This is a prompt I can see having multiple chapters in the future if anyone is interested.
Thunder rocks the Earth and she know that it is the end of time and life as she knows it. A silvery strand of lightning puts a burning tinge in the air. It is more violent and untamed then her lightning would ever be.
A rift in the spirit energy and balance is tearing the world apart one natural phenomenon at at time. And in their shared demise, the nations are more unified than they ever have been or ever will be.
The rain comes down in painful sheets. Each drop is big enough to have its own weight. And each drop smacks against Azula's skin with a frightening force. The weather has been steadily growing worse as the days wore on.
The first days had been the worst so far. Devastation was vast and-in some regions-complete. They had all been taken by surprise, rudely awakened in some way or another by the furious rukus of mother nature, unchecked and unapologetic.
Around what used to be the Air Temples, tornados wreaked havoc. Sometimes three or four at once. The Earth Kingdom was rattled by earthquakes. Ones that topped the walls of Ba Sing Se with more efficiency than the Fire Nation could have ever managed. The poles were bombarded with blizzards so heavy that smaller structures were buried. The polar vortex had been so intense that even the most adapt tribesfolk had frozen in their beds.
Zuko had mourned abundantly when Aang brought news that Katara and Sokka were among them.
She and Zuko, for themselves have no home.
No one in what remained of Capital City did.
The scar Ozai had given Zuko is nothing in comparison to the one mother nature had given him when the volcano their palace was built upon erupted. And it is even more insignificant compared to the damage Azula has taken. She could hardly move. For the first two weeks, Zuko had to do everything for her.
She is lucky to be alive.
And better off dead.
Dead with most everyone else who had lived in the capital. Looking up at its charred carcass sends chills down her spine. Via luck and war balloons, they had put a good distance between the lava flow and themselves.
But no distance seems to take the pungent smell of magma, sulfur, and charred flesh out of her nose. The blacked husk of the palace juts grotesquely out of the volcano like a mammoth rib.
Azula cleans her burns to the best of her ability. Aang and Toph sit nearby. Days before, he had offered to heal her. She supposed that in light of things, old feuds had faded in favor of the preservation of life. For it she had accepted his offer.
That was how they found out that the shredded balance had obliterated bending too.
Now the sky constantly rumbles and pours down thick drops mixed with something vile and goopy. Something that burns and they have only makeshift shelters. Another bolt of lightning blasts a chunk of the volcanoes rim away.
Azula shudders. She has never feared lightning until now.
She has never feared fire until now.
No one has ever feared their own element until the universe turned it against them in full force.
Just what have they done to fracture things this badly.
So badly that the world is fringing at its seams and they are in the middle of it.
She is in the middle of it. She makes her way up the newly maimed volcano. She knows that it is not safe, that the lightning struck most heavily in this area. But she finds that she no longer values life. Does she really have a life at all when her skin is charred about eighty percent, when her days are spent scavenging for food with Zuko, Aang, and Toph? When she dreams of her father melted to the bone and molded to the floor of a prison. When her days are bombarded with the image of TyLee reaching out to her as a flow of lava poured over her.
She looks at her scars and remembers that she has earned them in vain. She hadn't been able to save Mai nor TyLee. And all she has is a memory of them forgiving her. She would rather have them alive and resenting her than dead and at peace with her.
The closer to the top of the volcano...the closer to home, she gets, the harder it is to breath through ash and smoke. But she is glad that she has made it to the top because the view is splendid.
Destructively divine.
In vivid shades and hues that so starkly contrast the rain that falls. It should be as gloomy up here as it is down there. But it is not. It is sunny and the fat drops of rain don't splash here. She supposes that this kind of contradiction is the new norm in a world with no balance. And it that way it makes sense that lightning could strike up from the storm churning below.
She looks towards the distance. The sun is setting but the moon is too. Darkness would be total soon. She is ready for another teeth-chattering-ly cold night. The sunset is different, it casts a distinctly orange-red haze over the land.
And for the first time Azula thinks that, maybe it is not just her world that is in a state of disarray. But many of them. They seem to fold in on and leak into one another. She can see it on the horizon, fractures in the sky-little crevices with cities, countrysides, and galaxies tucked into them.
She wonders if it is their world causing the domino effect or if they are simply one of the dominos knocked over by another. She gets the sense that her world was one of multiple perpetrators all working in disharmony to tear life as they know it apart.
She doesn't know how she survived the night being so bitingly cold as it was. Perhaps it was the lava fragments stuck to her skin, or maybe it was the last of her inner fire. If it was, it is surly gone now, froze right out of her. No, she has no clue how she has survived the night. But when she returns to the bottom of the volcano there are people there.
More of them than before.
Some of them are unlike them with glowing yellow eyes and purple skin. Others look like they might have been carved out of stone; large boulders with glowing eyes and humanoid builds. Others had more human looking eyes but had skin comparable to leaves.
It is these races that should stand out to her the most. But they don't. Her eye is on the woman with the small horns and the blue skin.
The woman whose face looks so much like her own.
Their worlds have merged.
Their worlds have merged and it gives her a reason to live. She needs to know about this other world. She needs to know if they had any knowledge of what exactly has happened and how to fix it-a stretch; she imagines that they wouldn't be here if they were able to save their own world.
Even so, the implication that she and other survivors can escape into another parallel world is enough to keep her going.
.oOo.
The woman teaches Azula to read their ruins.
Days ago she had introduced herself as Acxa.
Today, Azula learns that it is a direct translation of her own name.
She wonders who is who. She thinks that Ezor is TyLee, she has the attitude. And Keith reminds her of Zuko. She doesn't say it. She doesn't even tell Acxa the translation for her name. Instead she gives out an alternate spelling, replacing the 'Z' with an 'S' and adding an extra 'A' to the end. She doesn't know what this translates to in Acxa's mother tongue, but it doesn't matter.
Acxa teaches her many things, she shows her what a raygun is and how to use it. She picks it up fast, aim is her strong suit. If she lets her mind wander, she can pretend that the blue flashes are beams of lightning.
Acxa also teaches her about their technology and their science.
Azula feels as though she can offer no knowledge of her own, this world is so far advanced. It was anyhow, before it fell.
Acxa sometimes cried in her sleep. Whimpering and calling for Veronica. Azula doesn't know who this person is, but she thinks that Veronica might be to Acxa what Zirin had been to her.
Tonight she wanders over to Acxa and rubs her hand up and down the woman's back until she stops crying and begins sleeping more peacefully.
In the morning she talks to Zuko and asks him what he thinks of Keith.
"He seems like a good man." Is all Zuko says. He talks as little as Azula herself. Come to think of it, people these days don't have much to say.
They are too haunted.
Too hollow inside.
Aang does the most talking. But most of it is to a man named Hunk. He is a heavier boy with skin of a deeper color than she has ever seen. She hasn't had a chance to talk to him for herself. She thinks that one day she will have to talk to all of these new people and try to match them up to people from her world.
For now she converses only with Acxa. She inquires about the woman's dreams but gets only mutter don't worry's or not response at all. This version of her has as many walls as Azula herself. She is quieter too.
Another night falls and they have only the dim lights these other-worlders brought with them to cut through the dark. Acxa is crying softly to herself again. So Azula approaches as per routine. If no one would comfort her, then she will comfort take it upon her to comfort herself. At least one version of her will receive affection.
She strokes tangled blue hair until curiosity compels her to graze her fingers over those horns. They aren't as smooth as they looked, they are more consistent to raw, unpolished obsidian. Her crying stops so Azula turns to crawl back to her own sleeping back. But the woman catches her by the wrist. "What are you doing?" She mumbles sleepily.
"Nothing."
She tries to pull her hand away, but Acxa's grip is stony. She brings Azula's hand back to her hair. She takes that as her cue to keep petting the woman's head. She wonders how long Acxa had been awake for. It doesn't matter, she decides. She is soothed, and that was the goal.
"Who is Veronica?" Azula asks again.
Acxa holds a finger to Azula's lips and directs her to continue running her fingers through her hair. She looks into those eyes. Those faintly luminescent eyes. She keeps up the motion until her own eyes begin to feel heavy.
When she wakes Acxa is holding her.
Closely and tightly.
And Azula knows that Acxa doesn't know.
.oOo.
Days turn into months and she has come to decided that Allura was a lot like Katara and that Lance reminded her of Sokka. Ezor has to be TyLee just as surely as Zethrid reminds her of a more destructive Toph. She has not found a Mai yet, perhaps that world's Mai has perished. Aang, she thinks might be Hunk, but she isn't as confident in this.
Not nearly as well as she knows that Acxa is definitely a gentler, kinder her. A likable version of her who receives more comfort and love than Azula had initially guessed. Zuko comes to sit next to her, he is one of the few who try to give her solace. No one else knows how to reach Azula, so they don't try.
No, this isn't true. Acxa tries to comfort her too.
She always seems to know when something is wrong.
And of course she does.
She knows in the same way that Azula knows when she is in distress.
Acxa sits on the other side and so Azula is in between she and Zuko. "You still getting along with Keith?"
"Very well." Zuko answers. "He's a brave man."
"He is compassionate." Acxa speaks. "He saved me…"
It makes sense. As much as Azula loathes to admit it, Zuko had saved her.
Zuko gets up, "I'm going to see how Aang is holding up."
It is dismal to admit that months in, they have hardly adapted to their situation.
Azula still has trouble accepting the scars that mar the better part of her body. This is the distress that Acxa has picked up on. She looks at her raw, burned palms. She supposes that she is lucky she can still use them to the fullest. Though she can no longer gauge hot and cold with them.
"You are unhappy." Acxa notes.
"Do they bother you?"
"No, I like the people of your world."
Azula allows herself a short laugh. "Not the people. My scars. Do they bother you?"
Acxa shakes her head. "Not at all. My people like scars. Scars mean that you are strong." She takes Azula's hand stroking it with a degree of affection. "I like them."
It occurs to Azula that one of the reasons Acxa hasn't picked up on their similar features is because of those scars that she was stroking so lovingly. She hasn't seen herself in ages, but she imagines that she looks very different now.
Acxa pulls her into a loose hug and pats her head.
It is strikingly reminiscent of how she has treated Acxa. She thinks that Acxa might be picking up on some of her displays of care. The woman has mentioned more than once that human displays of affection are foreign to her.
She doesn't realize that they are rather foreign to Azula too.
But the hair stroking and head pats do their job.
Acxa knows how to comfort her because she has shown Acxa the exact kind of care she craves for herself. And now she gets it.
The woman wraps her arms around Azula's middle and presses her lips to the top of her head. Azula doesn't know where she has learned this. She hadn't shown it to her. But she doesn't stop the soft kisses and she doesn't tell Acxa to stop resting her chin on her head.
It is strange to be so intimate with her, knowing that they are the same person.
It feels so strange, but she wants it so much.
She realizes, with a dull sense of horror, that she is falling in love with herself.
But then, with the world in the state it is, a romance with oneself seems like a much lesser concern.