There is a hole in her sleeve.
Well, it wasn’t her sleeve, not technically. Two days ago, when Zuko had handed her a neatly folded stack of black clothing, she hadn’t even thought twice about putting it on. It was all just part of the mission, just another necessary part of tracking down the monster who had murdered her mother. She had not, could not, would not think about the length of his limbs as she had adjusted the belt around her waist in an attempt to keep the hem from brushing past her knees, and she certainly had not lingered on past memories of his closeness which were conjured when she had taken a deep breath after adjusting the mask over her face. There simply wasn’t time for such foolishness; they had a task to complete. There was no time for these thoughts in her head as her hands had woven through the air, water and blood at her command, no space for these thoughts when she had stopped the rain.
There was also no space for those thoughts l
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