[FIC] Tug of War: Hakoda
Aug. 29th, 2009 11:26 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
squirrellysemanticsSet of character piece oneshots set int the ATLA universe
I do not own these characters.
Rating: all ages
no warnings
The full moon’s face shone brightly over the village. Hakoda hoped that she would continue to light the way as they followed the course that he had charted for his people.
He had no time for self doubt now.
“Now men, it’s important that you show no fear when you face a firebender. In the water tribe we fight to the last man standing, for without courage, how can we call ourselves men.”
The crowd of men rumbled at Hakoda’s words. Spears were beat against the ice, echoing off the giant glaciers that surrounded them.
Hakoda looked out over his men, the warriors of the Southern Water tribe, proudly. He pumped his own fist into the air. “Let us prepare for battle!”
Clubs and machetes were raised towards the full moon with a final roar as the men circled around the ceremonial fires that cast dancing shadows on the men’s faces.
He watched his men slowly become the wolf pack, dipping carefully into the pots of pitch and paints as they traced patterns on their skin in time honored tradition of wartime. He noticed one small, tan face trying to look for all the world as if that was where he belonged.
“Sokka,” he murmured. His features became solemn. He silently closed in on his son and laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder.
The boy nearly jumped out of his skin, letting out a bleat of surprise. Sokka guiltily tried to hide his paint stained fingers, spreading the paint already on his face to the sleeve of his fur trimmed coat as he rubbed at his cheeks. The boy looked like he would like nothing more than a fissure to open up and swallow him whole.
“Dad! I, uh, I was just, umm, making-sure-I-had-made-up-this-batch-of- warpaints-right-and-I-wasn’t-sure-if-you-were-mad-at-me-and-please-let-me-come-with-you?” Sokka’s tongue tripped over his words. Hakoda hid his smile as he grabbed a spare wash cloth from next to the pots of paint and dipped it in some water.
“Son, we’ve been over this before. You are staying here.” He kneeled before his son, gently washing away the smears of white and black on the boy’s face.
“Buh, but, but I want to help!” stammered Sokka. Hakoda’s expression softened at this.
“I know, son,” he said tenderly. So brave. Just like his mother. Grief tugged at his heart for a moment. He passed his hand over his eyes, as if to wipe his sadness away. No time for that now.
“*I* need you to stay here,” he continued softly. I need to know that you are safe. Hakoda clapped a broad hand on his son’s thin shoulder. “Besides, who’s going to train the next generation of warriors for me while I’m away?”
Sokka’s eyes went wide at the thought. “Me? Train the little ones?”
“I would trust no one else with such an important task.”
Sokka’s chest puffed up in pride at his father’s words. Hakoda could see the plans for the future forming behind Sokka’s wide blue eyes, twisting and turning like eddies in the ice floes.
Hakoda leaned in and conspiratorially whispered, “One thing though. Don’t let Katara boss you around.” He poked the boy in the ribs. “You’re her big brother and you need to protect her.”
“I will Dad!” said Sokka, beaming proudly.
Hakoda broke in to a wide smile and scooped his son up into a hug. The tell tale prickle of new tears forming made him exhale slowly to keep them at bay.
We’ll be together again. I swear it. He collected himself and rose to tower of the boy.
“C’mon. Help me get my cabin trunk on board.”
__________________________
A/N Hakoda’s opening speech cribbed from Sokka’s speech to the babies in Boy in the Iceberg. Sokka was never a good public speaker so he must of heard it somewhere before. And Sokka’s mildly sexist attitude in S1 had to start somewhere. I figured he just took his father’s words too close to heart.
I do not own these characters.
Rating: all ages
no warnings
The full moon’s face shone brightly over the village. Hakoda hoped that she would continue to light the way as they followed the course that he had charted for his people.
He had no time for self doubt now.
“Now men, it’s important that you show no fear when you face a firebender. In the water tribe we fight to the last man standing, for without courage, how can we call ourselves men.”
The crowd of men rumbled at Hakoda’s words. Spears were beat against the ice, echoing off the giant glaciers that surrounded them.
Hakoda looked out over his men, the warriors of the Southern Water tribe, proudly. He pumped his own fist into the air. “Let us prepare for battle!”
Clubs and machetes were raised towards the full moon with a final roar as the men circled around the ceremonial fires that cast dancing shadows on the men’s faces.
He watched his men slowly become the wolf pack, dipping carefully into the pots of pitch and paints as they traced patterns on their skin in time honored tradition of wartime. He noticed one small, tan face trying to look for all the world as if that was where he belonged.
“Sokka,” he murmured. His features became solemn. He silently closed in on his son and laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder.
The boy nearly jumped out of his skin, letting out a bleat of surprise. Sokka guiltily tried to hide his paint stained fingers, spreading the paint already on his face to the sleeve of his fur trimmed coat as he rubbed at his cheeks. The boy looked like he would like nothing more than a fissure to open up and swallow him whole.
“Dad! I, uh, I was just, umm, making-sure-I-had-made-up-this-batch-of- warpaints-right-and-I-wasn’t-sure-if-you-were-mad-at-me-and-please-let-me-come-with-you?” Sokka’s tongue tripped over his words. Hakoda hid his smile as he grabbed a spare wash cloth from next to the pots of paint and dipped it in some water.
“Son, we’ve been over this before. You are staying here.” He kneeled before his son, gently washing away the smears of white and black on the boy’s face.
“Buh, but, but I want to help!” stammered Sokka. Hakoda’s expression softened at this.
“I know, son,” he said tenderly. So brave. Just like his mother. Grief tugged at his heart for a moment. He passed his hand over his eyes, as if to wipe his sadness away. No time for that now.
“*I* need you to stay here,” he continued softly. I need to know that you are safe. Hakoda clapped a broad hand on his son’s thin shoulder. “Besides, who’s going to train the next generation of warriors for me while I’m away?”
Sokka’s eyes went wide at the thought. “Me? Train the little ones?”
“I would trust no one else with such an important task.”
Sokka’s chest puffed up in pride at his father’s words. Hakoda could see the plans for the future forming behind Sokka’s wide blue eyes, twisting and turning like eddies in the ice floes.
Hakoda leaned in and conspiratorially whispered, “One thing though. Don’t let Katara boss you around.” He poked the boy in the ribs. “You’re her big brother and you need to protect her.”
“I will Dad!” said Sokka, beaming proudly.
Hakoda broke in to a wide smile and scooped his son up into a hug. The tell tale prickle of new tears forming made him exhale slowly to keep them at bay.
We’ll be together again. I swear it. He collected himself and rose to tower of the boy.
“C’mon. Help me get my cabin trunk on board.”
__________________________
A/N Hakoda’s opening speech cribbed from Sokka’s speech to the babies in Boy in the Iceberg. Sokka was never a good public speaker so he must of heard it somewhere before. And Sokka’s mildly sexist attitude in S1 had to start somewhere. I figured he just took his father’s words too close to heart.
