Challenge #131 "Tradition"
Title: One Kind of Good-bye
Author: Tiamat’s Child
Word Count: 250
Warning: Spoilers for “The Southern Air Temple”.
Challenge: #131: “Tradition”
Summary: How we comfort each other, how we comfort the dead.
One Kind of Good-bye
“What would you have done for Gyatso, if you’d had a chance?” Katara asked Aang one evening. “We bury people in the sea, because the dead go to the Ocean Spirit, and he protects them until they’re ready to come back. But…”
“We don’t belong to the Ocean Spirit,” Aang finished for her. He tied another neat knot about the supplies he was packing and said, "We go to the cliffs. We take people there. But not until we talk to them, y’know? Somebody always tells them they’ll be all right.”
“Would you have done that? I helped Gran-Gran wash my mom.”
Aang left the supplies to sit cross-legged at her feet. “Yes,” he said, “Because I was his student. You should be close.”
Katara put her hand on his shoulder, abandoning the mending in her lap. “What do you say?”
Aang covered her hand with his. “I don’t remember everything. It’s really long; it lasts all night. But you say, ‘You’re all right, you’re dead now. You really did die, you aren’t confused. That’s fine. You’re probably scared and that’s okay, dying is scary. But we all love you. We’ll always love you. You’ve got to be brave now; you have a new place to go. Soon this body will be nothing but sky.’” He sighed softly, feeling the words echo in his own body, his as long as his lungs carried breath, and gently squeezed Katara’s hand.
She squeezed back and said, with gentle wonder, “‘Nothing but sky.’”
Author: Tiamat’s Child
Word Count: 250
Warning: Spoilers for “The Southern Air Temple”.
Challenge: #131: “Tradition”
Summary: How we comfort each other, how we comfort the dead.
One Kind of Good-bye
“What would you have done for Gyatso, if you’d had a chance?” Katara asked Aang one evening. “We bury people in the sea, because the dead go to the Ocean Spirit, and he protects them until they’re ready to come back. But…”
“We don’t belong to the Ocean Spirit,” Aang finished for her. He tied another neat knot about the supplies he was packing and said, "We go to the cliffs. We take people there. But not until we talk to them, y’know? Somebody always tells them they’ll be all right.”
“Would you have done that? I helped Gran-Gran wash my mom.”
Aang left the supplies to sit cross-legged at her feet. “Yes,” he said, “Because I was his student. You should be close.”
Katara put her hand on his shoulder, abandoning the mending in her lap. “What do you say?”
Aang covered her hand with his. “I don’t remember everything. It’s really long; it lasts all night. But you say, ‘You’re all right, you’re dead now. You really did die, you aren’t confused. That’s fine. You’re probably scared and that’s okay, dying is scary. But we all love you. We’ll always love you. You’ve got to be brave now; you have a new place to go. Soon this body will be nothing but sky.’” He sighed softly, feeling the words echo in his own body, his as long as his lungs carried breath, and gently squeezed Katara’s hand.
She squeezed back and said, with gentle wonder, “‘Nothing but sky.’”