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Katara sometimes forgets that Aang is a refugee from his own time. He might look sixteen years old and be standing beside her in the kitchen area of her Gran-Gran’s hut, but he had been born more than one hundred years earlier in a different era.
Sometimes he would say things that sounded old fashioned and she’d laugh and roll her eyes. Other times he would ask about a place and she’d lay a gentle hand on his shoulder as she explained with kind words that it no longer existed. It had been happening less and less in the last year or so, but every now and then he would still surprise her.
They are making dinner for the extended family and Aang is carefully peeling a root vegetable as she warms a stock over the low fire. Gran-Gran is kneeling nearby, her hands working away on a sewing project as she listens to the low him of her granddaughter’s and Aang’s conversation.
The knife slips in his hand as he nicks at his thumb, the curse slipping from his lips before sticks his bleeding thumb in his mouth. Katara is already giggling at the unfamiliar word, reaching for his hand to heal it but she freezes as her Gran-Gran gasps in outrage.
“We do not use language like that around here! Young man, apologise now!”
“Gran!” Katara gasps, finally moving again and pulling water from the basin to heal Aang’s thumb. “It’s not that big a deal! What does it even mean.” She looks between the two, colouring spotting high on Aang’s cheek as he avoids Gran-Gran’s gaze and her grandmother glaring at the Avatar. Aang bends his head and murmurs a word into her ear, quiet enough that Gran won’t hear him and blaze at him again.
“See! Foul language!” Gran-Gran says, pointing her finger at Aang accusingly as Katara’s mouth drops open. Katara smacks at his chest lightly, a frown on her face as he now tries to avoid her angry gaze too.
“Aang!” Katara admonishes him as she pushes at his shoulder.
“Please accept my apology, Gran-Gran,” Aang says as he pulls his now healed hand from Katara’s. He bows his head as he continues. “My language was unacceptable to use in front of you as my elder and in front of Katara as a young woman and I will never use it again. I am very sorry.”
Gran-Gran stares at the blue tattoo covering his bowed with narrow eyes for a moment. “Apology accepted.” She turns her attention back to her sewing.
Aang peeks at Katara from the corner of his still downward staring eyes, trying to look innocent as she continues to glare. With a final roll of her eyes, she cuffs the back of his head. “Get back to peeling.”