𝙊𝙗𝙨𝙞𝙙𝙞𝙖𝙣 ᪥ 𝙄𝙧𝙤𝙝 𝙄𝙄 ˡᵉᵍᵉⁿᵈ ᵒᶠ ᵏᵒʳʳᵃ

𝐓 𝚑 𝐫 𝚎 𝐞

At a loud knock on her door, Halah jolts from her sleep with a sharp gasp. She's a sweaty mess and the damp, darkened stains of her body on the sheets and pillowcase show for it. While she steadies her breathing and unclenches her fists from the sheets, she stares at the ceiling and pulls the quilt to her chest. It's easy to shove nightmares to the depths of her mind, though she knows she will see her captors again that night, and the next one, and so on as long she manages to fall sleep.

"Avatar Halah," a deep voice says through the door. "We've arrived in Republic City."

Avatar Halah.

The title makes her cringe, but she will have to get used to it. That's who she has to be from now on—or, well, always has been. Throughout her childhood, there was always a feeling in the pit of her stomach that something about her was... in her opinion, wrong. To others, it was referred to as being special. In her early years she believed she was simply just an earth bender, until about age three when she water bended for the first time, and the next day was sent off to the Northern Water Tribe where she would learn from an elderly Katara to master waterbending and use her powers to heal.

          And so began the constant tingling sensation in her fingertips and on the back of her neck. That feeling is what gave her the impression something was wrong, not special. Halah wouldn't have called it special. It put her in a constant state of discomfort and agonizing emptiness. She wondered: what is this feeling, why is it happening to her? Why her? It wasn't until she finally fire bended that the tingling died down slightly, but every now and then she feels the familiar light pricks on her skin.

          Halah grew up confused, having been ripped away from home after home, never properly explained as to why she could bend every element, except that she was the Avatar. Hurt, because in her mind, her real family doesn't want her. They got rid of her because she's too much to deal with—or, at least that's how she perceives it. They never contacted her, so she never contacted them. She only ever sees them in the paper or on the mover screen boasting their successes. Did she ever seem to cross their minds? Did their three sons even know she existed? The smiles constantly on their faces tell her they're doing just fine without her. No one could ever seem to tell her why she couldn't just stay with them or why she had to be on the move all the time, to stay hidden. So, she stopped questioning it as she got older.

          Another round of knocking snaps her out of her thoughts and she shoots out of bed to begin putting on a set of clothing that was laid out for her on a nearby desk.

          "Avatar Halah—"

          "Just a moment!" She answers before the man can repeat himself.

          "Understood. We will be waiting for you at the ramp."

Footsteps fade away as Halah slips on a pair of wool socks followed by heavy boots. She hasn't felt the warmth of shoes around her feet in years, it takes her a few steps to get her footing with the snug fit and thick soles. A dull, tingily pain would shoot up the outer side of her left leg from her calf to her hip each time she put pressure on it, and she doesn't have as much feeling in the left foot as she does with the right. It's her constant reminder of her injury years ago, one that will most likely never fully heal due to its lack of proper care in captivity. The compression from the boots around her calf offer a bit of pain relief, but it won't hide the slight limp in her walk.