A/n: Double dare you to join me in this slow, torturous journey. No warnings so far, other than the foreshadowing for a lot of pain. Zuko fanart by regnm_lab; Sokka fanart by mellorine.deviantart.
Pairing: Sokka x Reader x Zuko
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Saudade;
origin: Portuguese
meaning: Saudade is an untranslatable Portuguese term that describes a solemn and melancholic feeling of longing. Saudade can be a longing for something which does not and probably cannot exist or refer to the love that remains long after someone or something is gone and may not return – a nostalgic longing for a person or thing that was loved once, but is now lost. This feeling is a recurring theme in Portuguese and Brazilian literature.
Life ought to be a sick play written by forces above.
Dying as you are, that seems to be the only conclusion at the tip of your tongue. It rises from between your broken ribs, it blooms in the cracks of your bruises like fungus and it pours of you like the blood drying on the floor, so dark and smelling so strong.
Was it supposed to be this way?
Was every person under the Sun obliged to live miserable lives because, in the end, nobody seemed to be truly happy for long? Where did all of this infinite cycle of rage, violence and hatred start, and would it ever end?
If there were answers, the cold and the darkness took your ability to reach them.
Lying with your arms chained behind your back, spread apart like wings and your knees supporting your weight on the ground, nothing other than the world’s ugliness came to thought.
That is…
Thinking of them hurt too much.
It must have been a fever dream.
The ones who captured you must have spiked the last water you drank or poisoned your mind because in no way could they be real. It would be too cruel, even for the evil writers of life’s play, to give you so much love only to take it away almost in the same breath.
There had been no smiles, no touches, no growing intimacy and conversation—none of that had been real and it would do you well to remember that.
Tears fall once again, because that weak attempt at erasing the loves of your life is more frail than whatever irrational thoughts led people to capture you, torture a soul they had never met in order to cause havoc in someone else’s.
People’s nature could be horrific, tainted and rotten in many ways which you already knew, and now in new ways you unfortunately came to discover.
But still…
Having known so much love before your life ended in such a miserable way had wrecked more havoc than Elypse’s volcano somewhere deep in your soul.
Crying, you tried remembering what lying between their bodies felt like.
Maybe you could at least die with the ghost of their lips saying your name as their touch warmed your skin.
Everything was so gloom and cold these past few days.
The cave’s entrance makes its noise, and you whimper, dreading what’s to come.
