This fic is a remake of my older fic, Iron Lotus. I published that one about 5 years ago. I was going to simply update it but I kind of didn't like what I had started. This fic will be the same exact principal and theme but with a more solid direction and (imo) better writing.
I'd also like to note that this is a somewhat AU setting in that it takes place at the time of LoK but with the Avatar characters (Azula, Zuko, etc.) still in their teen years.
Kuvira nears a sleeping Gazhan, scowling to herself as she nearly trips over an empty beer bottle. The man is a mess. A hungover mess, it's not the kind of image she wants for Wrought Iron Machine. She doesn't want to be even in the same realm as Fire Of Agni with their trashy and shallow lyrics. All that those kids do is get drunk or high and make a mess of whatever venue is cursed with hosting their show. And that isn't even factoring in the controversy they had most recently stirred and continue to stir. She nudges Gazhan awake. "Get yourself together, we have another show tonight." It takes some furious willpower to not ask him what the hell he was thinking, why the hell he thought it would be a good idea to drink so heavily the night before a show.
She knows the answer anyways. They had just finished their first show of the Fire Nation stretch of their world tour. She admits that it is reason enough to celebrate. But some restraint on his behalf would have been nice.
"Come on, Gazhan." She hisses, giving him another nudge.
"Eh, leave 'im." Ming mutters sleepily. "Just let 'im be."
Kuvira could swear that Ming is at least slightly hungover, herself. The two usually drink together, she won't be surprised to find that last night had been any different. "I'll let him be when I know he won't make us late for our own show. We've been in this industry for nearly two decades now, and we haven't cancelled or been late yet."
Ming rolls her eyes. "When are you gonna pull that stick out of your asshole? This is rock 'n roll, not some high-class business conference."
Kuvira pinches her nose. She doesn't have time to butt heads with Ming again. "Just make sure he gets up." She still has to fix herself a cup of tea. Raava knows that her throat would soon depend on those. She sits herself down, staring at the memorabilia hung on the wall; golden record won during the height of their fame, a silver one from when they had first began, a cluster of medals and ribbons, and an even bigger slew of magazine pages and covers they had been featured on.
Those are becoming fewer and fewer and she is beginning to wonder if their time in the spotlight is over. Maybe it has been for a while. People are moving onto the next big thing. Unfortunately, the next big thing seems to be Fire Of Agni. Kuvira doesn't understand, it is just noise. Senseless noise and so much screaming. Screaming to the point where one could barely discern any of the lyrics-perhaps that is a mercy.
Kuvira finishes her tea and lights up a cigarette.
"What's the point in having tea if you're just gonna do that?" Baatar takes a seat across the table. There is an undertone of chiding about his words.
She gives her fiance a pointed sigh.
Hearing it he state, "you said that you were done with that."
"Not now Baatar…" She brings the cigarette to her lips.
"Then when?" He asks. "After your lungs are black and…"
She holds up a hand.
"How are you going to sing if you burn your lungs up?"
It takes a deal of self-control to keep from slamming her hand on the table. She is tired of the well-meaning lectures. "Does it really matter?" She asked. "How much longer do you think Wrought Iron Machine is going to last? Do you remember when we played in Shu Jing, ten years ago? We sold out, the venue was overflowing. Now we just barely get it half-full."
"We sold out in Republic City, Zaofu, Omashu, and..."
"Of course we sold out in Zaofu, that's our home city! We sell out in the Earth Kingdom all the time, it's our home land."
"What about Repub-"
"Do you know who else sells out in the Earth Kingdom?"
Baatar frowns and, with a roll of his eyes, says it as she does, "Fire Of Agni."
"And they just debuted, what? A month ago? Yet we can't even sell out one Fire Nation show anymore. We don't even sell half of our tickets in the Tribes."
"Does anyone sell out in the Tribes?" Baatar asks.
"We used to…" She trails off. Her anger subsiding with it.
Baatar takes her hand and plucks the cigarette from between her fingers and puts it out on the table. He squeezes her hand. She stares at the cigarette, still convinced that it truly didn't matter. She is under the impression that she can't sing like she used to no matter what she does. Many years of harsher vocal styles, a few instances of laryngitis, and a phonomicrosurgery later her vocal cords aren't what they used to be. And she is only in her early forties.
She can't help but wonder if there was anything she could have done to prevent her case of polyps.
Perhaps she should have listened when her doctors had cautioned her to take more breaks and write a few more ballads.
Oh Raava, she could only imagine the abuse the Fire Of Agni girl's throat and vocal cords were taking. At least Kuvira has some smooth vocals in her songs. From the sound of it, the girl does all of the screaming and her brother takes the clean vocals.
"What are you thinking about?" Baatar asks.
She doesn't have time to answer when she hears a, "get your lazy, hungover ass out of bed, raavadammit!"
It is much too loud to be Ming. She hears a grumble and a snort and the shifting of blankets against a mattress.
"Get the fuck up!" There comes the sound of something being thrown and then footsteps coming towards she and Baatar. P'Li yanks a chair out.
"Morning P'Li." Baatar greets.
"He's so fucking lazy. I swear." She turns to Kuvira. "Got a light?" Every time a new stressor arose, so would the woman's lighter. Not that Kuvira blamed her anymore.
"Baatar just took my last."
"Of course." P'Li grumbles. "Ya know, this is why we're falling behind. Gazhan can't even roll his lazy ass outta bed."
Kuvira rolls her eyes. Perhaps that is one of many reasons. "When are the two of you going to end this feud of yours? We can't afford in-band fights when we have Fire Of Agni to rival."
"It'll end when Ghazan stops picking up groupie chicks and starts picking up his bass." She pauses. "Fuck, you would think he'd notice how Ming looks at 'im."
A fair point. "As long as he's ready by tonight, I suppose that it doesn't matter." And it doesn't. It matters as little as she resuming her smoking habit. They are falling behind so she might as well do what she will. Her voice has already taken some damage, what is one more cigarette? She stares out the window as Yon Rha's village comes into view. Is she even having fun anymore? Once upon a time, back when she was in her early twenties, back when they had only a few months under their belts, she approached every show with a sense of eagerness and giddy anticipation. Now she can't even muster a shred of enthusiasm. Does she even like this anymore? Does she even want to do it? Is Fire Of Agni really destroying the metal scene for her that much?
When had things become less about the music and more about the fame?