Sokka Thunderaxe (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
markofthewise) wrote2012-12-10 01:02 pm
markofthewise) wrote2012-12-10 01:02 pm
Entry tags:
Sokka the 75th - [Action] (Backdated to the 10th)
[Introspection]
It's an interesting thing to reflect on life in Luceti. Sokka remembered hearing it phrased as the "Luceti education". It certainly was some education. Looking back, he could scarcely believe some of the things that had happened to him. He'd fallen in love with two girls thanks to the annual love event. He'd been convinced he was a father. Not only that, but he was the father of those two very same girls. He had partial memories of living the life of an Avatar, one that granted him a unique set of memories of a mother he had barely remembered before. He had faint memories of what his entire life would be like if he had been a girl. More complicated than that, he'd spent a month as another girl in Luceti with the concern that he could be stuck like that forever. Maybe that was the oddest thing of all. He certainly tried to not ever, ever think about that horrible month.
But it wasn't all weird. Some of it was just horrible. He'd lost friends, seen people die, and watched as everyone from his world came and went with the sole exception of him and his sister. He had fought monsters in Luceti, far beyond his ability to ever stop. Some of those monsters were his friends. He'd been sent into wars, bloody wars, where he fought enemies that could not be reasoned with. He'd grown accustomed to killing his enemies. It was easy now. Too easy. He'd died, too. Not long enough to gain a death penalty, but it happened. It still haunted him. And he still couldn't bring himself to tell more than a small number of people.
He'd loved. Loved and lost. And he got her back. But it wasn't the same. Sometimes he wondered that it might never be the same. He'd grown into a man, but not in the way he ever expected. It was the Luceti education. Everyone was hurting. Everyone. The education was that you learned to pretend like it didn't hurt. You threw parties, you played games, and you spent each and every day acting like maybe one day you'd get back home and that would be a good thing. Eventually, whether it was months or years, people realized that 'going home' wasn't as good as it seemed. They weren't the lucky ones. The sum of their experiences and growth was being ripped from them, in an instant. They were sent home with a wound they didn't know they had. Everyone eventually was doomed to be returned to what they were. Lesser. Smaller. Without the things that now made them who they were.
Sometimes that didn't seem so bad anyway.
[Action]
Three years. That's how long it was now. Sokka sat outside the house, snapping his finger as he tried to summon a spark of Eferin's fire. As he expected, he'd lost it. Not for good, perhaps. But he'd stopped practicing and stopped communing with the spirits. It was little surprise. It was tapping into Tsinku's power that got him toasted. He'd spent so much time invested in other things, that he just lost his connection with the spirits. With a small bit of reluctance, he relied on his zippo lighter instead. It was sufficient to start the fire. It was nothing much, really. Just wooden scraps, paper, cardboard, and other accumulated materials that had started clogging up parts of the house. Most of it was Sokka's own junk. So rather than just throw it out and let the Malnosso deal with it, he decided to just make a fire instead. He realized, of course, he was doing it in the same fire pit that he had used when Suki went home.
Three years. Today was a normal day. Sokka spent the first half of his day at the smithy. With Hiccup on the mend after that particularly painful surgery, it left Sokka as the only one who did the maintenance on the weapons. New Feather season was, at least, gone and done with. He hadn't received any commissions in a while, so it left him with time to start on some new projects. Things he expected would be gifts later. For lunch, he put extra jalapenos on his sandwich. Just like Elisa made them. The nice thing about the smithy was that despite how cold it was, you could sit outside in front of the open door and still be warm from the radiating heat of the furnace.
Three years. Sokka spent dinner at home, as he was supposed to. Then he did some alchemy research at the library. It left the evening free, but he figured there was a particular girl who would be occupying his time. That was the nice bit. It was a long trail and a heavy education. But you could forget when you were around a person who didn't know it yet. Then it was just another day. The twist was that he didn't mind. Education or not, Sokka was happy enough.
((ooc: This post is just a typical 'day in the life of' sort of deal. This is what his schedule looks like. Mostly it's self indulgent. Sorry about that!))
It's an interesting thing to reflect on life in Luceti. Sokka remembered hearing it phrased as the "Luceti education". It certainly was some education. Looking back, he could scarcely believe some of the things that had happened to him. He'd fallen in love with two girls thanks to the annual love event. He'd been convinced he was a father. Not only that, but he was the father of those two very same girls. He had partial memories of living the life of an Avatar, one that granted him a unique set of memories of a mother he had barely remembered before. He had faint memories of what his entire life would be like if he had been a girl. More complicated than that, he'd spent a month as another girl in Luceti with the concern that he could be stuck like that forever. Maybe that was the oddest thing of all. He certainly tried to not ever, ever think about that horrible month.
But it wasn't all weird. Some of it was just horrible. He'd lost friends, seen people die, and watched as everyone from his world came and went with the sole exception of him and his sister. He had fought monsters in Luceti, far beyond his ability to ever stop. Some of those monsters were his friends. He'd been sent into wars, bloody wars, where he fought enemies that could not be reasoned with. He'd grown accustomed to killing his enemies. It was easy now. Too easy. He'd died, too. Not long enough to gain a death penalty, but it happened. It still haunted him. And he still couldn't bring himself to tell more than a small number of people.
He'd loved. Loved and lost. And he got her back. But it wasn't the same. Sometimes he wondered that it might never be the same. He'd grown into a man, but not in the way he ever expected. It was the Luceti education. Everyone was hurting. Everyone. The education was that you learned to pretend like it didn't hurt. You threw parties, you played games, and you spent each and every day acting like maybe one day you'd get back home and that would be a good thing. Eventually, whether it was months or years, people realized that 'going home' wasn't as good as it seemed. They weren't the lucky ones. The sum of their experiences and growth was being ripped from them, in an instant. They were sent home with a wound they didn't know they had. Everyone eventually was doomed to be returned to what they were. Lesser. Smaller. Without the things that now made them who they were.
Sometimes that didn't seem so bad anyway.
[Action]
Three years. That's how long it was now. Sokka sat outside the house, snapping his finger as he tried to summon a spark of Eferin's fire. As he expected, he'd lost it. Not for good, perhaps. But he'd stopped practicing and stopped communing with the spirits. It was little surprise. It was tapping into Tsinku's power that got him toasted. He'd spent so much time invested in other things, that he just lost his connection with the spirits. With a small bit of reluctance, he relied on his zippo lighter instead. It was sufficient to start the fire. It was nothing much, really. Just wooden scraps, paper, cardboard, and other accumulated materials that had started clogging up parts of the house. Most of it was Sokka's own junk. So rather than just throw it out and let the Malnosso deal with it, he decided to just make a fire instead. He realized, of course, he was doing it in the same fire pit that he had used when Suki went home.
Three years. Today was a normal day. Sokka spent the first half of his day at the smithy. With Hiccup on the mend after that particularly painful surgery, it left Sokka as the only one who did the maintenance on the weapons. New Feather season was, at least, gone and done with. He hadn't received any commissions in a while, so it left him with time to start on some new projects. Things he expected would be gifts later. For lunch, he put extra jalapenos on his sandwich. Just like Elisa made them. The nice thing about the smithy was that despite how cold it was, you could sit outside in front of the open door and still be warm from the radiating heat of the furnace.
Three years. Sokka spent dinner at home, as he was supposed to. Then he did some alchemy research at the library. It left the evening free, but he figured there was a particular girl who would be occupying his time. That was the nice bit. It was a long trail and a heavy education. But you could forget when you were around a person who didn't know it yet. Then it was just another day. The twist was that he didn't mind. Education or not, Sokka was happy enough.
((ooc: This post is just a typical 'day in the life of' sort of deal. This is what his schedule looks like. Mostly it's self indulgent. Sorry about that!))
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Buffy fought hard to keep the sarcasm out of her voice; it wasn't easy. "He hit me with it a few weeks into my being here. Angel, uhm, he was here before me. He was here to give me the welcome spiel when I arrived. But part of it was to tell me he'd once spent a whole day human which meant we could..."
And she hadn't told Sokka that part of the story. Buffy froze -- like a deer in headlights -- and tried to find a better way to explain the problem. Her heart clenched.
"See, he left me 'cause it was never gonna work. In the first place. On account of his being a vampire. So if he suddenly wasn't one? But I guess humanity was just too tough on the guy, 'cause he gave it -- and me -- up so he could return to the fight. That's why it got changed, Sokka. Because Angel thought he could play God with my memories just so he could get his precious champion-status back."
Buffy suspected it wasn't as simple as that, but she didn't want to forgive Angel for what he'd done. Not if it had taken him this long to tell her. Not if she would only go back to being oblivious once home. Not that she knew what had really gone down that day, even now.
It was a complicated subject. Sokka was the second person she'd ever let in on it.
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"I'm sorry. That's rough." Luceti gave him a pretty good idea of what that was like. But it was never someone he cared about messing with his mind.
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And that's almost the same thing, 'cause if you can't feel good you should at least be able to feel vindicated."
For an ended relationship. For a cookie dough speech.
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"You know, if he didn't like being a human, why didn't he just get turned into a vampire again? Seems kind of weird to reset an entire day when it's an easy fix."
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It would have been cruel to him, too, she supposed. Yanked from his conscience once again after sharing her bed. Or his bed, as the case may be. Or possibly the kitchen table. Angel had been mercifully spare with the details.
"Not after the first time he lost it under similar enough circumstances."
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"I'll catch up with you later, alright?"
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