songerein | It Feeds On The Blood, It Feeds On The Heat

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It Feeds On The Blood, It Feeds On The Heat

Who: Azula and various CR
Which: Noctaere Plot Log (Closed)
Where: Various locations in Reverein, the Wastelands and Interactive Dreamscapes
What: On the night of the 21st, the heat becomes unbearable. A thunderstorm rolls over Reverein, but there's no rain- posing its own problems when lightning strikes the dry earth. The shape of a bird made of blue flame can be seen fleeing from the village, but the weather disturbances remain, as does the damage it's causing. Fires are a serious concern. The unnatural storms will last until the end of the 22nd. After that, the unnatural dry and intense thunderstorm will subside into a normal heavy rainfall.

Warnings: A lot of violence, possibly including arson and burns. Also some examination of a backstory including abuse, neglect, war crimes, and themes of genocide.

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That-

That genuinely takes her aback. If she didn't know better, she'd think that he was encouraging her. She'd thought he was here to distract her so somebody could kill her, and now he was-

What?

The words themselves strike her as absurd- being a monster was always the one constant, the one thing she could never learn not to be, the one skill she excelled at above all others. Besides that, she's clearly been compromised beyond repair at this point, she can no longer even control her actions-

But there's still something about them that rankles her. They should be true. Allowing this to defeat her isn't just painful, it isn't just something that hurt the few people she genuinely cared about- it's a failure. A sloppy, foolish defeat, one she should have been able to foresee and prevent.

"Let us say you're right," she allows, the fatigue slipping back into her voice, "It's a little late for it now."

The Noctaere seems to be satisfied that the threat is eliminated. Still low above the buildings, it turns and slowly glides away from the town, leaving Najaran and Thunderbeak behind as it flies toward the wildlands.

"Perhaps you are right. Perhaps you cannot learn the basics that your brother has mastered. If you are so certain you cannot, you are certain to be proven correct."

( Ah. This feels... awkward. He doesn't know what to do. He doesn't feel like he belongs here, standing between Azula and the shadow of her past self. It's too much like his own mind, and he's too aware of how irritating it can be when others try to interfere too much.

He fidgets with his hands, scratching at the back of his left one as he watches Azula. The older one. )

I'm not dead. I'm still here, and I'm waiting for you to come back already.

( To get through this, to beat... whatever is happening. )

I thought coming here would get through to you, and I was right. Stop listening to your doubt from the past and focus on now. You want to stop, right?

[I'm waiting for you to come back.

Why? Why would he ever- why would anybody-]

I-

[She can't. She can't stop. This is all she is. All she's ever been.

You okay monster. My friend monster.

He didn't know, he didn't understand-

"If you are giving up after only a small handful of attempts then perhaps all I thought I knew of you was incorrect indeed."

Ridiculous. Uncle's prattle was always so sentimental, the wisdom of wishful thinking. Even he didn't truly believe she could be anything more than-

"Stop... talking about yourself like that."

She meets his eyes, breathing ragged, struggling in vain to keep the tears in check- a habit that feels performative and pointless now, but she still can't bear to let go of it.]

You don't deserve him.

[She doesn't. She can't argue. For a moment, she just freezes, staring at him, not even really registering that she said it where he could hear it. Her gaze drops again, but she steps closer.]

You'll never deserve him. Never.

[She knows. She knows it's true. But right now, she can't bring herself to care.

She wants to say... something. Her mouth works silently for a moment, as if she could stumble onto some words, some... something she could say. But there's nothing. She can't even put the thoughts into words. The remorse. The gratitude. The fear.

Instead, she suddenly reaches out with her good arm and pulls herself against him, harshly, tightly, clinging, burying her face into his shoulder as she begins to cry again.]

( Deserving... him? He's nothing anyone can "deserve", unless it's in the form of a punishment. Nothing of value, nothing—

Azula embraces him, and his thoughts vanish completely. His face flushes temporarily in embarrassment at the motion, but that too fades as he wraps his arms around her in return. He's careful, cautious, and tries not to add any more pressure or pain to her injuries. Dream or not, it still hurts, as he's learned...

Is he really a good person to comfort like this? He has no idea, but she still reached out for him. At her back, his fingers curl carefully into a few loose strands of her hair, and he stares up, away, trying not to think too hard.

Despite his own awkwardness and inability to be a good comfort, he knows he's relieved that she's crying for him. Maybe that means he's helping? Maybe that means she'll be okay? )

"Uncle, you know as well as I do that I won't survive this."

She scowls at the wall.

"It's called a Noctaere. A creature formed of nightmare dreamotion."

Another stupid, foolish mistake on her part. Another attempt to better herself that blew up in her face.

"Somebody will eventually put me down. I assumed you were here to distract me while Zuko did it."

[It occurs to her, after a moment, that he doesn't like having people hold him. She should let go. She should stop... doing this to him, stop making him miserable for once-

And then she feels his arms slip around her.

Why-

She expects the horrible child's voice to cut in again, but there's only silence. Her grip on him relaxes, but she doesn't let go. She can't bring herself to let go just yet.]

I-

[Once again, she can't think of anything to say. Her apologies surely meant nothing now. 'Thank you' seemed inadequate. What he's put up with from her, what he's still tolerating from her. Why anybody would ever-]

... I don't understand.

[She murmurs it into his shoulder. Weak. Needy. Pathetic. Not remotely useful.]

What's there to understand?

( Shealtiel's voice is a little quiet, but it's as earnest as ever. He doesn't move his arms or hands, aside from loosening his curl on her hair a little out of strange embarrassment he can't explain. He breathes deeply, collecting himself.

She's human, but she's Azula. There's fear deep in with the rest of his mix of emotions, but there always has been. There might always be, with humans. He's not sure how to stop it.

Right now, though, this seems fine. Comfortable, even. )

I told you we're friends. I'm not going to just leave you alone... stupid.

( The "stupid" is the weakest, most pathetic attempt at emphasis he's ever uttered to her. )

[I'm not going to just leave you alone. The words make her freeze for a moment, an instant of reactions so intense and chaotic she can't even begin to process them.

And then he calls her stupid, in that petulant, ridiculous tone of voice.

She's not sure what about it strikes her as so funny, but she can't help but laugh, an absurd sobbing laugh completely bereft of dignity, holding him tighter with her one good arm. The tension completely drains from her. It's... ugly, it's undignified, it's ridiculous, but at least it finally feels like peace.]

What's so funny?

( Shealtiel mumbles that, but it's clear from his pouting tone that he's very aware of what's so funny, and he doesn't expect an answer. Instead, he squeezes his hands in his hold, though he's careful not to do so too tight, and allows her to laugh it out.

It's nice, after all. The sound, the feeling. It's like their surroundings disappear, and for a moment it's all he focuses on. Maybe... this is what he can do? Is it supportive? Is it helpful? He's anxiously doubting himself, but it's a distant buzz compared to this more relaxed hug.

...It's a pretty long hug. But he doesn't want to end it himself, either... )

I knew I'd be able to get through to you here.

[The indignant question just makes her laugh even harder, and feeling him hold her tighter helps.

When he speaks, though, she finally forces herself to pull back from him, slowly, reluctantly, her face falling again.]

... You can't save me out there.

"I know no such thing. In fact, every time reason or logic has said that you or your brother should have perished, you have both managed to survive. I am certain you will find a way to do so once again. As to the cost of that survival..." he shook his head.

No.

( Despite what might be expected, Shealtiel seems to agree with her, slowly dropping his hands when she pulls away from him enough. )

But you can save yourself, and I can be here to support you through it. I read up on these things. As much as I could! But in the end, I can't do anything for you outside of this dream world, so I tried looking at it from another angle.

( He sighs softly, folding his arms behind his back in quiet nervousness. )

It's not what you'd want either, right? Being "saved" or whatever. But... Me reaching out to you like this might make a difference, even if I'm not really good at it.

That...

She gives him a long look at that. Once again, he's surprised her. He... he wasn't lying, was he?

A bit late for that, too.

"I wish I had your optimism, but others may not share that faith. Somebody else might still believe that the only way to stop me is to kill me."

After what happened tonight? To Shealtiel? Spirits, Nanashi would be terrified, he hated fire. This is what she is. This is what she always was.

"...maybe they'd be right."

[...Normally, she wouldn't. Normally she'd loathe the idea of requiring any sort of rescue.

Right now...]

They'll probably have to kill me.

[She doesn't know how one gets over being a Noctaere, but considering how many people she's hurt, how much destruction she's caused...]

"Maybe. But then... you always did care too much about what others thought about you.." And he turned and started walk off...

No they won't.

( It's the most certain he's ever sounded while speaking to Azula, and he's clearly irritated at the idea. No, beyond that-- angry. Not at her, but the idea itself. He subconsciously stands a little taller. He'd been slowly feeling more and more tired, and that's no different now, but this topic is sensitive...

He doesn't want her to die, after all. And he did a LOT of reading. Not just after she turned into that fire bird, but before, when he was hiding away. )

Dreamotion is the key. I may not be good enough at it right now, but someone will be. You just have to hang in there.

( He doesn't know how long he can stay in this dream, like this. Exhaustion is setting in, but he doesn't want to just vanish... )

[She stares at him, eyes blurring with tears again.

For a moment, she considers arguing the point- that nobody would ever be patient and forgiving enough to try to spare her, not now, not after everything. That trying to keep her alive would be foolish after all this. That it sounded easier anyway.

But she doesn't want to argue, and... she suspects it would upset him. And upsetting him, in what was probably their last moment together, sounds inexplicably agonizing.

... so she doesn't. She doesn't argue. Unfortunately, she can't think what else to say instead. There's no suitable narrative, no fitting lie, no way to retrieve this... this humiliating, horrible failure, the hideous writhing guilt she feels in the face of that unyielding patience... she can't fix it. She can't manipulate it. She can't redirect this.

She doesn't even plan what eventually comes out- weak, almost pleading, pathetic, but she's decided that's probably inevitable. The resignation doesn't make her hate it any less]

... please stay. Until-

[... until she's gone, she almost says, but- well, she didn't want to say that, she'd already decided.]

Until I wake up.

( At that request, Shealtiel's muscles relax a little, and the tension drops from his face. It's rare to see Azula so needy, and he can't say that he doesn't appreciate it. Feeling needed... It's nice.

But he's probably thinking too much of it, and so he brushes that train of thought aside to focus. It's hard to stay here, and he's going to be exhausted, but for a request like that? He can do it. )

Of course.

( He pauses and shifts his weight slightly from one foot to the other. )

I wasn't going to just leave you.

( So, he'll stay like this until she wakes up. She'll be just fine, when that happens. And until then, maybe he can fill the time rambling about the angels in his division, the way that the system works, things like that. Things to lighten the mood, if she'll listen. )

['Of course. I wasn't just going to leave you.' So simple. So certain. After everything. After everything she'd-

She hates herself for needing him then. She hates herself for being afraid, for being desperate. She hates himself for depending on him, and hates herself even more for what she did to him. She hates, most of all, the deep, overwhelming surge of relief that floods over her when he says it. The power it had- still has- over her. It's irrational. It's weak. It's selfish. More selfish still, since she's lying to him. She believes- she's certain- that she won't wake up at all.

Well. He's free to hate her for lying after that, if he must.

Pathetic and a monster. At the same time. Again.

She says nothing. She doesn't approach him again. The dream around them changes, shifting to the roof of their old apartment building- as dark and empty as the rest of the dream had been when Shealtiel arrived- and she scarcely notices the change even as she sits down on the edge of the building near him.

She won't speak. But if he talks, she'll listen. If only to hear his voice and know he's there.]

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It Feeds On The Blood, It Feeds On The Heat

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And /wrap

TY for the thread

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