alwaysroomforhope | (no subject)

Stpeh has never seen a snowstorm like this; reading textbooks with lines like "Precipitation is dangerous and severe in coastal areas of Greenland" really didn't do much to explain the sheer fury of the weather.

"So there was this one time all Gotham was covered in snow," she remarks, finally crawling back inside the igloo and replacing the blocks at the end of the tunnel to keep the wind out, turning to grin at Sokka in the darkness. "Totally, totally not as cool as this."

There's a small candle used for light, settled into a shelf carved into one of the blocks of the igloo specifically for that purpose. From that, they can see shadows and planes of light over each other's faces. Sokka grins when Steph crawls back in, lifting one edge of the blanket he's under for her to get back in.

Beneath that blanket, he's fully dressed. Not in parka or boots, but thick pants and leather tunic, fur and animal hide keeping his feet warm. The farm would be stunned to see them now, not all over each other, touching, kissing. It's just-- it doesn't feel right.

Not yet.

"It used to storm like this all the time back in the village," he comments, soft but clear. Sokka's voice is getting stronger, but only very very slowly. "We had bigger igloos, though, and a wall around the whole village, so the wind wasn't so bad."

Steph wriggles in with him, her own parka and ski pants making her twice the size she usually is, and tucks the blanket back down around them.

"Way cool," she confirms, leaning against his side close enough to steal his body heat, thoughtful.

He says back in the village, not back home. Maybe he always has, Steph just hadn't paid attention before.

"How old were you? When you left, I mean?"

Sokka smiles a little, pleased at this response. The next set of questions just get a shrug and a small shake of his head. "I don't know. We didn't keep track of that like you guys did. I guess maybe... fourteen, fifteen? Something like that."

"That's old," Steph says, thoughtful. "I mean, relatively. Especially for you, right? I remember you saying once something like you would have been an adult at sixteen?"

Her hair is flyaway and sparking occasionally with static electricity from her nylon parka. She pulls it out of his face, trying to smooth it down.

He blinks and scrunches his nose a little, patiently putting up with the pampering. It's the only thing that keeps him grinning when she's finished, blinking up at her again.

"Technically, yeah. We're supposed to be married at sixteen. It probably wasn't going to happen that way for me anyway, but that's how the tribe worked."

He thought he was 'old.'

"I think that'd be kinda cool too," Steph says thoughtfully, hands still in her hair, trying to tug it into neatness. She starts braiding, because it seems easiest.

"Knowing what you were supposed to be, what you were supposed to do. I mean, neither of us have that now, I guess, but it would have made things easier when you were a kid."

He's watching her fingers, small and quick and knowledgable, braiding efficiently. Cleverly. Not that it's hard to braid (not when Sokka can do it himself) but he's still watching.

"I didn't have it then," he points out gently, still watching her hands. "There were rules and traditions for how things were supposed to be but none of it had worked like that in a long time."

"It'd be pretty rude and thoughtless to say I'm glad things worked out for you this way, wouldn't it?"

Sitting in a tiny igloo in a ferocious storm, in a world neither of them ever imagined.

"I am anyway."

Because if it hadn't, she wouldn't be here either.