Katara wonders sometimes if she'll think about this every time it rains now -- how she looked straight in the eyes of her mother's killer -- that pathetic, weak excuse of a man -- and walked away. Even now she can't say whether that was the right choice. Aang things forgiveness is the higher route -- but she didn't forgive anything.
Some things can't be forgiven.
But some can. If anything good came out of all this -- she's been able to forgive Zuko. It's surprisingly a nice feeling -- to not be suspicious of him all the time, waiting for him to betray them again. Because if he was still waffling, if he was still uncertain he never would have gone through so much effort to prove himself to her, right?
She excuses herself from the group. Her thoughts are elsewhere and right now she just needs a little break from all of them. The rain is pouring harder and harder but she doesn't particularly care. It doesn't bother her -- not really.
She's not entirely sure how long she's there, standing by herself before she hears footsteps approach. She turns and it's Zuko -- she supposes if anyone might of figured out what was preoccupying her mind today it would be him. He had been the one to see all of it.
Even if the parts she's not particularly proud of (like the blood bending).
Without allowing herself much time to think on it she steps closer to him, wrapping her arms tightly around him. Perhaps because he could understand. He had lost his mother too -- though in a different sort of way.
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Some things can't be forgiven.
But some can. If anything good came out of all this -- she's been able to forgive Zuko. It's surprisingly a nice feeling -- to not be suspicious of him all the time, waiting for him to betray them again. Because if he was still waffling, if he was still uncertain he never would have gone through so much effort to prove himself to her, right?
She excuses herself from the group. Her thoughts are elsewhere and right now she just needs a little break from all of them. The rain is pouring harder and harder but she doesn't particularly care. It doesn't bother her -- not really.
She's not entirely sure how long she's there, standing by herself before she hears footsteps approach. She turns and it's Zuko -- she supposes if anyone might of figured out what was preoccupying her mind today it would be him. He had been the one to see all of it.
Even if the parts she's not particularly proud of (like the blood bending).
Without allowing herself much time to think on it she steps closer to him, wrapping her arms tightly around him. Perhaps because he could understand. He had lost his mother too -- though in a different sort of way.