Maiko 100: Prompt #25: Skin
Contrast
Pale, unblemished skin was the traditional mark of a noblewoman. That 'fact' was one of many that Mai's mother pummeled her with from the time she was a small girl. If the sun was shining brightly, and Mai wanted to play outside, she was told to keep to the shade of the tree in their back yard. If they visited the beach on Ember Island, the woman hovered over Mai with a wide red umbrella, scolding the child every time she left its protective cover.
The truth was that Mai's skin didn't burn and didn't darken in the sun. She hadn't always followed her mother's instructions faithfully and had often enjoyed sitting in the warmth of a spring afternoon, the sun caressing her upturned face. She was lucky. Her skin was pale and smooth and perfect, no matter what she did.
And Zuko loved her skin. He especially loved the feel of it after Mai's bath. It was silkier than usual and almost shone in the evening light of their room. The smell of expensive bath oils clung to it and sometimes little drops of water that she missed when toweling off, beaded on it, looking like early morning dew clinging precariously to the grass.
"It's funny, isn't it, that someone like you, who despises so much about nobility, is the archetypal noblewoman," Zuko observed one night as he lay in bed beside his wife.
"Did you just use the word 'archetypal'?" she asked.
Her eyebrows were quirked up in that way she had and her mouth was twisted into a smirk.
"Yeah, I read," Zuko replied, looking affronted. "You're not the only one with a good vocabulary."
"Okay, okay," she placated the Fire Lord. "I suppose it is sort of funny. What made you think that?"
"You're just so perfect looking, Mai. Your skin is, your whole body, it's…beautiful. You're what every other noblewoman wants to be."
Mai actually blushed, just a little, and the ethereal white of her skin turned a pretty pink.
"See, even when you blush, you look amazing. Some women get all blotchy looking, but not you."
"Enough about my skin," Mai groaned. "I'm glad that you like it but can we talk about something else? What about yours?"
Zuko's expression grew momentarily dark as he recalled things best forgotten.
"Mine's not worth talking about," he grumbled.
His hand reached upward to his scar, an automatic gesture that he'd been performing for years. Mai's hand stroked the mark on his chest and then found the many little scars that were sprinkled on his limbs and torso. All were received honorably in battle or practice and all represented something important in Zuko's life.
"I like all the marks on your skin," Mai insisted. "They give you character. They show that you've lived."
"I suppose," he agreed reluctantly.
"Sometimes perfect is boring," she continued.
"Not in your case," Zuko smiled and began to kiss every inch of that perfect skin.