Maude

The Greatest of Good Ones

For a moment there, she'd actually thought it was going to be perfect.

Maude hated being wrong, she was rarely, at that. When she made mistakes, they were small and fixable.

Not this one though she thought to herself, as she cushioned her bloody wrist.

It had started with music.

There was a light trill of classical melody emitting from the lit estate. Figures draped in expensive cloth and jewels waltzed and glided around the room, their silhouettes graceful and even their shadows glamourous.

Maude's cloak did little to comfort the chill of anticipation that ran up her spine as Art made her way from the bushes to the great doors. "Good luck," she whispered to Mel, Nox and Marv as they practically danced with the shaded figures moving across the lawn in silent finesse. They'd left Tru and Navy at the side of the building.

She turned her attention back to the youngest of the group. Art had dressed herself in a red kimono enlaced with red swirls and orange designs made out as flames. Colette had pulled her short brown hair back into an uncomfortable top not and secured it with a golden ribbon. All in all, Art looked uncharacteristically elegant for such a small job. Maude corrected herself mentally. For Art, this was no small job, for them all, this was no small job. For herself, if Art were to mess it up, this, was no small job.

Art walked up the steps to the doorman- more of a guard, really. He was burly and his brow had a permanent furrow to it. He held a board with a scroll clipped to it. Art produced an invitation that Mel had earlier explained was an almost exact replica of the original one hundred and forty that were sent out.

The guard and Art had began a small squabble, and Maude began to feel her insides mixing. Their voices rose. Maude didn't think twice before stepping out and making her way briskly up the steps. She placed a protective hand over Art's silk covered shoulder. "I was looking for you, Lou," and then she turned to the guard.

"I'm sorry, my cousin came outside around the back and must have fallen through the bushes. She does likes to explore. I apologize, now if we could just-" she stepped forward taking a leap of hope, pulling Art with her. Her hope was crushed in a moment.

"I'm afraid I cant let you through, miss." he grumbled- it almost felt as though he made the whole street shake with his words.

"Oh? And why's that may I ask?" she virtually accused.

"Lou, or as she told me, Dee," he stopped to glare at the smaller, "has supplied a false invitation, I cant let the likes of her into this party," he explained darkly.

"A-ah. Well, I'm sure that can be.. Sorted out." Maude pretended to look through her pockets and cloak as she scanned her mind hurriedly. She snuck a glance at Art, an expression of worry and uncertainty plastered to her face, her lips sealed in a straight line. She felt a sudden surge of responsibility for this kid, even if they'd only known each other for a couple days. Hell, she'd let Art braid her hair, they were basically best friends in the making. Maude let out a long breath and straightened up to look the guard square in the eye.

"Listen sir-" "AUUGH!" she heard a blood-curdling cry of shock and let out another sigh, though this time mostly of relief.

"I guess that's them," she winked at Art and the brunette made a grab for the elder's hand. They turned to run but did not bargain on the unexpected.

"You are responsible for this, are you not?!" the guard bellowed in wrath.

"What are you-" a sharp pain in her chest threw her back, it took her a moment to get up, though the sight of an injured Art hurried her over.

"Are you okay?!" she mumbled. "Mm-fine. S'okay. Lesgetout," her words slurred.

"No! I will bring you to the head of the house so you might give your explanation!" the guard exclaimed wickedly, moving towards the two.

"Not going to happen," Maude muttered, scooping up Art and lifting with effort. She ducked back into the bushes they'd been previously occupying. A quick glance to the estate and she had it confirmed that the others had succeeded, as water dripped down the steps. She allowed herself a second of satisfaction before it was hit out of her. Literally. She fell back onto the cobblestone road and her hands stopped any head damage. Maude let out a quiet moan of discomfort and propped herself up before falling once more. Her hands were ruined, blood trickled down her wrists.

She looked to the guard who neared her rapidly. At least he was leaving Art alone, she thought before narrowly dodging his swipe. She awkwardly rolled onto her feet and pulled the knife she'd been given in precaution from her belt. It felt awfully foreign in her hands and she made the decision that she had no fondness in the slightest to such heavy and bulky weaponry.

He threw himself at her once more and she jabbed aimlessly with the dagger, cutting deep into his lower arm. He let out a grunt of anger and pain and turned around again, attempting a recovery. There was even more viciousness in his eyes then before.

He lunged. She raised her arms weakly.

"Run!" he shouted. But it wasn't the bad one, it was the good one, the greatest of good ones telling her to get away.

Maude turned on her heel and sprinted from the scene as quickly as she could, unaware of her surroundings. After what felt like hours of dizzy distraction and confusion she slumped to the ground in defeat. An unfamiliar smell surrounded her and she opened her eyes again.

Oh.

Oh god.

She turned around in her seated position and pulled her knees into her arms. She felt as though it were still burning, and as though she was back in that whereabouts once again, being carried out of the burning house who's ashes and wrecked possessions she now found herself encircled by.

Florence

Look Twice

Florence Roland was surely in love with the concept of love, she knew it and cared deeply not to mention it.

Maude Smith considered trying love though never executed. Books, logic and history were enough love for her, she knew it.

Cara Haze ever only thought of love in a disdainful way. She knew it, who needs love when you don't have enough time or thought for it.

Artende Tine didn't think love had anything to do with her. She was young and she knew it, she loved her brother and that was the only love she could understand.

Maeve Deboeur was about as 'in love' as the average seventeen-year-old girl could be. She was beautiful and she very well knew it, love for herself was as far as it had ever gone.

Flo drew the last curl onto the scroll and sat back to examine her small sketch. It was clearly Maude, the similarities were uncanny, and she didn't look very happy. Flo crumpled it up and tossed it over her shoulders in defeat.

She stood up and walked over to the window. The room she'd been given would be hers for however long it would take to conclude this Harou Sheng business. That could be days, months, possibly years for all she knew, so she'd pointedly dumped out her belongings and splayed them across the floor, as to give it a more homey look. Flo had earlier decided that morning, when she'd first opened her bright blue eyes, that she wanted to remain inconspicuous for the duration of their stay in the Water Tribe, as to avoid drama. And so, she ignored the red clothes and materials dotted across the wooden planks beneath her feat and set out in a long robe in search of her close friend.

She tapped on the door lightly, met by expected silence. Flo twisted the door nob and it swung open soundlessly. She smirked to herself as she regarded Cara, really rather asleep, and laying in a chaos of blankets, breathing lightly.

She admired her friend's anti-ladylike charm for a moment more. "Cara," she exclaimed loudly.

The white haired girl swore herself awake. "We need to find some Water Tribe clothes and go to a library," she smiled sweetly, rolling her eyes.

"What time is it?" Cara inquired, wiping her eyes and standing up. "I don't know. Come on," she turned to walk out of the room, then bumped into someone.

"Oh good lord! I apologize miss," somebody cried. "Lana. It's okay, calm down," she smiled to the maid who continued to murmur apology after apology. Lana hesitantly looked up to her.

Lana might have been about twenty years old, short, brunette, adorable and low-confidence possessive. "I've brought these for you both, Miss," she looked down, her voice hushed.

Lana produced a pile of blue and white materials. "Oh! Thank you, Lana. It means a lot for you to have gone to such a length-" "-It's my job, miss," Lana cut her off with a sad smile. "R-right. I'll see you later, Lana," she took the clothes from the maid and turned back into the room. Flo let them drop out of her hands and collapsed to her knees, sorting through them for anything that appealed.

In the end the two found themselves comfortable in what suited them best. Cara still remained in her trusty combat boots, to which Flo acknowledged with a slight distaste.

It was then she noticed the patronizing look that the shorter shot her way. "What?" Flo asked, rather taken aback. "Oh.. It's nothing," Cara shrugged. "Just that your hair looks... a bit boring," she sniffed.

"Excuse me?" Flo froze, her face became dark and threatening as she rounded on the other.

"Yeesh, keep calm beauty queen. I'm just saying that it might look a little more interesting braided or something," she suggested.

"Like your hair isn't the devil's bird nest. If anybody needs a little more hair care then I think we both know it isn't me," Flo snorted. "I'm fully aware of my own hair's current state. I'm just saying that a certain green eyed, brown haired, red shoe clad young man might stand to look twice in the case that you were to change your standard styles. I understand that you make the effort often enough to mix it up a bit- or whatever- but you could try for something tricky and detailed," Cara lay back on the bed.

"Since when did you become such an appearance outlet?" Flo asked casually, walking back over to the door. "Uhm. What? N-no I'm not-" "Okay, alright, fine. You go ahead and braid away," Flo grinned, sitting on the mattress.

"Splendid," Cara regained confidence quickly and shot up again. She rubbed her hands together manically, almost as if she had something sinister planned.

Minutes later, after multiple 'ow's and 'what are you doing to my hair's were exclaimed, Cara examined her 'masterpiece' with precision. "I suppose it could do with some work. Though we may want to get going at this point. It's already-" she checked her watch.

"-An hour before lunch."

"Good lord, is it really?" Flo exclaimed. Here they were braiding hair when so much research awaited them. Maude would be disappointed, she though drearily to herself.

"C'mon. We should go to the library or whatever." They exited the room with haste. "You say 'whatever', a lot, you know," Flo mused.

"Bugger off," Cara said drily.

"Touchy, touchy," she hummed. Not much else was said between the two. They arrived, clad in cloaks, at the base of the building in front of a carriage, possibly the same one from their coming to the Water Tribe. Cara greeted the buffalo yak with friendlier appeal then she did the driver.

Cara

Flakes

When the two entered the great Record Hall the time of day was that when the sun shone it's brightest in all of it's glory, doing little to warm the great frozen city.

They were thoroughly if not over greeted by the staff who had been notified earlier that day of their arrival. They appeared Water Tribe, though a Fire Nation guard stood at every corner and doorway. After settling down with some bread and tea (snuck in for fear of confiscation, it was after all a Library, perhaps containing resources dating back thousands of years), Florence Roland, and Cara Haze, set immediately to work.

"Alright. This is how we're doing things," Flo trailed. "I'll look in on Harou Sheng in the persons records of the Water Tribe," they silently acknowledged the unlimited access they'd been given.

"And you look in on anything automaton or Polar Bear Dog." Cara nodded slowly in appreciation, her eyebrows raised.

She eventually gave a small smile and turned. "See you on the other side, mate," she giggled dramatically.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Flo wondered in all seriousness, earning silence on the other's behalf as she trailed away through the tall shelves, tea and bread in hand.

Minutes later, emerald eyes surveyed glazed wooden shelves dully. Cara wetted her lips and reached out her hand, delicately plucking 'A History and Guide to Water Tribe Mechanism' from the third row up. She'd earlier made her way to the clockwork aisle (a whole aisle- just for clockworks!) and now sat herself atop a table. Seats at this point seemed much too boring.

She pulled back strands of white hair and tied it into an odd lump at the back of her head. She wiped her eyes again. She opened the old, crusted parchment. The reading began.

'Mechanics have been the worlds way of transferring power and precious resources for years. In the Fire Nation, mechanics are a massive contribution to travel and security. The Earth Kingdom and Air Nomads however, managed their governments and societies without the help of clockwork. Though the Water Tribe remains traditional in plenty of it's studies and practices, it simply cannot fend in conditions so inhumane as the frigid airs and ices you find it's cities without help from mechanical technique. To read on the history of mechanics in the Water Tribe, continue. To view guidance on Water Tribe mechanics, turn to Part II.'

Cara continued on, letting out an extravagant sigh.

And then it was two hours later, she had a pile of notes, literal bread crumbs, and a heavy conscience. What exactly was it they planned to accomplish all in all? She understood 100% this was in honor of Maude's incredibly untimely awful death, though she couldn't help but wonder what they were honoring her with.

"I've found you! Hah! That's two gold pieces for me, Landon.." Nico appeared abruptly, sitting down next to her.

Cara let out an unattractive screech, surprised at the intrusion, "Are you trying to kill me?!"

"That wasn't my intention, no, though I feel myself regretting it all so suddenly. We were just making sure you weren't being tortured or anything, but then, nothing is much worse then Water Tribe temperature. It's freezing out there, I'll have you know-"

"What do you want?"

"Only to see you," he trailed sarcastically, flicking hair out of his eyes.

She buried her face in her hands for a moment. "Don't be a git."

"That's a little mean," Nico told her blithely.

Cara thought for a moment, was it really that much worse then all the other insults? She lifted her head. "If you felt hurt by something a bland as that then you'll have to know that I fear for your mental state in the future." He gave her an odd look that may have been to mysterious for both their goods. After a stretch, his mouth returned to it's natural arrogant smirk.

"Relax, Flakes.."

"Of course, why would the great Nico d'Elric care.. Wait. What did you just call me?"

His smirk widened to a full out grin. Waving it off, he got to his feet and chuckled: "See you around, Flakes, I'd better go and make myself known to the others," on his way out of the aisle. She caught a glimpse of triumph in his eye moments before he disappeared from sight.

Flakes.

Flakes?

Cara swore loudly and hopped off the table.

"Oi! What's this all about?" she demanded once caught up.

He smiled to himself, "I haven't the faintest what you're saying."

"Don't be snarky, what's with the sudden Flakes? I'm not flakey, I'm lazy but I get my shit done-"

"Wrong," he hummed.

"Is not! I know when I'm being-"

"No, no, no. You haven't gotten the meaning of the nickname, that's what was wrong," he corrected.

She scrunched up her brow. He'd thought up a nickname for her- with a hidden meaning?

"I think you've got an infatuation with me," she finally announced.

Nico stopped and everything became very, very quiet. The shadows from the looming shelves seemed to darken. Yes- she thought. I must be right! Nico started to shake. Was.. Was he crying? She pattered over to him without the slightest keenness and studied his face. Of course, she should have guessed it.

"Shut up!" she slapped his arm. He was laughing, yes he was crying, but only because he was laughing so hard that is was actually causing tears to flow from his eyes. His face was contorted, and he practically wheezed his way to the floor, clutching his stomach.

"Th-that's priceless!" he exclaimed. "An inf-infatuat-tuation. With you! Tch-" and it continued for a good three minutes.

"Well why else would you come up with a nickname containing so much unneeded depth!?" she cried, sinking to her knees with him so they were eye to eye. Gold met green for a second.

"Why on earth do you think?" he whispered. "To annoy you," he said it like it were the most obvious thing.

"You're deranged," she said stonily.

"And you, are mislead," he replied softly, eyebrows raised.

Eventually Cara grumbled, "Flakes, my ass." She stood. "Where are Flo and Landon at?"

"I have no idea, Flakes. Why don't we go find them together?" he grinned.

"How about no?" she sniffed glancing down upon him and swerving on her heal. Her white hair swooshed with her, like flurries of ice in a blizzard. Constantly billowing about, causing discomfort, making an impression, yet still so serene in their own odd way. Nico silently decided that the nickname may have said too much about her for either of their own goods. Eventually, the flurries would fall to the ground as crystallized water. Or better known,

snow

flakes.