A Dash of Soulmates... oops
Soulmates were a tricky thing. They were never meant to be easy, or to mean one thing in particular.
For some people, soulmates were the ones who would always help them through dark times. For others, soulmates are meant to challenge them and their views. And for a few people, soulmates will forever be the only ones who never left. The only constants was that a soulmate was good and a soulmate was given by the Spirits and a soulmate would not leave. Even death will never sever a soulbond.
There were many stories about the greatest bonds of history, of heroes who reached their highest potentials right alongside their soulmates. There were stories with great villains and stories with just love. Every story was recorded or passed down by word of mouth, from generation to generation, mother to son and father to daughter.
For every soulmate a person had, they also had a marking. Some symbol of who they were bonded with. Some people had many bonds, and some had none at all. Every person was believed to be whole on their own, but if they had soulmates, the bonds would make them stronger than they would be as an individual. Some of the bonds were platonic, some romantic, some familial, but there was no way to tell until a person met their soulmates.
The way to know for sure that someone was your soulmate was to forge a bloodbond. If two soulmates connected themselves through blood, a glow would emanate from them. They would be shown their bond’s life, at every point they were needed, or simply needed to see. Every person could feel those presences throughout their life in different ways, from a nudge to a warmth to cool touch. After the bloodbond was complete, which only took a few seconds, the mark of that soulmate would become vivid in color, instead of the faded hues it was before. If a mark faded again, it was a sign that another bloodbond should be preformed soon.
Sokka was never interested in soulmates. He had so many of them. Ten, to be precise. The marks were on his back in a triangle, from one shoulder blade to the other, then down his spine, and some in the center of all three spots. His soulmates were very present in his life, but he never really thought about who they might be. They were people he would one day meet, and that was that.
There was Kyoshi, named because of the faded green fan that his Gran-Gran said was like that of the great earthbending Avatar. Kyoshi was soft and gentle when times were harsh, and strong and focused when everything was calm. They helped him in practical ways, pulling him up and pushing him onwards.
There was Swordy, who was two swords. Dual swords, a merchant told him when he was four. An Earth Kingdom design. Swordy was warm, like the sun. They held him during storms, comforted him when he got hurt. Swordy was also kinda timid, but never stayed away for long.
There was Moon. A crescent moon in the center of Sokka’s back, if shaped a bit oddly. A bit fatter on one end and slimmer on the other, with a black hole in it. Moon was fun. There was never more than a day or two that passed before Moon would drag him outside to play with the other kids, or to practice with his boomerang. They were bright and happy, and Sokka always imagined them laughing. Big and loud and as beautiful as Tui.
Wheat was the same. Always moving, always having fun. But also more mischievous and clever. When there was a snowball fight, Sokka could always count on them to push him away from oncoming projectiles, and direct his throws towards his enemies. Wheat was just like the nickname, a full stalk of wheat flourishing with seeds.
A faded blue arrow represented a very flighty soulmate. Arrow was constantly helping him out of conflicts, guiding him towards edible plants while gathering, and pushing him to ask his mother to teach him to sew. When the wind started howling loudly, Arrow would rock him back and forth to the rhythm of the air while Swordy held him tight. Sokka started singing along to the rhythm, and Arrow seemed to enjoy it, for they would try to rock him back and forth at random times to get him to sing. The other kids enjoyed his spontaneous melodies, so he always obliged his soulmate.
The rocky outcrop on his right was Mountain. Rough instead of gentle, but never cruel. Mountain didn’t nudge or hug lightly. They squeezed and dragged and pushed, pulling him up and shoving him into danger. When the danger was actually a threat, Mountain yanked him back, practically strangling the boy as they held him.
Lord was hot, with an almost burning touch. Their mark was a crown, lit on a fire as bright as their presence. They didn’t like when someone was harsh with Sokka, and he could feel the heat as Lord moved in front of him, a barrier. The one time an older boy tried to hit him, Lord pulled Sokka out of the way and moved his fist for him, clocking the bully on the shoulder hard enough he fell down. Hakoda sat both boys down for a talk about fighting, but let Sokka go when he explained it wasn’t him, it was his soulmate. Lord didn’t like bullies, and especially didn’t like when people tried to hit him.
There was Stabby, who Sokka adored. He could feel when they hummed to him, a deep thrum at his side or back or front. They would sing, sometimes, and he could sense that, too. They would let him rant about his troubles, a hand on his arm so he knew they were there, then would help him mime stabbing someone. He kept telling Stabby that he couldn’t just jab people with knives. They responded with a hug, and then they would talk and he would feel the words vibrate in their chest. Sometimes they would trace their mark, a slim knife crossed by a white peony.
Chi knew about chi lines, according to both Sokka’s Gran-Gran and the word written on his back. They loved it when he theorized about what they must be like, to have the word chi written in place of an image. They also loved when he ran and let himself slide on the ice, or even just attempted a cartwheel. They went back and forth with his questions, and then Chi would help him perform a few acrobatic tricks, though he didn’t usually do anything that hard. Ice and snow made it a lot harder.
His last soulmate was presented a dilemma. She was the reason he never talked about his soulmates with anyone except Gran-Gran unless he had to. It was his sister, Katara, represented by his mother’s necklace. The mark made more sense when he was nine. Katara didn’t know.
It wasn’t like Sokka hid the fact he had soulmates, at least when he was younger. He just never found the need to talk about them if he didn’t need to. Gran-Gran was an exception because she was the first to teach him about marks, and bloodbonds, and the great stories of old. Seeing Katara having the same marks as him, running down her arms like water tracks, it made him quiet on the matter. If he’d already found one soulmate just by living, then he didn’t need to ask about his soulmates, or talk about them in general.
Then their mother was murdered. There was no time to tell Katara, and the fact that his mother might not have known before her death drove home that he’d landed himself with secrets. His father accepted that Sokka now pretended to have no soulmates. He didn’t ignore them, just never spoke a word about the shoves from Mountain and the hugs from Swordy and the way Katara cooled scrapes with what he assumed was her more advanced waterbending. He told himself that he never said anything to Katara, never asked her for a bloodbond, because it didn’t matter that much, and he was always quiet about this stuff.
When Hakoda and Bato and the other men left, and Sokka became Chief at the unripe age of eleven, his excuse became that he was too busy. There was always another task to complete, more food to hunt, more wood to gather. The kids needed to be trained so they could one day lead the tribe, the walls needed to be fortified constantly, and Katara needed to practice her bending. Nothing would change in the near future, and the discussion of soulmates could wait for another time. They wouldn’t even find their soulmates until they had the time and resources to leave the South Pole.
It would have continued like that. Sokka would never ignore the glaring piece of his and Katara’s life for another few years, at least.
Then Arrow literally crashed into their lives.
