It Feeds On The Blood, It Feeds On The Heat

[itstillhurt]

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.

Comments

Dreamscape Encounters

[itstillhurt]

[As soon as you enter Azula's dreamscape, you're greeted by chaotic images- fragments of memories, words, scenes, jumbling together without context. Individual sentences and scenes might be recognizable amongst the din, but nothing coherent. Faces, as well, might be recognizable among the chaotic maelstrom of visuals- Her own face, hair butchered and limp, glaring in a mirror. A sad-looking woman who resembles an older, gentler Azula with darker eyes. A severe man with long, immaculately styled hair and a carefully-groomed goatee. Her own brother, as a child, face still unscarred. A girl Azula's own age with a dour face, glaring in resentment. Another girl, cheerful and sunny expression marred by fear. A massive wild man with hair and beard like overgrown plants, eyes glowing with malicious glee. An earnest, smiling boy with death-pale skin.

Finally, the chaotic mesh of words and faces subsides, and you find yourself in the dream.]

For Iroh @uncle_iroh

[itstillhurt]

[When the dream finally resolves itself around Iroh, he finds himself in what appears to be the village. It's empty, though, unnaturally empty and lifeless. No lights, no fires, no warmth.

The only sound is coming from the direction of the courtyard- it sounds like footsteps, and a faint blue glow.]

Re: For Iroh @uncle_iroh

[uncle_iroh]

Iroh was... concerned to say the least. But he pressed on. He had wanted to be done with war, with fighting. When he thought this the spirit world he had had some hope that he could, in fact, be done.

But he wasn't dead it seemed. And fighting wasn't done with him.

So he walked armed not with tea and snacks but a sword on his hip and light armor over his form. Harder in this to hide that his bulk these days was muscle once more. He wanted to leave general Iroh in the past and just be Iroh.

But once more his family threatened the peace. He hadn't stopped things when he had been younger. And of everyone in this place, he was the only one who could have. So it was up to him to deal with it now.

Before anyone else got hurt.

And so, in an empty village, alone, he walked. Alert and wary, listening, lookin, feeling for any sense, any proof that the village wan't empty. That he wasn't alone.

[itstillhurt]

Iroh finally finds the sign of habitation- in the courtyard in the center of town, there's a glimpse of daylight in the gloom. Two figures are seated on the edge of the fountain. They're not far, and yet there's an odd haze in the air. A memory, clearly.

The figure on the left is a young man, perhaps in his late teens, but slight. His skin has an odd pallor, almost sickly, but despite that his movements are animated, his eyes bright and full of life. The figure on the right is clearly Azula- normal, no sign of Noctaere or other distress. They appear to be writing messages to each other back and forth in their journals, and the discussion is clearly agitating her.

[uncle_iroh]

He frowned, not trusting this in the least. He walked with awareness of his breath and chi, ready to attack or defend in an instant as needed, even as he quietly advanced.

[itstillhurt]

Neither of the two figures respond to Iroh's approach. Instead, they continue their written 'discussion.' The vision of Azula looks frustrated, the boy looks confused.

And suddenly, her face contorts into the same loss of composure Iroh had evoked in her in their previous conversations, and she snaps at the boy.

"I don't have friends!"

The voice is oddly echoing and distorted, as if she was much farther away. After a moment, the vision of Azula suddenly looks mildly ashamed at her outburst, and she goes back to writing, writing with such aggression that the quill suddenly slips from her hand. Her teeth clench, her eyes begin to fill with tears despite her efforts to restrain them. She hastily reaches for the quill, but her hands are trembling so hard that it snaps in her fingers as soon as she grabs it, and she seems to sag for a moment, as if that simple mistake was enough to nearly break her.

"I suppose you're simply loving this. Watching me humiliate myself. Watching me be pathetic." Unlike the vision of Azula, the one that has appeared behind Iroh isn't distorted or hazy, doesn't sound distant. She sounds tired. Bitter. Not angry, not violent, just... tired.

[uncle_iroh]

He moved swiftly to face hr without giving the appearance of panic. Keeping both of her in his sight as he found a position triangulated between the two.

"If you think that I would love this than you know me even less than I realized."

[itstillhurt]

If she's bothered by his reflexive shift to defense, she doesn't show it. Her gaze on him is more like a vacant stare in his direction. In fact, there's... almost a faint amusement in her voice as she speaks.

"Relax, Uncle. There's no point fighting you in a dream."

In the memory, the boy in the fountain rests his hand against the other Azula's forehead, as if checking for fever. She pulls away, not disgusted or angry, just... confused.

"I'm not ill, you ridiculous fool."

Unlike Iroh's caution, that seems to get a reaction out of the present Azula, and her eyes narrow, focusing on the memory with a scowl.

"Well, if you're not enjoying my humiliation, you're free to leave. Shouldn't you be out there trying to kill me like the rest?"

[uncle_iroh]

"What point do you usually see in fighting me?" he asked, sounding somewhat bland.

[itstillhurt]

"How many times do I have to tell you-"

The vision Azula starts to say, then stops, sighs, and begins... moving her hands. It's clumsy and awkward, but the two figures in the memory begin talking with hand signs.

The present Azula seems to snap out of a reverie and gives Iroh a flat look, too drained to muster her usual frustration.

"My mission was to retrieve you. That's all."

After a moment, she adds-

"So what's your, mission, I wonder? To distract me, so somebody out there can finish me off? I suppose that would keep your hands clean. You seem to favor that."

[uncle_iroh]

"One of the great things about being an outcast of the Fire Nation is that there is no one to give me missions anymore," he said, as if mildly amused. "I still have much work to do, but the pace is my own. As for keeping my hands clean, I suppose the question is what the dirt would be. Digging in a garden, for example, is worth dirtying one's hands."

[itstillhurt]

"Hm. And how about killing a monster, would that be worth it?"

She doesn't look at him as she says it. She stares at the memory, the two figures making hand signs back and forth in silence.

"I tried to tell him, you know. What I was. He refused to believe me."

She tries to keep her voice even. It doesn't seem to work. Not in here, not in her own dreamscape.

[uncle_iroh]

"Why would he? When you don't seem to? How can anyone know who you are, until you know who you are?"

Oh he was so full of it. And yet...

For Shealtiel @lemoncandy

[itstillhurt]

[The chaos lifts, and Shealtiel finds himself standing in a familiar place- the city. Back in jigoku. Back in hell.

The entire sky is filled with a disjointed, chaotic flurry of images, memories and visions of her life. The streets themselves are dim and dark, empty. The entryway to Sai No Kaware is ahead, the decorations from the Tanabata celebration still up, but tattered and falling apart, as if they were neglected for years and left to rot.

From inside the tunnel, a familiar voice- a child's voice- speaks.]

"Why are you even here?"

[lemoncandy]

( Her younger self again. Shealtiel pauses for a moment, looking down the tunnel. This is the first time he's been able to do anything so purposefully in this world, he feels like, and he doesn't want to screw it up.

He wonders what Azula's younger self really means to her. It feels familiar, like how he sees his own younger self in the mirror whenever he looks, but it also feels wrong to assume that he could ever understand. He certainly doesn't feel like anyone could understand him, at least...

Shealtiel steps into the tunnel, scanning for the sight of her. )

To help. Or... at least that's what I'm hoping to do.

[itstillhurt]

Why?

[The tunnel looks much like the cityscape above- exactly as he would remember it from Tanabata, but neglected for what seems like years, tattered and in ruins. There's no sign of Azula- the older or the younger. Just darkness.]

Why would you do anything for her?

[The darkness gives way as he reaches The Underground. It clearly has no power, the lights are all dark and mostly broken, and yet there's an odd blue glow, as if something in the air itself were providing a faint illumination to see by. Predictably, as above, the decorations are all tattered and decaying. The buildings are neglected and some have begun to fall apart. The carts and stalls are in disrepair, food and drink either in ignored piles or strewn haphazardly across the ground, rotting. The foliage of the gardens and trees are all long dead from lack of maintenance, including the bamboo Tanabata trees in the square. The slips of paper tied to them have mostly fallen, and now litter the ground around them.

There's still no sign of Azula or the child.]

[lemoncandy]

Why do you think I need a reason?

( Shealtiel snaps it back as he walks, eyes scanning the wreckage of this place. It's familiar, even as distant as it feels; the wishes littering the floor are especially prominent in his memories. He nudges one with his foot cautiously, then lifts his gaze again to scan the area, checking for some sign of direction.

It's a dream. Where would Azula go in a dream like this? )

Azula!

( He tries calling for her, though it feels a little silly. She's here. He knows it. He, for once, did this dream thing right. )

[itstillhurt]

Because of what she did to you.

[It sounds like she's coming from the direction of the Palace of Sai- it's as dark and empty as the rest of the Underground, the wood worn and the paint peeling, but at least the voice gives some semblance of a direction.]

Usually the people she hurts have the good sense to want nothing to do with her.

[lemoncandy]

I don't care about anyone else right now.

( That. Well, that came out more blunt than he meant, really, and he quickens his steps to make up for it, eyes serious and squinting towards the palace. This is... different, but he moves that way even still, kicking aside the slips of paper on the ground. )

Besides, I'm completely fine. I'm not that fragile, you know. ( His dream self isn't really a good representation of his real world self, but he doesn't want to address that right now. It's nowhere near as bad as when Leviathan slit his throat, and they're on speaking terms right now. Somehow. )

You're talking about yourself in the third person, but you're part of Azula, too. Just like my younger self in my dreams and in the mirror is still part of me. I know all about pushing people away, too.

It's not going to work on me.

( ...But he's a little nervous, saying that part. He's afraid of pushing too hard, of reaching out too much. Of causing a reaction like he caused in Luci... But, it's different, right? Because: )

I want to hear your feelings.

cw: Gore, dismemberment (non-human)

[itstillhurt]

Don't you get it? She doesn't do feelings.

[As he approaches the palace, the child's voice seems to narrow down- as if it was no longer echoing from a distance, but instead coming from behind the palace, near the small river.

As he approaches, he notices something else- the rubble and decay on the ground isn't just rubble and decay. There's metal items scattered over the ground, hidden among the overgrown and unkempt foliage that used to be the garden. They look like beartraps and other mechanical traps, albeit crudely fashioned of pilfered metal. Some have clearly been used. The smell of blood and oil is fresh, in contrast with everything else having been long abandoned.]

She's a monster. All she does is hurt people. Tonight, you saw what she really is.

[When he rounds the corner, he sees her. The child version of Azula. She's not looking at Shealtiel, instead her attention is on... a pile. Yokai bodies. Remains. Remains that have clearly been picked over. Muscles, organs, or entire limbs removed. One has had all the teeth pried from its mouth and both eyes pulled from their sockets. One has been roughly harvested down to a not-quite-human skull. Some are missing their heads altogether.]

[lemoncandy]

( There are a lot of complicated feelings to unwrap here. Shealtiel often wondered if he believed that all humans were monsters. He'd certainly lost all trust for them a long time ago. But... does he even really know if all angels are that good anymore? His manager is in trouble, he has no idea what's really happening, and he has no idea where he belongs.

The gore his eyes scan across is horrific, but the most he does is tighten his frown, scanning past the parts and bodies to land on the younger figure of Azula. )

I don't think you're a monster, Azula. ...You haven't been treating me like one, either, even with what I am.

You're not like the humans who did this to me. ( His scars is what he gestures to with that comment, and with the next step forward he works carefully. He'd been training for quite some time to use dreamotion in general, yes, but there was also the method of dreamwalking. His form shifts into his younger one, the wounds fresher, his wings out, mangled black ones included and looking far more freshly damaged.

He holds out his hand to her. )

I'm here.

[itstillhurt]

[She doesn't actually turn to look at him until he shifts himself back to the child form... and for a moment, she looks alarmed, almost panicked. She takes a step back, but then her face settles back into the familiar sneer.]

Are you really this pathetic? After what she did to you?

[The momentary glimpse of fear seems to have subsided, and she does an oddly childlike skip toward him, still smiling as she leans toward him. She doesn't acknowledge or accept the hand.]

I guess it makes sense. You embraced the people who did that to you because you told yourself you deserved it. You make apologies for a manager who sent you off on an impossible mission to die.

[She pulls back and finally acknowledges the extended hand, smirking down at it with a dismissive scoff.]

You let people hurt you, and use you to hurt other people, because you really think that's the closest to love you deserve. No wonder she's the best you can do.

[lemoncandy]

( Even while he's in this vulnerable state... Shealtiel's expression as a child is even more open than his usual ones. Pain and insecurity is clear across his face, along with guilt— but he shifts again, becoming taller, his hand still extended even as his wings shrink away and vanish.

He decides to place his hand on Azula's head, a little firm but gentle all the same. )

I didn't embrace the people who did this. I killed them.

( He wonders if she knows. If she has any idea about that. But his voice is quiet and slightly shaking, and so he pushes forward to strengthen it as he adds more. )

My manager was trying to save me. Just like you have before. It's not about what I think I deserve or not.

( His hand drops away. )

I want to talk to Azula. All of her.

[itstillhurt]

[Shealtiel's touch makes her shrink back, and the panic returns to her face. When he corrects her, she scowls, looking like she wants to argue, but he makes his demand before he can.

She glares at him, her tone becoming more petulant as she replies.]

What do you expect her to tell you that she didn't already say?

[After a moment, she huffs, crossing her arms, and looks off toward the back of the palace.]

She's back there, if you really want her so badly. Spirits know why you would.

[lemoncandy]

...

( He's not expecting anything. He thinks this angrily, staring at the smaller form of Azula before him, but as soon as he hears where the more present version of Azula is, he begins walking that way. The gore is left behind without a second glance, and his fingers curl into fists at his sides as he walks.

He's always been tired of people expecting this or that from him. He's not expecting anything, he's just wanting to hear her out. To be there without judgement, in hopes that it might reassure her in some way. He's not sure if he's going to be good enough to manage any of that, but he has to try. )

Azula?

( He calls out again, his steps urgent even as he tries not to rush. He's still trying to make sure he can stay steady in a dream walking scenario like this. He doesn't want to vanish, or to get thrown off. )