I finally decided to try some characterization in the Avatar section; let's see if this goes well. A tribute to my absolute favorite character in all of the Avatar series: Mai. Keep following your heart, girl. I apologize to any writers who may have written the same thing. I also apologize if this is not quite the correct way that Mai achieved her stilettos…but it's still worth a shot – I haven't the time to go back and study every single sentence said by, said about, or implied about Mai. Review if you wish.
My Friends
They were pretty – but that was it. There was nothing more to them. They glistened a little. They had a pretty color…maybe. But that was it.
Mai stared at her gifts from her parents in the same face she had made since she could ever remember making faces – the bored, expressionless look that suggested no happiness, no sadness, no confusion, nothing. Not even a hint. Sometimes it felt like her face was glued that way, that it would stay that way forever. Then she would look at Zuko and her face would defrost and her cheeks would flush. Those were the times that she wished her hair was really long, like Ty Lee's, so that she could hide behind it in ashamedness and childishness.
She blinked a couple times, not even attempting to somehow contort the corners of her lips into an upright position.
"Do you like them, Mai?" asked her maid.
"They're okay, I guess." Her tone of voice was just as blank as her face. That's the way she preferred it – it seemed that was all she had ever known.
It was actually the maid she disliked. She smiled too much, with her bubbly personality, always so quick to ask Mai questions that required more than a shrug or a simple yes or no. Her hair was done in a rather perky fashion, with some sort of sweet-smelling flower embedded within, always contrasting the black waves that brushed just below her shoulders. Mai wondered who gave her the flowers; she wanted to kick them in the shin so that they would stop making her so happy. Her dark brown eyes with flecks of topaz strewn throughout shone with such delight that it sometimes irritated Mai: what in the world was there to be happy about? Her attire was mere servants' wear – the red and golds of the Fire Nation patterned into straight lines running the hems of the clothes, and the occasional fire symbol gracing the soft cotton somewhere. Sometimes perhaps even a small golden clip of the fire insignia would find its way amongst the flower. But those were the least of Mai's concerns – it was the smile that annoyed her the most. The maid's white teeth seemed to sparkle, even when there was no sunlight or any light at all in the room. It was like the perfect smile: her mouth was stretched none too wide and small dimples appeared in her cheeks, but they weren't too bothersome…most of the time. The wrinkles around her nose were apparent even when she was not smiling – signs of those teeth being flashed just a tad too much, in Mai's book – and her almond-shaped eyes barely creased in the corners. And what, with the frequency she smiled, it's a wonder Mai hadn't already gone crazy. Every quirk, gesture, speech, statement, even the slightest movement that could be made out as 'funny' or in need of cheer (Mai tried to see the funny and cheery things, but they just never really presented themselves to her), her maid would crack open that smile.
And she smiled now.
"Thirteen already – my, Mai, you're getting to be quite the young lady," she said, her voice as singsong as the aggravatingly twittering birds outside the window. Mai wished that she could firebend like Azula to make the birds go away.
Mai wanted to roll her eyes, but knew it would be disrespectful to the maid, so kept her face frozen and rigid the way it already was, and probably always would be: blank. Deciding to do something, she shrugged, just the slightest upward movement of her shoulders – barely discernable was the motion and, if it wasn't for the trained eye, it would have gone unnoticed. But the maid knew better than that. She had to take every effort she could extract from the near lifeless Mai.
"It's too bad your father couldn't be here to see you on your birthday," continued the maid. She began to tidy up the small decorations that were scattered around the room as a half-hearted attempt to make this occasion a happy one.
At this, Mai frowned. Her parents were never here to wish her a happy birthday or even a happy anything. They didn't say anything on her first day of school, they didn't say anything when she fell out of a tree and nearly broke her leg – they only listened, and sometimes only pretended to care, in her eyes. Otherwise they didn't care at all. The only time it really mattered was when she almost tore something, broke something, said something rash…then they would scold her and smack her hand, causing her to bite back tears of frustration and childishness – sometimes they came anyway, but her parents made no attempt to notice them. Then Mai would be thrust away into the gentle hands of her maid, and that would be the end of the matter.
"It's not like he'd want to come anyway," Mai growled, her fists clenching.
"Now, now, Mai, don't say such things!" chastised the maid. "I'm sure your father would've loved to be here – why else would he have given you such a nice gift, if not to make up for his lack of being present?" Zea (for that was her name) knew that she was lying through her teeth: the master didn't care all that much about his only daughter. But she had to say at least something to Mai about how wonderful a person her father was, even if she had to stretch the truth just the slightest bit. To Zea, Mai was just a husk of a child – childish things like dolls and toys hardly interested her anymore, and she was as pale as a ghost, for she never played outside too much. Zea would hardly be surprised if she woke one morning to find little Mai's skin as transparent as her own parents' love for her. That was probably the reason why she was hired as Mai's maid – just to bring a little cheer and sunshine to the girl's life.
The only other things seemingly keeping Mai alive were Ty Lee and Azula. Well…maybe not Azula, but Ty Lee for certain. The jumpy little girl was always cart-wheeling around the whole house, flipping off walls and furniture (much to the housekeeper's dismay). She smiled just as often as Zea herself.
Perhaps Mai was getting all of her down-heartedness from Azula: that twisted Princess always had a way of bringing such downcast moods onto people. Power and pride emanated in endless tsunami waves from her, crashing, overwhelming, and nearly drowning the people near her. Zea shuddered at the thought of that little nightmare.
Mai's frown had now grown deeper into her face – of course she'd detected the outright lie from her maid; she didn't even have to be Azula to see and root out such a sin.
The sun shining through the large window suddenly caught against the knives lying on the table, wrapped in blood-red cloth, and white reflections spilled across the room, causing Mai to squint her eyes. She brought a hand to her face, twisting her mouth as the brightness began to hurt her eyes.
Zea saw Mai's discomfort, and reluctantly closed the curtain.
The sun wouldn't hurt the child so if she was outdoors more, she thought with a sigh.
"Please, Mai," begged Zea, "he really does love you, do understand."
Mai was silent for a moment, and Zea realized that she was, out of the blue, on the verge of tears. "I understand," replied Mai with complete control, her voice ultimately unwavering. She had learned not to show her emotions, even in something as natural as her voice – now it had turned just as lifeless as her face, and rather robotic. Mai closed her eyes forcefully to keep back the tears that were working their way up and out; who was she? She was so automated!
Zea flinched at the comatose tone in Mai's voice, but she grudgingly let go of the curtain and picked up the rest of the pitiful decorations.
A few loud bangs disturbed their painful silence, and Zea shouted a rather annoyed, "I'm coming!", dropping the decorations on the couch in the corner and running through the hall and down the stairs to get the door.
For the first time that day, Mai was alone. Utterly alone. Usually, Zea or another servant was by her side, either cleaning the house or caring for her. But now, there was no one, as most of the servants had decided to take the day off while the master and his mistress were away, so only the housekeeper, a couple butlers and Zea were left.
Mai looked over her shoulder to make sure that Zea had gone; she didn't want the bothersome maid to see what she was doing. She picked up one of the knives at its leather-bound middle (she assumed this was the safest place to hold the weapon), scowling at it in a critical way – it was curved and sharp, much like her mother's fingernails, with silver lining the edge of the blade and red-mahogany tinting the inside. It was light, surprisingly so, and it balanced fluently as she held it – it was like a cat ready to pounce…and kill. It seemed to shimmer, even without light in the room as she looked at it, both front and back, endlessly flipping it over to try and find the slightest flaw in its metallic sheen. She touched the sharpest edge of the knife, slightly pressing down on the tip so she could test how sharp it really was without drawing blood. She succeeded to evade seeing the blood and withdrew her finger, looking at the small indent that the point had made. They weren't too sharp, she concluded, but could do serious damage if they were thrown right.
If they were thrown right. Mai looked around the room a couple times, making sure that Zea was still downstairs, occupied with the mysterious guest. A small smile graced her face, and she held the knife tighter, bracing her feet.
This is a bad idea, she thought, just before she whirled around to face the door, bringing back her arm, then flinging it forward and letting go of the knife. It flew ahead and embedded itself in the arch of the door with an intense ssssssshunk, but not before nicking the side of an expensive vase sitting on a small commode. Immediately realizing her mistake, Mai ran towards the doorway with a look of horror on her face as the pot tottered, then fell to the floor and splintered into what seemed to be a thousand pieces. A small shriek escaped Mai's lips, but she quickly silenced it as her hands flew to her mouth, her eyes wide as china saucers.
This was really a bad idea, she exclaimed to herself, looking around frantically for an option other than running and hiding under her bed, which is what Ty Lee might've done.
But what would Azula have done? Azula would have lied…it was the quickest option, so Mai's brain worked frenetically, trying to search for an easy way out of punishment. She could say that the vase merely tipped over on its own…that was it! Just a little coincidence was all she needed.
Mai ran back to her position at the table where her knives lay, pretending to look with scrutiny at the broken vase. She could hear Zea's light footsteps ascending up the staircase…suddenly her eyes flew to the arch of the door; the knife was still stuck into the wood! If she was going to lie she had to get rid of the evidence!
Mai ran to the door and tried to pull her knife out, wrapping her fingers around it tight and yanking, then crying out as the sharp edges sliced her palms, causing blood to overflow from the cuts. Using the hand that was the least damaged, in her mind, she grabbed the thin edge and wiggled it out, biting her lip as even the small movement jostled around the cut, and it threatened to make tears fall from her eyes. A small gasp escaped her lips as Zea stood in the doorway, her black hair slightly awry and in front of her eyes, the flower cocked at an angle.
"Mai, sweetheart, are you all right?" she gasped. Her eyes fell to the floor and to the broken vase, then to Mai and her unveiled expression of innocence and fear, with the knife clutched in her hands. A thin red liquid trickled from her fingers. "Oh, Mai," Zea whispered, looking around the arch of the door to see the deep, but thin penetration as she pieced together Mai's mishap. Her dark brown eyes grew wide, and she brought a hand to her forehead, half pushing her hair out of the way in the process. She snatched the knife rather delicately out of Mai's hand and set it on the commode, grabbing both of Mai's wrists and dragging her down the hall to the bathroom.
Mai had now begun to cry – both because of the pain in her hands and the shame of being caught at something she knew she shouldn't have done. The hot tears cascaded down her face and rolled into her open mouth as she sobbed – choked, strangled things were her sobs; she had felt as though she had never cried before and was now letting out all of the things that had made her upset since the beginning of her life in those few moments that Zea dragged her down the hall to the bathroom.
She cried for when she stepped on her pet turtle-duck, and had squished it – it had died the next day. She cried for when she had punched her previous maid in the face as an attempt to be like Azula. She cried for when she had asked Zuko if he would dance with her, and he had told her she was stupid and walked away. She cried for when she had discovered that she couldn't do anything special, like firebend or do backflips. She cried for the love she wished from her parents. She wanted them to love her like Princess Ursa loved Zuko and Azula, like the mother turtle-duck cared for its little ones. But she knew in her heart that that happening was as great as her spitting fire and becoming Fire Lord.
Zea burst through the bathroom door, immediately plunging Mai's bloody hands into hot bathwater, and Mai took one last sob as the steaming water cleansed her cuts. Her heart was pounding in her ears and her tears began to dry on her face as the repercussions of what had occurred began to take effect. She was now silent, staring at the bloody bathwater in the most child-like, innocent face Zea had seen out of her since she had started working as a maid for little Mai.
For the first time in a very, very long time, Mai actually felt and looked like a child – a lost puppy that didn't know what to do. She was trembling slightly, and Zea sensed the poor girl's shock, staring at her torn hands in the red water. It was all Zea could do not to show any fear, or to even be sick.
Finally, the bleeding began to subside, and Zea slowly removed Mai's hands from the water. Mai sniffled, staring at her hands in horror – the cuts ran from one side of her palm to the other, on each hand; a determined slash that would be sure to mark her for life.
Zea grabbed a dainty hand towel, its red-dyed cotton and wool barely caressing against her skin as she quickly wrapped it around one of Mai's hands, binding it tight so the pressure would subdue any further bleeding.
"Mai, what were you…" began Zea, searching through the closet for another towel, but then thought better of it with a pause, and continued with a different thought. "Does it hurt anymore?"
Mai didn't answer, and Zea returned with another towel, bandaging her other hand.
"Come on, Mai," cooed Zea, wrapping her arms around Mai and giving her a hug that lasted more than a few seconds. She petted the small girl's hair for just a moment, then released her, taking her by the shoulders and smiling a comforting smile. She stood and led Mai by her shoulders out the door. "Mai, I think you should stay in your room for a while – at least until I find some proper bandages."
Zea led Mai around the staircase to her room, and Mai's dull personality hastily returned; her face became bored and unexpressive, and she clenched her jaw to bite back the pain that was ruthlessly driving into her palms.
Zea opened the door to Mai's room – the colors of the Fire Nation washed themselves over her, and expensive trinkets and toys greeted her from every which direction, but they all stayed neatly tucked in their own little corners. Mai's bed was a rather large one, with four intricately carved posts stretching up into a red canopy that draped itself effortlessly over her bed, shielding it from the sun's harsh rays. The window across the room was slightly open, the fresh air blowing in from the slight northern breeze, and light bounced and danced across the floor as tree branches darted in and out of shadowing.
It's such a lovely room, thought Zea, a sorrowful expression appearing upon her face – it was merely another one of her parents' gifts. Everything was: from the room itself down to the smallest earring lying deserted on the dusty dresser. Zea feverishly wished that she had grown up in such a nice house – even having a four-posted bed was rare for a person such as herself.
Mai climbed onto her silken bed and sat at the edge, her feet dangling motionless and far too grown-up like for a child the new age of thirteen. She slouched, her shoulders hanging without poise, and she placed her hands palm-up on her lap to stare at the towels, which were already being stained a darker red than they were meant to be.
"Now, Mai," said Zea, trying to get Mai's eyes to meet hers, but to no avail, "I'm going to get some bandages, do you want anything else?"
Mai turned her head slightly away from her maid, and mumbled an almost inaudible, "No."
Zea's eyebrows furrowed upwards in worry, but she turned and walked out of the door, and Mai just barely heard her whisper, "I knew those knives were a bad idea."
Mai winced, but it looked more like a blink at Zea's statement (which she knew was not meant to be heard by her). Feeling very weary, Mai sank down into her pillows on her side, curling her hands up beside her.
She had first wanted knives a few years ago when she and her parents, at one of the rare times they spent together, went out to see a circus (it was actually a reason for her father to coerce with one of the higher nobles, who had a son much older than Mai, but her father had found it wise to bring Mai along just in case). The circus had been fun, with lots of flips, backflips, trapeze, wild animal-taming, and plenty of other things that Mai had wished that she could do. That was the trick, though: she wished she could do them, and had wanted it so badly that it had put a damper on her whole evening. She had sat silent and stoic, her face barely changing from one emotion to the next. Then, on the return home, her family's carriage – along with the higher noble of who they were being accompanied with – was stopped with a jolt. Her father and the driver had gotten off of the carriage to inspect what had happened, and Mai had hurriedly jumped off her seat and ran to the window, much to her mother's objection.
Outside, she had seen a man – she was pretty sure he was a man by his build, but it was night, and he had spoken so quietly that she couldn't have been for certain. Whatever he had said had made her father very angry, and he was shaking a finger at the man, but stopped abruptly when, quicker than a flash, a knife appeared in the man's hand, sparkling mischievously in the half-moon. All it had taken was one gesture of bringing his hand up to his face and the knife mysteriously appeared there. Then, seemingly not even moving in the half-light, the man brought his arm back across his face and the knife had fixed itself in the wood of the carriage, her father's hat neatly pinned along with it.
That had completely and utterly astounded Mai, that, so quickly, so efficiently, without hardly any movement at all, the thief had nearly had his prey, and the coins along with it. Such precision was needed! And right then and there, in that silent moment of pure captivation, Mai imagined herself in the man's position…only she wouldn't be a thief – she would be much, much greater than that.
"Mother," she had whispered once her father had scrambled back inside and the coach had taken off at an alarming rate. She didn't even bother to notice her mother's frown that shaped its way into her face. "I want knives like that."
Her mother had said nothing, but listened to her plea, for they had appeared on the table in the spare room on her birthday – today. But maybe it wasn't the pleas she had listened to; maybe it was the dull thunking of other knives Mai had thrown against the walls of her bedroom after that incident had transpired. Those knives weren't as nice, but it was still fun to pretend. Her walls had to be covered with tapestries of all sorts now to try and cover up the dents and holes in the walls that had occurred when the knife penetrated through the sturdiness of it.
And now here was her first experience with actual shuriken knives, and they had bested her – after all the silent practice she had went through, just so that she'd know what to do with them when she got them!
She thought of the knives once again; their sharp, gleaming edges, how they seemed to smile at her when they reflected the light into her eyes…
Perhaps they were a bad idea, just as bad an idea it had been to actually throw them. She shouldn't be handling knives, she was only thirteen! But that man, the man that had inspired her…he had had to start some time. And if she was going to be the best, she would have to start at an early age.
So it was settled then; no more would she be sitting in a corner doing absolutely nothing. No more would she be the only one without a talent, like firebending or flipping off walls. No more would she be alone when Ty Lee was stuck home and Azula was gone doing Princess things.
She wouldn't be alone. She'd have her friends.
Mai got up, a sudden stimulation stirring within her. She ran down the hall into the spare room where her knives lay to see them waiting as patiently as the vicious, conniving cats they were. She would master them, she told herself, through all their cunning and guile, and perhaps gain some along with them. She carefully stepped over the fragments of the broken vase and walked as if in a trance towards her knives. They shone with irrevocable beauty, glinting silver and red, but the curtain was still drawn across the window. Their curvature engrossed Mai as she came upon them, and she picked one up, ignoring the acute pain in her hands, feeling the cold, smooth metal beneath her fingers. She held it up to eye-level, absorbing the splendor and magnificence of one small piece of carefully crafted metal.
Maybe they were a little more than pretty.
/Note/: Mai receives her other weapons (such as the darts and the sai) later, as she requests them from her parents.