markofthewise | Sokka the 42nd

[Changing back suddenly had been something of a shock. His counterpart had a tendency to stay up late and while in the middle of making a sandwich for lunch, he gradually became aware something had changed as he blanked out for a moment. He felt shorter, younger, and there was less hair on his chin. His hair was still down, but he soon fixed that. After enough time, things started to catch up with him. All the horrible things he said, did, and thought... they were firmly in his mind. Maybe it wasn't really him who did all that stuff, but he remembered it like it was.

He spends a few hours not even sleeping, just going over everything he could remember, His first priority was his sister. After quietly peeking in on her, he could see she was back to her old self. They really, really needed to talk. But for now, he takes out his journal and writes out a message.]

I'm back to my old self. To anyone I talked to this last week, I'm sorry for everything. It wasn't me, it was... someone else. Kind of. Especially you, Winry.

[Of course, writing that in the middle of the night likely won't get noticed until the morning. By that time, Sokka will be on the roof of his house, temporarily covering up the damage left there by a certain incident yesterday. It's a good excuse for not having to face what happened the last week.]

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Stay here. [For a moment he ducks into his room, searches under his bed, then comes back with a small simple looking box. He sets it in front of her and then takes a seat nearby.]

I wanted this to be your birthday present, but the timing never worked out. But... yeah, go ahead and open it.

[What she'll find inside are an assortment of pictures he took with his journal during the draft. Notably pictures of their parents, their grandmother, and some of the people that were important to them in the tribe. At the very bottom of the stack of pictures is just the four of them, at home, listening attentively as their father tells about the latest expedition. Their mother is content, quiet and listening. A little girl is curled up in her lap, meanwhile a spunky boy is trying to strangle his father mid-sentence, desperate to be the center of attention. A small moment of what their life was like seven years ago.]

[Katara goes absolutely still, and for a long moment she doesn't even seem to breathe as she stares at the treasure that's in her hands. She'd been right there on the draft with him, but she'd never thought of this. He'd...

It wasn't only the memories, the beloved faces that she hasn't seen in so long... it's that she's holding in her hands a precious bit of reality, of memory and truth about the times that she loved before their world fell in all around them. And no matter what echoes Luceti shows her, no matter what it tries to take from her and twist - she'll know that what she's looking at is real.

Her mother's face...

Katara's voice is choked, and she is overwhelmed.]

I... I don't know what to say. Thank you, Sokka. [She stands up and wraps her arms around him in another hug.] Thank you.

[He feels guilty that the small token of what he's given her is unmatched by what he received from suffering a week of that other Sokka's memories. Snippets of memories of a life growing up with their mother still. A picture can't ever match that, but it's something at least. So he smiles in spite of that. He decides to not to brush it off as no big deal as he normally would. So he just settles for:]

You're welcome.

Sokka the 42nd - [Action/Written]

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