|More from Theavatardemotivator||Romance||G||Very Positive|
Chapter Thirteen: Misfortune
There is none in his world.
His world is one of love, life, and laughter.
And he thanks his lucky stars every day.
He's a lucky star.
His friend from before his time in the iceberg—from before he ran away and doomed and failed his people. Who was lost, then was found, and now is with him again. His faithful companion, with him through thick and thin, happiness and sorrow, woe—and giddy-up. He smiles, gently stroking the sky bison's great head. Appa grumbles in response, and he grins again.
"Thanks, buddy," he whispers, "for everything you've ever done for me."
Appa is a lucky star.
Or like Sokka.
Sure, sometimes his sokkasm can be a little annoying, and he doesn't always understand the subtleties of being the Avatar.
Nonetheless, without Sokka, life wouldn't be nearly as fun—nearly as funny, he should say. Now, Sokka sits next to him on the sky bison, looking worried. And nervous.
No small wonder.
Sokka's finally going to be seeing his father after so many long years of longing and turmoil.
He'll need to visit him some day as well, to speak about his daughter, to inform him of their budding love, to ask him for her hand in—
Not yet, Aang. Not yet.
He nods at Sokka and throws him a reassuring smile. His friend nods back and settles in to wait.
Toph's a lucky star, too, even if she doesn't show it. She's off talking to her parents now, having a lovely time. He feels a sudden twange of jealously, though he knows he shouldn't; he can't help it. She will know her parents and love them. He never even found who his parents were, much less loved them, and his almost adopted father, well, he—
No. Think of happier things.
He is grateful for all of his lucky stars.
But mostly for Katara.
If they are lucky stars . . .
She is his lucky world.
His lucky moon.
His lucky nebula.
His lucky galaxy.
His lucky universe.
His lucky everything.
If he could, he would replace Sokka with her in a flash—no, he wouldn't. Sokka is his friend, too. But Katara . . .
His heart races at the mere thought of her. He remembers her wearing the necklace he made and wonders idly if she still has it.
If she does, he will be overjoyed.
If she doesn't, he will be overjoyed anyway.
No matter what she does, he will always, always love her.
No matter what.
He whips the reins, and Appa roars. They're in the air, soaring through clouds, swirling through eddies, slicing through currents.
With her, he is always flying.
Always and forever.
Forever and always.
He looks down at the landscape below them, greens and browns and occasional blues, and his face lights up.
No, he doesn't have any misfortune.
And he is thankful for it.
. . .for Katara.
For the collective works of the author, go here.