markofthewise | Sokka the 73rd

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Sokka the 73rd - [Action/Voice]

[The house was demolished. And apparently it didn't have the decency to start putting itself together again. Not to mention the whole town was soggy. Most of Sokka's stuff in his room had been damaged. Some of it was salvageable, much of it he had to just throw out. His important valuables were in the basement and though there was a few inches of water down there, his stuff was up high and out of reach. Still, another mess to clean. At least there were two waterbenders in the house to clean that up. For a lover of stuff, Sokka was pretty put out by it. He hadn't been able to sleep in his room because of it. In a way though, he couldn't be upset. It felt right. Like starting over.

And then there was the smithy. Or what was left of it. The whole thing was rubble now. He wasn't even sure if there was a point in trying to pick through it. Best to wait until the Malnosso fixed it, right? It was freeing up his schedule considerably, anyway. At least he was back to his normal practice schedule in the mornings. Even if two straight weeks of combat had left him... weary of it, to say the least. All the same. He found himself to be glad to be back in Luceti. Back in the library, studying his alchemy. Sure, he lost all his notes and would have to start over, but it would be easier since he already knew what needed to be done again. Still. There was so much to go over.]

A guy can't leave for a few weeks without the town getting demolished, huh? Anyway. So uh. A lot of stuff has happened this past week. If anyone wants to, you know, spare some of the good details? I'll be around. Interested. And if you want? I can tell you all about space. Which was pretty great.

[Very around. Like hanging out in the plaza around. No smithy kind of leaves him with no daytime hangout spot. Especially without Suki to spend time with. So besides his training and time at the library, he's very much a man with nothing to do. Evidenced by the fact he's sitting at a bench near the fountain, lazily sprawled out as he counts his one hundredth consecutive hit on a paddle ball. It's uncanny how good he actually is with it.]

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That's Master Corrections, thank you very much.

Cheeky.

I try. [Well, after all that banter, it's probably time to. Talk.] So... are you doing alright?

Me and bed-rest don't get along so well.

Bed rest is overrated anyway. But if you want a visitor, I could drop by. I already did a round for Hiccup.

I could suffer some company. I suppose. If I must.

[ please save her. ]

I'll try not to make you too miserable. Are you at home?

Yep. And other people seem pretty preoccupied at the moment so unless you feel like waiting at the door for my sorry self to answer it, I'd suggest not bothering to knock.

So just let myself in, huh? Well, I'll just hope your housemates aren't up to anything weird out front.

Don't worry. Out of all of us? I'm pretty sure I'm the weird one.

Well...maybe Willow's a close second.

That I already knew. I'll see you soon.

[ the cranky broken slayer is waiting for you, sokka. she's staring at her ceiling. she's counting the knots in the wood. she's starting to hum show tunes.

no one is safe. ]

Edited 2012-07-08 20:59 (UTC)

[He gives a cautionary knock on the door as he enters. And you know what? He's brought snacks.]

I like that. The 'dum dum de de dum' part.

She sat up. Carefully and with the help of many fluffy pillows. But sitting definitely happened. There are still a few faint bruises around her neck and a few light red marks on her arms where there used to be shallow cuts only days before.

"The dum-dum-de-de-dum parts are always my favourite parts. Thanks for coming by, Sokka."

They weren't hard to miss. For his part, Sokka had his share of scrapes and bruises. But Katara had seen to those. There were a few places he was still healing, but those were out of sight and concealed. Even so, when he picked a seat, he did it a little slower than he normally would.

"Don't mention it. I'd rather visit the injured over the sick. I'm just hoping I didn't catch Hiccup's cold."

Having said that, he then presented the snacks. He was more of a muffin man, but his instincts told him Buffy was more of a donut person. And a variety of those were what he picked up at the bakery.

Trust your instincts, young man. For they will take you far. Buffy plucked a sugar-coated doughnut from the box and offered a wan smile.

"He's sick? Poor guy. Mid-summer's just about the lamest time to catch a cold. Who wants to have hot soup in the summer? Not I."

"It makes me wonder if we were the lucky ones, going off into space instead of staying for that storm." He picked out one of plainer donuts. He may have liked his sweets, but this sort of stuff was a little too much for someone who grew up on a blander diet. "I had enough of that back in the mountains."

"I don't know. I kinda think I would've rathered sticking back here. Maybe. I..."

She shook her head -- still staring at her treat. "I don't mean that. I probably wouldn't have been much good, here. I'm no meteorologist.

Besides." She finally met Sokka's eyes and -- remembering the slit wings on the battlefield: "The war effort needs people like you and me."

"I know." It had been an empty statement.

He knew he had been right where he needed to be. Not just to fight the good fight or save people who needed saving. But because people like Aang and Toph were there. And they needed more than just Katara to do the difficult and hard things they weren't prepared to do. To do the things they should never have to. His gaze lowered, falling somewhere between the floor and the edge of her bed.

"I heard you ran into him again."

Her face fell further. Buffy busied herself with tearing apart the doughnut. Trying to come up with a manageable, bite-sized piece.

"There was a sorta reunion, yeah. It didn't go so well."

"But he came out looking worse, right?"

"Eventually."

But...she found she didn't quite like lying to Sokka -- not even by omission. "No thanks to me."

He knew Buffy didn't beat the General. He also know who did. It was announced on the radios, for anyone who happened to be around the soldiers. No big secret. His gaze went to her neck. "Did he do all that?"

She didn't speak; she only nodded.

He didn't say anything. An inaudible 'what happened' was floating in the air. But he didn't think it was fair to voice it. If she wanted to talk about it, she would. Instead he awkwardly tried to rub away some of the stickiness on his fingers. It wasn't quite working.

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what a great excuse for prose.

is it?

doubtless.

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