The Warrior's Gambit (Zutara)

VI

She realized immediately after that there were more than a few problems with her plan.

First, Katara strode over to the balcony and threw open the doors. The night was just slipping into dawn, allowing Katara enough light to see how high up she truly was, and how few footholds there were to shimmy down. She also realized how turned around she was; she had no idea how to get to the kitchen passageways if she wanted to, let alone the kitchen itself.

She left the balcony door open as she slumped in one of the many chairs that now adorned her room, scowling and tapping her foot.

Two, she realized, did she even have her outfit? Most of her things were destroyed in the attacks, and worrying about a costume get-up wasn't high on her list of fears. She supposed she could scrounge together a black ensemble, like when she started, but Katara was used to the Painted Lady now. It was hers. She didn't want to slip backwards.

She yanked open the drawers of her make-up counter noisily. She was pleased to see a new assortment of cream paints; red, white, black...everything she'd needed for her face.

Well, one problem down.

She went into her closet next, turning in a circle. Aiga had begun to refill it, already flowering the racks with long and frilly dresses. She spotted her fisherman's hat on a high shelf and jumped for it. It was dusty and gritty, and the edges were singed, but it had survived. Katara felt a warm glee rise inside of her. It was stupid, but her first thought was that she was a fighter and her alter-ego and costume was an extension of her too, and therefore more durable than collapsing during a rogue hit.

The chiffon that flowed from under her hat seemed to have mostly survived, too. Once she took it out to her porch and gave it a few good whacks against the railing, the dust poofed off, leaving it presentable.

And finally...her dress.

She could manage in one of the plainclothes dresses that Aiga made sure she had a couple of. They were a little ordinary looking, but with the makeup, Katara could elevate them. She was fingering through her choices when a box in the bottom of the closet caught her eye.

She opened it and found a brand-new Painted Lady dress, perfect and pristine and white like fresh snow. It was made of a heavy-duty fabric, one that could withstand her jumping on buildings all night and still flow around her like a goddess.

Confirming a theory, Katara checked the hemlines. Uneven.

A grin bubbled in her chest, one she couldn't help but release with a breathless laugh.

At least half the battle, her outfit, was sorted.

Like an anxious child, Katara waited in her room until near nightfall, when Aiga came in to brush out her hair and help her wipe the makeup from her face. Katara spent her free time trying to get through one of the novels on her shelf, but with little success.

"Aiga," Katara asked once Aiga was settled into brushing out her hair. While Katara abhorred most of the handmaid's jobs, having someone run their fingers along your scalp was enjoyable, and therefore Katara allowed this. "You wouldn't know a thing about that dress, there, would you?" Katara pointed to where her Painted Lady dress was on display.

She could almost feel the smile Aiga was so desperately trying to hold back.

"I wouldn't," Aiga said, her voice vibrating with a sense of glee, "But, if I did, I would say that the people need heroes to look up to."

"Heroes, eh?" Katara raised an eyebrow at Aiga in the mirror.

"Good people. It's hard to conceptualize Royals being so, when they are so far away. Of course, they would not know that it's one in the same, however...people want something to believe in," Aiga explained softly.