Categories > Cartoons > Avatar: The Last Airbender > Trapped in a Golden Bedlam

Chapter 4

by Kettles 0 reviews

'You knew this was going to happen.' How long had she been running? 'This was a wasted venture from the start.'

Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Action/Adventure - Characters: Katara, Zuko - Published: 2006-11-29 - Updated: 2006-11-30 - 1015 words

0Unrated
((Disclaimer: I WISH that I owned Zuko....))

The Festival of Carnations was initiated with some words from Bai Ping (half of which were unintelligible, due mainly to the great distance Katara was from the small man), and then a troupe of women floated up onto the stage. They all wore uniforms of silken dresses, with different layers to their skirts. As the drums began their jarring rhythm, soon accompanied by tumbling guitar notes, the women wove between each other, twisting and moving in intricate patterns, their skirts flaring out in shapes that greatly reminded the waterbender of the carnations themselves.

From the moment that the first exhibition ended, Katara waded through the crowds with a clear purpose: to find the stand that sold the light red flowers. Pie had already shown her which one it was, and Bai Ping had provided each of them with a considerable sum of money, which jangled noisily against her hip.

Along the way, she passed a plethora of different shops: food, clothes, masks, flowers, and even some eclectic ones that sold such trinkets as porcelain wind chimes. Elaborate fragrances teased her nose, and she suddenly realized that she had worked straight through lunch with Pie, but her mission was important enough to subdue her stomach.

(Okay, so she made one stop and bought a pita, but then it was straight to her objective.)

After getting hopelessly lost three times in the sea of faces and stopping to get directions from a clothing vendor, and in doing so having to deflect his many sales pitches, the teenager was able to purchase her flower. Clutching it like it was the solution to ending the war, Katara wove once again through the crowds.

Duck, dodge, swerve, it was amazing that she was still in one piece. But all of her struggles led her to wonder: how was she to find Aang?

First she swam into the dancing exhibition crowd, but there was no Avatar. She stole herself a moment to watch the dancers weave a tribute to Avatar Midori in their animated gesticulations and movements, but then plunged once again into the mob. It was only after another excruciating ten minutes of nothing before she found her goal, by a dress stand, no less. Katara stood near the outskirts of the crowd, clutching the flower tightly to her chest, a cold sweat creeping along the back of her neck.

'Now or never.

'Do it, Katara. He's right there. It's easy. Walk up, and hold it out.

'Say something, DO something. Stop standing there for god's sake!'

She sucked in a musty breath of air, much like the one she suffered under in the labyrinth, only this time she wasn't choked over it. 'In, out, in, out. Breathe. Just breathe. You've been through so much, facing the prince of the Fire Nation in hand-to-hand combat for one, and you're terrified of one little Air Nomad?'

'Go. Now.'

One bare foot slid forward in the dust. Could her quaking knees hold her weight?

Another step. Did he know she was coming?

More steps. She was there, his back facing her.

'Now or never.'

"There you are!" She gave a visible start, stumbling to find the right words, only to find that her efforts were unnecessary. "Toph...." The Avatar's voice grew silky as the earthbender sauntered into view, her own hair splashing down her back, and-amazingly- in a Midorian dress. "You look... amazing." The two stood there before each other, both with infatuation stamped across their faces. Each brandished light red carnations.

"Thanks, Aang," Toph smiled sweetly, "I know you look good."
Hate clouded Katara's heart, blinded her, deafened her, muted her. The festival around her silenced, the wonderful images imploding. She could no longer hear what the monk and his teacher were saying. All she could see was their mouths moving.
Aang extended his declaration of admiration, and she returned the favor.

A flood stung at Katara's eyes, her own element betraying her, mussing up her vision.

They were leaning in.

'No, NO! Stop, please!'

Aang snaked a hand around Toph's waist.

She couldn't take this anymore. 'Stop it!' If this continued, she was going to lose it.

Their faces were close. They were smiling.

Katara's face contorted with torture.

They closed the gap.

And then her heart broke, smashed into thousands of pieces, scattering like the carnation petals about her feet. 'No....' She cast the stem of the carnation away like it burned to the touch, and she dove back into the knot of laughing, celebrating people, all undiscerning of the lone girl racing through them, bumping, falling, lifting herself up again, her face streaked with tears and dirt, her mouth a crooked black hole through which voiceless screams ripped out.

'You knew this was going to happen.'

How long had she been running?

'This was a wasted venture from the start.'

Where was she?

'You should have never kidded yourself into thinking that he could possibly choose you over Toph.'

There, freedom.

'Fool.'

The waterbender emerged from the people, sobs wracking her body. Her escape continued past her brother, who was flanked by the girls from earlier. "Katara? Katara!" he said, snatching at her and then following after. But she lost him. Only his retreating bellows were clear.

'He can't help you. No one can.

'You're alone.'

By now, Katara was dead to her surroundings, and yet she was still able to push her numbed legs ever forward, something like her dream voice urging her on: "Run, run, get away. Faster."
'Hmm, maybe you should have just bought a striped flower and not even bothered with your stupid hopes.'

And then she was beyond the festival limits, into an outbreak of forest on the north side of the city. Her brain had receded into itself, and her body was on autopilot.

Fold over, get smaller, move in, fold over. Her heart started its self-preservation.

Get smaller, fold over.

Be invisible.

Be hidden.

'He doesn't love you.'

Tears blatantly streamed down her cheeks, stinging.

'Get that through your head:
He
Doesn't
Love
You.'
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