Azula (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
itstillhurt) wrote2022-11-21 01:49 am
itstillhurt) wrote2022-11-21 01:49 am
Songerein IC Inbox
Do not waste my time. It is more valuable to me than you are.
(Continued from here.)
[Cautious. When did he become so cautious? He was so much easier to deal with as a reckless fool. Well. He was still a fool.
Fine. Since he insists on playing defensively, she'll just have to test him. She dives into a flurry of attacks, once again focusing on rapid strikes. She's seen those flame whips in action before- flexible, versatile, with the advantage of reach and capable of moving as fast as their namesakes, but they're certainly no friend to rapid changes in direction, and the flurry of attacks from variable angles succeeds in driving him back through the 'labyrinth' that was, more and more, their garden.
And yet, he didn't seem to be tiring, or waning, or even losing his patience. For all that he was giving ground, it almost seemed like he was willing to do so, as if he was counting on her wearing herself out.
Like she had at the Agni Kai. Again, she's struck by the strange feeling that he's not the Zuko she last seen-
'Let me help you! I want to help you!'
Why could the intrusive memories never give her a moment's peace? She snarls in a renewed fit of aggression, but- No. No, she can't afford to get sloppy, not now, not she can't let him- not again-
And then she has it.
He's new. And that means she has access to something he's never seen. Something she only just recently mastered.
It was like destiny.
Her eyes suddenly light up with a wild excitement. Yes. She can win. She lunges suddenly, overextending to strike at him with a flame dagger, and he easily dodges it, his own instinctive attack knocking the mask from her face and setting it alight- but she drops the bending, and a black mist flows from her hand over his wrist. By the time they've regained their footing, the mist has coalesced into a heavy steel manacle around his wrist, and a long, long chain leading into her hands.]
Dreams have their own magic. You really should have listened to the tapirs, Zu-zu.
[Before he has a chance to react or try to escape the sudden snare, she grasps the chain and hauls him toward the kick she launches at his gut, kicking him back toward the gazebo.]
[Cautious. When did he become so cautious? He was so much easier to deal with as a reckless fool. Well. He was still a fool.
Fine. Since he insists on playing defensively, she'll just have to test him. She dives into a flurry of attacks, once again focusing on rapid strikes. She's seen those flame whips in action before- flexible, versatile, with the advantage of reach and capable of moving as fast as their namesakes, but they're certainly no friend to rapid changes in direction, and the flurry of attacks from variable angles succeeds in driving him back through the 'labyrinth' that was, more and more, their garden.
And yet, he didn't seem to be tiring, or waning, or even losing his patience. For all that he was giving ground, it almost seemed like he was willing to do so, as if he was counting on her wearing herself out.
Like she had at the Agni Kai. Again, she's struck by the strange feeling that he's not the Zuko she last seen-
'Let me help you! I want to help you!'
Why could the intrusive memories never give her a moment's peace? She snarls in a renewed fit of aggression, but- No. No, she can't afford to get sloppy, not now, not she can't let him- not again-
And then she has it.
He's new. And that means she has access to something he's never seen. Something she only just recently mastered.
It was like destiny.
Her eyes suddenly light up with a wild excitement. Yes. She can win. She lunges suddenly, overextending to strike at him with a flame dagger, and he easily dodges it, his own instinctive attack knocking the mask from her face and setting it alight- but she drops the bending, and a black mist flows from her hand over his wrist. By the time they've regained their footing, the mist has coalesced into a heavy steel manacle around his wrist, and a long, long chain leading into her hands.]
Dreams have their own magic. You really should have listened to the tapirs, Zu-zu.
[Before he has a chance to react or try to escape the sudden snare, she grasps the chain and hauls him toward the kick she launches at his gut, kicking him back toward the gazebo.]
[ Zuko, indeed, is operating a lot more like an extension of their Agni Kai in his moves, what he seems to be expecting of Azula — and it certainly doesn't occur to him that the Azula before him might be Azula dreaming from another point in their lives... If his operating theory, young as it is, is that he's here because his mind just broke after their Agni Kai — then in that case, Azula could definitely be here... But once again, like in their Agni Kai but this time completely unlike their Agni Kai, something's off. She seems different somehow, but he can't put his finger on how.
He doesn't have the time, before she's got him in her grips. After he dodges the stab of her dagger-like flames, he feels for a second, once he sees her mask come undone, maybe he can get the upper hand. But even from the first look in her eyes, both of them unmasked now, he's rushed with this cold chill in his gut, that not only is he not about to get the upper hand, but that something's more than off — something's wrong... And in a flash, he sees that spark of ingenuity light up in her eyes — a familiar moment, but certainly more emotive than she normally is, barring their last encounter. Something just took a turn. Before he can even register, he fees the handcuff materialize around his wrist only once he's being viciously tugged forward by its chain into a powerful gut kick.
The force launches him backwards, colliding with the railing of the gazebo a way's off; the dreamotion chain allows him to travel as far as the blow will take him, but it's still keeping him very much tied to Azula. He didn't expect that move. It's brutal even for her. But by the time he gains his bearings and tries to rise to his feet again, she's already upon him at the gazebo for the next blow. ]
He doesn't have the time, before she's got him in her grips. After he dodges the stab of her dagger-like flames, he feels for a second, once he sees her mask come undone, maybe he can get the upper hand. But even from the first look in her eyes, both of them unmasked now, he's rushed with this cold chill in his gut, that not only is he not about to get the upper hand, but that something's more than off — something's wrong... And in a flash, he sees that spark of ingenuity light up in her eyes — a familiar moment, but certainly more emotive than she normally is, barring their last encounter. Something just took a turn. Before he can even register, he fees the handcuff materialize around his wrist only once he's being viciously tugged forward by its chain into a powerful gut kick.
The force launches him backwards, colliding with the railing of the gazebo a way's off; the dreamotion chain allows him to travel as far as the blow will take him, but it's still keeping him very much tied to Azula. He didn't expect that move. It's brutal even for her. But by the time he gains his bearings and tries to rise to his feet again, she's already upon him at the gazebo for the next blow. ]
[She's following him even as he moves backward, already preparing her next move- getting the advantage like this awakens the instincts, the need to drive him down until he's done, the need to win. To press the advantage until he's done.
There's a moment when the she sees how hard, how brutally, he hits the rail, how he's struggling to even find his footing, where she almost- almost- thinks she's proven her point, that perhaps she can leave him to his defeat. But-
-He's weak, struggling, barely moving on the deck of the ship, and she's going to finish it. He brought this on himself. She gathers energy and releases it... only to feel a vice grip around her fingers as Uncle steals the lightning and channels it harmlessly away. She barely has time to react before he pulls her off-balance, and then his foot connects with her midsection and sends her back into the water-
-They're cutting the line, but she sees the other gondola coming. Their way out. She feels a cold satisfaction as she sarcastically bids him goodbye- he's finished, and he brought this on himself. She and Ty Lee escape to the gondola, and then it's over- but then Zuko and his allies start to move again, and she sees the impossible- Mai, betraying her-
-He's sprawled in the courtyard. She's already won. All that's left now is to clean up the worthless peasant. She's making an entertaining diversion of it at least, making Azula hunt her down, but she can't possibly fail, not now, not with the power of the comet tipping the odds so heavily in her favor. He's already dying. He's finished. He brought this on himself. She's about to finish her off, inches away from victory, and then she's suddenly ensnared in a rush of ice from below, too careless, too sloppy, and she can't be beaten like this. It's not possible. It's not acceptable-
No. No, she's not done yet. She's on top again. Winning. Like she always did. Like she was always supposed to. And this time, nobody is going to save him.]
There's a moment when the she sees how hard, how brutally, he hits the rail, how he's struggling to even find his footing, where she almost- almost- thinks she's proven her point, that perhaps she can leave him to his defeat. But-
-He's weak, struggling, barely moving on the deck of the ship, and she's going to finish it. He brought this on himself. She gathers energy and releases it... only to feel a vice grip around her fingers as Uncle steals the lightning and channels it harmlessly away. She barely has time to react before he pulls her off-balance, and then his foot connects with her midsection and sends her back into the water-
-They're cutting the line, but she sees the other gondola coming. Their way out. She feels a cold satisfaction as she sarcastically bids him goodbye- he's finished, and he brought this on himself. She and Ty Lee escape to the gondola, and then it's over- but then Zuko and his allies start to move again, and she sees the impossible- Mai, betraying her-
-He's sprawled in the courtyard. She's already won. All that's left now is to clean up the worthless peasant. She's making an entertaining diversion of it at least, making Azula hunt her down, but she can't possibly fail, not now, not with the power of the comet tipping the odds so heavily in her favor. He's already dying. He's finished. He brought this on himself. She's about to finish her off, inches away from victory, and then she's suddenly ensnared in a rush of ice from below, too careless, too sloppy, and she can't be beaten like this. It's not possible. It's not acceptable-
No. No, she's not done yet. She's on top again. Winning. Like she always did. Like she was always supposed to. And this time, nobody is going to save him.]
[The follow-up is astonishingly uncontrolled, all the aggression she was holding back during the fight, all the frustration, all the rage.]
There's nothing left for you to take, Zuko! There's nobody here for you to turn against me!
[She doesn't let him find his feet, raining down blows- not even using firebending anymore, just hammering him relentlessly with kicks, knees, elbows- though even now, she has the presence of mind to quickly loop the chain back around the gazebo and pull, hauling his arm roughly behind him to immobilize him. Finally. Finally. She wrenches the chain roughly, tightly, pinning his back against the railing, and then she calls the fire dagger again.]
There's nothing left for you to take, Zuko! There's nobody here for you to turn against me!
[She doesn't let him find his feet, raining down blows- not even using firebending anymore, just hammering him relentlessly with kicks, knees, elbows- though even now, she has the presence of mind to quickly loop the chain back around the gazebo and pull, hauling his arm roughly behind him to immobilize him. Finally. Finally. She wrenches the chain roughly, tightly, pinning his back against the railing, and then she calls the fire dagger again.]
Goodbye, Zuko.
[The words ring familiar in her head, but this time, they're not delivered with a calm confidence, but snarled out, shaking with the effort it takes to constrain the rage. She keeps the chain taut in her off-hand as she rears back with the knife, her eyes meeting his in a moment of triumphant satisfaction-
-She feels him lifting her off the floor of the cell, her body leaden and limp from the chi-blocking, and as he settles her into the chair there's something almost gentle in his touch-
She hesitates for a moment.
-The moth-wasps are overwhelming them, and she could drive them away easily, but she's trapped in the ice. He won't see reason. She tries another approach- the appeal to family. To trust. Something in his eyes softens. The sentimental fool frees her-
No.
-She doesn't even think about the blanket that's covering her as she awakens, her mind too preoccupied with the intrusive visions of her mother... a blanket that wasn't there when she slept, that could only have been placed there by- but then she realizes the letter is gone-
-She barely even remembers what she was speaking of in her madness, but it doesn't matter, her impairment allowed him to best her and he has her over the cliff, all he has to do is let her go and gravity will do the rest, but he doesn't- the rage slips away from his eyes again, and he gently sets her back on her feet-
Stop it. Stop it, Azula.
-"But one fact never changes. No matter what, you're still my sister."-
-She doesn't know where she's going, nothing makes sense, she just needs to run, but the useless, sentimental fool won't stop chasing her down, asking her- begging her- to come back.-
-"Let me help you. I want to help you."
Her lip trembles. Ignore it. Why is her vision blurring, why was she so- ignore it. Finish it, Azula. Now.
The flame dagger vanishes, and the chain slips from her trembling hand.]
[The words ring familiar in her head, but this time, they're not delivered with a calm confidence, but snarled out, shaking with the effort it takes to constrain the rage. She keeps the chain taut in her off-hand as she rears back with the knife, her eyes meeting his in a moment of triumphant satisfaction-
-She feels him lifting her off the floor of the cell, her body leaden and limp from the chi-blocking, and as he settles her into the chair there's something almost gentle in his touch-
She hesitates for a moment.
-The moth-wasps are overwhelming them, and she could drive them away easily, but she's trapped in the ice. He won't see reason. She tries another approach- the appeal to family. To trust. Something in his eyes softens. The sentimental fool frees her-
No.
-She doesn't even think about the blanket that's covering her as she awakens, her mind too preoccupied with the intrusive visions of her mother... a blanket that wasn't there when she slept, that could only have been placed there by- but then she realizes the letter is gone-
-She barely even remembers what she was speaking of in her madness, but it doesn't matter, her impairment allowed him to best her and he has her over the cliff, all he has to do is let her go and gravity will do the rest, but he doesn't- the rage slips away from his eyes again, and he gently sets her back on her feet-
Stop it. Stop it, Azula.
-"But one fact never changes. No matter what, you're still my sister."-
-She doesn't know where she's going, nothing makes sense, she just needs to run, but the useless, sentimental fool won't stop chasing her down, asking her- begging her- to come back.-
-"Let me help you. I want to help you."
Her lip trembles. Ignore it. Why is her vision blurring, why was she so- ignore it. Finish it, Azula. Now.
The flame dagger vanishes, and the chain slips from her trembling hand.]
[ Zuko is too tight in her grasp, held close by the chain, to keep himself from becoming a human punching bag. It's not his sister's usual style. It's far more aggressive and unhinged — and if he's operating under the right theory, that this place was conjured because the dreamers' mental states are in such throes in their waking lives that it thrust them into a deeper dimension of the psyche, into the Spirit Realm, or something like this... then that would make sense, given the last time he saw her before they both went their separate ways to rest after their battle, that Azula would be this far gone in her dreams. She's more unhinged now than she was in their Agni Kai, beating up on him outright, unrestrained. Watching her wailing, chained to the grate... breathing blue fire, sobbing in anguish...
Being that he's presently being pummeled, his mind isn't quite so cogent and clear as all that, but in the back of his mind, later, in hindsight, when he's resting from this battle even in his dreams, all those dots will connect for him. For now, he has far less sympathy or concern for the woman pinning him down, whipping out a flaming dagger to possibly end him, once and for all... Would he die in real life if he dies in their dreams? Basic human instinct is to stay alive, all philosophical quandaries aside. He's about to muster all his force to free himself, as he sees her raise the dagger, but then she stops — she looks as if she's about to cry — and releases him. It gives him pause, confusion coming into his eyes, a new look of fear and ire on his surely battered face. She's still unhinged — feeling fragile. It's unlike Azula. Unlike Azula to show mercy. Unlike Azula to hesitate...
...Oh, well. That emotional pause of his own is over, before Zuko abruptly launches himself to his feet again, moving quickly and defensively to make distance between them. In his conflicted confusion, though, he stays — he stands and faces her still. He silently stares her down with resentment and hyper-caution in his eyes, his gaze somehow both searing hot and icy cold, as if watching for the slightest twitch of her muscles. At the ready. He knows he can't predict Azula's next move — not that he ever really can, but especially not now, apparently... ]
Being that he's presently being pummeled, his mind isn't quite so cogent and clear as all that, but in the back of his mind, later, in hindsight, when he's resting from this battle even in his dreams, all those dots will connect for him. For now, he has far less sympathy or concern for the woman pinning him down, whipping out a flaming dagger to possibly end him, once and for all... Would he die in real life if he dies in their dreams? Basic human instinct is to stay alive, all philosophical quandaries aside. He's about to muster all his force to free himself, as he sees her raise the dagger, but then she stops — she looks as if she's about to cry — and releases him. It gives him pause, confusion coming into his eyes, a new look of fear and ire on his surely battered face. She's still unhinged — feeling fragile. It's unlike Azula. Unlike Azula to show mercy. Unlike Azula to hesitate...
...Oh, well. That emotional pause of his own is over, before Zuko abruptly launches himself to his feet again, moving quickly and defensively to make distance between them. In his conflicted confusion, though, he stays — he stands and faces her still. He silently stares her down with resentment and hyper-caution in his eyes, his gaze somehow both searing hot and icy cold, as if watching for the slightest twitch of her muscles. At the ready. He knows he can't predict Azula's next move — not that he ever really can, but especially not now, apparently... ]
[Why? Why? Why was she-
Was it mother? Was she still in her head, after all this time, compromising her thoughts and weakening her mind with madness? Why did-
As soon as the chain loosens, as soon as he leaps to his feet and backs away, some part of her mind screams in alarm. Stop him. You can still finish this. Stop him.
But she doesn't. She can't. She can barely even move for several moments- not long, but more than enough time for him to take advantage of her distraction- but he doesn't. He moves away, gets space. Wise. What is wrong with her? She's letting him run-
...but he doesn't do that either. He just gets enough distance to escape her and waits, glaring at her with that familiar loathing. What- what does he want from her? And why can't she finish him off?
"I want to help you!"
Lies. All of it. That look on his face, the hate, the fear, that's the truth. She knows it. And she prefers it to pity anyway.
She holds her defensive posture for a few moments, hands shaking- another humiliating display of weakness, just like the tears she can't stop from gathering in her eyes, just like the shaky breathing that she can't seem to contain.
Weak.
It occurs to her that she could reclaim the advantage still. Catch him off-guard. Grab the chain again. Somehow, the thought just makes her tired.]
Well? What are you waiting for?
[Her voice can't quite muster the mocking tone or even the bite of challenge that she wants. It comes out shaky, uneven, emotional. It comes out pathetic. She finally averts her gaze, if only to hide her expression, her unacceptable loss of self-control.]
Was it mother? Was she still in her head, after all this time, compromising her thoughts and weakening her mind with madness? Why did-
As soon as the chain loosens, as soon as he leaps to his feet and backs away, some part of her mind screams in alarm. Stop him. You can still finish this. Stop him.
But she doesn't. She can't. She can barely even move for several moments- not long, but more than enough time for him to take advantage of her distraction- but he doesn't. He moves away, gets space. Wise. What is wrong with her? She's letting him run-
...but he doesn't do that either. He just gets enough distance to escape her and waits, glaring at her with that familiar loathing. What- what does he want from her? And why can't she finish him off?
"I want to help you!"
Lies. All of it. That look on his face, the hate, the fear, that's the truth. She knows it. And she prefers it to pity anyway.
She holds her defensive posture for a few moments, hands shaking- another humiliating display of weakness, just like the tears she can't stop from gathering in her eyes, just like the shaky breathing that she can't seem to contain.
Weak.
It occurs to her that she could reclaim the advantage still. Catch him off-guard. Grab the chain again. Somehow, the thought just makes her tired.]
Well? What are you waiting for?
[Her voice can't quite muster the mocking tone or even the bite of challenge that she wants. It comes out shaky, uneven, emotional. It comes out pathetic. She finally averts her gaze, if only to hide her expression, her unacceptable loss of self-control.]
[ He stares her down a moment longer, his harsh gaze softening with concern, confusion, caution— no, confusion— no, concern... His ribs hurt, his face hurts, he's surely bruised and bloodied, still holding his own defensive posture — and yet... he finds himself worried about Azula. How is that? He can take a beating like no one's business and he knows it; she knows it. But even if he's certain his life was about to flash before him, knew that Azula seriously had weighed the option of killing him in that moment and erred on that side — it wasn't the first time, nor would it be the last, probably, that she'd threatened to kill him... and then didn't. It doesn't even necessarily register as her "changing her mind," usually, what's more — for all the times they've fought, almost killed each other, tried to kill each other, they never did, and that was almost... concrete. That was their normal, by this point. That's how they play now. "What? No lightning today? Afraid I'll redirect it?" "I'm about to celebrate becoming an only child!" Bickering — like brother and sister. Bantering in battle.
But this, this was different. She clearly changed her mind. She wasn't playing. This was the first time Azula had threatened to kill him, almost did, could have, spared him, and then... cried. Or something like it. She's shaking. Her voice is wavering. She won't even meet his eye. His own breathing is shaky for the pain he's in, but he keeps his breaths steady, and his eyes on Azula. He keeps his stance rooted, his wits about him, but he lets up on his defensive pose, standing tall with shoulders squared instead. He doesn't run. Nor does he attack her. He takes half a step forward — of course still staying at a considerable distance, but all the same, half a step toward her. ]
...We don't need to keep doing this, Azula. It's over.
[ The war, he means. The revolution. Their fight. From his standpoint, that must be abundantly clear — plainly assuming they're from the same moment in time, as one would... But still, there's something slightly less than familiar about her — something different, changed, but "older" isn't where his mind goes. Something's wrong with his sister. That's all he knows for sure. And that alone is enough to justify not running, not fighting back, nor surrendering. ]
But this, this was different. She clearly changed her mind. She wasn't playing. This was the first time Azula had threatened to kill him, almost did, could have, spared him, and then... cried. Or something like it. She's shaking. Her voice is wavering. She won't even meet his eye. His own breathing is shaky for the pain he's in, but he keeps his breaths steady, and his eyes on Azula. He keeps his stance rooted, his wits about him, but he lets up on his defensive pose, standing tall with shoulders squared instead. He doesn't run. Nor does he attack her. He takes half a step forward — of course still staying at a considerable distance, but all the same, half a step toward her. ]
...We don't need to keep doing this, Azula. It's over.
[ The war, he means. The revolution. Their fight. From his standpoint, that must be abundantly clear — plainly assuming they're from the same moment in time, as one would... But still, there's something slightly less than familiar about her — something different, changed, but "older" isn't where his mind goes. Something's wrong with his sister. That's all he knows for sure. And that alone is enough to justify not running, not fighting back, nor surrendering. ]
[Wh-what?
She stares at him again, all thought of hiding her shame forgotten, and the look in his eyes-
What did that mean? What was he trying to- Why? Why would he- she'd just- he was still-
"No matter what, you're still my sister."
She clenches her eyes shut, trying to shut out the memory-
"Shut up!"]
"Shut up!"
[...The familiarity of the moment just makes the memory even more intense. The same look of concern in his eyes. The same- "I can help you." meaningless- "I want to help you!" LIES.]
"If it's over, then why are you still here?"
She stares at him again, all thought of hiding her shame forgotten, and the look in his eyes-
What did that mean? What was he trying to- Why? Why would he- she'd just- he was still-
"No matter what, you're still my sister."
She clenches her eyes shut, trying to shut out the memory-
"Shut up!"]
"Shut up!"
[...The familiarity of the moment just makes the memory even more intense. The same look of concern in his eyes. The same- "I can help you." meaningless- "I want to help you!" LIES.]
"If it's over, then why are you still here?"
Fine.
[ His tone is jagged, trepidatious, but there's still that hint of worry in his gaze. He shifts slightly away, taking another step back as if to walk away, ready to leave as he's told to... but then changes his mind, too, and turns round again for a final characteristic parting comment, half-turned to her still. ]
...I don't want to have to fight you in my dreams, too. What's the point?
[ His voice falls on his ear rather hollow, hearing himself ask that. What's the point? Even in waking life — is there even a point anymore? It's over. They don't need to keep doing this. ]
[ His tone is jagged, trepidatious, but there's still that hint of worry in his gaze. He shifts slightly away, taking another step back as if to walk away, ready to leave as he's told to... but then changes his mind, too, and turns round again for a final characteristic parting comment, half-turned to her still. ]
...I don't want to have to fight you in my dreams, too. What's the point?
[ His voice falls on his ear rather hollow, hearing himself ask that. What's the point? Even in waking life — is there even a point anymore? It's over. They don't need to keep doing this. ]
[He backs away that half-step, turns as if to leave, and she's not sure if she's contented or frustrated.
And then he stops again. And says that-
There's a spike of rage, a spike of... something else. Something deeper. Something she couldn't name. Without even thinking, she spits-]
You're the one that turned against us. You chose this.
And then he stops again. And says that-
There's a spike of rage, a spike of... something else. Something deeper. Something she couldn't name. Without even thinking, she spits-]
You're the one that turned against us. You chose this.
I know. But I know I chose right. Now it's your choice.
[ Oh, come off it — but he needs the bite of bravado. He can't resist. Pithy as it is, he says it with all the earnestness he can muster through his battered ribs and shoulders, as he turns his back to her fully. Whether that's an act of trust or an act of gall, who can say. However it makes her feel, he's not gonna stick around to find out. She may have spared his life, but she changed her mind once already, so what's stopping her from changing it again? Now or later. She wants him gone in some capacity — she made that much clear. So he'll go. Avoid her like the plague after this, yeah, and go freak out quietly about how to handle this nightmarish development, sure. But he'll at least still speak his truth on the way out. He can't not anymore. ]
[ Oh, come off it — but he needs the bite of bravado. He can't resist. Pithy as it is, he says it with all the earnestness he can muster through his battered ribs and shoulders, as he turns his back to her fully. Whether that's an act of trust or an act of gall, who can say. However it makes her feel, he's not gonna stick around to find out. She may have spared his life, but she changed her mind once already, so what's stopping her from changing it again? Now or later. She wants him gone in some capacity — she made that much clear. So he'll go. Avoid her like the plague after this, yeah, and go freak out quietly about how to handle this nightmarish development, sure. But he'll at least still speak his truth on the way out. He can't not anymore. ]
[She's immediately cognizant that she's in a dream, but by now that's not unusual for her. An old reflex, ingrained by months of lucid dreaming training so that she could practice her dreamotion. Not that she's using it now, of course, but the training remains.
This time, it's no strange esoteric nightmare- no horrible birds, no hideous tree men, not even any of her own memories from home, for better or for worse. Just her, alone, walking the beach of Ember Island. The place is, as is often the case in her dreams, entirely empty and isolated.
At first, she doesn't even notice when the newcomer arrives behind her.]
This time, it's no strange esoteric nightmare- no horrible birds, no hideous tree men, not even any of her own memories from home, for better or for worse. Just her, alone, walking the beach of Ember Island. The place is, as is often the case in her dreams, entirely empty and isolated.
At first, she doesn't even notice when the newcomer arrives behind her.]
( It still feels strange to dreamwalk in general, but there’s almost a comfort in Azula’s dreamscapes by now. Why? A connection even when it seemed impossible, maybe? Closed distance?
He wonders briefly if he shouldn’t intrude so often without invitation or warning, but he shows up all the same, feet brushing through the sand behind her. He hasn’t bothered with beach attire at all, but he at least wanted to have his feet in the sand properly, so there’s no shoes to speak of. )
Is this the same beach as the last time?
( He announces his presence and stops in his tracks, folding his arms behind his back. )
He wonders briefly if he shouldn’t intrude so often without invitation or warning, but he shows up all the same, feet brushing through the sand behind her. He hasn’t bothered with beach attire at all, but he at least wanted to have his feet in the sand properly, so there’s no shoes to speak of. )
Is this the same beach as the last time?
( He announces his presence and stops in his tracks, folding his arms behind his back. )
[Ah. Him. She shouldn't be surprised, though being reminded that he'd seen that dream is...
frustrating.]
It's called Ember Island. We used to visit in the summer as children.
[And later, but that wasn't as pleasant.]
It's normally more lively than this.
frustrating.]
It's called Ember Island. We used to visit in the summer as children.
[And later, but that wasn't as pleasant.]
It's normally more lively than this.
Your... family, and stuff?
( He's not the smoothest at clarifying, but he's curious how much that "we" entails. Her and one other? More? Well, it's probably none of his business. Staying in his place, he gently nudges one of his feet into the sand, playing with the feeling of it.
It's nice, the beach. No matter where. )
I'd probably like it better like this than lively. ( Honestly... ) But I don't like crowds in general. Does it feel empty, like this?
( He's not the smoothest at clarifying, but he's curious how much that "we" entails. Her and one other? More? Well, it's probably none of his business. Staying in his place, he gently nudges one of his feet into the sand, playing with the feeling of it.
It's nice, the beach. No matter where. )
I'd probably like it better like this than lively. ( Honestly... ) But I don't like crowds in general. Does it feel empty, like this?
[She's not addressing the family question. Not just yet. Though her eyes do, briefly, drift do the end of the beach, to the summer house.
"I thought I'd find you here."
She forces her gaze back down to the beach.]
You'd probably be right. The crowds certainly don't improve the place much.
[She's been here when there were few or even no other beachgoers before, of course- Indeed, sometimes the royal family would clear an entire portion of the beach and have it all to themselves. No, this wasn't actually uncomfortable or alien. They'd been all but alone down here when-
"I'm angry at myself!"
Once again, her eyes flicker down to the beach, to the circle where they'd built the bonfire-
"You're pathetic."
Rrgh. Stop it.]
I liked it more when I was a child. Now, it's just...
["Depressing."
She'd been speaking of the house, but now the entire place just felt washed in it. This dark pall over everything, this hazy feeling that it was all so artificial, like a story she was telling herself, You always told stories, liar, lying to Zu-zu, lying to mother, lying to Shealtiel, is it any wonder that you would lie to-
...she turns to face him and her face is all casual, comfortable smiles.]
I could give you a proper tour, if you like. It only seems fair to return the favor.
"I thought I'd find you here."
She forces her gaze back down to the beach.]
You'd probably be right. The crowds certainly don't improve the place much.
[She's been here when there were few or even no other beachgoers before, of course- Indeed, sometimes the royal family would clear an entire portion of the beach and have it all to themselves. No, this wasn't actually uncomfortable or alien. They'd been all but alone down here when-
"I'm angry at myself!"
Once again, her eyes flicker down to the beach, to the circle where they'd built the bonfire-
"You're pathetic."
Rrgh. Stop it.]
I liked it more when I was a child. Now, it's just...
["Depressing."
She'd been speaking of the house, but now the entire place just felt washed in it. This dark pall over everything, this hazy feeling that it was all so artificial, like a story she was telling herself, You always told stories, liar, lying to Zu-zu, lying to mother, lying to Shealtiel, is it any wonder that you would lie to-
...she turns to face him and her face is all casual, comfortable smiles.]
I could give you a proper tour, if you like. It only seems fair to return the favor.
A tour?
( For me?. The thought is warming, somehow, and Shealtiel's smile shows it after a moment of surprise. Despite that, something is thickening the air like a storm is about to brew, and Shealtiel, picking up on it, tosses a glance behind himself before shaking it off and moving properly beside Azula. )
Sure. You should tell me what you got up to, here. I don't really know what it's like to go places as a kid. Did you make, uh... What're they called, sand condos?
( For me?. The thought is warming, somehow, and Shealtiel's smile shows it after a moment of surprise. Despite that, something is thickening the air like a storm is about to brew, and Shealtiel, picking up on it, tosses a glance behind himself before shaking it off and moving properly beside Azula. )
Sure. You should tell me what you got up to, here. I don't really know what it's like to go places as a kid. Did you make, uh... What're they called, sand condos?
[Azula has been feeling tense and foreboding since the dream began, so the odd shift in the dream seems entirely lost on her.
She very nearly- very nearly- skips past the beach house, but- no. No, it's relevant. So she leads him first down along the beach to their old home. It's much as she remembered it, the door closed- no sign of whether the interior is still as it was in childhood, or if it was gutted of flammable materials as it had been when she and Zuko last visited.]
This was our summer home. Obviously it pales in comparison to the royal palace, but it was still the finest home on the island.
["This place is depressing."
The front door suddenly falls open, revealing an interior that's long abandoned and ransacked, and she scowls and slams it closed again before stalking away from the house entirely without a word.]
She very nearly- very nearly- skips past the beach house, but- no. No, it's relevant. So she leads him first down along the beach to their old home. It's much as she remembered it, the door closed- no sign of whether the interior is still as it was in childhood, or if it was gutted of flammable materials as it had been when she and Zuko last visited.]
This was our summer home. Obviously it pales in comparison to the royal palace, but it was still the finest home on the island.
["This place is depressing."
The front door suddenly falls open, revealing an interior that's long abandoned and ransacked, and she scowls and slams it closed again before stalking away from the house entirely without a word.]
( The door falling open makes Shealtiel jump slightly, and Azula's slam of it only serves to make him even more tense. His gaze lingers on the door before following her, and he picks up his pace a little to catch up to the lost few paces. )
Are they all bad memories?
( His voice is a little softer despite the tension in the air, his hands hovering slightly in front of himself like he can't decide if he wants to reach out. )
...You don't have to talk about it with me if you don't want to, either.
Are they all bad memories?
( His voice is a little softer despite the tension in the air, his hands hovering slightly in front of himself like he can't decide if he wants to reach out. )
...You don't have to talk about it with me if you don't want to, either.
They're not-
[... Yeah, okay, that wasn't gonna work. She grimaces.]
...The memories themselves aren't the problem. They were fine. Idyllic, even.
[... Yeah, okay, that wasn't gonna work. She grimaces.]
...The memories themselves aren't the problem. They were fine. Idyllic, even.
...Then why do you seem so upset?
( Maybe it's something he's not supposed to ask. If that's the case, Shealtiel doesn't seem to notice. He's genuine, hands folding behind his back as he accompanies her. )
( Maybe it's something he's not supposed to ask. If that's the case, Shealtiel doesn't seem to notice. He's genuine, hands folding behind his back as he accompanies her. )
Because they were all lies.
[She hisses it before she can even stop herself, and she hastily recomposes herself and starts walking again, unbothered.]
They were just... childish wastes of time. Not worth reminiscing over.
[She hisses it before she can even stop herself, and she hastily recomposes herself and starts walking again, unbothered.]
They were just... childish wastes of time. Not worth reminiscing over.
That's...
( The way he trails off is natural, deep in thought and trying to figure out how to frame his thoughts. What isn't natural is that he doesn't follow it up. Something hard hits the back of his head, and with the throbbing, quickly dulling pain comes blurry vision and a loss of balance. He doesn't hit the sand, but the arms of some strange Fae creature that then lifts him over its shoulder with ease. Even in the dreamscape, it's trying for stealth.
It's a bit harder with a conversation between two people, though. Shealtiel goes limp a moment later, and the Fae-- some sort of wolf-creature crossed with something that has golden feathers-- turns in the opposite direction and leaps to make distance. )
( The way he trails off is natural, deep in thought and trying to figure out how to frame his thoughts. What isn't natural is that he doesn't follow it up. Something hard hits the back of his head, and with the throbbing, quickly dulling pain comes blurry vision and a loss of balance. He doesn't hit the sand, but the arms of some strange Fae creature that then lifts him over its shoulder with ease. Even in the dreamscape, it's trying for stealth.
It's a bit harder with a conversation between two people, though. Shealtiel goes limp a moment later, and the Fae-- some sort of wolf-creature crossed with something that has golden feathers-- turns in the opposite direction and leaps to make distance. )
[She notices that pause, and for a moment, her mind starts to turn down the familiar roads, the ugly thoughts that-
But the pause lasts a little too long. Actually, she's not hearing his footsteps in the sand, either. She wheels around in time to see the creature hefting Shealtiel's unconscious form-]
But the pause lasts a little too long. Actually, she's not hearing his footsteps in the sand, either. She wheels around in time to see the creature hefting Shealtiel's unconscious form-]
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