The timeline's gonna get pretty screwy here, so try to keep up. The resonance cascade is connecting the worlds at different points in space and time. Eventually things will even out to a single narrative focused on the main characters, but for now I want to spend some time with the supporting cast.
When the first of the fireworks went off with a distant poom, Iroh jerked in his chair, having just been on the cusp of sleep. Yawning and stretching, he slowly pulled himself to his feet and strolled over to the window, where he peered up at the marvelous display of colors crackling in the sky. Red, white, black, yellow . . . (How did one make a black firework, exactly?)
He spotted Appa skirting below the explosions, and reflected on how familiar the bison's shape had become after all those long days and nights spent pursuing it around the world. But, while misguided, Iroh did not consider the time to have been wasted. His nephew's journey had been a difficult one, but he had finally found his place in the world, and the thought caused the old man's eyes to well up with pride as the light of the fireworks twinkled within them.
The front doors flew open, and Iroh collected himself as he turned toward them. An unfamiliar man stumbled into the shop, and after scanning the room twice over, threw himself into a seat, facing away from Iroh. The man had a white shirt and a tattered red cape, and strapped to his back was a positively enormous sword-thing. The weapon had a small, round window of sorts at the base of the blade displaying several interlocking metal gears.
Holding his sleeves together as usual, Iroh calmly approached the stranger, and as he neared he was assaulted by a strong smell of alcohol. Nonetheless he reached the table and smiled down at the man, who glanced at him somewhat vacantly. From the depths of his retirement, Iroh would have to call the man young, but his chin was adorned with stubble; his age was difficult to determine, but he was very fit and had a worldly air about him.
"Hello," Iroh said. "Business hours are over, but - I don't mind a little company."
The stranger squinted at him and replied, "You would if you knew me." Not unlike Iroh's, his voice had something of a rasp to it, but it was lower and colder.
Iroh just smiled more widely. "Can I get you anything? Today's special is ginseng."
The man produced a flask from his hip and unscrewed the lid. "I'm covered," he said, and took a long swig.
The next round of fireworks boomed outside, and the man started, choking a little on his drink. Iroh turned his head to admire the lights, but remained standing where he was.
The stranger stowed his flask and leaned over the table, and from his periphery the man's hunched posture momentarily reminded Iroh of some manner of scheming bird.
"Beautiful, aren't they?" said the Dragon of the West in reference to the fireworks.
The traveler snorted. "Just a lotta noise. What are they celebrating, anyway?"
"Perhaps you haven't heard," Iroh said, looking back at him. "The war is over."
"The war?" mumbled the stranger. "The war's just beginning."
Iroh stroked his beard pensively.
After a while, the man looked up at him as though seeing him for the first time. "Hey - I have a question," he said with a bit of a slur.
"Ask away," said Iroh, "and I may have an answer to go along with it."
The stranger took a while to digest this response before continuing. Turning his head one way and the other, he asked, "Where am I?"
"You are in the Jasmine Dragon," Iroh said proudly. "My tea shop."
"Right . . ." The man stared out the window. "And where's that at?"
"On the west side of Mineral Avenue. In the Upper Ring." When the traveler's expression did not change, Iroh continued, "Of the great city of Ba Sing Se."
"Never heard of it."
"Really?" said Iroh with interest. "I have seen much of the world, but never in my travels have I met anyone who has not heard the name of Ba Sing Se, the Impenetrable City." He smiled down at the man. "You learn something new every day."
"Impenetrable," the man scoffed. "That's just asking for trouble."
"The city is surrounded by a series of immense walls," Iroh explained. "Naturally, the Outer Wall is the most impressive. It stands a full six hundred feet tall."
"Hmm." The traveler was not completely swayed. "I guess that'll keep a few things out."
"Including me, on one occasion," said Iroh with a wide grin.
The stranger furrowed his brow. He was clearly intoxicated beyond normal cognitive function, but while their choice in beverages differed, Iroh saw something of himself in the man: wisdom concealed by a front of careless indulgence. In fact -
The door opened again, but slowly this time. Halfway through slipping in, another unknown man froze at the sight of the shop's two occupants. This one was more obviously muscular and clad in more typical Earth Kingdom garb, but he was only just arriving at adulthood. After a moment he cursed under his breath, pulled himself fully into the room, and drew a pair of dual swords.
"Alright, geezers," he said gruffly, "hands where I can see 'em!" He brandished one of the swords awkwardly.
"Watch who you're calling a geezer," said the seated traveler without a hint of fear.
"Shut it, Gramps!" the offender replied, pointing with his other blade. "I'm just here for the money. You old-timers stay right there and I won't have to cut your lifespans short by a few minutes!"
Iroh made to move toward the intruder, but the other stranger pushed past him. First taking another drink from his flask, he drew his own sword, which proceeded to elongate mechanically until its height nearly matched that of its wielder.
The would-be robber's face paled. "Uh . . . Your fancy sword don't scare me!"
The caped man flicked his wrist, and the gears in his weapon began churning. The sword separated at several points, lengthening further to form the curved blade of a gigantic scythe. The handle folded and expanded, completing the transformation. The robber's knees trembled as the scythe's owner gripped it with his other hand.
"How 'bout now?" he asked smugly.
Smiling, Iroh positioned himself between the two men. "Please," he said calmly, holding up a hand at each, "there is no need for such drama." Equally calmly, he approached the burglar.
The man threw a clumsy sword strike at Iroh, who sidestepped it and raised his hand, twirling the sword out of the robber's grasp with such grace that it appeared to have been rehearsed. When the second blade attempted to strike, it met its counterpart, and after the two fumbled for a few seconds it clattered to the floor. The disarmed man hesitated for a moment before throwing a wide punch, and in ducking under this Iroh managed to pick up the fallen sword.
Standing up straight, the Dragon of the West examined the blades carefully. "You should meet my nephew," he said conversationally. "He could teach you how to use these weapons more effectively."
The robber grunted in anger and lunged at Iroh again. After another sidestep, Iroh smacked the man in the back with the bottom of one of his sword handles, and he fell over and hit the floor with a loud thud.
The traveler with the scythe spectated in bemusement as Iroh placed the dual swords on a table and bent to offer the intruder a hand. Reluctantly, the thug allowed himself to be helped back to his feet, and then hung his head in embarrassment.
"Would you like a cup of tea?" Iroh asked the young man. "It's on the house."
There was an awkward pause that was only ended by the sound of the scythe shifting back into its compact form. Its owner stowed it and, brushing past the other two men, exited the tea shop without a word.
Iroh and the once-robber turned to watch him go, but the Earth Kingdom man let out a small gasp of pain and rubbed his neck in response.
"I apologize if I injured you," said Iroh. "I know an excellent masseur. Would you like me to make you an appointment?"
Employing her typical bouncing, dance-like walk cycle, Nora rounded the corner, Ren bringing up the rear with his arms full of tournament snacks, which were of course mostly for her. Immediately, however, Nora spotted Pyrrha sitting against the wall some ways down and Jaune standing before her - they were clearly having a moment. Ugh, finally - and she had a front-row seat too - no wait, she and Ren should get out of the way - scoot back around the wall and listen? Then again, did she really want to hear that? Either way, time to bolt -
"Uh - come on, Ren, let's go back to the fairgrounds! I'll win you another stuffed animal!"
Ren was familiar enough with Nora to know that she was being purposeful rather than impulsive, but this only left him confused as she dragged him along by the arm, retracing their steps. Somehow he managed not to spill the popcorn.
Nora may not have had Ruby's Semblance, but when properly motivated her top speed was impressive. Her focus was less so, as was demonstrated by their collision with two unfamiliar girls, and the speed rolled the four of them along some distance afterward. Defying all odds and conventional wisdom, Ren's snacks were all still intact when he slid to a stop on his behind.
"Oh sorry, sorry!" Nora spouted, waving her arms from her prone position. "We were trying to avoid an awkward moment!"
"I don't think it worked," said one of the strangers in a voice that was somehow simultaneously dull and sarcastic.
As Nora pushed herself to her knees, she scanned the disparaging speaker and her companion. The former wore something that Nora would describe as a red kimono, while the latter's clothes were closer to pink and left her midriff exposed but ultimately appeared to be of the same - clearly foreign - origins. The pink-clad girl performed a backwards roll that seemed to naturally return her to her feet before lowering her hand to help up her friend. Nora, as well, popped back up and yanked Ren along with her.
"Are you all right?" Ren asked the strangers.
"Oh, we're fine!" assured the second girl, whose tone was infinitely more cheery than her comrade's. As she looked toward Ren, her eyes suddenly widened and she let out a sort of slow gasp, staring at the cotton candy held in his hand next to the popcorn bucket.
"What . . . is . . . that?" she asked.
"Um . . ." said Ren in perplexity. "Cotton candy?"
"Cotton . . . candy?" The girl's eyes remained locked on the dental nightmare while those of her colleague rolled in reaction.
Nora raised an eyebrow and half-closed the opposite eye. "What, don't tell me you've never heard of cotton candy before?"
The entranced girl, probably involuntarily, drifted closer to the fairground food item. "Never in my life," she said dreamily, "did I imagine anything so incredible could possibly exist . . . And it's pink!"
"I hate pink," said the other girl flatly.
Ren and Nora shared a look.
"Where did you get something like this?" the girl in pink asked, her nose inching ever closer to the blob of fluff.
"Doy," said Nora, "the fairgrounds! We can show you where, I guess?"
"Oh, yes, that would be wonderful!"
"Speaking of where -" began the other girl, but she was cut off by Nora grabbing the two of them by the wrists and pulling them along. Ren grinned slightly, shaking his head, and started slowly after them, sipping from the drink in his left hand.
Though the sun was setting, the fairgrounds were still crowded - matches often went on after dark. Amity Colosseum floated miles overhead as fairgoers perused the many booths peddling food, wares, and entertainment.
The three girls came to a skidding halt in the middle of it all, and Nora's head darted, birdlike, every which way as the strangers recovered their balance.
"Okay, I think the cotton candy waaaaas . . ."
Ren strolled up behind them. "Over there, Nora," he said, pointing. "Although, personally, I would suggest a healthy herbal -"
His mind's eye traced the outlines of where the girls had just stood, now empty but for thin air. Sighing slightly, he moved to catch up with them again, ever the tortoise to Nora's hare.
"Step right up, folks!"
A rotund man in a gaudy purple-and-orange suit gesticulated as he spoke to no one in particular. He stood near a tall machine with a round bell on top and a large button jutting out horizontally at the bottom.
"Step right up! Ring the bell and -" As the man's roving gaze fell on Nora, he gagged on his words and leaped backwards, landing in front of the machine with his arms held out protectively. "No," he yelped, "please! This is my last machine!"
Nora shot him a predatory expression, but kept going.
They passed several more professional attention-grabbers as they continued, each urging them to try a different game or product. The last of these on the way to the cotton candy cart stood inside a booth whose back wall was covered with balloons, different colors of which formed concentric circles.
"Step right up!" the woman cried, leaning dangerously over the counter toward them. "Pop the balloons and win a prize!" She gestured to the many plush toys hanging along a rope overhead.
Nora heard the pink-clad girl's voice behind her. "Mai, you should try that one!"
"Do I have to?" came the reply.
As Nora pirouetted to face them, the game woman reached beneath the counter and said, "Go on ahead! Six darts for three tickets!"
"I don't have any tickets," Mai said, with a hint of relief pushing through her deadpan.
Before the attendant could respond, Nora dug her hand into Ren's pocket, whipped out a trio of tickets, and slapped them on the counter.
The attendant and Mai's friend both smiled widely, and Mai breathed a resigned sigh and picked up one of the darts, testing its weight in her hand.
"Try to get as close to the center as you can," the attendant explained, gesturing at the balloons. "The green ones are worth -"
The dart went whizzing past her hand, popping the balloon in the centermost part of the display. She blinked several times before finding her voice again.
"Well! How lucky! Uh, now, if you can get two more red -"
The remaining five darts zipped through the air all at once and destroyed the other five red balloons that had encircled the popped bull's-eye. The attendant hung her head and pointed up at the stuffed animals.
"Take whatever you want."
Mai's companion let out a delighted little laugh and clapped her hands. Then, as though it were the obvious thing to do, she placed said hands on the counter and lifted herself into a handstand, before subsequently wrapping her legs around the rope holding the plushies and hanging there along with them while she browsed for the one she wanted.
"Look, Mai, this one looks like Bosco!"
"Who?"
"The Earth King's silly pet bear, remember?"
"Ugh, don't remind me."
Nora's attention was yanked away from the eccentric strangers when Ren inclined his head toward her and asked, "Nora, do those two seem . . . familiar to you?"
"Familiar?" Nora repeated confusedly. "We just met them!"
"No," Ren insisted, "I mean, don't they remind you a little of . . . us?"
Nora raised an eyebrow and turned back to the two girls just as the pink-clothed one held out the stuffed bear. From her inverted position, she brought the toy nose-to-nose with Mai's less-than-thrilled face and said lightly, "Boop."
Nora turned back to Ren and whispered, "Uh, I hate to break it to you, Ren, but - you're a guy."
Ren shook his head, smiling slightly. "Never mind."
The clockwork ticked and tocked around Professor Ozpin as he pondered matters far more complex and far less orderly than the meticulously interlocking gears. This could have described him on almost any night, but as the hourly chime enveloped him, he snapped out of a much more distracted reverie than the usual, and proceeded to rise from his chair and walk toward one of the elevators. Due to the absentminded manner in which he boarded it, it took him a moment to realize that something was amiss.
He had passed through the automated sliding doors, but he was not in an elevator. The room was larger (though not particularly large), unlit, and appeared to be composed of old-fashioned brickwork. Were it not for the light still coming from Ozpin's office on the other side of the doorway, he would hardly have been able to make out the vertical and horizontal bars of metal dividing the room in half.
Ozpin looked slowly from the doorway to the prison cell and back several times before muttering to himself, "Fascinating."
In response to his voice, something stirred on the other side of the bars, but only slightly.
As Ozpin's eyes adjusted to the darkness, he was able to make out the figure of a man. He was clothed in what most people would probably describe as brown rags, and his untidy black hair hid the details of his face. A long, thin beard hung from his chin, and he slouched against the back wall, a dirty white sheet spread out beneath him.
The cell had no windows.
Ozpin took a few steps closer to the bars, but the prisoner did not react. After several silent seconds of thought, Ozpin said politely, "Excuse me, but could you tell me where we are right now?"
The headmaster caught a glimpse of the prisoner's piercing golden eyes before they retreated further than before behind his mane of unkempt hair. Ozpin, having left his cup and kettle in his office, shifted his cane from his side to directly in front of him, cupping both hands over the top. He was wary of attempting to extract information from someone without a mug to sip from during the awkward pauses, but it was unclear what would happen to this room if he attempted to return to the clock tower.
Deciding to push further, he spoke a little more loudly, "Excuse me, sir? I don't mean to intrude, but something strange appears to have happened to the doorway -"
The stranger dragged himself from the far wall and slunk over to the metal bars, glaring up at Ozpin from a halfhearted lotus position. "Who are you supposed to be?" he hissed.
"My name is Professor Ozpin," said Professor Ozpin. "I -"
"Tell His Highness that sending in the court jester will earn him no favors from me." With that, the prisoner turned around and leaned his back against the bars.
Ozpin looked more amused than insulted. He stood in silence for some time, staring at the man's filthy robes, until, stricken with a sudden thought, his eyes widened a bit and he asked, "By any chance, would you be familiar with a figure called the Avatar?"
The prisoner's head turned over his shoulder and he gave Ozpin a look that an irritated older sibling might give the younger upon being asked if he knew that one plus one was two.
"I'll take that as a yes," said Ozpin with a slight grin.
"What is the meaning of this?" the man demanded as he turned around again. "Is he trying to drive me out of my mind, like he did my daughter?"
Ozpin cocked his head. "Are you referring to the Avatar, or - ?"
"Bah! Begone, fool! He should know by now there is nothing more he can take from me."
"Mmm." Ozpin looked the prisoner over carefully before continuing. "If I'm not very much mistaken . . . you are the Fire Lord."
Ozai looked to the side, his face clenching up with anger. "You are mistaken. I was the Fire Lord."
"So Aang was able to defeat you, then. And without taking your life."
Ozai tried to spit at Ozpin's shoes, but all that came out was dust. "What do you call this life," he said, gesturing around his cell, "if not taken?"
"A fair point," conceded Ozpin. "Though the word 'spared' comes to mind."
"Spared," Ozai growled. His eyes narrowed as he looked Ozpin over attentively for the first time. Slowly, quietly, he asked, "What are you? A spirit?"
"I am headmaster of a school. Though recently I've been accused of wielding too much power."
A single, bark-like laugh escaped Ozai's lungs, echoing in the dark cell. "The Avatar can fix that for you," he said.
"Oh?"
Ozai narrowed his eyes once more. "You claim to know him, yet you act surprised about his story. My story."
"I only met Aang for a short time." Ozpin hesitated, but then added, "He came to my world seeking a way to defeat you without ending your life."
Ozai threw himself to his feet and clutched the bars of his cell in anger. "So it was you! You gave him the power that took away my divine right! Fire Lord - my lordship in the hands of my traitorous son, and my fire, my power, my birthright - gone!" His knuckles were white, his face contorted. "You're the reason I'm in here!"
"Former Fire Lord," said Ozpin, his voice hardening in a way that made even Ozai falter, "you are in there because you planned to commit genocide. Moreover, you are in there because you still admit to no responsibility for that."
"Responsibility?" Ozai hissed. "Of course I was responsible. I would have been responsible for the triumph of the strong over the weak, and therefore the betterment of the world. Instead, thanks to you, the weak triumphed, and the world weakened as a result."
Ozpin's hand twitched over the trigger handle on his cane. The headmaster took a deep breath before speaking again. "If you believe what you've lost to be your divine right, then I have but one question for you."
"And what, fool, is that?"
Ozpin, notably taller than Ozai, stared down at him over his spectacles and said, "What have you done to revoke that right?"
"I didn't do anything," said Ozai evenly. "It was the boy."
"The Avatar," said Ozpin. "I don't know much about your world, but from what I understand, surely he, if anyone, would be the vessel of divine intervention?"
"He is weak, and undeserving of his -"
"Enough."
"You dare silence - ?!"
"I dare," said Ozpin simply, and his brow furrowed. "Your world has the potential to be something that mine never can. But it's because of men like you . . ." He trailed off, sighing wearily at the floor. Abruptly, he turned and walked toward the doorway, on the other side of which his office could still be seen. Ozai appeared to notice this anomaly for the first time, and his own brow furrowed in confusion instead of anger.
Ozpin stopped just before the doorway and spoke to Ozai without turning around. "Divine or not, a true right to power is earned. I can't restore your throne, but there's a fair chance I could restore your firebending." He turned then, and for the first time Ozai did not look angry, smug, or spiteful, but rather - awestruck. Ozpin hid his satisfaction at having produced the reaction that he had intended. Looking the warlord in the eyes, he concluded, "If one day you are deserving of the power you crave . . ." He took hold of the iron door on the cell's side of the doorway. "Then perhaps we'll meet again."
The slamming sound of the door echoed through Ozpin's office, but when he turned to look back, he saw only the more familiar doors of the elevator. He spun fully toward them and they opened in response, revealing the elevator's normal contents - no bricks, no bars, no dethroned tyrant of another world.
Ozpin sighed, letting his heartbeat synchronize with the ticking of the tower again.
Turning back around, he walked over to his desk and poured himself a drink.
As students' faces flashed by on the holographic screen in front of him, he heard Professor Oobleck's voice through the wireless transmission.
"Alright, it's now time to begin the randomization process for our next fight!"
Ozpin circled the desk and settled back into his chair as Professor Port spoke next.
"It looks like our first contender is . . . Penny Polendina from Atlas!"
Ozpin sipped from his mug.
"And her opponent will be . . ." Port continued. "Pyrrha Nikos from Beacon!"
The path was neatly cut, but the trees around it had not been thinned, and they towered overhead, threatening to form a ceiling as oppressive as their walls. Nonetheless it was an ostensibly peaceful locale, but such were the Grimm's bread and butter.
Bob yanked his double-ended spear out of the corpse of the last Beowolf, panting hard. Last of the first wave, at least - he was sure there were more on the way. He ran a hand over the claw marks on his chestplate and glanced back along the path. The village was not quite visible from this distance, but it was close. Much too close.
Bob was a muscular fellow with dark skin, incongruously bubblegum-pink hair, and rather small and squinty emerald eyes. After catching his breath, he began a cautious stride further down the path, head darting this way and that. The path started to bend, and he slowed in response.
From somewhere ahead, he heard another Beowolf snarl. Grimm were often unsubtle, but it seemed to be reacting to something other than him. Bob broke into a sprint, hoping to surprise the beast as he rounded the bend.
Instead he was surprised by what he saw, for at first glance it looked like two Grimm fighting one another. The concept was so preposterous that Bob quickly registered the details setting the second creature apart from its Beowolf assailant.
It was a humanoid figure, but this shape was somewhat disguised by a black cloak with long, ragged strips for edges. Where the face should lurk in the hood, a mask guarded it from view: one side mostly dark with a single eyehole, the other white with a swirling gray design resembling a cloud of smoke. And indeed, smoke seemed to flow from underneath the cloak. But for all the mystique the costume created, the wearer was being attacked by the Grimm, and was therefore obviously human.
Another wolf lunged at Bob from the tree line, and after disposing of it with three solid strikes, he spun into a kneeling position and held his spear over his shoulder. The cloaked figure was dodging the Beowolf's claw swipes, backing slowly toward the trees; Bob aimed at the wolf and fired the blade of his spear off at it, scoring a debilitating hit to the torso.
A loud roar came from the trees behind the masked figure, and the figure barely managed to roll out of the way of the charging Ursa, which then tumbled over its own head due to the missed strike. It and the cloaked person both quickly recovered, and Bob spun his spear around to brandish its still-attached blade, preparing to leap forward.
Before he could, there was a sizzling sound the likes of which Bob had never heard before, and then a muted thunderclap accompanied by a bright blue flash of lightning. After blinking several times to clear his vision, Bob realized that the lightning had not come from the cloudless sky, but had shot from the figure to the Ursa, and had left the beast with a burning hole in its belly and as comical a look of surprise on its face as such a Grimm could manage. The hole in the creature began to release black smog - it was dead, and it fell over backwards.
Bob squinted harder than usual at the figure, searching for the weapon that had made such an efficient use of Dust. With the bolt gone, a few lingering sparks caught Bob's eye, but there was no weapon. Only two outstretched fingers. With rather long nails.
Huh.
The Beowolf embedded with Bob's spearhead stirred, not quite dead; distracted by this, both Bob and the cloaked person were caught off guard by another Ursa, which lunged at the latter. The figure avoided the brunt of the bear's arm swing, but its mask was knocked off and clattered to the ground. The figure was a girl, and a young one at that. Before Bob could take in more detail, a second burly arm smashed the girl against a tree, and Bob ran forward to prevent it from finishing the job.
It had taken over an hour to exterminate the particular group of Grimm, and nearly as long to carry the unconscious girl back to his house. She had stirred a few times, but never properly awoken. But apart from the goose egg where her head had met the tree, she seemed mostly fine - Bob guessed that it was exhaustion keeping her out.
She was a pretty little thing - light skin, black hair, golden eyes, vaguely foreign features. She lay on the bed while he leaned his chair back on only two of its legs, pondering her identity with a fresh cup of tea.
She was finally roused when he began to fiddle with the radio. Glancing over at the movement, Bob noticed that her brow furrowed in confusion even before she opened her eyes. And when she did, she sat up slowly, staring at the radio as though it were a three-headed frog.
" 'S an old junker, I know," Bob said with a nod at the machine, which was emitting very distorted music. "I'm waitin' t'see if they get that cross-continent thingermajigger up, then I'll get me a shiny new gadget fer that."
The girl only shifted her expression of confusion to Bob himself. There was something about her gaze that was - menacing, if Bob had to pick a word. He tried to convince himself that this little girl could not be giving off such a vibe, but he had always been able to rely on his gut. Internally cautious, he kept his voice jovial.
"Don' worry, missy, I won' hurtcha. Don' know how much ya remember, but ya got caught in the middle of a pack o' Grimm. Got bonked on the head, so I broughtcha back here. Ya did alright though, survivin'."
The girl seemed to consider him for a moment, and then her face softened - a little too much, if he was honest. But maybe he was imagining things.
"I remember," she said, a little dismissively. Then as an afterthought she added, overly sweetly, "Thank you for saving me."
" 'S my pleasure," said Bob.
There was an awkward silence as the girl examined Bob's derelict house. If not menacing, she at least looked like a sharp cookie. Bob preferred to appear friendly and bumbling, but his years of fighting the Grimm had left him sharper than most, and he could tell that this girl was not merely looking, she was analyzing. And though she hid it well, she was not liking what she saw.
Bob picked up the steaming kettle and held it toward her. "Tea?" he offered.
"No, thank you," she said, holding up a hand. There were those long nails again. Pointy.
After replacing the kettle and sipping from his own cup, Bob said, "So, I don' mean to pry, but that was pretty crazy whatcha did t' that Ursa, huh?"
The change from "sharp cookie" to "dangerous lunatic" was immediate: the girl's eyes widened so much that the skin under them wrinkled, and after a moment of pure shock her face contorted into a scowl, no longer trying to hide her contempt.
"What do you know about that?" she hissed.
"Whoa, hey now," said Bob, setting down his teacup and planting his chair fully on the floor. "I didn' mean t' touch a nerve. You don' hafta -"
"Who are you?" the girl demanded. "Where am I? Did she send you?!"
"I think there's been a misunderstandin' -"
When he heard the sizzle, he knew it would end badly. He reached for his spear, but it was no good - just like the Ursa, the blue bolt struck him square in the chest.
His Aura, still low from fighting the Grimm and hauling the poor girl home, did not so much empty as it did crack. Nevertheless it staved off the physical injuries enough that he would have easily survived - had the electric current not passed directly through his heart, confusing its rhythm enough to stop it completely.
Of course, there was also the matter of the blue explosion that the girl used to propel herself out the door, which promptly set his house ablaze and eventually consumed his body along with it.
Unfortunately for Bob's village, he had been their most competent Grimm combatant, and naturally their grief over his loss drew more Grimm to them. But the girl could not have predicted that part.
Azula fled from the strange village back into the woods, as far away as her legs would carry her. Her hands, meanwhile, clutched her head. She had left the mask in the house, but the cloak still flapped behind her.
Filthy peasant. It was a trick. It wasn't real. Forget about it.
"But how did he know?"
Shut up.
"How did he know unless she told him?"
It doesn't matter. Shut up.
She tripped over a root, and her hands landed in water. It was just a small puddle, but as it rippled after the impact, Azula saw not her own reflection materialize, but the image of that - that thing, that lie, Noriko.
"If what you say is true . . . if I really am your mother . . . then I'm sorry I didn't love you enough."
"Shut up." Azula's eyes clenched shut.
While they were closed, a strange sensation came over her, and it seemed through her eyelids that lights were flashing on and off around her. Assuming it to be the work of the voice, she kept them closed tightly, but the odd feeling was only increasing - and more oddly still, it was a feeling of . . . power. Like a great fire coursing through her. Was she actually burning herself alive?
As the light faded, she dared to open her eyes, and saw them reflected in the puddle along with the rest of her face. She breathed a small sigh of relief, but then . . .
"She's still after you."
Azula shook her head vigorously, then said aloud, "Shut up! I got rid of you! I know my destiny now!"
"Have you found your destiny, or have you abandoned it? Have you given up?"
Azula raised her fist, shouted "Shut UP!" and brought it slamming down on the puddle.
Unexpectedly, her hand met ice instead of water, which shattered before her.
Her troubled mind snapping back into combat mode, she whirled around and scanned for the waterbender who had frozen the puddle. She looked everywhere time and again, but there was no one else there.
Until there was. Emerging from the shadows of the forest, more of the black wolves encircled her. Whatever these things were, they were oddly persistent - most animals learned to fear her in short order.
"Perhaps she sent them."
Azula's lip trembled. With another great cry of "Shut up!" she swept her hand in an arc, intending to send flames toward the wolf-things. But instead of a simple stream of blue fire, the ground beneath each wolf lit up with a glowing, blue, circular pattern, and a second later each beast was engulfed in a truly magnificent eruption of flame and disintegrated completely.
Azula blinked, her expression puzzled but for once not angry.
Did I do that?
Turning back to the cracked ice, she waved her hand over it and released a small burst of heat, melting it back into water. Staring at her reflection again, she concentrated on the feeling of power that had flowed through her.
Her eyes lit themselves on fire.
There was no pain, though. She could see as well as ever, and what she saw was a strange, blue, flame-like effect surrounding her eyes, streaming out sideways to form a teardrop-like shape. As she focused on it, it intensified, and so did the energy burning within her.
"I've given you a gift."
What?
"You've strayed from your path. Zuko is weak, was always weak. You were meant to rule."
But . . .
Azula lifted her head and looked around at the trees, which had caught fire after her attack on the wolves. But her eyes were unfocused, the lines underneath pronounced. She hugged herself, becoming just a mass of black cloak below the neck.
But I felt so free.
"How do you feel now?"
. . . Powerful. But - strange.
"You're in a strange land. A land ripe for conquer. Forget about Zuko and the nation that betrayed you. Build a new Fire Nation. One that will never succumb to weakness."
A new . . . Fire Nation?
"One that will be perfect. Like you."
Perfect . . . ?
A flaming branch broke from its tree and landed in front of her, returning her focus to her surroundings. Eyes sharp again, Azula waved her hand before her and, with an unspoken command, extinguished the entirety of what had been about to become a raging wildfire. Finally she began to consider the full possibilities of the strange new power that she now possessed, and her face curled into a horrifying smile.
"Perfect."
So uh . . . that just happened. To clarify, it's not yet clear if there's any significant difference between the powers of the Four Maidens, so for the sake of keeping things accurate, I've given Azula the exact same Fall Maiden powers as Cinder, only from about eighty years in the past (hence the CCTS not being up yet). So once she inevitably returns to the main timeline, we'll have two Fall Maidens (well, one and two halves). Hopefully Amber wasn't secretly more than eighty years old or anything like that, because the idea is that Azula was one of the Fall Maidens before Amber, having been chosen at random when the previous one died and was thinking about someone incompatible.
With conditions like schizophrenia, what we find is that the voices often claim responsibility for outside events. It's a combination of hallucinations (perceiving stimuli that aren't really happening, e.g., hearing voices when no one is talking) and delusions (strong beliefs held even against damning evidence). So something happens in reality, the voices in your head say something about it, and you believe their interpretation religiously, even if somebody proves to you that it can't be true. We see this with Azula's opinion of her mother, but we also see in Smoke and Shadow that she's happy about getting rid of the voice, and given her general trust issues, well, I've tried to concoct a portrayal that makes sense.
Apparently cotton candy was seen once in Korra, but never in Avatar. So, obviously, its invention between the two was the result of this crossover, since it already exists in Remnant. And, er... Mai's outfit is probably not actually a kimono. But Nora thinks it's a kimono. (I know Japan doesn't exist in Remnant. Look, I don't know how to describe clothes, okay?) Also, I know Ren and Nora aren't exactly the same as Mai and Ty Lee. Ren and Mai are actually quite different, but I thought the two duos were similar enough to deserve a mention. Also also, yes Ty Lee is still a Kyoshi Warrior; she's just on a break or something.
For the record, this chapter was posted before RWBY Chibi did the arcade joke.