White hot flashes illuminate the sky. They reflect in the wind-woken water and threaten the sand. A crash of thunder roars across the shoreline. It is destructively alluring. If Azula didn't know any better, she would be walking along the beach where the water meets the shore. Even fully aware of the danger, Azula considers, as a passing though, kicking off her shoes and going for it.
"You're like the storm." Sokka had once told her, before he set out to sea on some sailor's endeavor. "Wild and unpredictable." She recalls his brother-like smile and his arm over her shoulder. "Yes siree, you remind me of these stormy nights. Beautiful and dangerous as the lightning and intimidating as the thunder." He had tipped his sailor hat and kissed her on the forehead. She hadn't seen him since.
When the sky isn't raging, she usually goes down to the harbor. It is a marvelous place. A quint and bustling place, exactly the kind one expects of a little fishing town. The docks are coated in layers upon layers of white paint that constantly chips off. Azula doesn't know why they even bother at all; between the storms, the stream of feet, the scrapes of the boats, and the constant causal batter of the ocean, the paint never stands a chance. She goes there with hopes that one day she'll see Sokka tying and anchoring the 'Pearl Racer' to the dock. She has had no such luck. And so she'll usually look a few times in each direction before sitting down, dangling her feet in the water, and shedding a few silent tears.
But today is no such day. For the past three days and nights it has been nothing but dark grey skies and perilous waters. Not even the toughest, most boastful, tattoo and muscle covered, sailor dared visit the harbor. As things were, these tough men and women won't even get within a few miles of the sea.
Store owners too have long since evacuated the boardwalk. Azula hasn't spied Katara opening the lobster joint for Hakoda since the first server weather forecast rolled across the TV screen. TyLee's family had also closed early—they stopped offering boat rentals even before Katara's dad hung up the 'closed' sign. Nobody—save for a few unknowing tourists—wanted boat rides on a day like that anyhow. Mai's family promptly boarded up and barricaded their seaside jewelry shop. Heaven forbid the storm washed away all of their handmade pieces. Even Toph and Aang skipped out on their sunset rollerblading.
So it is just she and Zuko now. The only pair ballsy enough to weather the storm. That haven't much of a choice really. Their father owns the lighthouse but can't be damned to upkeep it himself, he spends much of his time in the 'upscale' bars.
At last completely entranced by the storm, Azula steps outside. She knows it's stupid. She knows it's a dreadful idea, but she can't put it out of her head.
She is intrigued.
Sokka had always made her feel so close to the lightning and thunder. She wants to give him a story when he gets home. He probably has hundreds from his time at sea. Feeling oddly fearless, she watches the tides slap hostile against the rocks on which her lighthouse loomed. It is dizzying. For a moment, she thinks of pitching herself off of the tower, if for no other reason than to feel the sensation. To see what it is like to truly be at the mercy of the coast she has grown to know so well. She thinks better of it, and instead takes a step back.
The wind takes a liking to her hair, whipping it haphazardly about. She swears she can hear a shout, but it is swallowed up by the wind as a whale swallows a shiphand. The thunder grows louder—sand shakingly so—and the lightning flashes brighter.
Now that night has fallen, it is the only thing that allows her to see the sea itself. Though that's what it is designed for, not even the beam of the lighthouse can pierce through a wall of clouds this concrete and thick.
The rumbling of the thunder and the groaning of the ocean goes silent for a moment. "Azula get inside!" She finally hears Zuko. He sounds a bit frantic. But Azula doesn't think anything of it, her brother has a history of being over-anxious and somewhat over-bearing. He'd been so ever since their mother fell victim to a hurricane some years ago.
After what seemed like forever, the lightning—to Azula's thrill—flares again. This time it's a jagged bolt in the sky, she sees it meet the churning waves. And in its light she notices for the first time, something adrift in the water.
She squints.
"Who is foolish enough to…" the words die on her tongue, she doesn't feel like she needs to finish them.
"Azula get inside, now!" There's a sense of urgency to his voice now.
Another bolt lights the beach.
Azula can now make out the sails of a ship that is bobbing in the rain-mist.
She shivers.
Something isn't right.
"Azula!" Zuko hollers again. Before she can even turn around, he pulls her back inside.
Azula turns her attention back to the horizon. But even with the next round of thunder and lightning, she cannot spot the sails again.