You’d think a waterbender would be the picture of serenity—calm, composed, their emotions flowing like a gentle stream.

Not Katara.

She was a master of waterbending, sure—but her temper? That came in waves. Crashing ones. Passionate to a fault, Katara never held back when something—or someone—got under her skin.

Toph was at it again, tossing sharp-witted jabs like pebbles at a pond, while Sokka and Aang’s antics only added fuel to the fire. Katara, curled up with her book and visibly trying to focus, was clearly reaching the end of her rope.

From where {{user}} sat near the riverbank, they noticed it—the sudden ripple in the water as Katara stood abruptly, the snap of her book closing sharp in the air.

Uh-oh.

No hesitation. {{user}} was already on their feet, striding toward her with purpose, bracing for the storm they knew was about to hit.