MOP: In case you're wondering, my sister got on my account and reviewed this story. Hence the odd review…
I'm open to ideas! Chapter 3 was courtesy of Twilight Rose2. This one's mine. I think it's pretty good; how about you?
Rice Bowl
Sick of everything else in the palace, Zuko looked through the mail.
"…bills…jury duty…bills…a death threat?"
He reread the letter:
Dear Zuko,I hate you! Watch your back, you evil jerk! You will die die die!!!!!!!
Best wishes,
Somebody who doesn't like you
Zuko had faced death many times before, but had never received a threatening letter. He reacted in a reasonable manner: he crept around as if paranoid.
"Zuko?"
"YAHHH!"
Mai rolled her eyes.
"What are you doing?" Ty-Lee asked.
Zuko pointed an accusing finger. "What are you doing?"
"Looking for you."
"You're imposters! You want to kill me!"
Ty-Lee laughed.
"Mai! What do you like to do for fun?"
Mai blinked. "Excuse me?"
"See? You don't know the answer! Go away!" He turned and began to run. Ty-Lee disabled him.
"You can't kill me!"
Mai smirked, or came close to it. "It's a good thing we don't want to. We have better things in mind."
"What are you talking about?"
Ty-Lee beamed. "Mai was telling me about how bored she was, so I came up with an idea!"
Mai grabbed his arms and Ty-Lee got his feet.
"What are you doing? Stop this right now!"
They carried him into the nearest room and positioned him in a chair, ignoring his demands for answers.
Ty-Lee began braiding his hair. Mai smeared dark paste on his eyes.
"Azula! There you are! You've got to help me!"
"Hello, ladies."
Azula opened a tube of lipstick.
"What are you doing? No! Stop touching me! NO LIPSTICK!"
"Stop talking; you're smearing it."
"Azula, someone wants to kill me!"
"What else is new?"
"Hey, I think I can feel my arm."
Ty-Lee jabbed it.
"Don't do that! And stop braiding my hair!"
"Is there a way for you to disable his throat?"
The acrobat shrugged.
"He looks horrible," Mai observed.
"Aw, I think he looks pretty."
"I DON'T WANT TO LOOK PRETTY! I WANT TO LIVE!"
Azula held a mirror in front of him. He closed his eyes.
"Afraid to look?"
He looked: powdered face, ten braids, one blotchy eye, smeared red mouth. His scar was still visible through a thick coat of blemish concealer.
"Blegh."
"Oh! Oh!" Ty-Lee bounced up and down. "Can we put him in a dress?"