I'm doing some writing exercises in which I randomly generate numbers from lists of fandoms and characters! This is going to be my AtLA set, and I'll have others, too. I'll update each fandom when I can. After picking a fandom and character, I go into my itunes shuffle and get inspiration from songs!
ATLA, Zuko, Smile Like You Mean It by The Killers
Zuko doesn't have a reason to smile. The little, halfhearted grins his uncle rarely works out of him hardly count in his opinion.
Not that the banished prince gives much thought to how often he does or does not smile. The only thing he keeps track of besides the days that pass without glimpse of the Avatar are the days without glimpse of Azula.
He supposes that's enough of a reason to smile.
His left lip rises in sneer at the thought of his sister. He hopes Azula is having as much trouble finding him as he is finding Aang and his friends. Of course, there's the chance she's found them first…
He shakes his head, not allowing himself the thought. He would surely know for certain if Azula had somehow beat him to his quarry. She would not win his honor.
Zuko drummed his fingers on the side of the ship as it slipped angrily through the water. He kept his eyes skyward, longing to see the wretched air bison. Impatient and impulsive is the prince.
His other hand skims lightly over the red flesh of his scar. He doesn't realize that he does this. It's a bit morbid, the fascination his fingers find in touching the shiny, dead skin.
Realization springs on him, and the jaded boy digs a vicious nail into his face. He doesn't even wince. He hasn't felt much on the left side for months now…
He turns from the unchanging waves and scans a practiced eye over his troops. He still isn't quite sure how he ended up with these men. They followed him like loyal dogs at first, but now he was aware of an ever growing tension amongst them. His fist clenches. They'll be singing praises when they finally catch up to the Avatar. Bitterness roils in his gut. These men are in it for a piece of his honor. Nothing more, nothing less.
Zuko snorts and stalks across the deck, barking orders here and there. A few men scurry away, afraid of his anger. Most narrow their eyes and glide away, barely tolerating this boy who thinks himself worthy of fire.
Zuko ignores all of them. There will be time enough to weed out the conspirators and cowards. He turns toward the prow, frown deepening as men veer around him, eyes down.
The waves heave suddenly, and Zuko spreads his feet to stabilize himself as the ship reacts. He flings a hand out, to find it clutching onto a shoulder.
He turns his good side and sees his uncle calmly contemplating the sea ahead as he sips jasmine tea. The steam wafts off the little pearl cup and Zuko lets himself breathe it in.
Iroh doesn't look at his nephew, but he remains close, letting the boy lean on him. Zuko steps a bit closer and follows the old general's gaze to the horizon. The sea settles and Iroh continues sipping.
Zuko's face relaxes. He smiles.
