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bellatrixobsessed1 · 7 years ago

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I’ll Meet You At The Bottom (Part 26)

Oh boy, this chapter was a wild ride. Buckle up kids.

Azula finally mustered up the vigor to leave her bed. Her hair fell haphazardly about her face and she could just barely bring herself to care enough to move it. She thought of the Nyūkirā in spurts and pondered upon how things would have been if she stayed with them. Such thinking only seemed to agitate her already touchy mood. She was slipping back into the depressive state she had worked so hard to shed and she couldn’t seem to break the fall. She leaned against her dresser, in doing so she reminded Sokka to begin his daily pestering. Just when she’d thought she’d grown to ignore it, he’d come up with a new tactic. That day’s approach seemed to be bribery. Without saying a word, he handed her a platter of pastries and exotic fruits complete with a fluff of citrine colored fire-lily and soft golden dandelions. She assumed he had just picked them himself. “I thought you’d like to share breakfast with me.”

“Oh, I’m sharing it?” She quirked an eyebrow.

He sighed, “I mean you don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I was hoping…”

She let him pick the first thing as she contemplated what she’d like to eat first. “So, what are you going to hassle me about this time?”

“Hassle you?” He asked innocently. “I’m simply going to say that this tunic would look lovely on you.”

She respected his persistency, and the flattery was helping his case very much. But she still didn’t feel like getting changed. So instead she plucked a grape from the platter and flicked it at him. “Nice try.” She commented. His face when the grape nailed him in the eye might have made her laugh some time ago, it was a good attempt on her part. But a failed one. She rested her cheek in her palm and stared blankly at the wall. Every now and again she would absently pick something from the plate until there was nothing left to take. Sokka eyed her with just about as much intensity as Azula stared at the wall. She buried her face in her hands, tired of it. Tired of what? She was just tired in general, she decided. But again it seemed as if she had run out of tears to shed. She was glad for that at least. She welcomed the sense of numbness that was setting in, the sort of lack of care that came with having no further to fall.

This time Sokka wasn’t going to back down. “You’re going to start taking care of yourself again.” The look in his eyes told her that he was going to leave her with no option. One way or another it was going to happen. “We’ve already been through this.” He motioned about a room that was growing mildly messy again and at her increasingly disheveled appearance. Between the withdrawal pains and tiredness and her dreary state of mind upkeep was becoming a low priority again. It was a complete mirror of the woman she had become months back. Maybe she had never fled from that person at all. And with such a revelation she could feel her self-esteem dipping again. She should show Sokka out, how many times would he see her in such a haphazard state and still feel as though she were worth standing by? How many times before he became embarrassed by her? He was still prattling on and on in the background, her attention was wholly divided until she caught, “I thought we were passed this, you were doing so well.” So how could she tell him that she was feeling worse than she had when he first came to visit her. How could she tell him so when she didn’t even think that it was possible to feel worse than she had then—more so when things seemed to be going better for her. She didn’t understand, not at all. For the first time, she considered that maybe her sullen mood was another part of the crash. It made her feel a tinge better to think that she might not be completely at fault for her poor mood. “Alright fine, we’ll do this the hard way.” Sokka perked her attention again. Before she could assess what might have been said before it, he lifted her from her chair and snatched up the tunic he was so adamant about.

.oOo.

Azula sat at the edge of the spring, rigid and unmoving. He may have delivered her to the bath… he may have prepared it just to her liking…

But he couldn’t make her get in.

On the contrary, she pulled her dirty silks closer to her body in some petty act of defiance. Sokka was patient though, he sat in the water waiting for the soft odor of lavender and resiny scent of pine to beckon her in. By comparison the robes she wore smelled awful, she eyed the bath longingly but didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cave. She didn’t have much of it left, so she would cling to the last scraps of her pride like her life depended on it.

And maybe it did.

It would seem that Sokka was a man of tough love. At last, having grown impatient, he picked her up and dropped her in the water. The princess let out a sharp and surprised holler which seemed to amuse the Water Tribesman. With a scowl she threw her drenched robes off before they got the chance to cling uncomfortably to her skin. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the man who was reveling in his small conquest.

Engrossed in his one-man victory party, Sokka was no longer paying attention to her. She decided that it was a good thing too because she was feeling self-conscious and out of sorts again. She was quite literally exposed and she hated being so. The nakedness left her so much room to nitpick herself—it was the very reason she dreaded taking a bath in the first place. Every single time, without fail, she always seemed to assess and judge every aspect of herself. With her reflection clear in the water, it wasn’t hard to do.

Her hair was usually the first thing she noticed and for once she wasn’t entirely horrified by the state of it. It has seen better days but she decided that the length of it was well enough. At worst her haircut resembled Zuko’s a bit too much for her liking—only an inch or so longer. Tossed by the spring water and its heat, her locks had a slight curl to them, she didn’t know how well she liked that.

For as much sleep as she was doing, her eyes still looked dull and sleepy. Faint bags seemed to mock her—what was the point of sleeping so much if she still looked like she’d been awake for weeks on end?

Snarling to herself, Azula tried turning her attention to something else. She spied a bar of soap, if she was in the bath she may as well make the most of it. She let her fingers glide over a few different bars, trying to decide which scent she desired. Drumming her nails over the different soaps, she was reminded of how overdue her manicure was; her nails were long but not elegantly so and the majority of them were chipped or broken. They were all uneven. She snatched a soap at random, telling herself that it would be an easy fix. All she had to do was fetch herself a nail filer. The thought was comforting, despite knowing that she wouldn’t.

For a brief period, she was alright as she carefully ran the bar of soap over her arms and legs. A tingle of cinnamon wafted up from the bar. She liked cinnamon, it would seem that even on auto-pilot, she could still find her favorite scents. She scrubbed at her chest and neck for longer than she needed to, just so she could let the aroma linger about her for a few extra moments. It was a fresh and welcomed change in comparison to the musky smell of staying in one place for too long. Every so often she would catch Sokka stealing a peek at her.

On one completely unflattering, libido killing moment she looked up to see him scrubbing his pits. When he met her eye, he slowed his scrubbing and wriggled his eyebrows. And then he winked at her as if he was doing the sexiest thing in the world. She turned away, slapping her hand to her forehead. She had enough embarrassment of her own, she didn’t need to live vicariously through his. He must be what everyone was referring to when talking about how some men were closer to their primitive, barbaric natures than others.

He, Azula decided, was a complete and utter idiot on all accounts. She wondered how she let herself get attached to him. Lost in that thought she found herself stroking her arms with the soap again. She shook her head as if that would help her regain focus and ran the soap over the parts of her back that she could reach.

Azula’s attention was piqued again when she brought the soap over her sides and belly. Her torso was still rather pale. Regardless, the princess wasn’t too concerned at this; her arms, legs, and face had received more sun exposure than the rest of her. That’s how it always had been, even before she’d gotten into cactus juice and Ruby Tears. No, that didn’t bother her any. She continued scrubbing in inattentive, almost numb circles. At first, Azula had felt good about finally having her appetite back. She felt less frail and breakable. But running the soap up down her belly, she was beginning to feel as if she had been over doing it. Coupled with her lengthy bouts of inactivity, she supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised. Her former lack of appetite was catching up to her and then some. In some way or another, she seemed to be constantly swinging from one extreme to the next.

Mercifully, Sokka pulled her away from her newfound insecurities. “What is with you and soap?” He asked. “And what do you have against shampoo.” She had half the mind to chuck the bar at him—if only to take his gaze from her—instead she set it in its rightful place with an exaggerated flare.

“If you like shampoo so much then you can come over here and wash my hair for me.” Truthfully, she just wanted him in closer proximity. She vaguely recalled being soothed the last time he shampooed her hair and she could use mollification.

He hesitated, “if that’s what you want.” As per usual, his touch was tender and needlessly careful. She allowed herself to relax a little. She wondered if it would be easier for him to wash her hair if she faced away from him, but he didn’t ask her to so she continued to stare at his bare chest. After a certain point, the princess deduced that he was using too much shampoo. She could see more frothy white in her hair than black. “And you said I use too much soap.”

“I have to make sure your hair is washed good.” He countered, before dipping her head back and pouring water over her it. After a few more cascades he tilted her head forward again. “There!” Sokka exclaimed more to himself. Then to her he spoke, “nice and clean.” He combed through her hair a few times.

“Don’t make this weird.” Azula grumbled, as if it wasn’t already. Her voice was short of its usual punch.

“Too late.” He rubbed the back of his head with one hand, the other fell between her shoulder blades. She could feel him tapping his fingers upon her back as he mulled over whether or not there was anything left to do while in the bath. He realized with an, “oh yeah” that he had forgotten to wash his own hair. His touch left her skin as he went to fetch the shampoo again. With nothing else to do it was her turn to stare. In her eyes he was a better sight than she.

His dark complexion complimented the hot shades of the spring walls. His hair and grown some as well and he had taken to stringing wooden beads through the longest of the strands. His face was getting a bit scruffy again but it was hardly her business how he wore his facial hair. He must have been aware, for he was shampooing his beard. The firebender always knew that he was sculpted but this was much more pronounced with droplets of water trickling over his biceps. No wonder he could carry her with such ease. The water traced the lines of his toned abs and Azula found her face flushed. If he asked, she would say it was the temperature of the springs. Her cheeks grew hotter still, she used to look something like that. Maybe not so obviously as him, but she used to have some degree of muscle definition. Just like that she felt gross all over again. Dejectedly, Azula wrapped her arms around her middle, dropped herself on one of the rocky seats within the spring, and let the water ripple and churn around her.

She felt dizzy, a sensation amplified by the heat of the water, her head dipped and she gripped the side of the spring. She slumped over, her face preciously so precociously close to the water that her bangs grazed the surface. She felt Sokka’s arms curl under her shoulders. He lifted her from the water and set her down on the rocky deck of the spring. She lowered herself to the floor and waited for him to fetch her clothing. Her body convulsed once and then a second time. She was so tired of it. She slammed her fist against the floor twice, clenching her teeth as another tremor passed. She only stood when he offered her a clean towel. After rubbing it over her hair, she wrapped it tightly around herself. When she found herself sufficiently dry, Azula tossed the towel to the side and retrieved the dragon tunic and pants Sokka seemed to adore so well. Pulling the top over her head was one thing, a simple task—one that she probably should have completed the first time Sokka asked. Getting comfortable was another; it fit more snugly than she ever wanted to admit. How had she managed to stray so far from the perfection she craved? She tugged at the bottom of the tunic and gnawed on her lower lip. “What are you staring at?” She snapped, turning her furious golden gaze on Sokka.

“Nothing.” He held his hands up.

He was a dreadful liar. He was judging her and she knew it. She used the last of her energy to shove past him and storm back into her room where she practically threw herself onto the bed and bunched herself up. Resentfully she noted that, doing just that was exactly the problem; she should have been working on her firebending or on her bendingless combat forms or anything useful really. But she was too exhausted. She was always tired and she was tired of feeling tired which inadvertently escalated the feeling.

Sokka only had his pants on when he entered her room. Apparently, it was too hard for him to put a shirt on under pressure. “Are you alright? Usually you feel better after you’ve taken a bath.”

“Usually you don’t force me to do it.” She hissed, concluding in that moment, that it was all his fault for making her get up in the first place. She wouldn’t have been able to judge herself so harshly if he hadn’t presented her with such a golden opportunity.

He still refused to back down. “You needed it.”

“Thanks.” She spat.

“Anytime.” He replied with just as much venom.

“I hate you.” She hissed. “Very much.”

“I’m just trying to help.” The way he drew the third word out was telling enough that she was testing him. But she prodded some more.

“I don’t need your help.”

His arm gestures were almost comical. First, he swept them out in a rainbow of an arc and then he threw them in front of him. After that, he slapped both of his palms to his head. In one final dramatic display his lip twitched and he threw his shirt to the floor and stomped off like the neanderthal she used to think he was.

She rolled over and turned her back on the spot he’d just left. He was wearing her out. The arguing was taking its toll and she pondered upon if it was worth it. All getting him railed up did was sink her mood even deeper when he finally lashed out. But as many things were, it was a habit.

Maybe when she woke up she could pretend like it didn’t happen.

That wasn’t the case. Though Sokka was back in the room with her, he looked just about as pissed—maybe more so—as he did before she had fallen asleep. So she closed her eyes again and pretended like she hadn’t woken up. With any luck she’d be asleep again. With any luck she wouldn’t wake up. She looked at her wrists, running her fingers over the raised scars, dimly she wanted to open them up again. If she did she wouldn’t have to worry about finishing her detox. She wouldn’t have to worry about who she’d be afterwards. Azula wasn’t ready to come off of the tears and she was even less prepared for self re-discovery of any sort. That kind of introspection had never been good for her. She shuddered, asking herself why she had burned her crutch. She dug her nails into her skin, leaving four small puncture marks. She full intended to drag them down when Sokka’s hand closed over her wrist.

“Don’t do that.” He reprimanded roughly.

“Don’t tell me what not to do.” She replied in a horse whisper.

Sweeping his hand over his face for what seemed like the tenth time that day, he started over, this time speaking softer. “Look at this. You’re hurting yourself.” He pried her hand away from her wrist and propped her up against himself, with her cheek on his neck.

Apparently showing signs of physical distress was enough to get him to drop his frustration with her. He peered down at her with all the pity she hated being shown. One hand rested on her head and the other held her by the wrist. He stroked the field of scars with his thumb. “You have to stop doing that.”

“Then find me some other way…”

“Some other way to what?”

“To distract me from.” She pointed to her head, hoping that he would fill in the blanks. Her thoughts were overbearing and was desperate to distract herself from them.

“What did you do the first time?”

“Drugs.” She replied matter-of-factly.

“Well what are you thinking about that’s bothering you so much?” He asked.

“Right now? Or in general?” She would have a new problem by the next day.

“Let’s focus on right now.” He replied. “What upset you so much earlier?”

Azula rubbed her temples. She couldn’t tell if the ache was from the stress or from the usual. It was probably the product of both. She didn’t want to have this discussion. She didn’t want to have it ever. “It’s been three months. I’m still a mess and I look like hell!” She spoke at a volume she hadn’t intended. “I—”

“That’s not true.” He interjected.

“Oh, it isn’t?” Azula pouted. “Prove it.”

His arm slipped down from around her. “Will you be okay if I leave you for just a moment?”

“Depends, how long is that moment going to be?” She questioned.

“I just have to go get something.”

.oOo.

Sokka took a deep breath. He supposed then was as well a time as any. With one last look at the woman on the bed he got up. She was so tense, it was a wonder that she hadn’t begged for a new pouch of Ruby Tears or for a bottle of cactus juice. He was halfway down the hall when he ran into the Fire Lord, before the man could even speak Sokka uttered a quick, “not now Zuko, I’m busy.” He watched Zuko shrug. He pushed the door to his room open, it smelled like him and he missed it. He shuffled through his things until he found what he was looking for.

“What’s that?” Katara asked, leaving him to wonder how many people he could run into in one quick trip down the hall.

“Art.” He replied instinctively and then added, “don’t worry about it.”

He could hear Toph mutter, “oh so Sokka McSecretStockings will show her his painting but not us.” Aang’s snickers followed him the rest of the way down the hall.

He inhaled again, he wasn’t sure how she was going to take this and he was afraid to find out. She was laying down again when he entered the room. Very still at that, with her injured arm out in front of her. An instinctive sort of fear took over. He took a careless step closer and collided with the bedframe. The princess jolted up. “What are you doing?” She drawled sleepily as she adjusted the position of her legs. “Don’t you know how to walk?” Her left hand came to rest on her ankle.

“I forget when I’m nervous.”

Azula scrunched her nose. “That’s a terrible thing to forget.” She looked down and plucked a strand of hair from her tunic. He gave her a quick onceover. He really did love how the outfit looked on her, it was his favorite by far. It somehow seemed to go with and highlight her haircut. A sharp haircut that accented her softer facial features; a delicate nose and subtle cheekbones—a trait she shared with her mother. He didn’t think he ever studied her so closely, he could practically start a new portrait…a better one. Without her lipstick and eyeshadow, she looked almost adorable and innocent. Her whole ensemble struck his fancy in the most pleasant way. He couldn’t fathom why she would think so lowly of herself.

He was already getting flustered and he hadn’t even revealed the picture yet.

She tapped her fingers on her ankle. “Well? What did you have to go get?”

He swallowed the nervous knot in his throat. His stomach was jittery. “Well, I’ve been working on this painting…”

Azula knit her brows, “you’re finally going to show it to me?”

“You seemed interested and I thought now would be a good time.” With fingers that shook slightly, he pulled at the sheet that covered the canvas. “I worked really hard on it and it means a lot to me.” He turned the canvas over and held it out to her.

Her expression seemed to dim as she ran her fingers over the paint. “Why?”

“I was fed up with drawing trees and hills and I had no inspiration. I was going to paint the palace and I saw you in the window…” He trailed off. “When I said that you helped me, this is what I meant.”

“Why are you showing this to me now.” Her tone seemed dark and sullen and he was beginning to regret his decision. The bemused look on her face only added to his anxiety. Of course, she didn’t like it, he had painted her in a less than flattering state. But he still thought it looked nice.

“I don’t know.” He started. But he did. He knew very well, he was just timid to say it out loud. He did anyways. “Because I think it’s pretty. I painted something that I thought was beautiful and I guess I wanted you to know that.”

The princess remained dauntingly silent.

“I’d like to paint you again, now that you’re getting better.” He confessed. “I think that it’ll look even better than the first.”

“Is that right?” She asked, her voice still very hushed. It wasn’t so hoarse any more as it was when she was on the Ruby Tears and smoking from her kiseru. He didn’t realize that he had missed the silky sound of it.

“It is.”

Azula stared at her palms. “You think I’m beautiful?”

He nodded and took her hand, it was clammy again but he would ignore that. “Very.” Now that he had said it aloud…now that he had made it real, he didn’t know what to do with the admission. He still didn’t know exactly what he felt for the princess. She seemed equally as puzzled about how to take his revelation. He sighed inwardly, he was being ridiculous; he only told her that he found her attractive, it’s not like he confessed to loving the firebender. But that was just it, wasn’t it? He wasn’t sure if that there was much separation between the two confessions. He wasn’t sure at all of just what he felt for her.

.oOo.

A horrible three weeks it had been. And for a great deal of time she thought it would end as dreadfully as it had begun.

She felt fragile and naked—perhaps a little uncomfortable—but at the same time she felt…relieved. Maybe even pleasant.

She dabbed at her eye with her sleeve.

“Thank you Sokka.”

#Sokkla #Azula #Sokka #Aang #Zuko #Katara #Toph #Avatar #Fanfiction

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