December Catch-All

[itstillhurt]

Who: Azula and whatever poor soul has to deal with her.

Which: Open Log (+ Passive Dream Recording)

Where: Throughout Reverein

What: Catch-All Log for early-to-mid December/Before the event

Warnings: Just Azula being Azula. Will update for any more pressing CW as needed in individual threads.

(Prompts + Passive Dream Below)

Comments

Prompt 01: How do you people live like this?

[itstillhurt]

[Azula is in a state this month.

She's from a tropical island nation, and has lived there nearly her whole life. She's not used to cold. She's never even seen snow before, and hadn't really wanted to. Her firebending is weakened by cold. In essence, she hates this so much.

Early in the month, she's been forced to acquire much more, much warmer clothing. Normally, this wouldn't be too dire, except- for some reason- most of the warm clothing she can find isn't practical outerwear. Instead, it's horrible, gaudy sweaters bearing winter themes, a fat bearded man, some sort of hideous animal she doesn't recognize, or something else entirely. This... won't work for her. She's flexible with clothing, but she refuses to look like a joke.

Normally, she's up at or before sunrise to exercise and run before most people are awake, but as it's gotten colder, she's been pushing it later and later in the day to avoid the coldest temperature, which means dealing with more people. She's clearly unhappy about this. Try not to get in her way. Or do, if you really want to irritate her.

The good news, on a social level- well, depending on your definition of good- is that she will be spending more time frequenting businesses than she normally would. Basically any shop, restaurant, or other publicly accessible building might receive a visit from Azula as she tries to take a brief break from the unending, intolerable cold- even buildings she's never visited, which is frankly the vast majority of them.]

[666_hellhound_aesthetic]

"Heads up!"

That was about all the warning Azula would get as she made her way through the various businesses and establishments. Despite the cold, the marketplaces were still all fully deployed with only body heat and small braziers to give reprieve from the strange white season around them.

There was however, little shielding from snowball shenanigans as Azula would find herself square in the path of a well lobbed pack of white ice that had been thrown from what looked less like a stall and more like the remnants of an earth village that had been destroyed by a fire nation platoon.

Loona was half-to-cover behind the counter, with scraps of black cloth thrown haphazardly over the tied together sticks that kept the thing together. The hellhound at least was equipped with her own fur coat for the winter weather, allowing her the luxury of her normal torn black garb.

As for the contents of the stall behind Loona? They certainly did not fit the pattern of other stalls... no patterns of jolly dead eye smiling figures or snowflakes or reds and greens.

Only black, in various shades, with perhaps some silver-white accents or - at its most festive - some spiderweb patterns on a piece mid-construction on a mannequinn.

Of course, how much she would get from one glance before having to do something about that incoming snowball was negligible and what might need a second look if she didn't just burn the whole thing down in immediate retaliation to this unwarranted assault.

[itstillhurt]

The 'heads-up' would, under normal circumstances, be all the warning she needs.

These are not normal circumstances.

Her muscles are tight and sluggish due to the cold. She hasn't warmed up since coming outside, instead simply focusing on reaching her destination as quickly as possible. And, despite her instinctive reaction to duck aside, she's in ankle deep snow, and her nimble leap turns into an awkward stumble as she's forced to wrench her left foot free of the powdery snares. She tries to bring up a burst of blue fire to deflect the snowball, but it only succeeds in partially melting the wet splatter that smacks directly into her face.

She hates this. She hates this. She hates everything about this. She takes a deep breath, swipes the slush from her face, and glares around her, masking her irritation with a venomous sweetness as she asks-

"Who threw that?"

[666_hellhound_aesthetic]

"Goddamnit."

Azula wouldn't have to look far from the culprit, considering the hellhound was already in view and packing another snowball together, "Hush up lady, you already ruined one shot, who knows how long it'll take to get another like this!"

Azula could see that whether through ignorance or oblivious, the perpetrators attention wasn't on her. Instead Loona was glowering at the back of another stall that looked leagues ahead in terms of profitability and prestige.

And just every once in a moment the cold winds blew the flap, showing brief glimpses of other people on the other side, as Loona waited. Evidently Azula wasn't the intended target, but really, did that matter when the end result was dripping off her face right now?

[itstillhurt]

She already ruined...?

Oh. Ohohoho, no. No, no, no. Azula thinks not. She's moved directly in front of the stranger- whatever she was, Azula couldn't begin to guess, but she's adjusted to that lately. She's not tall enough to interpose, exactly, but she's certainly making as much of an obstacle of herself as possible.

"A shot at what, I wonder?"

Even as she speaks, she's taking deeper breaths, subtly willing warmth back into her muscles and lungs as she prepares to firebend. She'll probably regret this for the rest of the walk, but she's decided that this is worth it.

Re: Prompt 01: How do you people live like this?

[a_sweet_little_peach]

The Meringue Pot was an interesting teashop, though 'tea' was perhaps a generous term for what they served atop desserts. Ralsei wasn't certain how they expected people to eat or drink it, and neither did anyone else. At least the place was warm, compared to the frigid outdoors.

Though, at least one of their patrons seemed none too happy with the place. Or maybe it was just her clothing, which he felt glad for her sake that she couldn't burn a hole in it by sight alone. (Setting aside, of course, that she could, in all probability, do just that. The poor goatboy had no idea.)

After ordering his tea(?) dessert(??), he approached Azula's table with all the decorum of one unaware they were walking toward the scion of a nation with a history of violence. To wit: "Hello! Do you mind if I sit here?"

There were other tables available, some empty. But Ralsei couldn't leave someone that he could help alone, and she looked about as uncomfortable in her clothes as anyone he'd ever seen. Still, he had the tact not to bring it up immediately.

[itstillhurt]

At home, reputation alone was typically enough to dissuade people from pestering her. Back in the city, there had been a certain level of apathy (if not outright disdain for her position in the Department) that had done the job for her. Here, in Reverein? No such luck. Everybody was just so unrelentingly friendly here.

In response to the question, she slowly- pointedly- stares around them at the mostly-empty tables, then turns back toward the strange individual who approached her.

"If you must."

That's all the permission you get- she's already turned back toward her tea.

[a_sweet_little_peach]

Unrelentingly friendly was a good description of Ralsei. His clothes were of bright green and pink, of uncommonly good make (with the exception of the hat, which was put together and resewn a dozen times - the aesthetic seemed intentional). He smiled brightly enough to overshadow his clothes as he settled down, settling in with a soft sigh.

"What a strange teashop," He murmurs, glancing down at his brew and shaking his head. He attempts to sip it awkwardly - no one else in the place really seems to understand how they're supposed to have the dessertea, either.

He glances up at her a moment. She... looks decidedly uninterested in small talk. He shakes his head and clears his throat. "So, I noticed you don't seem to like your clothes very much. Colors or texture? Or both."

[itstillhurt]

The observation about her clothing draws a sideways look. She holds the stare for a few long, hard seconds before turning back to her tea again.

"Of the winter attire I found in the shops last week, I selected the least garish options."

Her tone makes it more than evident that 'the least garish' was still too garish for her liking.

[hairpinings]

[ It's true that this place was getting a lot chillier as the days went on. And Azula was definitely not the only one feeling the stinging sensation of that chilly breezy going through her bones. It's actually partially why she might notice nearby on one of her walks, the smoke of a fire building up into the sky. ]

[itstillhurt]

[Azula's gotten a pretty good feel for the layout of the village, and she's fairly certain she'd remember a fire that size if it was a regular fixture.

Partly she's curious, but mostly, she's admittedly freezing out here, and she's currently got her only non-hideous, non-festive outerwear on, which is a light jacket designed more for cool springs and autumns rather than a winter coat- Look, it was this or something with a light-up snowman on it, and she has limits.

So she'll definitely turn toward the fire and investigate, if only to warm up for a moment. Besides, if it was out of control, she might have to help deal with it.]

[hairpinings]

[ When she reaches the fire a little ways out of the town she'll find Yasusada there poking at the fire with a stick and a concentrated look on his face. It looked like the fire was pretty much under control, a nice solid rock circle around the flames and a pile of dried leaves off to the side as he gets the fire more settled. It almost looked like he was getting ready to cook something.

He heard an approaching footstep and turned his head curiously.]

Oh..! It's you!

[itstillhurt]

[That gets an unimpressed stare.]

Shockingly, I live in the only major settlement in the area, yes.

[...Okay, needlessly hostile, but she's been in a bad mood ever since it got so cold.]

Prompt 02: GO AWAY

[itstillhurt]

[It starts a couple weeks into the month.

She's home from another of her reluctant trips out into the cold, and she sees a little red gumdrop fairy perched on the door of her treehouse. The next day, she wakes up with one perched on her pillow, which she nearly attacks. The day after, she encounters two. Then more the next day.

As the month ends, she seems to be encountering the tiny beasts everywhere she goes- sometimes around corners, sometimes in buildings, sometimes in the trees and bushes, sometimes flying after her in crowds and bunches as she walks or runs through the village. Apparently, something about her just really, really appeals to the little red gumdrops.]

[Occasionally, she manages to give the red gumdrops the slip, but even when that happens, she might happen upon the hiding place of one of the little white gumdrops instead. The fluffy ones are definitely less likely than the fighty ones around her, but they're no more welcome. Not in the least.]

WELL THEY'RE OVERDUE FOR THAT SPAR---

[rokubro]

[Not minding the cold whatsoever, Rokurou hasn't even really changed much from his usual clothes and was just out and about, checking out what's going around town and all.

And things are about to get really interesting when he turns a corner right as Azula is running past, bumping into her.]

What the—Azula??

[And...why are there so many red gumdrops???]

You're not wrong :D

[itstillhurt]

[She's already in a bad mood. Just the worst. Between the cold, the snow, and these irritating pests following her around, she's just having a terrible day, week, and month.

A terrible time, however, isn't going to keep her from her exercise routine- physical discipline waits for nobody. Or so she thinks, because apparently it's about to be interrupted by a collision with another pedestrian.

The brush against him sends her stumbling out of her sprint, and she suddenly whirls on him.]

Watch it!

[She doesn't even realize until after she's already snapped at him exactly who she's bumped into.

Oh. Wonderful.]

[rokubro]

[He raises his hands in a placating manner, a wry grin forming.]

Sorry, didn't see you coming around. You seem, uh. Tense.

[Just a...slight lean over to once again look at her little "fanclub."]

[itstillhurt]

I get that a lot.

[She can't imagine why.]

I can't seem to get rid of them. Even when I scare one off, more show up. Thus far, they don't seem to be a threat, merely a nuisance.

[One of them lets out a positively adorable squeaky growl and plops onto her shoulder, and she irritably shakes it off.]

never goes away!!

[zomboii]

[ It goes without saying that Unnamed? Does not mind the gumdrops one bit. He has no idea what they are beyond looking like what would happen if candy was alive (a terrifying thought, really), but they're harmless enough and they doesn't taste like sugar when he licks one out of curiosity.

Also, they're warm. Which is why, even though Azula hides herself well...this guy finds her. And in his arms? Is a fluffy white gumdrop. ]

Ouh...!

[ AZULA. He still needs to apologize again for his dream-- ]

Yes good never let her know peace

[itstillhurt]

[She's beginning to recognize that odd wordless vocalization of his. Ah.

She hasn't seen him since she was unexpectedly invited into his dream, but that certainly had been memorable enough to last a while, and she definitely hadn't expected him to come looking for her.

She's already fetching her journal as she turns to see him, and her pen is already en route to her journal by the time she sees what's in his arms. Her original greeting is utterly forgotten and she instead opts for a more pragmatic address.]

Why are you carrying one of those dreadful things around?

aww...lookit you azula, ALREADY WRITING TO HIM

[zomboii]

[ He's ready to start signing an apology, but two things prevent him from getting very far. One, his hands are full with a gumdrop, and it squeaks when he tries to let it go. Two, and more importantly is that Azula doesn't understand sign. So it would be a moot point anyway. ]

Ouhh...

[ Journal it is--although that's a little hard to hold and concentrate on while he's holding a wiggly gumdrop. Flashcard notes it is--which is the same as the journal, only it's a piece of paper that appears in his head with the writing he desires rather than a whole book.

"What dreadful?
I want say sorry to you for dream." ]

Prompt 03: Passive Dream Recording!

[itstillhurt]

A comet burns brightly in the sky, bathing a grandiose stone plaza in orange light. It’s a space fit to house massive crowds, with a stairway leading up to a temple, but it’s empty except for one figure on the stairs. Her hair isn’t the tightly styled bun most people in Songerein would see, but sloppy and loose, practically falling out of the uneven tie she’s put it in, and her bangs hang unevenly chopped above her eyes. It gives her a distinctly unbalanced look.
Azula frowns in confusion as she looks around her, as if she’s looking for somebody.
“Nobody’s coming.”
She turns behind her, staring down the plaza. There’s a young girl, perhaps nine, sitting at the end of the stairs. She has dark hair, fair skin, amber eyes, her hair in a tightly styled bun- it’s clearly a younger Azula.
“No… Zuko, he comes to face me. Where is he?”
“He already has the throne, his mother, he even has a better sister now. Why would he care about you?”
“That’s not why we fought.”
“It’s not why he fought.”
The elder Azula rolls her eyes, walking down the stairs and past the child, still searching. The child follows.
“You won’t find him.” She sounds amused. “Just like Mai and Ty Lee. Just like the angel back in the city. Sooner or later, they all see what you are. Then they leave.”
“I don’t need them. I never needed them.”

The dreamscape shifts around her- now she's in a sparse bedroom, inside a forbidding stone building. An asylum.
“Good, because they’re never coming back. Not even the fake version of Mom that you made up in your head. The version that loved you.”
The elder Azula stops, her head bowing, her hands clenching into fists.
“You’re no more real than she is.”
“Liiiar,” she says, a sneering sing-song tone. “You can’t lie to me, Azula. No matter how hard you try.”
“Shut up.”
“Who’s gonna make me?”
“Shut up!” she snarls, spinning on her heel with her hand outstretched, throwing a bolt of lightning at… somebody else.
A slender young man stands in the child’s place, head fully shaven, blue arrows tattooed all over his body. He sidesteps the lightning bolt and takes a step closer.
“I’m sorry, Azula. We tried to give you a chance.”
“No!”
He takes another step forward, raising his hand. She swipes her fingers, claw-like, at his face, a blue flame appearing in her hand, but he blocks the blow with his other wrist. His thumb rests against her forehead, and the fire in her palm dims, flickers from blue to orange, then slowly dwindles away to nothing.

As she collapses to the floor, the dream shifts again, and the sparse bedroom has become a dank, cold cell. The boy with the blue tattoos locks the door in front of her, then hangs his head and walks away.
For a moment, all she can do is sit alone in stunned silence, but then she sees somebody in the cell beside her. Moving over toward the gap between the cells, she sees an older man, long hair hanging limp and ragged, facial hair clean-shaven except for a long goatee.
“Hello, Father.”
He doesn’t respond. She doesn’t seem at all bothered. She tries again.
“The fools put us in adjoining cells. They clearly think we’re no longer dangerous. I say we prove them wrong.”
She hears a giggle from behind her, sees her younger self standing behind her in the cell again.
This time, his lack of response frustrates her. She grasps the bars between their cells.
“Father, you must have a plan for our escape. I know it takes more than this to defeat you.”
“Our escape? Why would he plan our escape?”
She ignores the voice of her younger self behind her.
“Father, there’s nobody here, we’re alone.”
“You can’t even firebend anymore. You’re useless to him now.”
She glances at the child over her shoulder, then grasps the bars again.
“Say something!”
The child begins to laugh, an innocent, childlike giggle, as the elder Azula strains against the bars, voice becoming more desperate.
“Father! Father, look at me! Father!”
Then, the dream fades.

[twilightskey]

It's always a bit unpleasant, when one's dreams are broadcast for the whole world to see. Roxas usually does his best to avoid them, knowing that they're private things, but when he sees a figure he recognizes, he can't help but watch. And the more he watches, the sadder and sadder he feels. He hadn't known Azula for very long, but even he can tell that this is a very deep-seeded, personal dream.

He gives it some time after it ends, before he contacts her over the journals, writing out a short message to her.

Are you okay?

[itstillhurt]

She is not okay. She is the absolute farthest thing from okay.

Miserable dreams, she's accustomed to. She's had them almost every time she slept for years. Having them trumpeted to the world like this as she had them, however...

She wants to hurt something right now. Or someone. But she can't let herself panic.

I'm not a child, it takes more than a dream to rattle me.

[twilightskey]

That... sure is a sharp reply. Roxas can't help but frown at it; were he not used to the sharp defensiveness from others he knows, he might misread the words in front of him. But he has a feeling there's more to them.

I didn't say you were one. I just know dreams can be hard sometimes. And you don't really seem ok with that answer.