shatterverse | Entries tagged with katara (dead)

notanoptimist.livejournal.com

You know how if you repeat a word often enough in your head, it loses all meaning and starts sounding like nonsense? You know the word has a definition and it should mean something to you but at that moment, there's nothing to it. It's blank and empty and just there.

Sokka is standing in front of a small pyre a mile or two down the road from the farm. He wanted to be away from the main house, for attention and to spare anyone else the smoke and smell. It's been burning most of the night and is in the process of dying down, but even that should take a few more hours. At least until after the sun's come up.

The body resting on the wood base is small and slender and wrapped up in a bed sheet.

He has a feeling he should be feeling something.

But if you get your heart broken enough, it stops making the effort to heal and you stop feeling the effects of it.

He's watching the flames more than the body.

highrisktrader.livejournal.com

This is all so far out of Katara's control!

It is probably that nobody is venturing this far from the household without a reason. Katara has a reason: her face is starting to rot off, and she hasn't been able to find anyone to drain, and she's so terribly afraid that Sokka will come back any moment and find her, and she can't avoid Toph for much longer without the other girl getting suspicious, and and and it's all so hard being a deadly killer zombie and NOBODY UNDERSTANDS HER and --

Anyone who has wandered these fields over may find a small, foul-smelling, rotting lump of girl sitting on an abandoned horsetrough and wasting precious moisture by crying.

Good luck to them.

highrisktrader.livejournal.com

Things have spiralled wildly out of Katara's control. It seemed like such a good idea at the time - it really did.

But now?

It's all happened so fast and it's got so big. She doesn't know how to stop this. But people are getting hurt.

As long as Sokka doesn't find out ... things might be okay.

She's sitting out the front of the farmhouse, a huddled lump against a tree, tears tracking through the dust on her face. It's been a couple of days since she's washed or brushed her hair. Oddly enough, she's practically glowing with health.

wolf-that-howls.livejournal.com

There is a black wolf on the outskirts of the farm. A wolf that was once a spirit, daughter of a goddess. She's now mortal. She cannot always remember the speech of spirits. She cannot always remember her name.

The farm is on the outskirts of her pack's territory. She passes by every so often, to keep aware of possible threats.

The wolf turns from the farm. She heads from farmland, into the wilderness. Her pack is strong. Her pups grow well. She only lost one, to an eagle. Her pack and pups speak only in a wolf's tongue - but that is good, for Howling Wolf is a wolf now.

No more or less.

jonadarkhair.livejournal.com

It's past midnight, and Jona can't sleep.

It's not the first time.

But, you know, she doesn't mind being awake. Being awake means she doesn't have to dream, and her dreams still leave her shaking and scared and more tired than she was before. (Nobody heals from a death sentence at Highgate Prison just like that. Nobody heals, just like that, from feeling the noose around their throat.) (But she hasn't told anyone. Telling people, she reasons, would upset them. She's one of those annoyingly stoic people who'll pretend not to be ill until they drop dead of it.)

She still loves the sting of the night air on her cheeks (if you look closely, they're tracked with water) and the endless expanse of fields and sky around her reminding her that she's free. So she's wandered, and wandered, until she's reached a faraway field, and the farmhouse is reduced to a black silhouette on a black expanse, discernable only by the way it hides the stars.

of-knowledge.livejournal.com

Jo and Pakamon are in one of the overgrown fields not yet reclaimed by the Cooper farm.

The little catlike Digimon is applying a wrench enthusiastically to an overgrown monstrosity of a motorbike, which gives an occasional mournful whistle in response, accompanied by a gout of vaguely funny-smelling steam.

Her human, on the other hand, is keeping watch. And by keeping watch we mean sitting on the ground, leaning back against the rear wheel of the steambike, and dozing off.

highrisktrader.livejournal.com

They actually arrived back at the farm a while ago, in the middle of the night, with no fanfare. Since then, Katara has been soaking in the winter sunshine, running around blissfully, practicing her bending and hugging her friends and brother, and basically just having a wonderful time. Today she's sitting at the edge of the pond, feeding Spots and grinning enormously at everyone who comes near. Life is great! Especially when you haven't had it for ages!

Steph is still working in Smallville at the bar, and has been catching up on missed shifts for the past couple of days; this is the first afternoon she's had off since they got back, and she's down at the training area making good use of her workout time. At the moment, just bending and stretching and general maintaining-of-absurd-Battish-flexibility. Any suggestions that she is avoiding Babs, using physical activity to avoid thinking, will be ... avoided via physical activity.

highrisktrader.livejournal.com

The trip back from Chicago to the farm is just as slow, and even more low on fuel - but the moods in the cars are very different from the trip there.

In Katara's case, it's a good change - she can't stop beaming at everyone, hugging and kissing and more hugging, eating real food and breathing real air and feeling the snow on her face for the first time in so long. Her bending is back, although it's not quite all it should be - not yet.

But it will. Everything is going to be wonderful. Katara is sure of that.

runaway-bandit.livejournal.com

It's not been as long as you think, honestly!

Toph's been crouching at the edge of Lake Michigan, apparently pensive and not doing much, excpet suddenly, in the middle of the morning:

"I got it!"

alwaysroomforhope

Chicago: still crumbled, still broken. Expedition Katara skirted it without needing to consult.

They've found a quiet field, sloping gently down to the shores of the lake. It's dry enough to set up camp again, all of them thankful to be finally out of the cars.

Katara is sitting by the water's edge, watching movement in the water, quiet and thoughtful. She hasn't said more than two words to anyone since the encounter with the cannibals, since healing Mel.

Steph, as per usual, is anything but quiet, chattering to Hana about everything and nothing as they set up the fire in preparation for roasting whatever the hunters find. Loo still won't leave Mel's side and Hana is grumpy about it, but willing to be distracted.

There's lots to be done now that they've finally reached their goal.

alwaysroomforhope

The campsite they eventually pick is in the middle of a large, dead plain, nothing obscuring vision in any direction for hundreds of yards. It might have been a farm once; it's all dead now.

They're all exhausted. It was dark when they'd camped the first time; it's close to midnight by the time the two cars pull off the road and into this field, and it's raining - cold, thick, heavy rain that blows any hope they might have had of making a fire.

Thank everything for Toph.

alwaysroomforhope

It's the third night of what Steph had hoped would be a two-day trip, and it's been a long, long three days. Steph is grumpy.

Katara isn't. She's happy and excited and giggly, and is enjoying every moment of this trip, chatting with her friends and seeing all over this big strange world.

Making camp means Katara is finding water and purifying it for them to drink; that's her one and only job. It's not like there's much else she can do. She drifts off into (and through) the rubble that surrounds their preferred campsite, waving a cheerful goodbye. "I'll be back soon, guys! With water!"

Steph, who's spent the whole day driving, has Loo in her lap and is half-nodding off against a tree. She's supposed to be watching the stew, but ... well, it's been a long trip. At least she and Sokka are exempt from standing watch at night - the one upside to being the group's drivers.

With luck, they should make their destination tomorrow. With more luck, they'll all make it in one piece. Right now, it's just quiet making-camp time for Team Chicago.

That's all. Just quiet and peaceful.

Because that always lasts, around here.

alwaysroomforhope

Steph is waiting by the car. Katara is, too. One of them is beaming excitedly and practically bouncing around in eagerness to leave.

Tip: It's not the corporeal one.

highrisktrader.livejournal.com

Katara is READY.

She can totally (nearly) waterbend well enough to heal, and she can totally (actually) leave the farm, and every day they wait is a day she's more nervous.

R-E-A-D-Y!

... and therefore, of course, she's sitting in the kitchen practicing bending the spilled water behind the sink and wishing she could eat the cookies Steph made.

The cookies smell delicious.

highrisktrader.livejournal.com

Out the back of the Cooper farm, Spots the baby kraken is lounging at the corner of his pool, his big eyes trembling with fear. The water at the other side of the pool is heaping itself up, drawing itself into trembling sculptures and shapes that quiver and then collapse again.

Katara is angry and frustrated and cross. Why can't she make it stay?

But she's better than she was! All she has to do is keep getting better! She can go anywhere, they've figured that out, she doesn't have to stay on the farm. They can go and find her body and they can find the water and they can bring her back, she just has to be able to bend.

Why is it so hard?

heartofthedream

Jean went 'walking' this world, for very little definition of that word.

Today she's sitting in a field of late autumn not too far off from the farmhouse and it's general surroundings.

She's presently plaiting a long thin chain of flowers.

notanoptimist.livejournal.com

Sokka is in the kitchen, looking at a broken ring of salt and a distinct lack of the books he knows he'd placed inside.

"I hate my sister."

highrisktrader.livejournal.com

In the kitchen of the Cooper farm, there is a circle of salt, and inside it, three books stacked one on top of the other.

There is also a really pissed off ghost, storming up and down outside the salt circle and kicking the occasional chair. Stupid Sokka, thwarting her attempts to thwart him!

The soapy water in the sink is rippling constantly.

notanoptimist.livejournal.com

Sokka has had a sort of pet-project for a while, involving his undead-sister haunting the Cooper kitchen. It's hard to research, though, when Dean Winchester has been the only one with any real information to share with him and the man doesn't actually live at the farm. Plus, Katara doesn't seem overly excited about not being a ghost anymore.

~~And, Sokka has to admit, it's much easier to keep an eye on her this way~~ but he never thinks anything of the sort.

Ever.

Right now, he's working on Steph's motorcycle. It's making a weird noise when she rides it (she insists this is not true) and he's going to fix it!

highrisktrader.livejournal.com

Outside the Cooper farm, where Spots is wallowing lazily in the water, there is --

a girl kneeling by the edge of the kraken pond, stirring the water morosely and barely making a ripple, wrapped in blue leather and white fur with blue beads in her hair.

It still isn't fair, and nothing will make it fair, and she hasn't seen anyone for so long, she's just been drifting around rattling things and nobody even notices, it's awful and she hates it!

-- nothing, really, although the breeze is a bit nippy.

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Page generated Jun. 28th, 2025 06:27 pm

Shatterverse Panfandom RP

Entries tagged with katara (dead)

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team zombietara leaves the farm, yo

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Cooper Farm

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