[It takes him time to return to the scene, but Sokka forces himself to leave Suki's bedside, even if it's only for a few hours. The up-and-down of seeing her live and die, die and live was more than enough to cast a pall over the tribesman's day, and since they're all having trouble sleeping at night, it's a never ending cycle of upset.]
[But he isn't prepared for the damage he faces at his house on Queen Anne's Row. Much of the back is collapsed, and everything is powdered black from the soot and ash and smoke.]
[At first, he tries to salvage. A fork here, a dirty glass there, but before too long, he realizes it's almost a complete and total loss, at least on the ground floor. So much of what he has is in this house, but none of it seems to really push through the numb barrier he's constructed until...]
[It's a drawing (or what's left of one.)An illustration from Bubbles, torched to the corner where all it can reveal is half of two smiling faces pressed together. Sokka realizes immediately which drawing it is, and with a terrible dawning realization, that he's probably lost much more permanent things than just his sleep in this entire mess.]
[Anger bubbles and Sokka doesn't hold back. He begins kicking, shoving, pushing at anything and everything in his way, dragging himself through the carnage piece-by-piece. He has to see what's left, if anything.]
[He'll bring the place down if he has to, but he's going to get up the stairs if it kills him.]
[[Offlines only, please, but anyone's welcome to stumble by and see what's going on.]]
[But he isn't prepared for the damage he faces at his house on Queen Anne's Row. Much of the back is collapsed, and everything is powdered black from the soot and ash and smoke.]
[At first, he tries to salvage. A fork here, a dirty glass there, but before too long, he realizes it's almost a complete and total loss, at least on the ground floor. So much of what he has is in this house, but none of it seems to really push through the numb barrier he's constructed until...]
[It's a drawing (or what's left of one.)An illustration from Bubbles, torched to the corner where all it can reveal is half of two smiling faces pressed together. Sokka realizes immediately which drawing it is, and with a terrible dawning realization, that he's probably lost much more permanent things than just his sleep in this entire mess.]
[Anger bubbles and Sokka doesn't hold back. He begins kicking, shoving, pushing at anything and everything in his way, dragging himself through the carnage piece-by-piece. He has to see what's left, if anything.]
[He'll bring the place down if he has to, but he's going to get up the stairs if it kills him.]
[[Offlines only, please, but anyone's welcome to stumble by and see what's going on.]]
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