#referring to how the Hulk wouldn’t listen to the others and was impatient and just acted which made the others have to follow suit

[daydreamerdrew]

The Avengers (1963) #1.5 (published September 1999)

[bellatrixobsessed1]

I’ll Meet You At The Bottom (Part 18)

So the next few chapters are still going to be more Azula focused. When I get her in a more stable position, the focus will likely shift to Sokka and her helping him out.

He didn’t press the issue any, but Azula was left with a potent sting of disappointment in herself as she returned the Ruby Tears to their hiding place. Still she hesitated, willing herself to burn it in her palm. But she couldn’t bring herself to light the flame. Where was her poor impulse control when she needed it? Apparently, it only arose when a beating was on the other end of it.

 For the longest time Azula was quiet, content to just have a body next to hers. A clean shaven, toned, nice smelling body. It was even nicer to have distance, someone who didn’t have to go skin to skin with her to be a comfort. No, Sokka lie at least a pillow length away.

For the time being that felt nice. Like he wasn’t expecting anything from her in exchange for his company.

A friend. She just wanted a friend.

 Such was how two days went by. He would stay with and not say anything, waiting for her to speak. But she didn’t, Azula found that she hadn’t much to say. Mostly, he would listen to her whimper softly to herself as the various aches reached their peaks and fell away only to come back the next day. She could see it in his eyes that he didn’t know what to do about it. Her body wracked with tremors and she couldn’t seem to focus on any one thing for more than five minutes or so, if even.

 The nights were worse, the corners were filled with dark things, looming presences that faded out of view when she tried to assess them. They left her with a sense of foreboding. They wanted her dead and if she fell asleep they might just take her. So she stayed awake, waiting.

Suffering.

 The desire to pull the covers over her head for a false protection was growing stronger but she was hot. Too hot, even for her. She could see it clearer now, a bulky mass of darkness that swelled in the very corner of her room. Sokka slept on the floor, blissfully unaware of the hulking figure that was waiting to claim her.  It stalked closer, each footfall bringing a horrific pounding behind her eyes. She knew that this thing was the source of her suffering.

She was going to kill it��

She was going to…

 The third morning hit her hard. She didn’t even make it across the room before she doubled over and threw up what little she had eaten. Her sides pulsed and her lungs burned, still her stomach emptied itself more. She had to put an end to it, she was glad she kept the Ruby Tears. All she had to do was go retrieve them.

“Good morning, Azula.” Sokka greeted so cheerfully that she may have thrown up again.

 “Is it?” She snapped. “Is it really?”

 Sokka has become pretty good at ignoring her outbursts. Instead of taking the bait he fetched her a towel and helped her clean herself. At that, her temper cooled again. She rubbed her puffy eyes, they have become swollen and red and she doesn’t know if it’s another symptom of withdrawal or if its for lack of sleep, but she hates it as much as all of her other ails. She pulled herself to her feet despite the vertigo threatening to pull her back down again and moved to her vanity set. She still didn’t like looking in the mirror but she picked up her comb and began brushing. Her hair had gotten longer since she’d fled the palace, reaching her shoulders. She thought that it should have been a little longer than that by now, she supposed she shouldn’t complain, at least it was growing. She thought of applying some lipstick but didn’t seek to agitate her chapped lips any further. Setting her comb down, she retreated to an armchair in the corner of her room. “Sit.” She pointed to the spot next to her. The chair had always been much too big for her, it practically required a second person—or even a third—to fill it. Sokka would do just well. She leaned back and stared at the ceiling. It was useless to try to get comfortable but she put some effort into it anyhow. She opened one eye, “did you hear me?” She paused. “I said get over here.”

 “I heard you.” He replied.

 “Then why are you still over there?” She asked, tapping chipped, yellowing fingernails on the arm rest. One of these days, when she found the energy, she would have to drop by the palace spa. A manicure was long overdue and a facial even more so. Her brief glimpse in the mirror revealed dry skin, lacking in its usual elasticity. She ran her fingers through her hair at the unwelcomed reminder of her decay. “On your way can you bring me my kiseru?” A little smoke couldn’t hurt, in fact she was will to say it would ease the pain as it usually did.

 “If you want to cave in, I’m not going to help you.” The Water Tribesman had an annoying way of holding his ground.

 Azula pinched the bridge of her nose. “Well if you won’t do that,” she hissed, “then maybe you could hurry up, I didn’t realize waterbenders were so slow.” She impatiently patted the spot next to her again. “Really, when I invited you to stay with me I thought that you would be helpful.” She realized that she was working herself into a rage and one that was wholly unnecessary. She caught the flicker of annoyance in his eyes and flinched inwardly, she was going to push him out again. She ought to at least add a ��please’ to her demand, but she still felt herself above such.

.oOo.

 She is far more demanding than Yue and even Suki and in some sense, very high maintenance. But in other ways he knew he wouldn’t have to worry about her in the same way he had to worry about Suki and Yue.

 He sat down next to her. The chair offered only a little space between them, every time she shifted, her shoulder would brush his. The close proximity offered him a whiff of pine and a touch of cinnamon, a much better combination than the overpowering odor of tobacco and cactus juice. He’d never known a firebender to use pine fragrances, but it was a potent scent, probably one she was using to mask less pleasing ones. The cinnamon lingered from her bath the other day.

He was happy for it though, it was much more pleasant. He thought of vocalizing his opinion but, kind or not, he couldn’t gauge how kindly she’d take to an unsolicited opinion. Instead he asked, “should I call for breakfast.”

 “I’m not hungry.” She replied.

 “You’re never hungry.” He grumbled. Just like he’d never known a firebender to use earthy scents, he’d never known a person to deny perfectly good food.

 “You can get something for yourself though.” She muttered, reminding him that he didn’t actually need her permission to do so. He’d order for two under the guise that he’d be eating it himself, with any luck he’d convince her to finish what he didn’t. Truth be told he was growing concerned at how small she was getting. Maybe he shouldn’t have but he added, “Ruby Tears aren’t food.”

He earned himself a rough shove off of the armchair. She might have called him an asshole, but he couldn’t hear it over the sound of his rear thumping on the floor.

 She ignored him for sometime afterward, leaving him to brood over it. He wished that she would stop being so difficult, all the same he knew that she wouldn’t be Azula if she wasn’t. Even so he can’t help but wonder if he would be getting anything out of a relationship, of any kind, with her. “Come on Azula, I was joking.” He cringed at his own words, again a joke was getting him in trouble. It wasn’t quite a joke though, the delivery yes. The meaning, no.  She pretended to inspect her nails and, if he could guess, pretended to like what she saw. He sighed and twiddled his thumbs, wishing that he’d brought his paint set with him, he could have painted something silly. Instead he was forced to endure an oppressive silence until the food arrived.

Apparently, the princess was just as discontent with the quiet, but she wouldn’t be the one to break it. Her apology came in the form of accepting the reminisce of his food when he offered it to her. He didn’t know why, but he thanked her for doing so. She shrugged, he could sense that there was something on her mind. “What’s bothering you?” Whatever it was, she has been thinking about it for a while.

 “Aside from…” she gestured to her entire body. She didn’t indicate whether she was referring to her physical appearance, the various aches, or both and she left him to space to ask. “You didn’t tell them did you?” She questioned. “About this,” she motioned to what remained of the empty bottles.

 “You asked me not to.” He replied.

 “And did you listen?”

 “I shouldn’t have.” Sokka dared. “I think that they should…”

 She waved the rest of his response off. “They don’t need to.” She put her plate aside and buried her head in her hands as if that could stop the pulsing.

 “Maybe Katara can help you with the headaches.” He suggested.

 “And what reason do you think I should give her to be having them so often?” She asked, everything in her tone suggested she believed there were no good excuses. He was certain that if she wanted to she could come up with one, even if it were a poor one she’d be able to make it sound quality. But she had no desire to do so. “I don’t need anyone else’s help anyways.”

 She wouldn’t back down on this one. It would be nice though, to have someone else who knew. Sokka wondered if he should tell Aang regardless of her request. But he had her trust—or something close to it—he couldn’t imagine how hard it would be to get it back if he lost it. He was on his own to some degree. After all of this time he still didn’t know how to help her, he didn’t know what he would do if simply being there stopped cutting it.

 “Tell me why you aren’t happy.” Azula requested, apparently done discussing herself. He should have known she’d try to switch the subject sooner or later. “Am I that awful to be around?” And sarcastically she added, “I’m hurt Sokka.”

 “What would make you say I’m not happy?”

 “Your personality.” Azula shrugged. She pulled herself up and snatched his boomerang, “living hurts sometimes.” She gave an exaggerated imitation of how he normally waved his boomerang when he spoke. “Weren’t you the group clown?”

 “That was a long time ago.” Sokka trailed off.

 Azula scoffed. “You sound like Zu-Zu. Stop it.”

 “Sorry,” Sokka apologized. “I’ve just had a lot on my mind lately. I was worried about you, you know.” His attempt to swing the focus away from him again was a success.

 She furrowed her brows, “why?” She shifted in the chair, crossing one leg over the other. “I can take care of myself.”

 “So can Katara. So can Toph. I still worry about them, because I care about them and I don’t want to lose them.”

 “You...” she started, “care about me?”

 He nodded, hoping that she wouldn’t ask any further. He knew he didn’t have all of the answers she’d be seeking. But it was only natural that she would continue her interrogation. If it wasn’t trying to roast someone to a charred husk she was burning someone with harsh words. In some sense or another, she was relentless; this time it was in the form of endless inquires.

 “Why?” Her voice was as apathetic as it was two questions ago. “What have I done to earn that?”

 This was the question he had no answer for, aside from, ‘I just do.’  He wracked his brain, “I think that you haven’t had enough care.”

 “You’ve said that before. Who cares?”

 “I do!” He threw his hands up.

 “Now we’re just going in circles. Why? Why do you care? Why do you want to care?”

 He was nearly frustrated enough to bring up what painting her has done for him. But he still wasn’t ready for her to know about that, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be. Carefully he said, “you gave me something to do, you helped me take my mind off of things so I decided that I owed you the same.”

 Always one to make things difficult she argued again, “I would have been none the wiser.” This woman, he realized wanted to get to the core of his feelings. He wished her luck, because he hasn’t even gotten there. “Why did you feel obliged to fulfill a debt I didn’t know of.”  He considered for the first time that this endless stream of questions might be distracting her from her torment.

 “I just…I don’t know Azula. I have honor or compassion?” He scratched his head, growing nervous under her gaze. “Maybe. Maybe I see something in you that others don’t.”

 “You aren’t very specific, are you?”

 “I don’t think that you’re a bad person.” He elaborated. “I think that you can help us do amazing things. You kind of remind me of Suki, but with more fire.”

 “In other words, you don’t care about me. You care about what you think I could be.”

 “I care about both.” Sokka grumbled. “Why are you making it so hard to say nice things about you?”

 .oOo.

 Azula knew she was pushing it. He was growing increasingly agitated but she had to make sure. She had to know that he wasn’t just another Mai. She ignored his question and posed another of her own, “what do you like about me now then? What’s worth caring about?”

 Sokka groaned. “I don’t know…just you in general I guess. I’ve never met someone like you before.”

 “You are lucky.” She quirked a brow.

 He chuckled. “Maybe.” He paused, considering his next words. “Or maybe not. I like your wit and your dark humor is fun in moderation.” He faltered again, this time deciding if he wanted to add something else, he was doing that too much. She didn’t like these secrets. “You’re nice when you want to be.” She wished he would have kept that one to himself.

 “If you say so.”

 “I think that you care about me.” He added.

 “I didn’t ask.”

 “If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have asked why I wasn’t happy.”

 “I might have just been curious…”

 “I think that you want to help me out too.”

 “Only because helping you will benefit me.” She tried.

 “Because you’re actually really a sweet person.” He countered

 “Okay, you can stop now, Sokka.”

 He broke out laughing, regardless there was truth in his words—he didn’t see her like everyone else did. He’d seen her cry…multiple times. He’d seen her dirty and battered. He’d seen her stumbling without a hint of grace nor power. He’d seen her at her rawest, at her most exposed. For better or for worse he didn’t think that she was a monster. He didn’t think that she was helplessly insane nor broken.

 “You make for great conversation.” He added.

 It was the last truly coherent discussion he’d have with her.