Her calloused fingertips dragged over the satiny walls of the Hotel's hallway; her steps were light and careful as a fawn's as she studied her surroundings as she half expected a predator to show up and drag her into one of the rooms with it’s claws. Of course, the predator would realize Katara had more than a few tricks when it came to getting
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It's sweltering, this tepid air, so much as to cause one born amidst the tropics to throw a sweat. Even the Fire Nation is relieved of mugginess by the occasional cool breeze that sweeps across the ocean, but this room has no ventilation -- it's stagnant and sticky. Vapor arises with nearly every breath, her own inner warmth fueling the humidity swirling about the enclosed space like a sauna ( ... )
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She's a master now, trained by the best of the North and the best of the Southern tribes, no matter how she may feel about Sifu Pakku and Hama. Katara is not going to let another door get between her and freedom.
Then the sharp, almost saccharine and intelligent voice of a young woman fills the room and echoes in her ears. The water whip falls to the ground with a resounding splash and she whirls around to face the announcer, and she drinks the atmosphere of the room. It's unpleasant, even worse than the hallway and the rooms she peeked into priorAnd of ( ... )
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But what Azula doesn't know is the extent of the Hotel's power; the necessity of the acts. Her heated foe is the first person she's encountered face to face. Without further explanation, she remains clueless as to the extent of her, now their, predicament ( ... )
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