isleofavalon | february catch-all.

[ Azula was livid that she and Zuko couldn't arrive to Avalon with a clean slate, almost jealous that Gokudera's memory of Lunatia and the fire siblings was nonexistent. She would have hoped that her brother would have avoided their disaster "friends" they entwined themselves with on the other planet, but instead he couldn't resist, entangling them once more with the idiot mafia. Perhaps she wouldn't have minded, but having to cradle Zuko's stupid, bleeding head in her hands meant that now she had to get involved.

Her inability to bend didn't matter now, running on pure adrenaline as she seeks out the explosive boy she was sure would crumble at her feet even without the fire usually coursing through her veins. It isn't hard to track him down, it's not as if he was making a point to hide from anyone, the scent of him filling her nostrils the closer she gets. She can taste the smoke on her tongue when she tackles him to the ground, blind to everything around them, her sights set entirely on Gokudera. ]

[Gokudera had spent some time in hiding, going over everything with his boss and fellow Guardian, and deciding to lay low long enough for him to recover fully from his fight with Zuko. Considering most the damage he sustained was due to his own weapons, he's up and on his feet and looking relatively normal fairly quickly. Training on the training grounds does not make him stand out, and he's usually there on his own with maybe his familiar to watch over him.

Being tackled outright by someone he's never met is a shock, and he's throwing his arms up and covering his face, palms turned out and shooting out blinding light. There's an odd warbling cry beside him, but nothing there as his familiar all but vanishes.]

[ The princess suffers through the light as she grabs his wrists, sharp nails digging into his skin as she holds them above his head on the ground. She's small, but strong, the rage fueling her giving her the extra boost she needed to keep him beneath her. It kills her that she couldn't burn him to a crisp, he'd be gone already if she'd had her fire-- but she was happy to harm him other ways. ]

I am so sick of having to hear your name. For a moment here I was, thinking this planet was a blessing--one you were not in--but it looks like my suffering will be extended for all eternity.

[ Each word is laced with vitriol and it's clear she's not finished, regardless if Gokudera attempts to stop her. ]

[Gokudera lets out a pained cry more in surprise than inreaction to her nails at the grip as his hands are pushed up and away from his face. Without his hands, he is entirely defenseless, unable to grab his dynamite or create a shield. He stares up at her in bewildered fear and shock.]

Who are you?! What the hell's your problem?! [Aside from his existence, since that is the only thing she's made obvious.

He makes no move to stop her, not knowing who she is, why she's upset with him, or what he even did to deserve this sudden attack.]

You are my problem.

[ He doesn't move. It's a surprise, but the sight of him terrified only eggs her on, a reprieve from the uselessness she had felt since arriving to Avalon. ]

You are scum of the earth, you are nothing, you continue to be nothing and you will die nothing and yet you seem to think in your little mind that you are valued enough to worm yourself into our lives again. You hurt my brother, my brother, who will be the greatest Fire Lord our world has ever seen, and I refuse to let a dumb peasant jeopardize that for us.

[ Was this what her father felt like after teenagers kept undermining everything he was doing? Her tongue rakes across the back of her teeth and she peels her nails out of his skin, reeling back to use her free hand to punch him in the face instead. ]

[He stares on in shock at her, baffled at her words. They are hurtful, but considering he doesn't know her, they echo and only meet what he tells himself regularly.]

Your brother...?

[Zuko? Fire Lord? Oh. That makes sense, what with the fire kick and all. Denial is his immediate response, because he didn't try to worm his way into that guy's life or hers. They've both approached him on their own, and insulted him. He opens his mouth to respond and her fish comes down, knocking his head sideways. There... now he has a split lip to match Zuko, but this obviously has to do more with his teeth.

He curls his fingers, opens them, and flashes a bright light between them, forcing a barrier wherever she is not touching him in the moment and all but hiding beneath it from another strike. Gokudera keeps his palm up, holding the barrier while his other wipes at his mouth.]

You don't know anything about me, stupid woman. I don't know who you are, and I don't care who your brother is, or what he will become. Seems to me you both should stay the fuck away. I didn't approach you or him. [He has very little self worth. Gokudera is a tool for the mafia. It's all he's ever been treated as. She can't hurt him by insulting him, and she got one punch in. The bomber won't allow her a second, just maintains his defense as he looks at her, eyes narrowed and bright. He won't hit a woman... even if she's attacked him. Mafia traditions and all that...]

[ Azula shakes her hand out at her side as she is confronted with his light barrier, unfamiliar with the type of magic he's wielding and how to undo it. All she wants is to return her hands to him, agitated that he was still able to speak, that she hadn't already rendered him speechless due to pain. Her palms press against it despite knowing it was futile, giving herself to take a breath and recalculate how she'd hurt him. ]

Oh, Gokudera, I know so much about you. We had a whole other life where you couldn't stop being a thorn in my side-- and now it seems you'd like to return.

[ She clenches her hands back into fists and smashes them into the barrier in order to startle him, eyes scanning over his bruised face on the other side. He'd be ash if she had her flames, but instead she has to focus on the best way to annihilate him with her new magic. ]

That is what parasites do, after all, but I would like you to stop being so cowardly and let me show you precisely what I do to people like you.

[Gokudera is great at strategizing, especially when it comes to defense. She caught him off guard and landed a punch, but he won't just take any more literally lying down. He's also suffered much worse than a punch to the mouth before, so he won't be speechless no matter how much she tries to hurt him or looks forward to something like that. He won't hit her, but he also won't comply. Especially not to threats.]

Oh yeah? I don't know you at all. Whatever that Gokudera did isn't my business. Go away.

[He curls his fingers, and the barrier around him bends, blanketing him and then he moves one hand around and turns it at the wrist, so the barrier settles even into the ground around him to fully case him in.]

Hm. You don't know me at all. [He rolls his eyes and then glances at her when she slams her fists on the barrier, expression more insulted than startled. Rude, Azula. Rude.

Gokudera is nervous about where his familiar might be. Does the sea monster even care about him at all?!]

Get away from me before I make you.

[ Too late at night for the fire prince to be getting home, typically. Past midnight. Just something must feel suspicious, even having only been here a few days at most. On occasions like these, there's a certain... vibe in the air, even from far afar — especially when two people's destinies are so entwined as theirs. There's a loud flap of wings and a thud as Zuko's dragon lands directly outside their bedroom window, in its full form for the first time. It's glorious compared to its typical snakelike size Azula's already come to know. It takes some time between its landing and Zuko's arrival at the front door — too much time. She knows the pace he normally walks. Something's wrong, and it's obvious before he even nears their new home.

As soon as he does, though, there's no hiding it. He comes in without turning on the lights, taking his shoes off by habit of living with Japanese roommates the past half a year, and his dragon, who's now shrunken down to its pet-sized form once more, slinks in quickly behind him just before he shuts the door. He's not overly pleased with his familiar right now. It'd helped him, but also attacked him, in a way. That seemed... off. He still doesn't bother to turn on the lights even once he's fully in, and instead just flops on the couch, eyes shut, arm draped over them to block out any remaining light from the windows, applying a pressure that helped and hurt his black eye, now hidden from sight this way. But his fat lip and blood-drenched T-shirt, torn clothes covered in soot, heavy smoky smell, and just general demeanor, could not hide that something had happened... He has a feeling Azula may have waited up for him, or at least would wake up hearing him enter, which he didn't pay a lot of care for in the noise he made, but he also didn't dare go wake her, even just to sleep in their shared bed; he didn't feel like it. He just wanted to lie down, even if she found him immediately. And with the smell of smoke on him, the look on his face, the dejected way he moves, he's already certain Azula's smart enough to know whose name to think of first. ]

[ She hadn't waited up for him, fast asleep by the time he arrives, trusting her brother enough now that she didn't need to stalk every movement in fear he'd abandon her. Of course he ruins her slumber, stirring immediately when she hears Zun outside, but she tries to return to sleep with the expectation he'd be at her side in a handful of minutes-- that was their routine now, wasn't it?

But the door shuts and... nothing. Azula forces herself out of the warmth of her blankets and off the mattress after more of that nothing, slipping through the darkness to hover awkwardly in the living room, waiting to hear some explanation as to why he was ?? what, avoiding her? The scent of smoke and iron fills her nose first, brow furrowing, draping herself over the back of the couch after she approaches him. Her eyes are still adjusting to the darkness, trying to catch a good glimpse of him despite his attempts to avoid her gaze, palm brushing against one of the arms keeping his face from her. ]

What are you doing out here?

[ Zuko makes no move to move. He stays perfectly still, even when her hand grazes him unexpectedly. It takes him pause to answer. What could he possibly say? He's already not looking forward to explaining this to Azula. He'd explained it to Hikaru who'd found him directly after the fight, who was mildly comforting, but uninvolved. Though also distinctly not a fan of Gokudera already, not unlike Azula, even more wary of the mafioso now for obvious reasons. But unlike Hikaru, Zuko doesn't need to spare contextual details with Azula because Azula's in the know; she lived with the mafiosos, she knows what the mafia is, knows Yamamoto and Gokudera are in it. Now that he's under threat for knowing too much about it himself, for once, Zuko can be transparent with her and her alone; and it's a strange feeling, one he's now longing for and dreading at once. He's in pain, he's troubled, he's tired, and so he's primed for arguing, whether he wants to or not. He has no explanation but the truth and that's not a very good lead off. ]

...I got injured. I didn't want to wake you.

You would have been quieter if you didn't want to wake me.

[ Azula moves from her injured brother to flip on the lights, squinting at him as she forcibly adjusts to the brightness, any chance of returning to bed lost now. When she returns to his side, she squats on the ground in front of the couch, no tenderness in her touch as she tugs his arms away from his face in order to get a better look at him, hands tight around his wrists. He'd live, but it was difficult to keep the anger at bay after witnessing him in such a state by a hand that wasn't her own. ]

We have been here days and you have somehow already found a way to nearly kill yourself. Remarkable.

[ As she wraps her hand around his wrist, Zuko only stubbornly tightens his arm for a fraction of a moment, before relenting quickly to reveal his busted face. He'd managed to get cleaned up so that his face at least wasn't covered in fresh nor dried blood, though some dark red speckles remained. His bottom lip was already swollen, a long, deep scratch along his chin and jawline below from where Gokudera's rings had dragged along. Those rings had also ripped two slices into Zuko's orbital bones around his soon-to-be-black eye; right now it was an increasingly gnarly fresh shiner, bookended by a short, deep gash along his cheekbone, and a gash that cut a notch into the tail of his only eyebrow, which would look cool and modern and chic if it weren't for that the skin was missing, too. His face was still dappled with schmutz from rolling around on the ground with Gokudera as bombs went off around them. The whole neckline of his grey T-shirt was drenched in dark red. His jean jacket was covered with soot and smeared with dirt, its elbows ripped open, and his black denim pants were torn at the knees and speckled with ash. He looked worse for wear, indeed. ]

It wasn't my fault, Azula.

[ That's his admission that he was attacked. "It wasn't my fault, Azula." Telling Azula that he'd barely fought back was already shameful, despite his pride in his pacifism until this moment. He cared what Azula thought of him again — still, rather; he'd never truly stopped caring what Azula thought of him... Friend or foe, it's instilled in him that he wants Azula to think of him as strong, a fighter, a force to be reckoned with. If he admitted to Azula he'd barely even fought back, she'd be disappointed in him, he knew it... He couldn't have fought back; he shouldn't have. But maybe he should have. He definitely could have. He did. He nearly killed his best friend, halfway on purpose. He's still grappling with that. Zuko's worried, almost certain, that Azula wouldn't understand his conflict about why he specifically chose not to defend himself. Why he, essentially, chose to look like this, when the fight could have been over in minutes if he'd just retaliated at the start. All that said, Zuko at least deserves props for surviving so many bombs and explosions. The smoky smell of his survival still clung to his clothes and messy hair, but he'd rather smell like Gokudera's smoke and be covered in his own blood, than... not. ]

[ He really did look terrible. It was bizarre to be looking at him so closely, familiarizing herself with new cuts and bruises as she allows herself to lightly brush her fingertips against what he'd tried so hard to keep hidden from her. She never thought she'd be stewing like this, angry at who did this to him, who he let do this to him-- the offending party better be dead or she'd make sure they were.

Not that she'd tell him that, no, but he'd be able to tell she was growing more upset the longer she picks at him, the light touches turning more aggressive as she realizes how easily he could have been taken from her. Zuko was better than this. He must have known that, too, given how he didn't want to share this with her. She jerks her hand away, standing up abruptly, bothered by the smell of sweat and blood and smoke that was radiating from him and stinging her nostrils. ]

Take your clothes off.

[ A command, an unhappy one. Her eyes narrow, pausing, debating whether or not to say anything else before she leaves the room to fetch water and a washcloth. ]

[ He takes a long, quiet moment before he moves a muscle, but then heaves a dramatic, exhausted sigh, and forces himself to lean up and undress as told. It hurts to raise his arms, to take his jacket off. When he pulls his shirt over his head, he lets out a hissing wince in pain just as she walks in again. One of Gokudera's bombs had thrust him into a tree with fair force, and he definitely felt it between his shoulders still. But his neck and arms hurt double, too, for his familiar having also knocked him deliberately backwards and thrown him into another tree with a mighty swipe of its tail. That blow had definitely hurt, and ended the battle, hit the back of Zuko's head, too. He's certain he's got pulled muscles at best. There are raw marks on his back and torso from rolling around in the dirt and rocks on the ground, dodging explosions, but most of the damage is only visible on his face, which looks more sullen than ever, his inner emotional conflict painted much more clearly than his physical pain. When she returns with a wet washcloth, he keeps himself sitting straight, even if it hurts to keep his posture up well like that, and closes his eyes to avoid confronting his discomfort — both bodily and otherwise. ]

...It looks worse than it is, Azula. I swear.

[ His tone is softer, smoother, quieter — defused. For both their sakes. ]

Mm.

[ That's all he gets out of her once she's back in his line of sight. She disagrees, it looks exactly how it is. Azula unfolds the washcloth and drapes it over his face since he can't be bothered to keep looking at her, she wasn't going to mother him anyway. ]

You missed a lot of spots.

[ The princess settles onto her knees on the cushion at his side, her hands surprisingly gentle even as they purposely run over muscles she's certain are tender to the touch. Until she kneads into them, a jab to force him to hiss again and prove how bad it was. He should have a hot bath, something she might suggest for him if she doesn't kill him by the end of their conversation. ]

[ And indeed, when she jabs him, it earns a hiss for sure. Yeah, he's definitely injured his shoulders. Having the hot, wet washcloth draped on his face feels good, though, relief, and something about his sister's hands on his wounds is soothing, even when she's too firm. She proves her point. ]

...I'm gonna ask Katara to use her magic to heal me. But— not now...

[ He wants to distract the conversation from the inevitable elephant-mandrill in the room: who did this? ]

...I used fire magic tonight for the first time.

Not very successfully, it looks like.

[ At least she was making the assumption that the other guy didn't look this bad, knowing Zuko's tendency to not want to cause harm. The sudden relief he feels from her seems too much like a reward, forcing her to draw her hands back in silent retaliation, settling them into her lap instead. ]

Did you come home so late in an attempt to try to avoid me seeing you like this?

[ Plus, she doesn't want to talk about his fire magic. Talk about another sore spot. ]

[ He shakes his head slightly beneath the washcloth. ]

No. I met Hikaru by chance right after the fight. I rested and we talked. His brother and their friend I lived with are both here. They all remember Lunatia.

[ He mentions that they remember with some heavy bitter tone. He doesn't really want to talk about his fire magic, either. He does reveal, though, that indeed it was a fight he'd been fucked up by. As if he hadn't just stumbled across a minefield with extremely good luck. ]

By chance.

[ She repeats, only because she doesn't believe him. Azula's still certain she was the last person he wanted to see him like this, especially as he tried his best to deter the conversation. The princess shifts on the couch to be more comfortable, leaning against the cushions. ]

I realize that this may be difficult for you to grasp, but it does not please me to see you like this.

[ Years of suffering she once enjoyed are long in the past now, thanks to their complicated relationship on two new planets that muddied those dark, violent feelings. If she brought him pain now it was merely for both their benefit, a thought that she has to shove aside in order to keep herself properly agitated with him-- he'd love the affection now should she choose to give it, and she wasn't ready yet. ]

I know, all right...

[ It's true that Zuko hadn't been looking forward to coming home and having Azula see him like this. But it's also true that he really did stumble across Hikaru by chance, and they just got to talking... It was a rough night. He lies still, face aching beneath the hot washcloth hiding his frown, searching for his next words. ]

...I'm gonna find a way to fix this. I'm sorry for worrying you.

[ A surprisingly tender thing to say, but until tonight, he shared the bond of experiencing Prismatica with only Azula, and it's made these past few days since their arrival in Avalon feel like it's just them through thick and thin, even with the presence of his friends from home. They weren't in Lunatia. It was very formative. He and Azula had been through so much, opened up in new ways, gotten so close... He really didn't want to worry her. But he's worried himself. But he does mean to fix this, even if he doesn't specify what "this" is. Or how he could possibly "fix" it. It's all an empty platitude. ]

[ Zuko went out on a limb. It'd been about two days since his unfortunate meeting with Gokudera, and he'd not reached out to anyone yet. The first day he'd spent in bed, sleeping. And the second day he'd spent in bed, as well — thinking. Now, he's worked up the chutzpah to reach out again, finding it the best approach rather than... doing nothing...? He took a stab at Gokudera's username, hoping it'd be the same as it was in Lunatia, and it was. But, boy, the attempt did not go so well.

It's early evening, not the time of day the firebender would typically be lounging around. He's lying shirtless in bed in his loose-fitting Fire Nation pants, face still unhealed, still too frazzled to reach out to Katara for help, while he gathers his thoughts on how to keep her and Sokka safe first. He's been absorbed in his phone for some time now, lying flat on his back with the device outstretched above, though still close to his face, brow furrowed tightly in a deep scowl as his thumbs move more deftly than they ever have to type on the still alien technology. He'd really taken to text messaging, finding it easy to be transparent; but in this instance, that didn't seem to be working toward his favor. He throws his hands aside with a loud snarl after about twenty minutes of this fixation, smacking the phone into the bed with unnecessary force.

"You just think you know me and you don't! You don't have to fight me! Just leave me alone!"

He won't forget these words — at least until he's sent home eventually and forgets everything... which sounded nice right about now.

With a softer grumble to himself, the fire prince just rolls over onto his front, burying his face in the pillow, which muffles his frustrations. Azula knows her brother has very little chill, if at all. This melodrama is not so unusual. But it is strange just hearing and seeing only one side of it, the rest silent on his tiny secret screen. But there's not too much to guess what it is that's bothering him so much. This embroilment with the mafia (one she'd already made clear she does not encourage) and with Gokudera in particular (also not encouraged) is now her problem, and it shouldn't be. But it is. Because she has to live with this kid. And share a bed with all these extra Feelings he has now. It takes up a lot of invisible space. ]

Edited 2021-02-06 05:32 (UTC)

[ Zuko's had a low-key day. With all the unease around, in so many arenas, the day had been surprisingly so far less frantic than the past couple days had. He'd spent time on his own training privately near the flat, not following his sister to the training grounds. It was his first day seriously training since his fight with Gokudera two nights beforehand, though he'd furiously trained all day every day the few days before that since his arrival. However, the physical injury took the wind out of him the first day following the attack, and the emotional injury incapacitated him still the second. Now day three with a busted face and torn shoulders, he finally had it in him to reach out to Katara for healing. It went well. He kept everything about the attack secret from her successfully, endangering no one that way. It was hard not telling her crucial details she should deserve to know as his friend, wanted to know as his friend — his true friend, who's still his friend, a friend whose trust was hard to gain after he'd attacked and wronged her far worse for far longer than he had Gokudera, but who allowed him to redeem himself for her, who forgave him, no longer feared him as a threat the way she did for so long, even after becoming friends... A friend he'd hurt who healed him, more than literally. If he should only be so lucky his friendship with Gokudera can be healed like that. But these hopes are private now, secret, silent. As far as the rest of the world can know, Zuko has no clue who Gokudera is now. They have no connection.

Except Azula knows quite how closely connected the two were — and with this attack, still are — and is not so forgiving and hopeful as all that. Only she can try to kill her brother...! It'd not been on the table for many months now, but Gokudera still has no room for respect as an enemy. This whole thing was disgraceful for both the boys. But Zuko'd come out looking quite rough for it, and feeling quite worse, and revenge is something he clearly was not inclined to seek out. Stupid of him not to by many people's measure, surely. But he's holding tight to his convictions, to his affection. Even if he can't compare apples to oranges, being healed by Katara earlier in the day gave him hope, gave him comfort, reassured him of possibilities... He knew the Tenth had told him they'd meet up soon, he assumed the four of them, just him and the mafiosos, to talk face-to-face. Things would be sorted out smoothly there. They just needed to talk openly to resolve this somehow as a group in person. The text conversation went as... well... as it could go, probably... even with background distractions considered. And he's left feeling as good as he probably can about this rotten situation.

That is, until Azula comes home later on that same day. ]

[ ??? ]

[ It's sunrise, several days after some dust has settled. No matter what's happened, or how Zuko's processing it, he's got the same morning routine to process anything all the same — meditation. He's started every day off like this for three years now, under Iroh's guidance, never training before meditating, never doing anything before meditating. He'd normally head out into the sunshine, but... fuck, it's cold, and there's barely enough sunshine to feel empowered by it anyway. Not that this magic worked like that here; just, y'know, mentally, emotionally, he likes the sun. But he'll still try to enjoy sitting beneath its pale newborn light in front of their wide main window, curtains drawn fully open, posed right in front of the heater his dragon is curled comfortably up on, diligently watching him. He's half-shirtless, having hastily thrown on his Fire Nation pants and tunic, left open, sitting with his legs crossed and his back straight, turned against the rest of the room, sun on his face, eyes closed. He's intent on measuring his breaths, focusing on losing his focus, errant thoughts drifting away like fallen autumn leaves coasting down a river... Perhaps there are other errant thoughts floating on their way in, however, unbeknownst to him. ]

february catch-all.

gokudera 😍😍

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i; after zuko's fight with gokudera

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ii; texting tsuna

iii; after azula's fight with gokudera

iv; after Zuko's meeting with the mafia

v; mind games and magic practice