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[fireflown]

YONGHA​:

(...)

he looks into her gaze as she approaches and he sees himself; the two visions of him in the pits of her eyes: a boy from years ago, and a reality she fears. like clockwork, he makes the easy choice, and gives her a lopsided smile, stare beckoning her near. “i know. i look horrible.” an understatement. as always.

here they are: foolish. their truth taking shape as a third person between them, eating up all their comfort, all their misshapen hopes and dying dreams. fervent. years come and go, but they remain hinged on this deception, eating up every word, drinking in every intention, hoping to recover the full effect of what’s lost since their last parting, and never attaining it.

it’s been a while since haeui’s spun glass. her workshop no longer holds those faulty creations she’d hoped to fix someday, to make space for the makeshift apothecary that they needed much more than glass sculpting. she had meant to let those pieces be broken and melted down again, had kept the ones he’d touched before the fire lords lost their minds to power. they’re broken now, surely, but haeui won’t have the time to fix her sculptures until much later. she’s been kept busy fending death away from her door. the heat of war, powers clashing into sparks, submerged into the icy temperatures of the north where it demands those skirmishes either break or be tempered, but never allowed to turn into the wisps that death brings. the peace is more fragile than her usual creations.

and fragile still is the man before her, standing in the middle of the port with his face turned to the skies. haeui hugs her coat closer and hurries, feet pattering down towards him.

it’s a sight she knows like the back of her hand, an unfailingly familiar scene no matter where her travels used to take her, and now by her home. only second to what she’s learnt is inevitable, always a mirror image of his arrival. haeui tries to preserve each new sight into the glass jar of her memories, every minute detail she might still save of him before he has to leave.

there’s an emptiness in his eyes for a moment, but it’s not the gaze of someone unknown to her. it’s a nothingness of someone who isn’t there – doesn’t exist, but she can’t let that thought even be formed – like a void she’s peeked down at, that’s taken something of her, as all voids must. haeui waits for the brief emptiness to disappear, for her version of yongha to smile that familiar smile. it takes longer, today. but he always comes back to her, even when he looks worse for wear.

“you do,” she worries, eyes downturned just a bit, relief to see yongha the way she does. haeui drapes her elephant seal cow cape over her friend, hoping the thick softness will help some. she can’t ask what happened?, can’t wonder what had been taken from yongha for him to appear in her home like this. she tried to shield them from that all this while, her greatest creation a glass home so fragile it’s gone opaque. so she can’t wonder what he’s taken from the other person who’s set him on her doorstep, either.

and in some ways, it doesn’t really matter. not when yongha still finds his way back to her, standing in the sunlight. the hope of the person she knows him to be etched over his clothes, opening the door to the home she’s spun of glass, the one she spins over, and over, and over again.

“you’ll be safe here.”

it’s the promise she’s always made to him. haeui makes that promise to others now too, as the young lady of house tai. she’s learnt to make bandages from scraps and homes from rough cut blocks of stone, a sanctuary she takes care to build. but yongha was always the first. in some ways, each more important than the next, the only one, too.

haeui steps through the frozen water that make up her home, navigating away from each crack she’s seen form. she holds her hand out, an invitation to her friend. to meet her where they stand, never quite a middle ground rooted in reality. the ground sparkles beneath their feet, the layer of ice only just strong enough to keep them from the murky currents under.

[fireflown]

CHAIYA​:

“qiuji —-” chaiya’s worry is cut through with her arrival, as a sharpened blade would slide through fresh butter; traces of excitement left evident in his voice, the sudden shortness of breath, the way he spins upon his heels almost immediately. he gazes at her softly, eyes of worry overturn with a smile. “of course, it would be my pleasure,” he says, despite knowing appetite is the last worry on his mind. “my men prefer discretion, especially in … these times,” he speaks, his voice barely more audible than a whisper, pointedly for her alone, in this silence of night. his hand raises, only to rest against her elbow with a firm grasp, though also gentle, fingertips like ghost touches; closeness between them sudden. “was your journey safe? you can tell me all as it is — please.”

she looks up at chaiya, a slightest question in her gaze. qiuji doesn’t know him to be an affectionate man. at least, when they’d been put together by their parents, all he’d promised had been that she would have no obligations to him. so chaiya’s dutiful, perhaps, and spun kindly she might call him understanding, but she doesn’t know what to make of the gentle way he holds her arm for a moment.

“it was,” she assures him, “your men are well trained, lieutenant.” the title sits bitterly on her tongue, though her tone honeys it. the moment she’d tipped from the balance of her fragile alliances was the moment she put herself at odds with him, though neither of them truly aware exactly how much so. in truth, the reason for her trip to the capital isn’t as innocent as missing her husband. and still, she’s glad to see him.

“what about you?” one hand takes his from her elbow, pulling chaiya’s hand into both of hers. his hands are rough from swordfighting, hers from her acrobatics. “it’s impossible to ask for you to be safe, isn’t it,” the woman says wryly, thumb tracing a fresh scar. despite the odds, he doesn’t feel at all opposed to her. maybe there was something in that first cup of wine they’d shared in marriage. or perhaps the sides of war don’t feel so different from up close. “i’m glad you’re whole, though. and as unharmed as possible?”

there’s a knock on the door, qiuji turning to the entrance but not dropping chaiya’s hands. the blushing maidservant’s eyes fall on their joined hands and she leaves the dishes on the table with a clatter, making a quick getaway before she can thank her. “i think your servants prefer if we were discrete, too” she jokes, then pulls the young lord towards the table with her. there’s soft clouds of steam rising off the plates, fluffy white rice accompanied by a few choice dishes. she hasn’t eaten so well since starfall was known more for her family’s troupe than its skirmishes.

qiuji takes the seat next to chaiya, though there’s space across, and further away. she places a piece of meat onto his bowl before her chopsticks turn to her own. it makes it easier for them to open up – for her to find the information chaesol’s looking for. “tell me about what’s been going on in the capital? your men?”

[fireflown]

SIWOO​:

(...)

for the third night that week, soldiers and lords and ladies crammed themselves into a castle far too small for them, tired and weary and angry. tensions burned hot and heavy, and siwoo was no deity to be saved from all the long days’ distress. it was a while after dinner then. tired from the weight of all the eyes on him and wanting air, he’d decided to leave his study and walk around the small garden behind the castle. he found her there, and liking her company well enough, approached her. “my lady,” he seemed to suddenly form from the shadows, “quite late for a stroll.” he noticed how thick the air became in the absence of words; how tiredness had made everyone’s eyes gray. he noticed, too, how shrouded in dark they were, with the nearest torches unlit. siwoo expertly sent small flames in their direction, and the stones of the narrow walkway glowed with firelight. 

“i apologize,” he slugged through the tension and broached the subject without dither, “for losing my temper this afternoon.” he had spent the entire morning pouring over numbers, then, when approached to speak of some matter of urgency, snapped at her cruelly. siwoo touched qiuji’s arm, as if to put weight on his words. he was surprised to feel how warm she was in the night’s chill; then, he thought, perhaps it was his hand that was too cold. was he catching a fever? maybe those rumors of the red woman and her curses weren’t so unfounded.

if she was a little more superstitious, qiuji might say that the spirits are at odds with them. like there are eyes looming over them, each break of a wheel, missing animal, injury of their party adding to that pressure that’s been plaguing them. something pressing down onto them, initially unseen, and now inescapable. as it is, she hears the whispers of the soldiers around them, paranoia covered by polite remarks from the lords. the air’s getting thick with some unnamed tension that seems opposed to being vented.

but a step to the right and qiuji takes her leave, occupying the spaces unseen. she’s not one for superstition. it’s a relief from the discomfort surrounding the rest of the party, the entertainer moving with ease from the gravity of whatever has held them down. she still finds a freedom in her movements, tumbling across courtyard gardens into a darkened space that allows her to walk around in.

but shadows of the trees form a man, the unfortunate eye of this storm. “lord ryu.” qiuji’s been keeping out of his way too, admittedly; there’s no worth in incurring his uncompelling anger when she hasn’t got a whit of what they’d come out here to find. not exactly her best work with what siwoo’d sought her out for, but she’s just a worker, mostly; that unnoticed middleman who holds more strings in her hands than she ought to. qiuji’s not beating herself up if she doesn’t have her finger on something.

shadows run from the flames, the space illuminated narrowing into a single walkway. siwoo’s hand is cold, goosebumps starting under her skin. that weight returns with a shudder through her, qiuji playing it off like the cold has started to get to her. “it’s fine,” she says, bolder in her informality with siwoo. there’s less of her to hide from him; he’s had qiuji pegged for who she is since he offered a partnership. so she leans in instead of away, against the tension present. there isn’t much space to go, with the firelight that surrounds them. “it’s much better out here than in there, isn’t it?”

[fireflown]

for SIWOO, @scarletflags​

the carriage is bumpy despite the plush cushioning, haeui holding on to her seat as they’re rattled down the road. she’d rather walk, she wants to argue with siwoo, but she doesn’t think that opinion would put her in good stead given her recent whereabouts – or unknown thereof – and the head of house ryu’s seeming insistence of displaying his wealth.

she’s been a little more pliant and agreeable these days, in an attempt to show goodwill towards the lord who’s housing her. haeui’s trying to make up for the not entirely accidental disregard she’d held for the ryu’s guards when she evaded them all to show a friend around dragonstone. not that the trip had borne any fruit, which just makes this miscalculation all the more worse for her. despite its many luxuries, the satin soft cushions and exquisitely carved sandalwood ornaments still feel distinctly like the trappings of a cage.

haeui doesn’t know where they’re headed, hadn’t quite had the presence to ask before she was guided into the carriage and led away. the glass sculptor can’t turn the awkward smile into something that would look more palatable. there’s always that pit in her stomach when she interacts with the lord ryu, the power tipped in his favour like a lead ball sinking her down. it softens, sometimes, like the kindness that flickers when it takes his fancy. the scales rise and sway.

they come to a stop. someone knocks on the door of the carriage, a muffled report she doesn’t catch, but haeui can guess enough to know this is their destination. “my lord?” she asks, glancing at the other with a tilt of her head.

[fireflown]

for CHAIYA, @vermayle

for all that is her name, qiuji grew up in relative peace. no one told her how quiet war would make the world. the palanquin she rides makes almost no sound at all, even though the people who carry it are living, breathing creatures in the eerily silent night. as if the fighting has imposed an unspoken curfew, and everyone must heed and hide. it’s strange to find the capital this silent, when the south is plagued with the roiling sounds of blood drawn. perhaps they’ll come out in the day, when the sun is at its peak and the fire lord celebrating his new engagement, but there’s no one around as qiuji enters the capital cloaked by the night.

the first real sound she hears is the swish of a curtain as she identifies herself to a guard, the doors of the sathannas’ residence in the capital opening to her. there’s the requisite fussing over her after the distance she’s travelled by a couple of maidservants before qiuji’s led to her room. it’s vaguely familiar to her, and she’s not sure if the memories are from the blur of the past two years or something further back, when she’d swung around the halls of her friend’s home. either way, there’s a startling and noticeable difference in the room she stands in.

a single, wide bed, and a familiar figure she hasn’t seen for much longer than their positions would assume. “chaiya,” she calls, walking towards the man. she should consider him her husband, but it still seems strange to do so to her. qiuji appreciates him, of course, values this cobbled together partnership that’s helped much more than she anticipated when the fighting touched their newly united borders. but it is their families that are intertwined, and she doesn’t know what to make of the man who’s familiar to her only by his face.

“someone will bring dinner,” qiuji says to break the silence, though she’d assume it’s too late a time for someone who hasn’t traveled for half a day to eat. “do you want to join me?”

[fireflown]

UPDATE: TAI HAEUI

park jiyeon. cis female. she/her. presenting lady tai haeui, twenty-nine-year-old firebender loyal to house tai. resilient yet escapist, they find themself impartial to fire lord chaeseong’s reign. will this be their salvation or their undoing ?

update two!! i have a bigger arc for haeui so please please come plot with me for her!! again, i don’t plan on dropping any threads but you can let me know if you wanna drop or update any that we have! please like this i’ll come running to your dms 🥺

UPDATE

haeui’s getting a little courage upgrade!! at the very least, her allegiances have switched from blind (and fearful) following of house ryu and the fire lord to realising that power will corrupt, no matter your hopes for it </3 baby’s first act of bravery was to escape (not quite) the ryus - which wasn’t difficult considering everything that was happening, and return home!

she watches flames create destruction and death and starts finding it difficult to see beauty in her element. but instead of running away to the northern water tribe, haeui stays rooted in dragonstone - something about the circumstances now make it impossible for her to abandon her country. not when the princes who want to rule it are murdering the very people they’re trying to rule over!

by virtue of being in the north and the furthest away from the fighting, dragonstone was the best place to become a haven/neutral ground. haeui decides to shelter those from the southern regions regardless of allegiance within dragonstone, though their presence is not necessarily known to her family (to be plotted when she’s not the only tai skelly! maybe it’s a family thing too)

so this is what haeui’s doing in the wartime - a determined endeavor to carve out just a little bit of peace and safety for anyone who needs it. she won’t turn anyone away, but those who enter dragonstone need to put down their arms and their wars if they want to live here, and she’s toughened up enough that that rule is strictly enforced

CONNECTIONS

someone who’s helping her keep dragonstone safe, or with healing/providing food/anything that keeps their port going! i imagine they’d hold similar opinions on the war, but they don’t have to be doing this for her altruistic reasons

or someone who’s taken shelter in dragonstone! she could know them from the past, but they could also be total strangers to her?

insert brainstorming here... haeui’s definitely a little more grounded and daring now, so i’d love to do other plots that could tap on that development hehe

[fireflown]

UPDATE: WU QIUJI

zhao lusi. cis female. she/her. presenting lady wu qiuji, twenty-seven-year-old non - bender loyal to house wu & sathanna. promising yet inconspicuous, they find themself apprehensive of fire lord chaeseong’s reign. will this be their salvation or their undoing ?

hi!! i’m back from my hiatus and i’ve got some updates on both muses 🤓 i’m down to keep all my threads, but if you’d like to drop anything because it’s been hanging too long or you wanna plot something newer, let me know!! but i’d also love to plot more for the 2 year time jump so please like this and i’ll come running to your dms 💕

UPDATE

i definitely need to update stuff but qiuji’s had her fingers in a whole lot of pies before the rebellion happened, balancing a lot of secrets and alliances to control her circumstances to the best of her ability. but with the rebellion comes a decision, and all those false allegiances she had are putting her in a particularly precarious position i think! all those strings she used to puppet others are now tying her down 😱

she’s in the unfortunate circumstance of her home being in the south and getting caught in the crossfire!! she’s spent her time trying to help those living on starfall get out of the worst of the skirmishes. mostly focused on her family, but she’s also obliged to those on starfall and the destiny theatre that work for/with her - a plot for someone to take her/them in the capital?

also she got married to chaiya!! 🎉 probably a rushed little thing that was more to cobble together a partnership between two relatively weaker houses that needed extra fortifying. chaehwi’s little stunt kind of sped the timeline up a little, but she hasn’t seen her ‘husband’ much since they took their vows so its nbd 🤷🏻‍♀️ (and also utterly unknown to her what he’s off doing lol)

but as a recent development... she’s decided to support chaehwi 🤠 tbh i think she’s kind of anti-establishment in the sense that she’ll always be apprehensive of whoever’s wearing the crown. didn’t like chaesan because she couldn’t deal with the unrest and then chaesan died and now chaeseong’s not doing great with quelling a whole rebellion either so she kinda went well fine! and decided to support the corpse nailing guy because i guess he’s got style?? an insanity that seems like strength from far away??

so yeah she’s supporting chaehwi but on the down low and via information and traded secrets. a far enough distance that none of that crazy juice can get to her (for now 😈)

CONNECTIONS

whoever’s supporting chaehwi lets go rebels!!

someone whom she’d been falsely allied with and has come to collect their dues? i imagine it was a slow break down/revelation on their end that qiuji really isn’t loyal to anyone but her own family, and they could very well make use of that to get back at her or be plotting to deal with her in some other way

i have no other plot thoughts but i’ll be replying dms properly and getting to thread replies i owe but please please plot with me 🙏🏻

[fireflown]

when sylvia plath said "I desire the things which will destroy me in the end" and sufjan stevens said "I hardly know who you are this time, and what a mess I've made of you" and jenny holzer said "protect me from what I want" and richard siken said "you try to warn him, you tell him you will want to get inside him, and ruin him, but he doesn't listen" and ocean vuong said "what this means is that I don’t know desire other than the need to be shattered & rebuilt"

[fireflown]

CHAEYEON​:

(...)

seated at the top deck in a corner table sectioned off by a partition made of embroidered water lilies floating prettily on still waters, chaeyeon flags down a waiter boy and slips him several silver pieces, whispering her request for an audience with the fourth lady wu. from the stage below, the delicate strings of a guqin signals the start of a new dance. the guard who entered with her watches from behind her, his arms crossed over his chest, as her maidservant poured her a cup of tea. in the time it takes for the leaves to steep, the creak of the stairs announces an arrival. 

her finger rubs against the rim of her teacup as a figure finally crests above the landing. the veil ripples as she tips her head in a gentle greeting. “lady qiuji.”

the destiny theatre holds its entertainment thrice weekly, doors open to the masses and nobility alike. though it’s not out of the ordinary for the nobles to visit hidden behind partition screens and veils. they dot through the crowded seats, conspicuous yet unknown; often the most loyal of patrons the theatre sees, though very rarely the most gracious. it’s the crowd that applauds her at the end of a performance, qiuji throwing the feathered fan of yang yuhuan in a graceful arc into the audience, a gift to a lucky viewer.

the stagehands change guards, swapping out the set of her guifei zui jiu with their eldest sister’s performance to come, the orchestra inviting anticipation with the first notes of the guqin. she slips backstage, unknotting the ornaments in her hair, wiping away the stage makeup that’s been marred with the demanding performance – her favorite of the ones she knows.

there’s a servant boy in the wings, silver clutched in his hand. qiuji grins at him, impishness darting over her features. “something for me?” she teases, though she doesn’t pluck the silver from him. the boy nods and darts close to her ear. “a lady ‘ere to see the fourth miss,” he whispers, “behind the water lilies.” qiuji smiles and thanks him, and doesn’t hurry as she prepares herself to visit the top deck.

she knows the woman when she arrives, of course. qiuji lifts her sleeves to offer a greeting befitting her station, more than what her typical patrons would receive – a subtle acknowledgement of the princess. “our esteemed guest.” she settles herself in front of the table, the unassuming picture of an entertainer. though at this level of the theatre, the patrons are afforded a secrecy that allows for them to speak as straightforwardly as they desire. “what is it that you’d like to see today?”

[fireflown]

CHAESEONG​:

(...)

thing else he could have had had been ruined by this decision of his. His hum is like a quiet furnace that forges a whole suit of figurative steel just so he could push through it unscathed and undeterred. 

“Do you like it better there?” Chaeseong asks, rewording his question before the pause in favor of being straightforward. “With the Northern Water Tribe. Does it mean anything to you to be home again? Would you even consider this your home anymore?” Another pause, and his breath that happens like a necessary lapse amidst a torrential river. “My home isn’t like this. Or anywhere else, I suppose. I’ve never seen so many humans in my life. It’s overwhelming.” He laughs once, coy with admittance. “And deceptive, to say the least. Although we each have a different form, I’d say some of us are no better than beasts.”

there’s a well of confidence in their new crown prince, the way he carries himself with a magnetic sort of charisma. it discomforts her as he boasts about his dragons, though she knows it’s no fault of chaeseong’s own – he wasn’t the fire lord who sentenced her brother. haeui finds it easier than expected the smile at the other despite the slight against her craft, and the prizing of creatures that her heart remains tangled about. “it’s my honor,” she acquiesces, a coward’s acceptance.

and a coward’s denial – “not refuge,” haeui says quickly, shaking her head. near a decade is a long time to be away, but there’ll always be that part of her anchored to their house seat that stops her from putting roots down anywhere else. “dragonstone and the fire nation will always be my home. though i suppose i know the roads of agna qel’a a little better now.” there’s a nostalgia for the home she remembers, though what remains in her memory is an impossible hoping. haeui hopes the crown prince won’t feel that way about his own. “what was yours like?” she asks, curious. it’s clear he didn’t grow up in the northern water tribe, but she knows nothing about the spirit wilds.

if anything, it sounds like a haven of sorts, with chaeseong’s wry comparison. haeui smiles, a slight understanding to the curve of her lips. “do you miss it?” though they’re in vastly different stations, she knows what it’s like to feel overwhelmed by people, the constant pushing in of a crowd that seeks something out of you. “if you have time...” the hesitation of a woman unused to daring, though once familiar with the crevices of hari bulkan in her childhood. haeui no longer knows the girl who showed her those secret places. “i don’t remember enough of hari bulkan to give a tour, but there’s a place someone showed me once. a good spot if you want to avoid people... or beasts.”

[fireflown]

for CHAEYEON, @premorbidity

haeui pledges the loyalty owed to the fire lord, to the new crown prince. the words aren’t difficult to say, though they certainly come easier with guards glaring down their necks. but she pledges a hope she’s started to nurture as well, words a smite more genuine than the first. something is brewing within the walls of hari bulkan, a change she thinks she might believe it. at the very least, haeui isn’t terrified of what it might mean, despite the fear that’d been ingrained into her at age fifteen.

still, she knows better than to think the royal family safe, or kind. haeui ends up keeping to herself, the generous hand of house ryu extended once more to hold her by the scruff of her neck, away from her family. so she makes a few turns within the palace once they’ve been given leave, finding herself away from the thick of celebrations. it’s a quiet space in this corner of hari bulkan, the harsh firelight of the palace dimming into a glow that’s oddly comforting. it reminds her of nights at dragonstone, watching fire nation boats return to shore. the ember of a memory that feels fitting, as a familiar face comes into view.

time passes differently in the north, counted through the waning and waxing of the moon. the sun is an infrequent, fickle visitor; she’s learnt to treasure warmth when she sees it. and there’s heat to this mirage, a childhood friendship shimmering over the sight of chaeyeon. she hasn’t – could never – forget the way her second brother returned to the spirits, but something about the hope and light held within the coronation wants to believe.

“chaeyeon?” she drops her formalities, wanting to avoid the reminder of her old friend’s family. forgets, if only for a moment, the consequences if the princess decides to take offence at that. “long time no see.”

[fireflown]

CHAEYUL​:

(...)

it’s too stifling, like he’s peering through the looking glass, like they’re kids again and their respective red and gold gowns don’t feel as heavy on their shoulders because they’re just costumes instead of titles. he takes her hand anyways, intertwining their fingers and the feeling of glass shards digging into his chest dissipates with the sharp exhale he lets out. his grip tightens, and it’s hard to focus on how much like the past this is when every time he closes his eyes, all he can see is the red of the poison that had spilled out from lady sang’s mouth. 

chaeyul breathes shakily. “i wish it was me.” he admits miserably, almost to himself, even if he’s not sure if he means it. there’s the thud of silence in the night sky like the air’s holding its breath, and he breaks it. 

“i wish it was all of us. i’m tired of this.” 

somehow, she’s never thought she’d have to see chaeyul’s face marred with anything like this. qiuji’s memories have washed him clean of emotion, but the rainwater sticks to him again, a cruel reminder that they both still feel.

“thank you,” she says, a foreign sound between them. sincerity is painful to bare after years of having her guard up around him, and the distance that had insulated her from his presence. her sisters mean as much to her as the sangs do for him. for all the old anger in qiuji, her heart breaks to know chaeyul’s lost someone. “i’m sorry.”

his hold around her fingers digs into her chest, like a pressure point she hadn’t realized still existed within her. it’s brittle, this silence. it splinters with his words, and fragments hurting in her too. qiuji pulls him closer, and finds him warm. i don’t want it to be you, but she doesn’t know how to say it. the words won’t form for her – for them, their relationship long since passed. comfort isn’t a language shared between them now, as much as she wishes she could speak it again. if only for this one moment.

“then rest,” is what her words sum up into. qiuji leans over to undo the perfect, poised knot from chaeyul’s hair, so it won’t scratch her cheek if he rests on her. it’s an invitation they’re both familiar with, though it’s been years since. tenderness doesn’t feel right on her, even as her free hand comes up to brush his hair out of his face. her thumb rests on his cheek, that inexpressible emotion reflected in the depths of his eyes. “lean on me.”

he looks like the boy she loved before. qiuji won’t say anything about this, come the morning. there’ll be rites to observe, and a person to mourn. a nation to go on, where he’s meant to be the royal prince and she a lesser noble. but just for now, before the sun rises, they’ll be them for a moment once more.

[fireflown]

SURIN​:

(...)

apparently, it isn’t hushed enough to go undetected by the guard sitting closest to them and surin relaxes her expression when he looks over, her grip around her chopsticks loosened as if she hadn’t just crossed a line with her little inquiry. “but first, you have to tell me about your travels since we last saw each other,” she says in a normal volume, a silent question in her gaze when she reaches across the table to pour some cold tea into haeui’s cup. 

if she were to extend her wrist a little further, it would splash onto her friend instead, just like that day in ba sing se. and haeui has until the tea reaches the brim of her cup to give surin the okay.

she’s never been much of a brave soul, but haeui feels a little more daring with her friend beside her. no one else she knows would’ve given her a leg up through a tea room in ba sing se just to avoid an unpleasant man, and she giggles at surin’s reminder. they’d certainly been younger then, and far more dexterous.

though some things never change, with surin’s insatiable, infectious curiosity. haeui’s got an inkling of what the researcher’s referring to, the half-healed wound she carries around with her. it doesn’t feel like prying from her friend, or worse still, mocking. maybe it’ll mean a little more like remembrance, documented by someone she can trust.

“i’d love to tell you all about them,” she agrees; her voice is soft despite the innocuous words, nervous to just say them out loud. it’s unintentional, but even the hint of a double meaning feels like a risk. haeui darts a glance over at the men a few tables away. no steam rises from her cup, filling with tea. the glassmaker squares her shoulders and gives a small nod, placing down some money for their meal in advance – they won’t be staying to pay the bill.

“ah!” cold tea splashes onto haeui, the surprise a genuine one from how cold the liquid is. thank the spirits, because she’s not sure she could pull off a convincing act. she jumps up, and tea splashes all over the table. “oh no, what a mess!” haeui looks worriedly to the staff of the restaurant, apologetic. “i’m so sorry about this,” she says quickly, placing a few more silver coins to her bill, before remembering her next lines. haeui holds her friend’s hand and tugs her along, before the soldiers can say anything. “i’ll go clean up in the bathroom. lady surin, could you help me...?”

[fireflown]

CHAIYA​:

(...)

Chaiya stands, then, taking both the flagon and his glass alongside him as he makes his way to the seat Qiuji retreats to, slight sway to each of his steps. Once he leans against the table, he raises his eyebrow as if he were asking if she wishes to indulge the inebriant further; though words that come from his mouth, adorned with a smirk, are far different. “I enjoy the sound of it too much — my lord.” He plays on the intemperance of insobriety as his body leans in toward her, closing in on the distance between them insofar he could feel her breath on the skin of his face; though one must take note, that Chaiya is as rational as one can be, rather daring with his actions, driven by own impious impudence, “Especially when you look at me like that.”

He would not be himself, if not for his histrionics; as if a silent trigger had been fired, he moves away, sighing deeply. “I know you and you know me, so I pray that our childhood memories, as scarce as they are, are enough for you to be without wishes of poisoning your husband-to-be. But no, I’ve no objections,” comes spoken with conviction to his words (though even if he had any, who is he to voice them?). He gazes at her once more, covet once more. “I’m quite happy, actually ———— given we already know one another, obviously.”

chaiya’s conjectures make her laugh at the thought, shaking her head. mother, turning tail? “i’d learn to bend fire before i ever see mother retreat,” qiuji says, a raise of her brow. she’s her mother’s daughter, an impossible stubbornness deep-set in her bones from the way she was raised, and a practicality that’s focused on protecting her family. qiuji can’t claim she doesn’t understand why she’s the daughter here on ember island today, or that she disagrees with mother’s assessment.

her fiance to be leans in, the faintest smell of liquor hanging over. not nearly as drunk as he seems, qiuji’s well familiar with what intoxication looks like – or drunk perhaps on something else, insouciant as he approaches her. a more genteel lady might have rebuffed him, but the young lady wu is not that. she’s comfortable in herself as she doesn’t draw away from the distance he closes, and inexplicably, comfortable with chaiya too and his flirtatious words.

qiuji grins, leaning her cheek into her hand as she eyes chaiya and his put-upon sighs. “and why is that your first concern,” she teases, “do i seem like the sort?” gives him a wink, not the coquettish, practiced one of a charming entertainer but something that scrunches up her eyes more than it should, careless in her countenance. she doesn’t have to pretend, she thinks, given the relationship that’ll be set out for them soon. “don’t worry, you’re not so utterly objectionable that i’d resort to poison. at least, not poison...” the alternatives hang in the air, qiuji filling it with a cheeky laugh, a punctuation to reassure him. “it’s better you than someone else,” she agrees.

the wine pitcher is empty, and their parents make no show of returning soon; qiuji tires to think of the minutiae that’ll take up the rest of the day. “i haven’t been back on ember island in a while,” she says thoughtfully, standing up. “shall we get reacquainted?”

[fireflown]

CHAESEONG​:

(...)

He’s halfway between mourning or rumination when he meets her, his steps halted just before their collision. He tries his best to piece together what it is she’s doing, let alone saying. Something in her hand that extends alongside her words. A gift. “For me?” He repeats, taking the statue into his own hold with a carefulness he’s not sure he’s ever expended on something like marveling. There he is. Silverlight beside him. The youngest tucked away into the refuge of a treetop. He tilts his head. “You’re missing one. Siren.” Chaeseong glances toward her, huffing. “You don’t need to respect me yet. I can teach you that in time. Respect my bonds, however; I’m not sure what to make of this exclusion.” His smile stretches in a lopsided stretch upward, thumb pressing gently to the top of each beast’s head. He winks at her.

“Of course, your hospitality isn’t lost on me, Lady Haeui. Thank you—” Chaeseong pauses at her mention, his brows furrowed with vague curiosity complemented by the half-laugh, half-breath he spares for momentary speechlessness. “Good to know. If I ever get to meet them myself, I hope they treat me just as well as they treated you.” Another pause. Chaeseong contemplates. “… Do you venture to the Northern Water Tribe often, then? Are they truly so benevolent they share even with strangers? I was under another impression, I suppose. Also, Chaeseong works just as well.” Another wink with the playful dip of his head tuned like a perfect accompaniment. “I’m not the Fire Lord yet.”

haeui blinks in the surprise, half offended by the critique of her work. her face must show it; she’s never been good at hiding her emotions. “my apologies,” she says regardless, because in the end, the crown prince must still be placated. perhaps she misestimated his bonds, indeed. like optimism frozen in her first steps on agna qel’a. “i must simply have been too captivated by dance of the dragons before me.” the glassmaker holds out her hands, offering, “although it’s in terrible form to do so, i could remake it if your highness wishes.”

one sculpture to be smashed is little to her, the journey of learning she’s had to forge herself into something more resilient. his demeanor, at least, is something more familiar to her, albeit clearly not of the same source. haeui grins. “i’ve lived there for almost a decade now,” she says lightly, head tilting when she hears his words. should she feel for a crown prince who’s never visited people he doesn’t consider family, despite their similarities in appearance? haeui supposes she’s not one to make that decision, given how far she’d run from family she did know. “you couldn’t be treated badly,” she adds, shrugging. even if prince chaeseong wasn’t half water tribe, his status as crown prince would be enough. perhaps that’s too practical a thought to be shared out loud, though.

“if you’d ever like to visit,” she suggests, smiling, “i could show you around.” a half pause, considering the missing title he offers as address. would it be rude to address him without his title, or ruder still to address him with it despite the dismissal? “you may call me haeui, then,” the noble says instead. a small smile, taking in the man next in line to the throne. haeui finds herself wanting to take the chance in front of her, despite it all. “chaeseong.”

[fireflown]

RAESUNG​:​

the hans’ houses hobble together in their designated corner,  dining tables next to each other and everyone’s elbows practically glued together from all the rubbing. raon hasn’t missed this—but he has missed real silk and supple leather. all his time out in sandstorms and mudpits, clad in cheap cotton and smelly sheepskin, has almost made him forget what real fiber feels like. it’s nice to wear one single piece of clothing that doesn’t stick to his skin. the gold rings clasped around his wrist and fingers do nothing to make reality easier to grip, but he doesn’t need it, anyway. experience is an efficient teacher, and it had taught him that nothing about a fire nation noble’s lifestyle resembles reality in the slightest.

her face is a refreshing change of pace. after the long line of noble ladies in front of him disperses—a never-ending string of them that his sibling had so painstakingly introduced to him one-by-one-by-one—he approaches her. “i’ve seen you before,” he says, his unfriendly memory of her mismatched with a friendly smile. he remembers her as one would remember a shadow—if only because she was cloaked in it the last time they met. his gaze meets her throat—the sight of it his brightest memory of her. he remembers the curve of her neck. he remembers wanting to cut it open. “what ever happened to our friend?”

qiuji’s grateful to be just one of seven today, slipping out of the cracks of the cobbled together houses sworn to the hans. mother leads the charge, ever the calm, composed face of the family. after all, what’s presented is almost as important as what’s contained. an appropriate amount of etiquette passes overheard before qiuji and her sisters are excused to mingle with those of the generation to come, under the careless eyes of the heads of houses. 

“what a line,” qiuji says obliquely, parrying the accusation with a light smile. it’s clear from his gild and silk that the familiar face isn’t meant to be out of place at the banquet, even if her memories insist. it’s a pity his name escapes her now, but she’d last known him as foe instead of fellow noble. his smile is bright, like the teeth of a lionvulture. her nails are just as sharp. from his words, it seems their most recent dalliance had ended in a draw, though qiuji’d never divulge that information first. “does that often work? i suppose our friend is doing better than when you last saw him, lord...?”

a pause as she waits, knowing the name given to the sellsword won’t be the one given to the noble in front of her now. at least, the other looks like he fits perfectly into the houses here, a far cry from the shadows that’d cloaked them both before. she doubts the light now is an opportunity to fix their previous encounter, but she shifts her weight forward anyway in anticipation, drawing closer to the other.

[fireflown]

HYUNWOO​:

(...)

However, the announcement which comes next is one that stops that same gear in its movement. It’s sudden and it sends the blood of his into a state of freezing shock, otherwise boiling as befitting a Fire nation’s native. It’s out of the ordinary, sticking out of the linear course he believed the Fire Lord follows. It’s an expeditious disarray of order and he would lie if he said it doesn’t unsettle him.

Necessity breeds inspiration and out of it, hand in hand, comes camaraderie. He’s unaware if the laughter that escapes him is one born of nervousness or absurdity of the situation. “Goodness,” he comments, more for himself, until the shake bestows an awakening upon him. With everything at once, he hadn’t even realized who stands by him. “Haeui,” he whispers, blinking at her, regaining his posture thereafter. “Lady Tai  — when did you arrive?! I knew my brother called upon you, but I didn’t know you’d actually come. Ah, lower your voice.”

“i –” she frowns, half-confused. “i’ve been here for half a year, now?” haeui waves it away; she’s spent much of her time so far holed up in her room or the glassmakers’ guild, and she can’t exactly blame hyunwoo for not knowing of her presence when their paths so rarely cross. “lord ryu,” she replies in his tone, releasing the older man from her grip. “how could i refuse an invitation from the generous head of your house?” a half joke, though haeui knows she wouldn’t be anywhere near the fire nation if she hadn’t been summoned back home.

she nods towards the temple, where the soar across the skies, a clear show of power that inexplicably, doesn’t send dread through haeui for once. “i’m glad i came home, though.” she’s held no love for the royal family since they killed her second brother, ran away from it all the moment she could. now, though, the royal court has been shaken up, allegiances realigning as the tectonics of power shift beneath their feet. everything falls eventually, like old leaves on a budding branch, making way for change. and the silver birch will stand as tall as their fire lord and the new crown prince, strength in its new beginnings.

but there are more shocked murmurs rippling through the crowd, mirroring hyunwoo’s reaction more than hers. it seems that not everyone’s excited about the fire lord’s decision – perhaps she’s more out of touch with the politics of nobility than she remembers. haeui’s voice lowers a little, trying not to draw attention to herself. “are you... alright?” settles on that, thinking that it seems a reasonable, innocuous question. feelings can’t be politicked, she hopes.