C A T H A R S I S

a world can't rebuild itself after all.

{maiko}

a/n: i really need to write something longer, don't i? or is it writer's natural instinct to automatically think their work is shit?

that said, i hope you enjoy my drabble-set. heh.

drabble title: like child's play

word count: 356

pairing: MaiZuko

prompt: "'simplicity,' she said, 'is hard to find in a world so complex. we need to break it down.'"

disclaimer: if only.

like child's play

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Mai knew of a place behind the walls that they could go when tempers flared and scars shone like diamonds. She'd traveled there once or twice when she was younger and healthier, or when Azula had childishly and temporarily banished her.

It smelled like a heaven of apples, but Mai imagined the fruit rotting and plopping to the ground and spilling its guts for the world to see and attracting unruly insects.

Zuko met her, and it was child's play—wasting away, dawdling, speaking of the better times before exile was thrust upon him, and before the world demanded he change it for the better. He was only one man. Mai dutifully agreed, swallowing a blunt remark the way a sword-swallower takes his dull knives. Manfully. With a grain of salt.

And now Zuko rested his head against her shoulder in the shade of the spreading apple tree. He sighed—he filled the courtyard with sighs and broken dreams. His ideals were routinely shattered by realists. They said an era of peace so soon would be unheard of. The world revolved in cycles, and now it dabbled in discord.

So it goes.

He said, "Mai. Remember when times were simple?"

"Your sister was still a psychopath," Mai replied, evenly. "And the world in ruins. In a way, it's simpler now."

"Simple for us, I mean," Zuko clarified.

"I suppose I understand what you mean. Still, I had Azula, and you had Azula. She was hardly pleasant. I wouldn't call things simple."

Zuko mused on this, hesitating a moment. "Our wedding night was simple."

Mai's smile was small, but noticeable. So was her flush. "Of course…"

Zuko raised his head. Mai noted—with a hint of dread—that he too began to smell like apples. The scent would haunt her nightmares, filled with the adjacent memories of blue fire, taunts, and crackling lightning. She felt nauseous all of a sudden. The world flattened. Color dimmed.

"War is absurd," Zuko said. He separated completely from Mai, instead leaning against the base of the spreading apple tree.

"No kidding," she retorted, her stomach feeling like rubber to be burnt.

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