|More from Ice1230||Adventure||PG||None yet||None|
Nayvah visits his beloved Aunt for some more heartfelt advice.
'I see,' Azula replied, her form erect and sitting.
Nayvah sat on the floor upon a mat and behind a low table topped with a wooden teapot and two cups. He sipped his saffron brew and smiled at its intoxicating taste.
'Yes, Rosu has been helped by a powerful Waterbender, it seems,' he said. 'A sweep of the beach showed that she used a Southern Water Tribe vessel to travel here and to make an escape.'
'A powerful Waterbender, eh? Powerful indeed, she was able to single-handedly incapacitate seven Royal Guards, not to mention give your brother a run for his money.' In the dark side of the metal cell, Nayvah could see his aunt smile. He wondered why, what reason did she have to smile? Especially after having her own Nation's plans of world domination possible compromised.
Her prison chamber sat at the highest floor of the Royal Prison, a cylindrical tower of stacked rooms. Light streamed in through the small, barred window, streaking shadows across Nayvah torso and leaving a triangle of darkness for Azula to sit under in peace of the day. She'd realised that the heat that the sun gave made her hunger for freedom ever more, so by sitting isolated in the veil of shadows, she could continue for some time in the corners of her mind, hiding from the insanity. Bars separated the two royals, Nayvah's table sitting on his side and a one cup sitting on the verge of it, toward Azula.
'She is the Avatar,' her grin fissured, white teeth were jagged daggers of spite and delicious disdain.
'You think so?' Nayvah's head tilted somewhat to the right.
'Oh, yes,' the former Crown Princess continued her psychotic smirking. 'Fifteen or so years ago, the Airbending Avatar, Aang died, and his wife, Katara returned to the South Pole. As much as I despise the Waterbending peasants, I should tell that any pupil of Katara is a formidable opponent to any Bender. Even more so if I'm right and this particular one is the Avatar, then she should be able to take down an entire fleet of soldiers if she wanted to.'
'You haven't drunk your tea,' Nayvah replied arbitrarily.
Hands were upon the bars. The woman's tired face stretched by them as she attempted to push her face between the boundaries. Her fingers were tipped by claws of yellow cartilage that housed dirt and dead skin. Her face was in essence the same, beautiful visage that she'd been in possession of thirty years ago, albeit the dark bags under her eyes and the deep crow's feet and laugh-lines that had ironically come with her scowling and snarling at the steel door of her cell. Brown hair had absorbed her darkness cover, darkening to an Oriental black, and trailing down her back and over her face, the intolerably cut fringe growing to her shoulders. Her burgundy prison rags hung from her slender, if not emaciated frame.
'Tea?' she hissed through bared teeth. 'You offer me tea?'
'Sit down, Azula,' Nayvah sipped his saffron brew, his eyebrow raised. 'You know as well as I do, that if you don't cooperate with me and my siblings, minus Rosu obviously, you're never leaving your little hole. I love what you've done with the place, by the way.
'Anyway, I need to pick your brain. Where would they go next? I need to know their every move. It's obvious that they'd travel to the capitals of the Nations, but which one first, so we can shoot them down before they even leave the seas.'
Azula was silent first, slowly moving back to her erect position in her hood of shadow. 'They'd travel to the Air Nomads; they're closest and can be accessed easily by sea. Airbenders will also be the hardest ones to recruit to their cause – they cling to peace and global harmony. If they manage to enlist the help of a Nomad, they'll be empowered greatly and would be even more unstoppable, especially with the Avatar.'
'Thank you, Azula,' Nayvah rose.
He turned back as he began to open the door, 'And don't scream and whine as I leave, it's annoying and will only prolong your imprisonment.'
And he closed the door. He shut her away from the beauty and light of the world beyond her darkened silver iron prison.
And as Nayvah walked away, his pointed boots clip-clopping up the corridor, cries echoed in the reformatory. Long and griping, followed by sharp hiccuping gasps for breath over Azula's grievance.
And he was gone. And she was left.
For the collective works of the author, go here.