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shortkingzuko · 3 years

Text

title: the ocean on a gentle night

relationship: bato/hakoda

post-canon, mutual pining, 3 +1

for day 1 of @bakodafleetweek !!

summary: 3 times Bato and Hakoda pine for each other and the 1 time they don't have to -- For all the fear and terror the ocean inspires, Bato thinks that she tries to make amends with nights like these.

read under the cut or on AO3 for the rest of my tags! :~)

The sea shouldn’t be as comforting as it still is. They’ve spent years out on her endless waters, away from families, safety, away from the simple joy of being in their homeland. They’ve lost dozens of men while out on the chaotic waves, have lost a good few just to the waves themselves - taken by the sea’s cold embrace, her damp claws clutching their lungs and hearts. Whether it’s the uncertainty that she possesses - her penchant for turning smooth horizons into the greatest storms - or because her damp fog brings with it illness and coughs, Bato knows that he should be tired of the sea, be disillusioned of her and her power.

Yet, he isn’t. For all the fear and terror the ocean inspires, Bato thinks that she tries to make amends with nights like these. Nights that have just a slightly cloudy sky, with the barest hint of wake, and stars shining so beautifully that it couldn’t be anything except an apology or a love letter. He thinks of the sea not as a terrible mistress but more like a petulant lover, one who, despite the fits she throws, does love them with all her heart.

He tells this to Hakoda, who stands silently, contemplating beside him. The theory earns him a chuckle, as he hoped.

“When did you become such a poet?” Hakoda asks, tilting his head to catch Bato’s gaze as he raises an eyebrow.

“Maybe I always was, and you just weren’t paying attention.” Bato huffs in fake offence, before breaking out into a grin. The decks of the ship are mostly silent, a few tribesmen milling around, but giving their chief and second-in-command a wide berth. They’re expecting to dock their ships soon, and their intelligence hasn’t indicated any sightings of Fire Nation fleets, so there’s a slightly unusual calmness in the air. A star twinkles down from the sky. Hakoda sighs.

“What’s wrong, Koda?”

He shrugs. “Nothing.” He catches Bato’s unamused expression. “Really, it’s nothing. I’m just, you know.”

“Thinking of Kya?” Bato asks, feeling his heart clench at her name. Even after all this time, Bato feels the loss of her presence like a missing limb, like a piece of ice pressing on the inside of his chest. He may not have loved her like Hakoda did (not like he loves Hakoda), but Bato loved Kya fiercely, with all his heart and soul. He only wishes he could think of her without feeling sorrow.

“Yeah, I’m thinking of Kya,” Hakoda confirms, smiling a bit at the sky. “She used to love nights like this.”

“I recall.”

Hakoda hums. “Remember that time she made us get on a canoe and ride out that iceberg to watch shooting stars? That night was a lot like this.”

Bato nods at the memory. Kya acting as a navigator at the front of the canoe, Bato and Hakoda both making the boat spin in circles to annoy her. Their laughter rang through the night and attracted the attention of tired seals and curious birds. When they made it to the glacier that Kya was trying to lead them to, the moon was high and bright in the sky, and stars rained across the dark canvas of space. Hakoda and Kya were already dating by then, and Bato looked away every time they kissed, ignoring the dark curl of envy that squirmed between his ribs and coursed through his veins. Ignoring Kya’s apologetic looks that she gave him in between fits of giggles and jokes. He regrets the feelings of resentment he harboured at the time, especially towards her. The envy was long gone by the time Sokka was born, but even now, thinking the anger he felt towards her brings with it a wave of shame.

“She was so mad when we kept rowing backwards,” Bato says, after a few seconds too long of silence. Hakoda laughs, tilting his head to bump it against Bato’s bicep.

“Spirits, she was! You’d think with all her shouting at us that our parents would have caught us.”

“They did catch us, Koda,” Bato reminds him, dryly. Hakoda rolls his eyes.

“Yeah but not because of her.” Hakoda presses his head against Bato’s arm again, and this time he leaves it there. After a moment Bato brings his arm around Hakoda’s shoulder, softly brushing some of Hakoda’s hair behind his ear. The strands are coarse by nature and by the salt spray of the sea, yet they feel soft and smooth beneath his roughened fingertips. They fall out of place, refusing to go where Bato directs them, prompting him to try again and again.

“I think she would have made us do something similar on a night like this,” Hakoda says. He doesn’t mention Bato’s hand in his hair or the fact that Bato is gripping him tighter. Wherever her spirit is, Bato hopes that Kya would be okay with this, that she wouldn’t be upset with how he still feels.

“Yeah,” Bato agrees, feeling Hakoda shift to look up at him. “I think she would too.”

“Maybe you would have more fun this time around.” Hakoda looks back to the sky, and Bato feels like a fish on the end of a line, mind reeling as he tries to decipher what Hakoda could mean by that. Before he can ask - before he can even think of how to ask what he means by that, one of their warriors approaches them, tearing them away from the beautiful sky and the safety of their memories. The warrior tells them that they’re approaching the town they mean to dock in.

Hakoda nods, steps out of Bato’s embraces as if it’s nothing (and, really, isn’t it nothing?) and goes to do his duties as chief. Bato looks at the sky once last time, looks at the playful waves, and the winking stars, wishing that he had done so all those years ago, before turning and stepping away too.

Bato’s memories of Sokka and Katara are a bit jarring. He remembers them as young children, toddling around, needing help and saving from everything - especially each other. He remembers them as grief-stricken, forced to grow up too soon. They stayed like that in his mind for many years, unchanging, ungrowing, even though every year he and Hakoda tried to send at least a letter home in time for their birthdays. Neither of them is sure if they ever made it. And then, suddenly, the two of them appeared in front of him at the Abbey, so much older, taller, and wiser than he could have ever dreamed. Such little mirrors of their parents, certainly having inherited their attitudes. It almost made Bato feel guilty when he remembers that he got to see them again before Hakoda.

He knows that Hakoda struggles the same way he does when he thinks of his children. Despite their rational understanding that they’re older now, that they’ve fought hard battles, survived out in the world alone and without adult supervision, it’s so hard to separate that from the urge to treat them as the children they were, and still are.

It causes more than a little friction, and whether it’s because Sokka and Katara see Bato as part of their family (after all, he is over for dinner more than anyone else), or whether they would be willing to drag their heels in the snow in front of anyone, they’re not afraid to start arguments with Hakoda in front of Bato.

He tries to stay out of it but sometimes he just can’t help it.

“You can’t go boating tomorrow - it’s set to storm,” Bato says, replying to Katara and Sokka’s request to go out. Hakoda had already given a tentative no, but the two of them kept pushing for an answer.

“So? We’ve dealt with worse weather before,” Sokka says, raising an eyebrow and leaning his head against a hand.

“You don’t know that,” Bato replies, already regretting getting involved when he sees Katara’s pursed lips and drawn-in eyebrows. “You two know how hard it can be to navigate during a storm in the ice fields. And the other times you’ve piloted through bad weather it was in the sky, with other benders. Tomorrow, all you would have is Katara.”

“I can handle it,” Katara says confidently, crossing her arms across her chest.

“I’m not questioning your skill,” Bato tries to placate, knowing it won’t help him. “But all you need is to get caught off guard for a moment and that’ll be enough to throw you off or to capsize the boat. No matter how skilled you are, the water is cold enough to knock you out quicker than you can regain control.”

The two of them are silent for a moment before each of them launches into a spell of arguments and rebuttals. Bato sighs and glances over at Hakoda, who seems to have enjoyed his moment out of the hot seat, though his eyebrows are furrowed in thought. He catches Bato’s eyes, and smiles slightly, before looking back at his children, waiting for them to run out of things to say. It takes a minute.

“If Bato doesn’t think it’s a good idea, then it’s not a good idea,” Hakoda says, with a rare finality that shuts makes the teens huff and grumble, but not argue back. His gaze sweeps over the table, landing on Bato and softening, warming, like a frozen river in the spring. “I trust him. His judgment, I mean.”

The admission is enough to warm Bato’s face, making him get up and take his dishes outside to wash in the snow, to avoid having to deal with the pounding in his chest. As he leaves, he can hear Hakoda saying, “You know we both just care about you two-”

It storms the next day and when Bato battles his way through the wind and snow to go to Hakoda’s house to do some work with him, he sees Sokka and Katara sitting by the fire, annoyed but safe, and Hakoda looks at Bato like he’s the sun.

The two of them barely get a moment alone anymore. Between having Sokka and Katara within arms reach now, and all the work that has to be done has to be approved, has to get started, it’s not uncommon to have at least one or two people in the room with them at any given time. Hakoda isn’t so childish as to be upset about this; he’s ecstatic about the fact that he has his children again, that his mother was waiting for him when he returned, and that there are so many willing and eager members of his village that want to help rebuild their strength.

But he does miss the quiet nights alone with his best friend. Misses the soft, innocent touches that he received when there were no prying eyes. Every time he thinks he’ll get a moment of peace with Bato, a moment to maybe sit down and talk and think about what they’re doing after all these years, something gets in the way. A proverbial - or sometimes real - fire that needs him to put it out. It would be kind of funny if it wasn’t so frustrating.

Because, and it’s shocking to admit it to himself, Hakoda wants to talk to Bato about the soft, innocent touches they used to share. He wants to talk about the playful, happy loving gaze that Bato looks at him with when he’s found something that Hakoda has done particularly amusing. He wants to talk about it because, as much as he hates to admit it, he feels old, too old to be playing this ‘will they, won’t they’ game that they’ve been playing for years - probably more years than Hakoda wants to admit or have even noticed.

How ironic, he thinks to himself when he’s awake too late into the night, with only the sounds of his family sleeping peacefully to remind him that he isn’t the only person left alive, that feeling too old is what stopped him from pursuing his friend for so many years, and now it’s what compels him to settle the matter once and for all. For so long, too long, Hakoda felt the weight of his wife’s death, the weight of his children’s lives, the fate of his village, pressing down on him, ageing him down to his bones, and pulling him away from the thought of finding another lover.

He had a life, he often told himself, a wonderful, happy life, with Kya and Sokka and Katara. It would be selfish, foolish, to ask for a chance at another one, to try and fan the spark in his chest into the burning ember that lived there now. Lovesick pining and pursuits were a young man’s game, a game meant to be played when the stakes were low and an endless war wasn’t raging.

Of course, Hakoda hadn’t banked on the war ending, certainly not in his and Bato’s lifetime, and with both of them surviving. Nor did he bank on the spark in his chest growing into a constant warm glow. And yet, here he is, survived a war with his family alive, and unable to get a moment’s worth of quiet to try and piece together feelings that he’s certain he and his friend have shared for decades.

Hakoda is so focused on his inner turmoil, that he almost doesn’t notice when he walks into a tent and finds it empty, save for Bato. The taller man looks up from his work, smiles when he sees Hakoda and jerks his head to tell him to come and sit.

“Where’s everyone?” Hakoda asks, almost wincing at the question. Just like him to look a gift ostrich-horse in the mouth. Bato shrugs and scoots over so that Hakoda can sit on the floor cushion next to him.

“Some hunting groups went out and decided to show some of the foreign ‘diplomats’ around.” Bato rolls his eyes at the word ‘diplomats’, happy to not have to fake respect that he doesn’t hold. “Everyone else, I think, saw this as an opportunity to relax with their families for a day.”

Hakoda hums as he sits down next to Bato, all too aware that he’s close enough that he could bump knees with the other man. “What do you think it says about us that we’re here?”

Bato snorts. “It says that we’re some of the only men that came home and didn’t immediately sire more children.”

Hakoda lets out a small laugh at that, leans over the chabudai to get a closer look at what Bato is working on. They work in relative silence for a while, Hakoda passing his work over to Bato to be looked over, sometimes commenting on some of Bato’s, both of them trying to make some headway in the mountain of reports, requests, and agreements that need to be looked over and approved. If it wasn’t all necessary, Hakoda doesn’t know how he would stand it all.

It doesn't mean he has to like it. He groans in exhaustion, leaning over to rest his head on Bato’s shoulder, burying his nose in the soft fabric. Bato lets out a hum in acknowledgment before tilting his head slightly to get a look at Hakoda.

“Something the matter?” His voice is soft, gentle in a way that it so rarely is, such a departure from his usual deep candour. From this angle, Hakoda can see his face in such fine detail. The dip and deep colour of his lips, chapped and stress-bitten. The fine wrinkles that adorn his face, proof of a life hard and well-lived. The darkness of his hair, slightly wavy and soft, only now starting to get a hint of shining silver in the roots. Hakoda thinks back to Bato as a teenager, his face slender and smooth, hair dark and finely braided before it was shaved, eyes and wit sharp enough to stop anyone from arguing with any of his decisions. It’s almost funny how so much has changed, and yet Hakoda can so clearly see the ghost of their pasts in every detail of Bato.

“No, nothing is wrong,” Hakoda whispers, finding himself so much closer to Bato’s side than he remembers. He feels the whisper of Bato’s hair brushing his cheek, the warmth of his breath against his nose, and yet he still finds himself leaning closer, can feel Bato tilting his head down to meet him.

Hakoda feels a soft brush of lips against his own, gentle and shy despite the roughness. For a moment, Hakoda thinks that that might be all there is, before Bato leans down again, pressing himself against Hakoda with more force, more warmth, more everything . A hand goes up to cup Bato’s cheek, thumb rubbing the cheekbone gently, and he feels Bato’s slender fingers as they slide through his head, tugging it slightly before it comes to rest behind Hakoda’s skull.

The kiss is gentle, exploratory, and feels well won, less like a dam bursting open, more like a meadow receiving sunlight after a long, dark winter.

And like a cold snap, the warmth is gone, and Hakdoa feels Bato pulling away, trying to remove his hand from Hakoda’s hair without hurting, but certainly with a panic that wasn’t there before. He stands up quickly, without looking at Hakoda’s confused and hurt face and starts to leave.

“Bato,” Hakoda tries to call out, knowing that his friend’s stubbornness will stop him from turning. “Bato, come back-”

“I don’t want to deal with this right now,” Bato calls over his shoulder, voice a strangled mix of hurt, worry, and regret. “Just. Just let me think.”

He’s out the door before Hakoda can reply, and he sighs, body slumping against the table. The room already feels colder without Bato by his side, though his heart still beats fast and the flush remains on his cheeks. Everything haunts him. The ghost of the war, of the men that he boarded his ships with who never returned, the ghost of Kya, the ghost of his children who have grown up so much without him. He thinks that the feather-soft feeling of chapped lips against his own, the burning heat of breath on his mouth, the stillness of the air between them; he thinks that feeling with be another ghost that haunts him

Hakoda remains slumped against the table for a while longer before he finally pulls himself up to return to his home. He looks out at the sky when he leaves, the wind brisk but gentle, the horizon clear. It feels like a shame to waste what will sure be a beautiful night on self-pity.

The night sky glitters with stars, shining through the faint layer of cloud, and the tide is gentle, waves batting playfully against the side of the canoe. There’s a chill in the air - standard for this time of the year, this far south - but even after years being home, the years at war have tricked Bato into thinking that warmer weather was the norm.

A part of him is certain that he’s too old for this, to be rowing a boat so late in the evening, when the wind wants nothing more than to worm its way inside his parking, gnawing at his sore joints, in a way that he knows will be miserable tomorrow morning. He’s too old to have allowed himself to be goaded out onto the water.

Hakoda turns to look at him and he smiles so brightly that the stars look pale by comparison. Bato can’t help but smile back.

“I don’t think we’re going to find the glacier,” Hakoda admits, bringing his orr back into the boat, twisting himself so that he sits facing Bato.

“Of course we’re not,” Bato says, voice as dry as winter winds. He brings his oar into the boat as well, only barely resisting the urge to smack Hakoda with it. “It’s been, what? Twenty? Twenty-five years since we last went out to it?”

Hakoda huffs crosses his arms across his chest in a way that makes him a perfect mirror of his teenage self (and both his kids, Bato thinks, amused). In a voice that Hakoda would never allow Bato to categorize as a whine, he says, “I know.”

“Then why drag me out onto the water?” Bato pushes. Hakoda lets out a sigh and looks up at the sky again. His hair falls away from his face, the light highlighting the peaks and valleys of his face. He’s filled back out, now that they aren’t rationing food and being starved, and his strong cheekbones produce graceful shadows across his face. In the moonlight, Bato can only see the faintest hints of the wrinkles, crows' feet, and laugh lines that he’s memorized.

“I thought it would be nice, you know? To get back out on the water on a night like this.”

“A night that Kya would have liked?”

“Yeah.” Bato remains silent, but he too looks up at the sky. There are no shooting stars, no arctic lights in the sky, but it’s beautiful in a way that Kya always appreciated, and above all else, Bato and Hakoda both loved everything that Kya loved.

Maybe they loved more of what Kya loved than they thought.

“She would have liked this,” Bato finally chokes out. The wake of the sea feels comforting, like a mother rocking a child to sleep. He sees Hakoda tear his eyes away from the sky to look at him. “We would have had fun on a night like this.”

Gently, Hakoda brings his hand to Bato’s knee, letting it rest there for a moment. Bato freezes, unsure of what boundaries exist between them now. So many people think that his silence is one of understanding, yet after their kiss, after everything , Bato feels nothing but hopeful confusion.

“Even you?” Hakoda asks. “Would you have had fun too?”

“I always had fun with you and Kya,” Bato defends, finally bringing his eyes away from the heavens and back to Hakoda. He sees Hakoda’s raised eyebrow and sighs. Almost shyly, like he’s a teenager on his first date again, and not the old man that he is now, he places his hand on top of Hakoda’s. “Yes, Hakoda. I would have had fun.”

Hakoda smiles. Bato thinks that Kya would have smiled too.

#m #bakoda #bakoda fleet week #my fic #bakoda fic #atla

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the-messenger-hawk · 3 years

Note

For a character ask:Aang

(i’m hoping this is the right one)

---

Sexuality Headcanon: Bi-curious. Aang’s personal view on his sexuality hasn’t fully developed, mostly because it was never a priority.

Gender Headcanon: Male or nonbinary.

A ship I have with said character: Just two honestly. My ideal for him is Kataang; they’ve already got some really good compatibility. But I’d also ship him with Zuko given the opportunity.

A BROTP I have with said character: Sokka & Aang. These two really are the Actual Brothers of the show, and best friends to boot. Their development of their relationship mirrors the development of their respective characters as well, which is beautiful honestly. The fact that there aren’t platonic soulmate AUs for them out there really grinds my gears.

A NOTP I have with said character: I don’t like him with Ty Lee. That’s it I think.

A random headcanon: After the war ends, while Aang is traveling the world, he discovers a herd of flying bison in the outer regions of air nomad territory, high in a cloudy mountain range where no normal humans can get to.

General Opinion over said character: I love Aang because besides his narrative purpose, his personality fills a desperate need that the world of Avatar needed. Everyone is so cynical and serious about the necessity of the war. His optimism was really what the world needed to make a real change.

#aang #atla #character ask #thank you!#Anonymous

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 4 years

Text

Kissing Dead Pearls (Part 28)

For someone who wears a sling, Azula is strangely unintimidated by the prospect of going back to sea. Sokka isn’t particularly surprised though, she always has been the resilient sort. The type to brush things off and get back to whatever task she had been doing before tragedy struck. It is one of the things that had drawn him to her in the first place. If he isn’t mistaken he would say that she is rather eager to get back to sailing.

He can think of several other things that he’d rather be doing. “Wouldn’t it be quicker to just take a plane back home.”

Azula tilted her head, “we can’t just leave the boat.”

“I dunno, that thing looks pretty banged up, I’m sure that you guys could get a newer and better one.”

“Sokka, it’s not even our boat.” Zuko points out. “We’re borrowing it from that ex-pirate who runs the town bar.”

Sokka cocks his head. “Why would he lend you a boat?”

“He and dad have gotten close.”

Sokka furrows his brows.

Azula sighs and scans the beach for her Ozai before whispering, “I already told you about father’s drinking problem.”

He flushes as the pieces click. “Oh, yeah. Bars. Drinking. Talking to the bar owner.”

Azula swats him, “not so loud!”

“Ow! Blisters!”

Azula rolls her eyes. “Your days of being babied are over!” She declares. “And besides, most of your blisters are gone now anyways, you’re just trying to get special treatment.”

“And that takes the attention away from you?” He quirks a brow and gestures to her arm.

“I,” she draws the syllable out, “am not complaining.”

“Hey, Sokka!” Katara calls. “I found a piece of your raft.” She holds up a bright yellow strip.

“Anyways, I still think that we should travel by plane. Ozai and Jet can sail the boat back and the rest of us will meet him there.”

Azula fixes him with a dull stare. “Sokka, that’s a terrible idea.”

Looking equally as unentertained, Zuko adds, “I’m not going to leave my father unattended.”

“And your father isn’t going to leave you unattended either.” He mutters. “Not after the fiasco with the souvenir shop.”

Zuko flushes, “that wasn’t even my idea.” He flicks his gaze to his sister.

She gives one of her faux innocent stares. “I can’t do much damage like this.” She strokes her sling.

“It only takes one hand to pop several blisters.” Sokka grumbles.

“Gross, Sokka!” Katara exclaims.

“Our luggage is on the ship.” Ozai remarks.

“What about Jet?” Katara asks.

“He has been on the ship avoiding me.” Azula crosses her arms.

Sokka can hear the hurt in her voice but she says nothing more of it. He feels another onslaught of guilt for finding relief in Jet’s avoidance. If he is angry with Azula, then he won’t have to worry about the other boy getting in the way of things. It doesn’t seem to matter how many times Azula assures him that she has chosen him over Jet, he still can’t shake away the paranoia. He isn’t sure how close she had gotten to Jet and he is afraid to ask. Just as he can’t shake his dread of the sea.

“Come on, Sokka. Everyone else is on board.” Her touch is much gentler this time, less playful.

“I’d really rather…”

“Take a plane. You’ve said so.” She nods. “It’ll be fine, we got here in one piece.” He doesn’t miss the split second glance she makes at the sail. It might be that he is over thinking things, but he has a suspicion that there was a mishap with that sail. “And you won’t be alone this time if we get lost.”

“Unless…” he lifts a pointer, “we get separated by a storm.”

“We’ll be fine, Sokka.”

“How do you know?”

“Because it would be absurd for the universe to hand you back if it was just going to kill you a few weeks later. Why would it when it could have just killed you in that storm?” She shrugs.

“Gee. That’s reassuring.” He rubs the back of his head. Her humor has always been somewhat dark but her delivery has never been this dry. Dry to the point where he thinks that she is only half joking. It is just one more glimpse into the damage he has done in disappearing for so long.

And then it dawns upon him--and he swallows a lump in his throat--that in the time that he had left, she has changed. It wouldn’t make sense if she didn’t. But what if she has changed into someone that he doesn’t particularly love...could she have changed that much? Could he have changed as well?

“Come on, Sokka.” She says softly, more sympathetically. “I have something for you.”

He bites his cheek. There really is no sense in drawing this out, he knows that he is getting on the boat one way or another. It is probably better to spare himself of Azula fetching her father to carry him aboard kicking and screaming. He also can’t deny that she has piqued his curiosity.

He follows her onto the ship. It is a lot sturdier than his was. And bigger.

“Khozen says that this ship has survived a few decades of storms.” Azula points out as she leads him below deck and to the cabins. “And, just so you know, we tested that. Overall, it is a well built ship.” She sits down upon what he assumes is her bed and she pats the spot next to her.

He takes a seat. He looks the girl up and down as she shuffles around a suitcase. Now that the novelty is wearing off he is noticing more things. More changes; mostly his gaze is glued to the scar on her chin. He wishes he didn’t, but every time he sees it he imagines her with cloudy eyes and none of that fiery spirit standing at the edge of a cliff. He sees a different person entirely. A more dismal person.

The real Azula is much different than the one in his mind’s eye. She is grinning, holding something behind her back. “I’ll give you three guess. If you don’t get it then you don’t get the thing that I am holding.”

Some of his anxieties wash away as a memory drives the darker images out of his mind. Now he is picturing a much smaller Azula with big eyes, chubby cheeks, and a missing front tooth.

He can’t quite get the voice right in his head, but he remembers her declaring, “what am I holding, Sokka!? If you get it right, you get a prize.” She only gave him unlimited guesses because she knew that hadn’t stood a chance. Usually with this game, other kids held was coin or a toy. Azula...she was always different. After guessing, “a coin? A stick of gum? A dollar bill? Five dollars!? A rubber duck…” She held out her fist and opened it to reveal a cherry pit.

So that is what he goes with, “it’s a cherry pit, isn’t it?”

She shakes her head. “Good guess, but now.”

“A pumpkin seed?”

Azula rolls her eyes. “Pumpkins aren’t in season.”

Her eyes, they are the same, but they are different. He thinks that they aren’t so care free anymore. There is a knowingness to them. A hardness that goes beyond any physical changes.

And there are plenty of those too. He had expected her to have grown taller, but she really hasn’t. But her face has lost a little more of its softness, he thinks that her cheekbones are more pronounced. He thinks that her muscles are more defined...that would explain the iron grip that she’d had on him. She wears her hair differently too, it is somewhat more tousled and is no longer bound up.

“Stop thinking so much and just start throwing guesses. I’ll give you a hint.”

Sokka pretends like that is what he had been thinking about. “Shoot.” He forces a smile.

“It has seen better days, but it’s still kind of cute.” She pauses. “Sort of like you.”

His smile becomes more genuine and he tries not to laugh. “It’s my clownfish isn’t it?”

Azula blinks before chucking it at him. “You cheated.”

“It isn’t my fault that you gave such an obvious hint.”

She turns her head and folds her good arm against the other. “That was a pity hint.” He is glad that she does. It reassures him that she is still there. Even if her eyes are more tired, even if her body bares the scars of a rough period, her smile is still the same. Her mannerisms are the same.

He puts the stuffed clownfish to the side and puts an arm around her. He can’t fault her for her changes, not when she has probably observed some within him.

.oOo.

He has lost his spunk. His adventurous spirit. The ocean stole that from him and dragged it to its depths alongside his cargo.

His posture isn’t quite right. At first she thinks that it is because he is physically frailer. The doctors had warned that it might take several months for him to re-attain a healthy body weight. And that it might take longer for the patches of discolored skin to even out again.

But they hadn’t warned her that his mind might be frailer. Though she thinks that it was probably implied. He still jokes and quips. He still makes her laugh. But he always seems weary and on edge. As though the sea will flood and snatch him back from wherever he stands.

Azula can’t hold it against him. She can’t imagine it is all too different from the fragility that had gripped her own mind some time back. She lets him hold her but she feels as though she should be holding him.

“When did you start wearing your hair down?” He had inquired a few hours ago.

“I think the month after you left.”

“Why?”

She hadn’t had the heart to tell him that it was because she had simply stopped seeing the point in putting so much effort in. Instead she told him that she needed change, and it wasn’t a complete lie. It was simply a small fragment of a whole truth.

“When did you decide to grow a beard?” She had tried to lighten her own mood.

“It wasn’t a decision.” They both laughed at this. And just as she had begun to stop laughing, he flared his nostrils and gave his beard a few pretentious strokes. “Do you fancy it m’lady?”

“You’re shaving tomorrow.” Secondhand embarrassment had spread color upon her cheeks.

The conversation had died away three hours ago. She pretends to be asleep, she isn’t sure if he wants to be caught crying. She wonders if she should get Katara, it seems somehow more appropriate to have a sister comforting a brother. That is how it has always been between she and Zuko.

Azula looks at the bed over. Katara is sleeping soundly. Pictures of events that Sokka has missed are still sprawled out on her nightstand. One by one Katara had been going through them, catching Sokka up on everything.

Azula doesn’t know how the pair had spent the alone time she’d given them, but Katara had went to bed extra cheerful.

“When did you wake up?” Sokka asks as he wipes his eyes.

“A few minutes ago, I guess.”

“Oh.”

“Why are you crying?” She notices that he is shaking and comes to a few conclusions. The boat rolls and bobs as it makes its way through the waves. “The ocean is very calm tonight. Do you want to go on deck?”

He shakes his head abruptly. “I don’t like how open it is.”

Azula nods. She takes his hand. She could tell him that it really isn’t that bad, but what good would that do? It would only be entirely dismissive. And a simple, ‘it’s going to be okay’ seems insufficient. Instead she says, “you were strong enough to find sleep on an unstable raft, you’re strong enough to get used to this.”

Though she thinks that these words might only be comforting to her. She thinks that words might not mean much at all right now. Her grip simply needs to be stronger than the pull of the sea. So she holds him close and waits for his anxious trembles to pass.

If he falls asleep in her arms then she will just deal with the earful that her father will give her.

“You used to love the ocean. You can’t fear it now.” She tries. “You beat it. You shouldn’t fear something that you have defeated.”

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #Sokka #Sokkla #Fanfiction

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imagines-dreams · 5 years

Text

Beauty and the Spirit Part 3 - Zuko Imagine

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: mentions of violence/war, cuz Fire Nation

Summary: Part 3 to Beauty and the Spirit (Part 2). You had run away from the castle ruins, away from the beast and his horrible temper. But the woods aren’t always kind.

Word Count: 1942

~ - ~

The winter was endless. You weren’t sure why, but you couldn’t seem to find your way out. You had been riding for at least an hour in one direction, but everything around you was still covered in snow. You groaned and stopped your horse. “Spirits,” you muttered. The logical thing to do is to go back to the castle of ruins and try to retrace your steps from the night before.

But, you did not want to go back there.

You sighed and dismounted. You needed to find another way to your friends. You searched your bag for anything that could help you. You smiled. There were a few snacks, obviously from Iroh’s tea cart, carefully wrapped and ready to eat. You sighed and searched. None of your inventions could help you, but your maps could.

You pulled one out and tried to decipher where you were.

“Ah, finally.”

You froze. “Zhao,” you whispered. You whipped around and took out your one dagger.

The esteemed general of the Fire Lord stood before you, about five or six guards behind him, ready to strike at a single command. “(Y/n), I didn’t expect to find you here.”

You gulped. There were too many of them.

“Where’s the avatar?”

“No clue,” you admitted. “I feel like you know better at me at this point.”

He hummed.

You scanned the soldiers around you. You wouldn’t be able to match them in skill. That’s for sure. You weren’t an amazing fighter like Sokka or a master bender like Katara. You knew the terrain slightly better. That was one thing you had on them. You still had a horse. It seems like they didn’t expect to run into anyone here, much less a friend of the avatar’s. Maybe you could outrun them.

You just had to get enough time to get on your horse.

“Keep her alive.”

You slashed the guy who came at you first. You grabbed your horse’s reins and mounted him quickly, kicking a soldier in the face in the process. You led your horse the way you came, firebending soldiers on your tail.

You had no escape route. You vaguely recognized the terrain, but you knew one thing. If you never turned, then the Fire Nation soldiers would find the castle, the home of fatherly Iroh and sweet Ty Lee and Lu Ten and Mai and the beast.

The beast, spirit, cursed, whoever he was, you didn’t care to be his friend, but nonetheless, you couldn’t live with yourself if you led these barbarians to him and his family. He may suck, but the Fire Nation was way worse. You swerved to your left and hoped to the spirits around you that somehow, someway, you could escape them.

“Surrender peacefully!” Zhao offered.

You and your horse only galloped faster. You had to get away from Zhao. You had to find somewhere safe.

Fire exploded right in front of you. You horse reared back. You fell to the ground. Your head screamed in pain, and the silence was so loud. You closed your eyes. The ringing in your ears only grew.

“Surrender.”

You squinted, the white snow and cloudy sky too bright for your eyes. Zhao stood in the center of it all, his fist still smoking from his successful shot. You shook your head and grabbed your knife.

“So be it.”

You struggled to get to your feet. The cold and slippery ground only made it worse. You fell to your knees once. Twice. You groaned and dug your blade into the ground and leaned art of your weight on it.

“It’s no fun when you can’t even stand, nonbender.”

Fire burst at your feet. You screamed and scrambled back. Your toes and part of your right heel were burnt. You couldn’t give up. If they had you in custody, Aang and Katara and Sokka, they’d have to get you. And you wouldn’t wish a rescue mission into Zhao’s clutches on your worst enemy. You couldn’t go down without a fight. You still had your dagger.

You threw your dagger at him.

Zhao easily dodged it, and it struck the ground with a dull thump.

Your horse was too far, detained by soldiers. You had no weapons. You had injured feet. You had nothing.

A roar rocked the ground beneath you, and your muscles tensed. You recognized that roar. Chills ran and stuck to your spine like deadly ticks. You covered your head and threw yourself to the ground.

The beast jumped right over you and growled at the soldiers. “This area is forbidden! Leave!”

The foot soldiers didn’t need any more warnings. They scampered away like scared little guppies. The general, however, only stared. “Impossible.”

The beast only sneered and pounced. Zhao dodged most of the attacks, his eyes still wide with shock. Then, his eyes narrowed, and fire erupted from his fists.

The beast moved swiftly, avoiding most of the burns. When the fire singed his black attire and reached his chest, he roared again, and suddenly, something ignited within him. He fought harder and faster. He defended himself and attacked immediately afterward, his claws sinking into Zhao’s flesh.

For the first few minutes, you admit, you were in awe of the man who imprisoned you. He was obviously trained. He was a bit impulsive in his fighting skills, but he was still talented. He knew how to spot weak spots and how to exploit them, and when it came to it, he knew how to use his energy wisely.

But, you still needed to survive. So you crawled to your horse. When you stood up, your right foot whined in pain. You dug it into more snow and sighed.

The beast was still fighting the general, and he was winning.

Just as you grabbed the reins, Zhao was running away, screaming about how it wasn’t over. The beast heaved. His shoulders slouched, and he shivered in the cold. He turned to you, his eyes dull and his breaths terrifyingly slow. He smiled when his eyes met yours. His lips practically cracked his cheeks. It had been a while since he had smiled.

Then, he collapsed.

You grimaced and stared at your horse. Your companion innocently stared back at you, nuzzling into your palm. You could easily leave. Maybe find your friends. Zhao and his soldiers were going to regroup and wait for their general to get well. You had the time. The beast was horrible to you. He imprisoned Aang, then you, treated you like an animal. You had every reason to leave.

Still, the beast saved you. You had no clue why. It could’ve been because he didn’t like anyone on his property. It could’ve been that he knew Zhao. It could’ve been that he had nothing better to do. But you couldn’t leave him there. Zhao burned him. He needed help.

“Sokka is going to kill me.” You limped over to him. “Please, you’re gonna have to help me out. I can’t lift you by myself.” You strained to support him on your shoulder. He was tired but awake, so he tried to walk to your horse. You draped him over the saddle. He blinked the fog from his eyes. “Your feet,” he whispered.

You scoffed. “You’ve got it worse.” And with that, you led your horse back to the castle.

~ - ~

You had a salve that would help with infections and bandages surround you. The fireplace was ablaze, keeping the room warm. After wrapped your feet, you sat on the bed and watched the sleepy beast.

“Hey,” you said.

“Hm?”

“I need to remove your robes to tend to your wounds.”

He shook his head.

You sighed. “It’s that or die of infection.” You reached out your hands.

He growled at you.

“Stop that!”

“It won’t help!”

“Yes, it will!” You took a deep breath. “Look, you were burned by a high-ranking Fire Nation soldier. It’s bound to hurt. I can make it hurt less.”

He glared at you. “You won’t like what you see.”

You shook your head. “I’ve seen a lot of burns.”

“I’m not talking about the burns.”

You gulped. Oh. Right. For a moment, you forgot he was cursed. You glanced at the one white horn sprouting from his forehead and the blue spots still moving from his neck to his face to his ear to his scarred eye. “You mean whatever cursed you, right?”

You took his silence for a yes. You bit your lip and admitted, “I’ve never encountered anyone like you.”

He bared his fangs and growled lowly.

You laughed. “Spirits, I’m not finished!” You sighed. “You are nothing like I’ve ever seen before and you’ve kidnapped me and my friend.” You took a deep breath. “But you’re also the one who saved me.” You smiled. “Now, please, can I help you?”

The beast grumbled, but still, he relented. He pulled down the blanket and you held in your gasp. The blue bruises migrated to his chest and stomach too. There were so many of them. He had one minor and one major burn from the encounter with Zhao.

Still, his skin continued to shock you.

There was a flower, a fire lily, tattooed on his left hip. Like the moving blue bruises, the flower seemed to be alive as well. Mostly anyway. Its few remaining petals swayed with an imaginary wind. Even the fallen petals quivered in response.

“What are you staring at?” he snapped.

You jumped a little and smacked his leg. “Stop scaring me like that!”

“I wouldn’t need to scare you if you didn’t stare!”

You laughed. “It’s your fault for taking a fight to General Zhao.”

“Well, if you didn’t run away, I wouldn’t have to fight him to save your life.”

“You didn’t have to scare me out of the castle!” You crossed your arms and smiled. “Ha, I win.”

He grumbled. “Did not.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” You sighed and grinned. “Now, let’s take a look at those burns.”

The beast stayed quiet as you tended his wounds, only hissing and glaring when appropriate. Then, a miracle happened.

“I’m sorry.”

You froze. “What?” you asked softly.

“I’m sorry for treating you, and your friend… horribly.” He avoided your gaze. “No one deserves that.”

“You’re right.” You bit your lip as the air around the two of you grew tense with something you couldn’t quite put a finger on. The silence was too constricting and his wounds and the blue bruises were starting to swirl in your vision and so you broke the silence. “I was going to escape.” You gulped and stared at him, waiting for his anger to explode and preparing to defend yourself.

He just sighed. “I know.”

“You know?”

He shrugged. “I checked your room after you left. You have an… interesting way of planning an escape.”

You laughed lightly. “Well, you won’t have to worry about that anymore.”

He blinked. “You’re not going to leave?”

“No.” You pointed to your feet. “Can’t ride properly with a burned foot. Mind if I stay here for a week or two?”

The corners of his lips twitched slightly, but he restrained himself. “Yes, I mind.”

“Good.” You laughed a little. “I enjoy annoying you.”

Just as your hand wrapped around the bandages, he interrupted, “I’m Zuko.”

You blinked a few times. “Zuko?”

“Yeah. That’s my name.”

“No, I mean, I know that’s what you were saying but…” You shook your head. “I swear I heard that name before.”

His face grew pale, and for a second or two, the blue spots froze in place. He gulped. “I get that a lot.”

~ - ~

Tags: @chims-kookies @lunashaw57

#atla #zuko #zuko x reader #zuko imagine #zuko oneshot #zuko fanfiction #atla x reader #atla oneshot #atla fanfiction #atla imagine #avatar the last airbender

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caelum-in-the-avatarverse · 4 years

Link

Written for Kataang Week. Prompt - PDA (Public Displays of Affection). (Image Source.)

“He’s only three words into it and it’s already the sappiest thing I’ve ever seen.” “Those three words are Happy First Anniversary."

~~~

“You have to describe these things to me, Sokka!”

Sokka stared up at the words forming in the clouds over Air Temple Island. “Do I have to?”

Toph pointedly waved a hand in front of her face. “Hel- lo! I can’t see! And I refuse to be left out of this ridiculousness. Come on, spill!”

“It’s sky writing,” Sokka said. “He’s writing. In the sky. Lots of loop-de-loops.”

“What is he writing, Sokka?”

“He’s only three words into it and it’s already the sappiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Those three words are Happy First Anniversary,” Suki said before Toph could shout again. “Also there are hearts. Lots of hearts.”

“Thank you, Suki,” Toph said. “Let me know what it says when he’s done! This is gonna be good, I can tell!”

“What’s good?” Zuko asked, strolling up from wherever he’d been meditating with the sunrise.

“Aang’s working on a surprise for Katara,” Suki said, even as Toph pointed upwards in the vague direction of the sky writing.

“Huh,” Zuko said, giving the clouds a considering look. “Cute.”

“THAT IS SO ROMANTIC!” Ty Lee squealed, bounding into the courtyard with a cup of coffee that miraculously did not spill in her excitement. Mai followed after her at a more sedate pace, two more steaming cups in hand. “It’s so sweet! Where’s Katara? Has she seen it?”

“Keep your voice down!” Sokka shushed her. Aang might be sappier than a maple tree right now, but that didn’t mean Sokka could condone the ruining of surprises.

“Sorry, sorry!” Ty Lee whispered, still grinning. “But it really is adorable!” She had a sip of her coffee.

Mai handed one of her cups off to Zuko. “Hope you’re in the mood for coffee. Ty Lee insisted.” She drank from her own cup and peered up at the sky. “Not that this isn’t cute, but thank you for never doing anything like it, Zuko.”

“You’re welcome,” Zuko said into his coffee cup.

Sokka stared up at the sky, which now read Happy First Anniversary Katara, and Aang was still writing. “The sky is clear blue,” he observed. “Where’s he getting the clouds from?”

As though in answer to Sokka’s question, Aang finished the final stroke on You and suddenly dove down towards Yue Bay. He pulled his glider back up just before he hit the surface, taking a massive sphere of water back up in the sky with him.

“...Homemade clouds,” Sokka said. “Way to go above and beyond.”

“So romantic,” Ty Lee cooed.

“What?” Toph asked. “How are the clouds homemade?”

“Aang’s pulling water out of the bay,” Suki said.

Toph laughed. “Oh man, Twinkletoes is really showing off today.”

“I think it’s sweet,” Suki smiled.

“It is,” Toph agreed, “but I’m mostly in it for Sokka’s reactions.”

“My brother-in-law is showing off his lovestruck toomfoolery for the entire city to see, and it’s been a slow news cycle so I’m sure this is gonna be in tonight’s paper,” Sokka said, gesturing vaguely at Republic City’s harbor, where he was certain photographers were rushing to the docks to photograph the display. “And worst of all, I’m never going to be able to top this!”

Toph started laughing.

“Aw, Sokka, you don’t have to top anything,” Suki said.

“Besides,” Toph cackled, “you give Suki terrible art all the time.”

“I’ll have you know that many of my pieces are proudly displayed in museums around the world!”

Toph and Sokka descended into good-natured bickering while Suki looked on in resigned humor, and Zuko had another gulp of coffee. “It’s a good thing we’re not into over-the-top romance,” he said to Mai, “because I couldn’t top that either.” The Fire Nation’s Ostentatious Display budget had been...severely slashed since the end of the war.

“I could try spelling something out with shurikens in the garden wall.”

“Please don’t, you’d give the guards a heart attack.”

Ty Lee rolled her eyes at them. “I’m just glad,” she proclaimed, “that I have one set of friends who can give me cute romantic things to squeal over.” She pointedly watched Aang continue his cloudbending. “Katara’s gonna love it!”

Aang finished a few minutes later, just as Katara came out into the courtyard, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. “What’s going on?” she asked when she saw the rest of them staring up at the sky, and she followed their gazes up and gasped. “Oh!”

Happy First Anniversary Katara! You are the love of my life!

Aang was freefalling straight down into the courtyard, and Katara ignored everyone else in favor of running up to meet him. “Aang! You shouldn’t have!” She was beaming as he touched down, glider held above him.

“Up for an early morning flight?” he asked, eyes bright.

“Yes!”

His arm went around her waist, hers went around his neck, and then they were shooting straight up into the air.

“So romantic,” Ty Lee cooed.

“This is definitely going to be in the evening paper,” Sokka sighed.

It made the front page. Everyone saved a copy for posterity.

Toph had hers framed and mounted on the wall of her office, where she often brought visitors’ attention to it by proclaiming “That was the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen!”, much to Sokka’s chagrin.

#kataang week #avatar fanfiction #atla fanfic #gaang #katara #aang #caelum writes

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 4 years

Text

Mutilated Mannequin (Part 16)

Azula is lethargic with painkillers, the drone of the overhead lights and constant blipping of the heart monitor are sources of agitation. Had her mind not been dulled by the medication she might still be quivering at the assessment she had been given some hours prior.

Koh had severed several nerves, apparently, her speech abilities are nothing short of a freakish miracle--or so they say. She refuses to call it a miracle, more so, stubbornness. It has been significantly harder to pronounce things with clarity, having the full use of only one side of her face. The nightmare is mostly of the cosmetic nature, but that does little to console her.

She holds a packet and reads it over for the sixth time since getting it. A nerve graft. She has heard the term graft as it is used in the cosmetic surgery sense. Skin and bone can be borrowed from somewhere healthy, somewhere that can afford to spare some tissue, and placed in the desired area. Apparently the same can be done with nerves.

Six months, and that is the best case scenario, is the predicted time frame for her to begin seeing the results of the surgery. But it can take up to a year.

And in the case of the donor nerve it can take several years to regain feeling.

The packet details that they will borrow a nerve from a place that has less value. They mentioned two places to borrow from, the leg and the arm. After mentioning the track team the medical team declared that they will likely they will extract the nerve from her upper and inner left arm. It will scar over and leave portions of her elbow and forearm numb.

But at least speaking won’t be a tedious process. At least she’ll be able to move her face. At least, after another several years, sensation can return to her arm.

Her eyes tear up. She had anticipated the possibility of a appearance-related disaster, but this…

No one had told her that she could lose feeling in her face. She imagines that Dr. Guhira would have discussed the risk factors.

Azula’s breath hitches. The tears she had been holding back come forward.

Ozai doesn’t scold her for it this time. He sits across the room, heavy in his silence and stern of face.

He doesn’t demand that she does her school work, but she refuses to fall behind and she needs something to take her mind away from things that are out of her hands. Hospital visits will be semi-regular for the first few months so she ought to get used to doing classwork while confined to a hospital bed. Her father is already working to pay some of her professors extra to tutor her via video chat.

From the sound of it, physical therapy appointments will be every Monday and Wednesday, after hospital clearance, leaving her room for only astronomy.

Azula fidgets her fingers for several minutes before mustering up the energy to start on Kyoshi’s newest reading assignment. The woman and many of her other teachers have offered adjusted, easier assignments to cater to her predicament.

Pride had her refusing the offers, which apparently still stand.

“Mrs. Kyoshi is willing to teach you through video chats, if you need help on any of the lessons. I also found you a personal tutor who will teach you right here in your hospital room.” Ozai informs.

“Mmhmm.”

“I have the best doctors lined up for you, they’ve been operating on cases like yours for decades.”

He wouldn’t have had to pay for the most prestigious doctors if he had done the same with his plastic surgeons. She almost asks him if she’s supposed to be proud of his generosity. She holds her tongue in equal parts because she doesn’t want him to pull said funds and because she doesn’t want to speak with him at all.

“They’re success rate is nearly eighty percent. Almost all of their patients make a full or almost full recovery.” Ozai elaborates.

“Yeah…”

.oOo.

The morning of her surgery, a semi-cloudy Saturday, she has a small cluster of guests. Technically only two or three people are supposed to be in the room at once, but the Kasai family name has some influence. For it, her mother lingers at the side of her bed and Zuko at the foot. Ozai remains across the room with Mai and Chan. She has dubbed this row of chairs as the row of shame. They can sit their for as long as they want but that doesn’t mean she will address them at all.

TyLee had taken the fourth seat in that row. But TyLee has this way of softening Azula. The girl pulls out a panda plushie and stuffs it under Azula’s arm with a bright smile, but not before holding it up to her face. A face painted with a puppy dog pout as she mutters an apology.

Azula sighs and accepts the gift with a muttered, “don’t be, I yelled at you.”

Perhaps if her situation wasn’t so dreary, she’d feel elated to have TyLee hugging her and grinning at her again. She steals a look at Chan and Mai, maybe she is being hard on them. But then again they haven’t been particularly friendly either.

Mai stands, “I’m wasting my time aren’t I?” She slips her hands into her pockets. “I can be helping my mom watch Tom-Tom…”

“You’re not wasting your time.” Azula mumbles. For her low effort, the statement is unclear. So she repeats herself.

“You haven’t said one word to me or Chan since we got here.”

“It’s hard to talk.” That much is true enough. She hasn’t really spoken to Zuzu or her mother either. In fact, she is fairly certain that TyLee is the first person she has vocally responded to all day.

Mai sighs, “right. But you can at least acknowledge us.”

“Acknowledged.”

She feels Ursa’s thumb rubbing the back of her hand. Somehow the dragon pendant around her neck seems more apparent.

“You’re still angry aren’t you?” Chan asks.

“At you?” Azula asks. “Pissed.” Yet she doesn’t have the heart to tell him to leave. She can’t say that she wants him to.

“Azula!” Ursa

Katara shows up a little later, Sokka tagging along. Azula half expects Ozai to make a fuss about the elections. To try one of his trademark intimidation tactics but he remains quiet on the other end of the room, opting to glare crossly instead.

“Sorry to hear about all of this.” Katara sets a small vase of flowers onto Azula’s night stand.”Moon lilies.”

But Azula is more interested in the black pot holding them. It seems to be a hand painted piece. In neon green is a cartoony alien surrounded by bright yellow stars and a white and red rocketship. Dotted lines loop and swirl in an equally cartoony indication of movement. Towards the other side is a UFO and a cluster of comets. “Sokka helped me paint it.”

“So that’s why I can’t tell what that is.”

“It’s an astronaut!” Sokka declares.

“I suppose that it can pass for an astronaut that got mauled by one of those aliens.”

“Is she always this friendly?” Sokka asks.

“That’s just how she talks to people.” Chan shrugs. “You get used to it after awhile.”

Azula runs her fingers over the petals and reaches for her drink.

“It doesn’t hurt as much, does it?” Katara asks.

Azula points to the bottle of painkillers. “I’m sure it does, I just can’t feel it.” It does help that they have since drained the seroma. With most of the swelling aside, she can see fully out of her left eye again.

She heaves herself upright and reaches for her phone. Zuko hands it to her.

“I’m glad that you’re okay.” Chan says.

“I’m not okay.” Her eyes seem to dim.

“But you will be!” TyLee gives her a light squeeze. “It’s like when we were kids and you fell out of that tree. You got right back up again.”

“TyLee.” Her voice hitches. “I’m not getting right back up this time.” She swallows, bunching the bedsheets up in her palms.

“I can’t see you staying down for good.” Zuko shrugs.

She stares at her lap. “This didn’t have to happen. I could have said no.” And she supposes that, that is the heart of what tears her up. “I could have just gotten the nose and chin job and quit while I was ahead…” She pauses. “I thought that it would fix things.”

It is a wonder that Katara and Chan haven’t hit her with a classic, ‘I told you so.’

“I did this to myself.”

“You had some good help.” Ursa fixes Ozai with with a sharp and piercing glare. The sort that could cut diamonds. Her father’s face remains impassive under it.

“A lot of help.” Chan mumbles.

Azula puts her head back against the pillows. “It doesn’t matter whose fault it is…it’s done.”

Ursa’s hand tightens around hers. At least she isn’t alone. She takes in the cluster of people around her. There are more people present than she thought there would be. She checks her phone to find well wishes from Suki, Toph, and Ruon. And a small, ‘get well soon’ from Aang on her social media page.

From Yue, she finds a, ‘your face isn’t too fucked up, right?’ Azula thinks that this might be her way of displaying concern. But she isn’t sure. She searches for a message from Jet and finds none.

She looks up from her phone to see the head doctor step into the room, “the operation room has been prepped.” The woman says. “Please wrap up your discussion so we can begin the operation.”

Azula bites her lip, ignoring the small twinge of pain. She takes a deep breath. “Thank you for coming to visit me.” She isn’t sure who she is addressing, she supposes that it is just general gratitude. “Especially you, asshole.” Another stern look from Ursa. “I know that you’re still mad…”

Chan rubs the back of his head. “I don’t really think that it matters anymore. It was kind of a dumb argument.”

She wouldn’t say that it was. Within it there had been some valid points of discussion, but she doesn’t have time to get into that. “We can talk about it some other time.”

He nods.

Ursa pulls Azula into another hug, brushing a hand over her hair.

“Good luck, Azula.” Mai speaks.

“Yeah, we’ll see.”

One by one, the room grows vacant until only her father remains. And then he is shooed away. She takes a deep breath. She supposes that it will be hard to make her situation much worse. At least this time, she has some real doctors.

#Avatar #Azula #TyLee #Katara #Zuko #Mai #Ozai #Sokka #Ursa #Fanfiction

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