playinginsand | [Rabbithole: Loo and Sokka, post Mikideath]

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[Rabbithole: Loo and Sokka, post Mikideath]

The Fire Palace is techincally a series of much smaller buildings grouped together and locked by walled footpaths and ornate gardens. The Imperial audience chambers are in the centre, near where the Royal family live in a smaller, heavily walled domicile. Guests are quartered in expansive rooms in one of the outer rings, a short walk away from the temple, used by all who live in the Palace.

One of the low buildings in the temple itself is dedicated to memorials to the departed. Smoke rises in thin worms from a thousand incense sticks, set before rolls representing the dead, individually or collectively. At the front, facing the worshipper as he enters, are twin rolls representing the parents of the current Fire Lord - one handsome king with his face marked by a hug burn scar, and one exotic looking blue eyed woman, sporting a scar of her own. As only four people in the world have ever met Melaka Fray, no one's arguing the likeness.

The victims of the recent border attack are in a temporary position next to Zuko. Each name is written out in perfect and careful calligraphy grouped by nation, and not one is left out, no matter who they might have been or which element they subscribed to. The sand in front of that scroll burns with more sticks than anywhere else, today.

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"Daddy was an officer at seventeen," Ursa points out. "He's got good judgement."

Sokka opens his mouth-- and hesitates, closing it again and frowning. "...all right, I'll give you that one. Your daddy's a good man. Maybe it's just my side of the family you shouldn't be immitating."

Louise just shakes her head. "Things were different then, Urs. Now the General has upped the age to eighteen. You'll have to take it up with her."

"Besides, if Zheng was such a great officer when he started at seventeen, just think how great you'll be with an extra year of training before you're out on the field. I bet he'll be proud - and jealous, too."

Ursa scowls. "I spose."

"Suppose," Louise corrects.

Sokka is smirking when he glances to Louise, but is also polite enough not to point out seven year old Loo's pronunciation and grammar.

"Suppose," Ursa relents, looking at Sokka again. "Are you coming to family dinner?"

"Of course he is," Louise fills in immediately. "But it's formal dinner tonight, with all the dignitries here for the trial."

Ursas face scrunches up. "I hate formal dinner. Can I sit with you, Uncle Sokka?"

Sokka's face scrunches up at the same time, looking at Lu in distaste. "Of course you can, honey." He keeps his grimace on Lu when he asks, hesitantly, "I don't suppose I'll be saved from dressing up by claiming to be a leader of barbarians again?"

"I have to wear a dress," Louise says ("So do I!" declares Ursa)

"The least I could do is say that this is national costume for your tribe."

"It is, actually," Sokka replies, back to smirking. "The dress robes were just made up after Iroh took the throne, just so we had something to wear to the ceremony.

"But," he sighs dramatically, eyes rolled, "if my nieces have to suffer, I guess I will, too."

Ursa cheers in amusement. Louise smiles.

"We didn't tell you to invent dress robes," she says.

"No, Steph did." Sokka's nose wrinkles again, making faces specifically at Ursa. "You try arguing with her when she's got an idea in her head."

"Who's Steph?"

"She's my aunt," explains Louise. "And the only person ever to win an argument with your grandmother."

That makes Ursa's eyes snap as wide as they will go.

"Now, that is absolutely untrue," Sokka argues, crossing his arms over his chest and frowning. "I beat your mom on plenty of arguments."

Ursa now stares at him in awe.

"Oh yeah?" Louise asks, indignant. "Like what?"

A brow arches and Sokka's chin lifts, playing out the heroic posture so long as Ursa keeps looking at him like that. "Who do you think ran damage control every time your parents wanted to split up over nothing?"

Louise raises a Mel-like eyebrow. "Me, mostly."

"Before you, smarta-- girl," Sokka finishes, changing the word at the end with a glance to Ursa. "After you girls and your brother, I could just hold one of you up in their faces and that would fix everything."

"Oh, there're stories you've not told me?" Louise laughs, but Ursa reaches to Sokka, a movement which almost forces her mother off balance ("Hey! You're not as tiny as you used to be!")

"Have you got stories about Grandma and Grandad?"

Grinning when Ursa nearly knocks her mother over, Sokka looks at those little girl hands for a minute before offering his arms to hold her. "I must have told you about a few of them. I've got loads of stories about your grandparents, little girl. Did you know I knew your grandad even before he met your grandma?

"...not that I should probably tell stories about back then, but still."

Oh, he can have her. He can have her willingly. "She's too old to be held, really," Louise warns, getting rid of her daughter.

"Was that when Grandad was bad?" Ursa asks bluntly.

"Bah," says Sokka, setting Ursa on his hip with a bounce and a grin. "So long as they can be held, they're not too big. Your mom just doesn't like it when I pick her up anymore. Least she doesn't punch me like your Aunt Hana used to..."

As for Zuko, Sokka laughs and nods. "Oh, he was always bad. He was just more obvious about it when he was a kid, not too much older than you are."

"How much older?" Ursa asks.

Louise just listens, rapt.

"Mmmmm, fourteen, I think. I didn't meet him until a couple years later, though." He grins, partly at Ursa, but mostly at the memory. "First three months I knew him, we spent running around the world trying to get away from him. Real persistant guy, your grandad.

"Annoying, too."

"Roku's annoying," Ursa confides, clearly believing this to be an hereditary trait.

"Why were you tryng to get way from him?"

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