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[highrisktrader.livejournal.com]

Katara isn't sure what's going on, or where anyone is. There was a flash of light and a cracking noise, like the world broke in half, and then she was here -- somewhere in a field, with some animals that look like pigchickens gone wrong, and a filthy trough of water.

Well -- now it's just a trough of filth; Katara is circling the water in the air, cleaning it and practicing her bending at the same time. There's nothing better to do while she waits for her brother to turn up, after all.

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[highrisktrader.livejournal.com]

Katara's eyes go wide. (And Katara's eyes can go very wide.)

"Stop! What are you doing!?"

The trough water flies up again, solidifies into blunted daggers of ice and hurtles itself at him, Katara's arms waving.

[hardlydangerous.livejournal.com]

Hmm.

Oh, Katara. That's no fun.

The daggers hit thin air and shatter, falling to the ground in a glittering rain.

"Tsk, tsk. Hardly polite of you."

He takes a step closer, fingers slightly spread, not binding her arms yet.

[highrisktrader.livejournal.com]

She gasps, trying to tear herself away from the invisible grip, lifting her arms again in another fluid movement; the rain falls inwards to a point, becomes a glistening sphere of water, and hurls itself at him as if to trap him inside itself and freeze.

[hardlydangerous.livejournal.com]

Well, it could freeze, but instead--

His hands start to glow, and the water hits a wall of heat and hisses away into steam.

The pointing finger of his left hand rises.

"Sorry. Today just isn't your day, little girl."

[highrisktrader.livejournal.com]

Katara never thought screaming did much good.

Unless it was at Sokka, sometimes it worked then.

But this kind of screaming is different. It tears out of her throat, rips up her vocal chords the same way the pain is ripping up her forehead --

-- what is he doing? How is he -- Aang, where's Aang? Someone help her! She has --

-- has to --

-- has to h

elp Aang --

-- has

to save t

he wor

ld...

[hardlydangerous.livejournal.com]

Well.

That was fun.

Long fingers open and shut, open and shut...

...and droplets of water collect out of the air to form a swooping curve across the child's lifeless corpse, directed by an instinctive motion of his arms.

Oh, that's good.

Casually, carelessly, he freezes her and the ground for a few feet around.

There are no footprints leading to or from this macabre ice sculpture. Just the flap and hiss of wind left by his supersonic passage.