Work Text:
Sometimes, Katara counts his scars.
There are the big, the obvious ones, on his face and chest. The latter he got because of her, and she will never forget that.
There are the smaller, discreet ones, all over his skin: cuts from swords and knives, that he got while discovering who he is and where he belongs.
Then there are the ones she can’t see; a sea of unfathomable hurts underneath his skin, where no spirit water will ever reach.
She cradles his body with hers, hoping that maybe, if she uses all of her, she can bend him better.