C A T H A R S I S
a world can't rebuild itself after all.
{maiko}
a/n: thanks for the reviews. er. if you don't understand it yet, that's okay. i don't either most of the time.
drabble title: tethered
word count: 582
pairing: MaiZuko
prompt: "drifting away like a balloon..."
disclaimer: that's hilarious, how you think i might own it.
tethered
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In Zuko's world, robes were scratchy and girls were mysterious.
Servants popped in at all the wrong times: when he went to sleep, when he tried to focus on his work, when he wanted to be alone with his wife. They bowed and muttered quick apologies. Zuko felt a little sympathetic; they weren't telepathic, after all, how were they supposed to follow orders and know what he was up to simultaneously? They didn't buy their way into lower class life, begging to serve him in front of the One, Agni. Still, everything seemed to collapse on him. He could barely breathe.
They would catch him at the wrong times, when he was easing slowly away from crushing reality, and pull him right back like a lifeline. One time, that was all he desired, one time to simply float away.
He told this to Mai. Of course, she thought it was stupid.
"You don't always have to look for meaning," she snapped. She had woken up on the wrong side of the bed mere moments before, and now she stood across the room, a sour expression coating her complexion like thick paste. She wore a thin nightgown, one Zuko had picked out for her. The material rippled in the breeze from the open window next to her. Zuko stared.
Mai added, "Life is tedious. Get used to it."
Zuko continued to gawk, so easily distracted. Mai had become accustomed to this, ever since the hormones kicked in. Didn't make it any less annoying, though. Every time, she considered pinning him to the wall with a toss of her knives, and every time she came this close to actually doing just that.
"What's the point of that?" Zuko asked, after a time. He blinked, furrowing his brow.
Mai groaned. "Do I look like a spirit to you? I don't have all the answers."
Zuko didn't reply, ambling over to Mai's vanity and adjusting his crown carefully to the tune of his reflection in the mirror. He lit a candle with a flick of his pointer finger.
"You never wear your crown," Zuko pointed out, turning back to his wife.
She shrugged. "Topknots give me headaches. I let my hair down."
"That's refreshing."
"Not really."
He smiled at her. Mai glared, arms folded across her chest in a sort of makeshift barrier against the world. She leaned on her left hip. She cocked an eyebrow. Zuko laughed.
"What?" she moaned.
"I love mornings."
"I hate everything."
"Me as well?"
"Most of the time."
Zuko grabbed her crown from off the counter of the vanity and extinguished the candle. Its last light, traveling at ungodly speeds, faded from the metallic snare and wasted away into nonexistence. Mai's attention was slipping, semi-somna.
"You're beautiful, Fire Lady. And you don't need to prove it to anyone."
She didn't retort, allowing him to comment and be merry. He tucked the crown into her hand, and the jagged points dug into her palm without drawing blood. Her palm protested, believing only knives were worth the metal to create.
And she didn't feel beautiful, either. More like not ugly.
Zuko draped his arms around her tightly-and across the room, through the doorway, a nervous servant peeked his head through the doorway. He sputtered. He gathered his bearings and flew away again.
Zuko didn't notice though, and Mai decided that if it wasn't one thing, then it was definitely another. Regardless, he stayed safely on the ground.
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