.
But then he glances into her eyes, and in the sparkling eddies and currents, he can see the answer.
Her grip on his hand tightens, and she leans in to breathe into his ear. Her warm breath stirs something deep within him, and his heart pounds. “Yes,” she whispers. “Yes, yes, a thousand times, yes!”
He is shaking in his joy, unable to contain himself, and he tackles her, throws his arms around her, and kisses her fiercely, knocking her chair backwards, but he supports both of them with Airbending.
I’ll never let you fall.
“Aang . . . what took you so long?” she teases. “You’re two years overdue.”
He laughs and embraces her.
Gently, this time.
“It doesn’t matter,” he murmurs, nibbling a little on her ear, and she blushes. “I love you, Katara.”
“I love you, too, Aang.”
For, you see, a bird could love a fish.
And the fish could love the bird.
One word: Prank'd.
Two words: Prank'd twice.
This is the only chapter that pictures Aang in the infobox.
For the collective works of the author, go here.