Zutara Week. Day Seven. Storm.

It's the last day of Zutara Week! :( It was so much fun though!

I own nothing! Zuko, Katara, Painted Lady, Blue Spirit, and everything else recognizable belong to Mike/Bryan/Nickelodeon/Viacom!

Zutara Week 2010 is, of course, run by the lovely GreenifyME, as well as AnimantX, Irrel, and Trishna87 on deviantART. n_n

Seeing Red, Painted Blue

"Zuko," the ephemeral figure whispered at the openings of the aforementioned boy's tent. Her gauzy robes fluttered in the light breeze, her red face paint reflecting nearly silver in the full moon's brilliant light. "Zuko," she repeated, then dashed away as swiftly as she could manage.

The confused young man shuffled out of his ragged blankets and into the humid night, rubbing his good eye and stifling a yawn. He stretched and was suddenly on guard, glancing around anxiously for whoever dared sneak into their camp. Zuko spotted the feminine silhouette on the hilltop, standing gracefully with the moon as her backdrop. Even standing perfectly still, she seemed to possess a fluid elegance similar to the gentle push and pull of the ocean's tide.

"What are you waiting for, Blue Spirit?" she called out quietly, raising her voice just enough so he could hear her.

His eyes darted around and he spotted a blue oblong shape resting against the side of his tent. Upon closer inspection, it was the horned mask just like the one he used to wear on his midnight expeditions. His jaw set in a hard line as a look of confusion crept across his face.

"Who are you?" he shouted. He was unnerved that the spirit-like girl knew his past identity.

"Come," she coaxed, stepping backwards.

With a slight growl, Zuko reached down, grabbed the mask, and ducked back inside his tent to quickly dress in the suit of pure black. Fully transformed into the Blue Spirit, he grabbed his Dao swords and slung them over his back. The moonlit lady was still waiting for him.

She already knew he was there, so instead on focusing on stealth and anonymity, Zuko concentrated on his speed. The girl, seemingly satisfied, took off through the trees and led their newly formed game of chase. Her lithe steps took her soundlessly through the forest, feinting through the trees until she reached the nearest town where she clambered up onto the rooftops and performed a sort of ballet on the peaks of the roofs. Zuko tried to catch her, but his effort was in vain and she vanished before he could even understand what happened.

That was the first time the Painted Lady had visited the Blue Spirit. Their rendezvous recurred almost nightly, and Zuko was able to pick out only a few blatantly obviously facts about his mysterious companion.

First, she always seemed to find him, no matter where he was, and never did she make it seem like it was a coincidence that she ran into him. Second, she would not let him get close enough to discover her true identity, even though she knew his alias. Third, she disliked speaking and only called out to him to begin their chase, and fourth, he was utterly fascinated.

The familiar scenario played out for maybe the eleventh or twelfth time one night, and the moonlight lady only had to say his name once before he appeared in full Blue Spirit costume and followed without so much as a moment's hesitation.

After emerging from the thick forest and nearly gliding across the flat, short plain, she scrambled gracefully up the side of one store after she made sure he was still following her. A tiny grin cracked her lips when she saw him not too far behind, one hand gripping his swords, as he always did.

Zuko would follow her soundlessly across the rooftops and then when they got to the last building in town, she'd vanish and he would just stare at the spot she had just been occupying for a moment, confused or amazed, before turning around and heading back to the camp where the other members of Team Avatar still slept. This time, however, she had a different idea.

At the last store on the edge of town, she jumped down from the roof, glancing up at the masked man and nodding encouragingly. He followed suit, his jump lacking her grace but silent and effective, nonetheless. Then he was running again, until the salty brine of the ocean met his nose. The spirit girl had stopped on the ragged line of sand that marked where land ended and water began, letting the languid tide sweep over her bare feet.

The deep violet robe she wore pooled by her elbows and hung loosely over her shoulders, the plentiful material clasped together with a wide, flat seashell and some rope. Her hair, not agreeing with the humidity of the night, curled wildly down her back. The red flourishes on her face were contorted by the sheer cascade of a veil that hung in front of her.

She turned when she heard him approach, her eyes tracing the gleaming blades of his twin swords that were suspended steadfastly in the air. "Stand down, Blue Spirit," the Painted Lady suggested, her voice a sultry murmur.

Zuko tore his gaze from the top of her woven hat-she never looked up enough for him to see her face clearly-to the dagger strapped around her waist. The Painted Lady laughed softly when she realized what he must have been looking at and discarded her weapon onto the stretch of sand in front of him. He lowered his prized swords but didn't return them to their sheath.

"Who are you?" he asked, now that he had the opportunity to speak to her.

"There's a storm coming tonight," she replied instead, swishing the white crest of waves with her feet.

Zuko looked up through his mask at the still sky. "How can you tell?" he demanded. The waves were calm and the air was still; she must be crazy if she thought there was a storm brewing.

"I feel it in my blood, just like the way you can feel the sun's path, firebender." Her low voice was smug, self-assured.

"I'm not-" he countered immediately, stopping short. He had refused his power for so long in Ba Sing Se, and it was just by habit now to deny his bending when someone made the assumption. He had forgotten that she already knew who he was. "I see," he conceded at last.

"Prince Zuko," the mystic woman started, trailing off and never continuing her sentence. Instead, still making sure he couldn't see her face, she stepped over her dagger and stroked the thin wood of his mask. His fingers seized her wrist, overlapping and nearly bruising the delicate skin, then let his hands drop in defeat when he heard an aggravated sigh. Thunder cracked across the dark sky as the clouds began to swirl.

The Painted Lady smiled at the thunder and his compliance, finding the edges of his mask and slowly sliding it up and over his head. Amber eyes were troubled as she brushed the hood of his shirt back as well, tousling his hair. The mask was his security, and without it, he felt vulnerable and exposed.

"Mmm," she murmured in approval, touching her fingertips to the rippled scar that dominated the left side of his face. Her thumb lightly brushed over his lips; his breath teased her fingers. Just like the catacombs, the girl thought. But this time we're friends.

The familiarity and uncanny déjà vu began to seep into Zuko's mind.

You have no idea what this war has put me through.

That's something we have in common.

This is water from the Spirit Oasis. It has special properties.

"You're…" he breathed, and she stepped back. A droplet of water plopped on his face near his right eye, sliding down his cheek. Another fell, and another, and another. Soon, a steady sheet of rain was falling in a torrent around them.

The Painted Lady removed her hat and for the first time looked up at him. The red swirls on her cheeks blurred to a scarlet river, dripping over her cheeks and collarbone. The crescent moon on her forehead mingled with the swirls in a berry-dyed current, staining her caramel skin.

"Katara?"

"Hey, firebender. Lovely night, isn't it?"

"You're the Painted Lady?" he tried in vain to hide his surprise. He blinked as she nodded her head sheepishly, water spattering off of the ends of her hair. "And you knew I was the Blue Spirit?" Katara nodded again, shrugging.

"Are you mad at me?" Katara asked eventually, titling her head guiltily. She shifted on her feet and sank an inch in the soaked sand. Another boom of thunder followed her murmurs.

Zuko thought for a moment, looking her over. "No," he said simply, pawing at his bangs in a poor attempt to stop the water from dripping directly in his eyes.

As the wind whipped the rain around every which way, the icy droplets were drumming a tattoo on the ocean's fidgeting surface. Suddenly, rain wasn't pelting Zuko or Katara any more, and the young prince noticed water dome had formed above their heads, shielding both warriors from the impending rain.

"It was actually kind of…fun," he admitted, wringing water from his shirt. "It's been a while since I played the Blue Spirit."

A brilliant smile overtook Katara's ruby-stained face. Almost as if it were an after thought, she curled her fingers and drew streams of water from both their clothes, swirling it into an obnoxiously fancy design before discarding it outside of her dome.

The convex water shield followed overhead as they slowly and silently made their way back to the camp where the other four members of the gang were sleeping though the storm.

Zuko seemed captivated by his old mask as they walked while Katara had her own thought mulling around her mind. Now that he knew that she was the spirit girl that visited him nearly every night, would their games of chase end? She could see their camp now, and it was all too possible that her nights of being the river spirit were going to end in a matter of minutes.

Almost as if Katara had spoken aloud, Zuko's voice sliced the chilled, damp night as they reached their tents. "Same time tomorrow night, Painted Lady?"

A look of pure delight followed her shocked expression. "Of course. See you then, Blue Spirit."

~Fin~

FAIL. FAIL. FAIL. FAIL. FAIL. FAIL. FAIL.

This was originally my idea for Change, but Storm was being a pain in the ass, so I decided to use it for Storm and think of another fic for Change. Whatever.

"'I feel it in my blood, just like the way you can feel the sun's path, firebender.' Her low voice was smug, self-assured." After this line, I don't really like the rest of it.

Review, please?
Tchao, Zutarians.
-Erika-
xoxo