#getting the brain cogs moving like a rusty machine....

[mercless]

The barking had died down eventually, but even without looking Talon knows it's not because the dog had lost interest in catching the person who disturbed it's rest between alley dumpsters. It was for the best, keeping it in one area at least. And nobody was walking around the parking lot, luckily. For their own safety, and Talon's. A run-in with security was the last thing they needed. In summary; the less eye witnesses, the better.

Once their heartbeat had returned to speeds that weren't worrying, they'd gotten comfortable along the concrete roof ledge and shifted their cap to cover their face. If it weren't for the circumstances, they could even consider this relaxing. Whether or not that worker from the pound was a no-show, they could probably find a way out of the situation. Had plenty of time to think on it.

Until they hear shoes across asphalt, getting their head to raise and a hand adjusting their hat. Their other is raised to get his attention, in case someone on the roof of a building wasn't eye catching enough.

They are being very calm, which is perhaps why Kayn is so stunned at the whole reaction. Truly, each job he gets seems to attract weirder and weirder people. Shouldn't they be at least a little panicked?

... Anyways, he supposes it doesn't really matter. There's a dog on the loose, and if it's aggressive, there's a good chance that it's going to be caught by someone who's a lot less understanding than him. It's not that Kayn thinks he's an expert at communicating with dogs at all, it's just that no one else treats them with the kindness they fucking deserve. Kayn will never understand why human lives are so prioritized when humans are often the ones who mistreat animals to act like, well... Like this.

But he doesn't have time to get angry about it right now. He grabs his coat and roots around in the shelter's desk drawers for a sign that says Be Back At:. He doesn't know when he'll be back, so he just leaves it at the time it was already set to. Doesn't really matter, anyways.

"Yeah. I can help." A spare leash, a collar, and of course, a couple bags of treats get shoved in his jacket pockets too. "Where are you at?"

[bellatrixobsessed1]

I’ll Meet You At The Bottom (Part 15)

So a little good news and a little bad news. Good news; today I contacted a publisher. I might be getting an original short story published. The bad news: this means I might not be able to update this fic as regularly. I’m definitely going to try, but I’m going to be putting more work into polishing my short story.

Azula pulled herself up, sore all over. She threw her belongings into her pack with such an alarmingly unnecessary fury. She’d stayed the night to prove that she wasn’t afraid, but she no longer desired their company. She didn’t desire any company at all. She supposed that deep down, she’d always felt as though she belonged alone.

 “Here.” Chan made off to dab at her head with a wet cloth.

 She slapped his hand away, “don’t touch me.”

 “I should have stepped in.”

 “I didn’t want your help.” She frowned and continued to fold her sleeping bag. With a sharp hiss, she clutched her ribcage.

 “Let me see it.” Chan reached out again.

 “I said don’t touch me.” This time her holler was loud enough to get a rouse from Taeyul and Wire. Even as she did so, she lifted her shirt some. She cringed at the sight of her sides, they were bruised and swollen all the way up, making it hard to move at all. She wouldn’t abandon her task though.  She would get an extra pouch of Ruby Tears from Chan and be on her way. She tightened her bag shut.

 “You really gonna leave us, pretty lady?” Minho asked.

 “You won’t miss me.”

 “That ain’t true.”

 “Ain’t it?” Azula mocked, she tugged up her shirt. “This is your fault. You and Yoona.” He flinched at the display. “Oh, I know what this is about. You just want more of this.” She hitched her shirt up an inch or two more, something she’d been all too good at lately. “That’s all you wanted, wasn’t it?” Two days late, the regret was setting in. Loneliness and desperation had made her easy. She recalled how he’d first leered at her, how could she have been so foolish? Azula tossed the pouch between her hands. Maybe Kohza was right, maybe she was just a ruby whore. She dropped herself back down. “Well, you got what you wanted, don’t think you’ll get it again.”

 “That weren’t all I wanted.” She thought she heard Minho say. “It were at first, maybe.”

 Azula ignored him. She would sit for a moment more and be on her way, whether Chan wanted to help her home or not. A drawn-out puff from her kiseru helped relax her frayed nerves and seemed to take the edge off of her physical pains. She looked in the direction of the palace, in the direction of home. How many people would be waiting for her? Waiting to drag her back to that loathsome institution. Azula laughed to herself, she’d like to see them try.

  The heavy sound of footsteps indicated Bo-Rem lurking before the girl announced herself. Dropping a token made from a rusty, beaten scrap of metal into Azula’s lap, she said, “You’re leaving? And here we were gonna let you join our gang.”

 The princess had no appetite for sarcasm today. She turned the shard of scrap metal over in her hand regardless. It was cut in an almost perfect circle with only a few sharp edges and bore the double-edged dagger of the Nyūkirā.  She flipped it over again, the back had two engraved letters an ‘P’ and an ‘L’.  In certain light, the metal chunk had a red sheen to it.

 “Boryuk didn’t know what to engrave in the metal for the initials.” Bo-Rem stated.  “So he just went with Minho’s nickname for you.”

 Azula furrowed her brows, thinking back to Mama Mozi. Of her many questions, she didn’t know which to ask first, so she asked the simplest? “Boryuk can metalbend?”

 “A little.” Boryuk shrugged, as if it wasn’t an accomplishment at all.

 Azula came out with the more pressing question.  “What is with you lowlifes and pretending like nothing happened.”

 “That kinda how it be here, pretty lady.” Minho replied.

 “We fight all the time, get it out, then it’s over.” Khoza shrugged. “‘Stead of dragging it out like they do in high-class politics.”

 “You just let it out all at once and get over it.” Wire added.

 “We also had to make sure you could handle us before letting you in.” Bo-Rem replied.

 “That how it work ‘round here.” Yoko declared.

 Azula spared the palace another glance and then turned her eyes to the trinket in her palm. An initiation process, she mused to herself. She supposed any group worth while had some type of hazing to go with it, Agni knew she wouldn’t have let just anyone join her posse. She slipped the token into her pocket.

 “So is you leavin’ or stayin’, pretty lady?” Minho asked.

 Her clothes were dirty beyond all compare, she longed for a nice hot shower, and a meal worth eating. Azula looked longingly at the palace. It would be another impulse decision that she would come to regret, but for now the Nyūkirā felt like real friends. They were rough and unstable, fickle and unpredictable but she was just as so.

 Chan tossed her a bottle of cactus juice. “So how about a trip to the industrial park? We could have a few drinks, make a little noise…”

 .oOo.

 She’s been gone for a little under a week and not one person has seen her. Or maybe they have but just didn’t realize it. Sokka wondered if her haircut had made her look that different. It couldn’t have, Azula had changed a lot but she was still Azula. He could see it on her, he didn’t even have to look, she had a certain aura about her. Sokka ran his fingers through his hair, how could this have happened? Why did he care so much for her? She’d never given him a reason to feel this much distress over her disappearance.  She needed someone, but why did it have to be him? Because, he decided, I was crazy enough to give her a try. Despite it all he had a bit of a weakness for caring for those who were usually looked down upon. And after his brush with his darkest nature, he had a weakness for seeing the humanity in the least sympathetic of people.  

 Yes, at her core, Sokka decided, Azula was in pain. Lost and in pain, and confused. Perhaps afraid even. None of those traits looked well on her and none of them seemed characteristic of her. That may have been particularly why he found himself overcome with stress and worry.

 As Sokka swept his brush over the canvas, he couldn’t help but recall her as he’d last seen her. She was so delicate, as close to death as she could very well get without falling through the thin veil. His brush glided faster as his mind raced. He was almost finished painting on her robe. It was lacking some in texture, but that only seemed right as his life in general seemed to be lacking texture lately.  

 Images infiltrated Sokka’s brain; he saw the princess laying broken and naked in some dirty back alley, she turned to him and asked why he had left her. This image flickered away, only to be replaced by Suki underwater with her arm outstretched, she was asking him where the hell he was. The images seemed to blur together and their questions intertwining.  He put down the brush, his hand trembling too much to pain right.

 He tore down the stairs, knowing that he had to find Azula. He had to find her right then.

If he didn’t he would find her dead.

Just like Yue. Like his mother. Like Suki.

 .oOo.

 The industrial park was the husk of an old war age factory. Like most of the wartime relics, the defeat of the Fire Nation put it out of use. It’s various smoke stacks were barren of their usual puffs and much of its coal had been coughed up and scattered around the dead grass and dirt. Azula knew this factory by its logo, it was the very same one that had pumped out the drill she had overseen a long time off. Spare pipes, cogs, and sheets of scrap metal unutilized were discarded in careless heaps around the park. Azula found herself sitting on the massive rail tracks, once used to transport the drill safely from one end of the park to the next. It was a jarring sight to look down, the hole beneath the track was big enough to swallow her whole. She spied the rusting corpses of war machines deemed unfit to fight for the purpose they were designed. Great machines that weren’t grand enough, discharged before they had a honor of joining the battle. She almost wished that, that could have been her. She leapt down and wandered over to one that may have been a prototype for her tank. It was beaten and unmovable now, but it still looked like it could shatter the terrain it trekked. She wondered what happened to her old tank, one day she would have to drive it again. But for the time being she accepted Chan’s cactus juice.

 One bottle had Azula’s strides a little clumsy. Two made every stupid remark made by Yoko, absolutely hilarious. Two and a half, and Yoona’s speech suddenly made complete sense. Three had her giggling hysterically when Chan tried leaping from a pile of stone blocks onto a pile of rusty beams, he missed by a bit and took a hit right to his manhood. Four bottles had her trying it herself, with more success but just as little grace.

She had to admit that she was having the time of her life. They had taken her on a great many adventures throughout the day; they had taunted a wild kimodo bull, leapt through a broken window to steal a dented kettle just to see if they could, stomped across Mama Mozi’s lawn after she’d turned her back, and tested their parkour when she’d chased them down.  Azula would argue that the kind of leaps and turns they preformed were worthy of high praise, but apparently the owners of the homes used in their show were more concerned with the unwanted intrusion than the impressive display. Their show was cut short when Azula got a first hand demonstration of the reasoning behind Wire’s name. They were doing splendidly, with a new burst of energy courts of the cactus juice, Azula had leapt from one roof to the rickety balcony of the house below. It sent jarring vibrations through her bruised and swollen ribs, but she didn’t notice through her buzzed daze. From there she used the rails to fling herself upon the scaffolding of a house never finished, leaping from one crossbeam to the next. It would seem that the building was privy to invaders for it was rigged all over. Azula had taken the care to dance over and weave through each. Chan and Taeyul not far behind. A loud “ah fuck,” and a decent thud caught her attention. She looked down to see Wire hanging precariously by his feet a story below. Between the ten of them, Wire was free, but his ankles were torn pretty horribly. Thus their rooftop adventure was cut short, all was well though, they had lost Mozi blocks back. And so they came to arrive at the industrial park earlier than planned where Azula had just finished one upping Chan. She finished with a bow that sent her into sudden vertigo. She stumbled forward and toppled over, rolling on to her back laughing. A few feet away Khoza started a round of slow claps—she couldn’t be sure if they were for Chan’s stellar landing or for her elegant bow.  

 “Ey, pretty lady” Minho called from his place atop a pile of discarded pipes and poles.  you wanna have some real fun?” Minho offered. At first she thought that it was another attempt to beg for the sex she promised him he would never get. He held up a satchel of Ruby Tears. Interest captured, Azula sauntered over. It has been a while since she’d had a really good fix. “If you add a bit of dandelion powder, the trips are much better.” Minho explained. “It smells better too.” He added as he dumped a fine dusting of dandelion powder over the Ruby Tears.

  With a fresh waft of Dragon’s Breath clouding her judgment, Azula she found herself lighting various things on fire at first just to see them explode. She and Minho made a game of it; whoever found the most flammable object won. Whoever didn’t, had to kiss Boryuk. A game that had her completely forgetting to hide the color of her flame. Azula scoped the area for something worth lighting. As Minho scoured the trash heap, she shoved her way into the factory. She rummaged through crates both open and sealed, most of them contained broken screws, nails, and bolts. A few had some perfectly intact hammers and wrenches. But they were of no use to her. She could set the mountain of coal on fire, but even at her highest she could still deduce that doing so would draw far too much attention. Coupled with the thought that she would be too drunk to keep a fire of that size in check, she put the idea out of her mind. Perhaps that was the smartest decision she had made all week. At last she came upon what she was looking for. A few sticks of dynamite and a small pile of gun powder. It was only slightly less foolish.

 “Found yours Minho?” She asked.

 “I find mine ‘while ago, pretty lady. Were waiting on you.”

 “Ell urry ip n lye it ip.” Yoona hollered. “Us wan see some sploshions.”

 “After you.” Azula slurred, motioning for Minho to start, after all the best was to be saved for last.

 “A’righty then. Time to bring out the classics.” Minho stabbed a large stick into the ground, nature’s finest firewood. Around it he spread a cluster of leaves. He set it aflame and tossed a lump of coal or two into the mix. She had to admit, his use of the bare minimum created quite a respectable blaze. But it wouldn’t come close to the inferno she was about to create.

 “Alright, Minho, prepare to meet your doom.” She smirked. She put his fire out and set her dynamite and powder in its place. She lit it up and quickly scuttled back. The blast popped and with the assistance of the gunpowder shot quite a distance, right into a sheet of steel where it ricocheted. The burnt of it had died away but the shower of heat that contacted her calf had her nearly on her ass. With a swiftness to match her own, Chan broke her fall.

She counted her blessings that the stick was a dud and that the hit only left a harsh stinging and an angry red mark on her leg.

 “I thinks you wons, pretty lady.” Minho declared backing away from the fire that still burned where the powder had trailed.

 “Whoops.” Azula muttered, but at the same time she relished in her victory. It was the first one she’s had since the eclipse. “Y-you must feelprettybad rightnow.” She laughed, well aware that her slur was growing more apparent. “Because my victory was so explosive, it will be ringing inyourears f-for, for a week.”

 “That pun will be ringing in my ear for weeks to come.” Khoza muttered, obviously not drunk enough for that brand of humor.

 Azula laughed harder, it was more like a cackled at that point. Her fire seemed to laugh with her as it crackled. Leaning up against Chan, she fixed her ear on it. Indeed her fire was talking, speaking to her like it was proud of her. “You’ve finally used me well.” It’s voice died off with a pop. She crawled closer to the fire as it praised her for her mastery of it. A burst of sparks took to the air and showered down on her in the form of compliments. She came closer still and reached her hand out, only to have Chan yank it back.

 “But the fire the fire it wanted me t-to come to it.”

 “It’s a fire, of course it did.” Chan smiled, running a hand over her hair. “I would like you to come to me.”

 Azula peered up at him with innocent eyes, as innocent as her eyes could be anyhow. “Would you?”

 “Absolutely.” He replied, coaxing her away from the hazard she was making of the fire behind her. He bent down enough to find himself level with her.  He brushed her hair out of her face, brushing his thumb over her cheek. Holding her close he mumbled in her ear, “you’re still unbelievably hot.” His hand slid over her thigh.

 She looked at her hands. They were on fire. She was fire. The flames were blue, she was her fire. “I know I am.” She replied, effectively ruining the mood. “I am fire.” She whispered to herself, truly and completely mesmerized by the flames she thought she had become.

 Chan rolled his eyes, but if that made her happy he would go with the moment. “You are fire, huh?” He asked.

 “That’s right.” She smirked, putting a hand on his cheek. Her flame-fingers seemed to lick and dance over his skin. “Do you know what fire likes to do, Chan?”

 “What does fire like to do, princess?” He asked stroking her back.

 “It likes to consume things.” She winked, pushing him to the ground. She needed to take advantage of the moment, it wasn’t every day that her entire body became flame, it never happened at all before then. There was so much raw power that came with being fire, she dared anyone to try to wield her. She would let Chan give it a shot.

 As a fire would, she leapt upon him.

 .oOo.

 As the princess became fire, Sokka snuffed out. He couldn’t find her, he tried so hard, but he couldn’t find her. And if he couldn’t find her, that must mean she’s dead. No one is gone for a week without a trace or a word and comes back alive, especially not a person hooked on drugs and so full of scars. He killed her in some way, shape, or form. He re-entered the palace all fury with a faint feeling that he should have asked for help.

 “Sokka, are you alright?”  

 “I can’t do anything Katara!” He hollered. He didn’t mean to yell at her but he needed to scream. He needed to hit something. “You healed her.”

 “Healed who?”

 “Aang was breathing for her.”

 “Azula? Are you talking about Azula?”

 “Zuko kept the guards on task and the guards brought her to the infirmary. You know what I did Katara?” She made off to answer be he was shouting again. “Nothing! I did nothing.” He was pacing frantically about the room, he did nothing just like when Zhao killed the moon spirt. Just like when Suki’s ship went down.

 “Sokka, that’s not true.” Her arm was on his shoulder.

 He came to an abrupt stop, shoulders slumping. “You’re right, Katara.” The relief in her eyes was short lived. “I did do something. I was the one who put her in that situation. Aren’t I just a great help.” A coffee table was on the floor before, clattering a few decorative platters along with it. He didn’t remember pushing it over, but he was sure that he did. He clasped his hands on his head. It was happening again. And after he swore to himself that he would never lose control again. The fear in Katara’s eyes was unmistakable and he couldn’t blame her for backing away. As compassionate as she was, she wasn’t an idiot. She wasn’t reckless like him, she knew when to back away from someone so far out of it that they couldn’t come back in on their own.

 For the first time he considered that he had never truly healed at all, that he’d been bottling it in the whole time, pretending that everything was okay. It wasn’t.

He wasn’t.

 He kicked the wall once, maybe twice, maybe thrice—he’d lost count after the first.

 “Sokka please.” Katara called. “You have to calm down.”

 He didn’t mean to but he chucked at that. “Okay, sure thing Katara, let me just flick my rage switch off. He watched her cringe against the wall, just like she did when the first time. He had hit her, not because he was mad at her, but because he was mad and she was there. This time he hit himself, it drove away the urge and was better than hurting her again. He wouldn’t be able to take it if he hurt his own sister again, just like he couldn’t take it that he had pushed Azula over the edge.

 Strangely enough, he found himself hating Suki. For leaving him, for doing this to him.  

 To his surprise Katara approached him. “No, no you have to go. I’m going to hurt you again.”

 “You won’t.” Katara insisted hugging him as close as she could, bringing a halt to his self-beating. “I won’t let you.”

 “I’m sorry Katara.” He whispered, his rage subsiding to make room for tears. “I’m so sorry.” He wasn’t sure if he was apologizing for the present or for the strife he caused her in the past. He needed to get a grip. He needed someone to help him find one. “You’re not going to blame her are you, it’s not her fault.”

 “Will it make you feel better if I don’t.” Katara asked.

 Sokka nodded.

 “Then I won’t. On one condition.”

 He waited.

 “Let me help you. I know you haven’t been yourself.”

 “Then why didn’t you say something?” He asked. “You’re afraid of me aren’t you.”

 “No, Sokka! You know that’s not true. I didn’t want to push you.”

 “Help me help Azula.” He quickly added, “you don’t even have to talk to her, just give me some support.”

 Katara sighed. “I’ll do what I can.”

 Sokka tried to smile, he thought that it almost worked. Maybe this time around, he would heal for real. Maybe they both could. If only the princess would come home.

 .oOo.

 In the week to follow, they had a lot of questions for Azula, having seen her fire for what it really was. She cringed, waiting for the backlash. It came in the form of an unrelenting rain of questions. What was it like to live in the palace? Is it true that you have your own personal guards? Is there a hot spring in palace, I heard there were three. And from Yoona, though jumbled as usual, Azula made out, “can you hook me up with your brother.” She came to conclude that Yoona was the most merciless of gang. Khoza was the only one who had no questions to ask. He was content to give commentary, “that explains a lot” among other thing.

Truth be told, Azula had expected repercussion and another beating, but they seemed to treat her no differently. Not better nor worse. They still treated her with all of the roughness of the days prior, they still expected her to accompany them on all of their ventures no matter how much class they lacked.

 That week had been the best week of her life. Save for the bottle and the dust, she was free. Truly free.

 In that week, she had grown fond of Minho. More so than she’d like to admit. He told her about his family. About his little brother Hi-Yung, who still had the cloth rabbaroo he’d sewn for the kid. Of his mother, crippled by a carriage accident—the one that killed his father. He told her of his dreams and asked her if she could help him. “I know I aren’t the brightest ‘round. But I have a idea. I has lots a ideas. I want to tell stories. I want folks to read ‘em.” So she let him tell her stories of the made up sort and of real adventures he’d been on.  And he was good at it, several nights in a row he lulled her to sleep with his wild tales. So did something she seldom ever did. She made him a promise. That when she got back to the palace and sorted things out, she would find him again and teach him to read and write. He was a brilliant man, she had come to conclude, a brilliant man who had never gotten a chance. She found out more than she ever wanted to know about him. He was rather comforting and made her feel less alone in her addiction. And when the others were fast asleep, she exchanged a story of her own. And he reminded her that she was strong, useful, worthwhile. He made her feel as though she wasn’t alone. He told her that he wanted to stop taking Ruby Tears and that they could do it together.

 Perhaps that’s why his death hit so hard.