A/N: I’m not completely dead from tumblr dot com. Here’s some Sokkla tho. Unbeta’ed. Unedited.
Sokka was ten years old when the South Pole was burning. He had flashbacks sometimes, of red, violent red, and the smell of smoke in his senses. He could hear his mother’s screams. He could see his father’s back.
His father placed his hands on either of his shoulders.
“You’re my son,” he said. “You’re in charge of the South Pole’s last defense.”
It was fervour and pride and in the name of justice. He could see himself—they’d call him a hero—as the dismantler of traps. The grand strategist. That’s until Gran Gran told him to go to sleep.
When he was eleven, he thought he would conquer the world and he’d be fire emperor. Those were lazy days for Sokka. He’d entertain whims and fancies, because he was a boy who lived in a society that loved to tell stories.
The men would return from their hundred year war, and his father would tell him stories. He’d have something to say too.
Back in those days, Sokka thought, the world was divided into Fire Nation and everyone else.
It was nearly four years after the war, and Sokka was travelling for Zuko and Aang for diplomatic work. He stopped on one of the Fire Nation islands for the night, and he realized there was a play being held that evening. Paying for the last performance, he stepped into the auditorium of fifty or so people who were seated and waiting.
There were mostly families and some couples. Sokka decided to take a seat beside the entrance, incase… well… incase the memories brought back flashbacks.
He pushed down his heavy cloak when he sat in the dark of the auditorium.
Streams of red and blue ribbons popped up on stage and Zuko performed a few moves. The drum beat. The woman who played his sister was kneeling. The audience oohed and aahed. Sokka yawned and tapped his foot.
Blue flame was a rarity, Zuko told him once. He watched the stream of ribbons fall to the stage as the Avatar and his group moved in.
The problem was that no one could really play someone as cold, as calculated and as driven as Azula. Someone who still haunted Zuko’s nightmares, and she remained one of the most powerful architects of the Avatar’s hunt.
No, there was a reason why the play was so boring. Because, heroes were as good as their villains.
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