(Zutara) Hold it Gently; My Heart Burns For You

Bato of the Watertribe

Waning light from low burning candles glints off the blue glass hanging in front of Zuko. One arm pillowing his head, the other holds the necklace before his face. He sinks into his melancholy as he does into his bed, watching the bead sway from the lightest movement of his scarred arm.

Push and pull, his mind cruelly taunts with each twitch. At least I know now. Know she's safe. Know she's healthy with her friends. Know they're making their way north. Know she hates him with all her being.

It shouldn't ache as much as it does. Her hatred is the only thing he's truly earned, aside from his scar. Both his scars. That weakness wasn't burned out of him, it seems. It didn't bleed from the snake which weaves its cruel path from elbow to the palm of his hand. Even now, as he holds the reminder of it inches from his face, wants to put it down, away where he doesn't have to see it, he can't.

At least, not until a soft rap on his door pulls him from the light doze he was seconds from fully falling into. He sits up, tucking the necklace into his belt, before calling a hoarse, "Enter."

"Prince Zuko?" his uncle greets carefully. It seems his temper was easier for his uncle to navigate. Even when gripped by his worst moods, Uncle never stepped so cautiously around him as he does when he finds him like this. Maybe his bouts of fury are not easier, but more familiar. "I thought we could have evening tea together."

Zuko waves his uncle in, getting up from his bed to clear the table of the maps, scribblings, and eye-witness accounts of the Avatar. All compiled in a fruitless effort to pick up a trail. The best he came up with was a worthy distraction.

"You're getting close," his uncle observes as he gets to brewing.

"Not close enough." His fingers rub his tired eyes. "Nothing but word of mouth. Nothing concrete enough to set a course."

Iroh hums in thought, attention on his tea until he hands Zuko a steaming cup. "See Prince Zuko, a moment of quiet is good for your mental well-being. And I find a break and a good cup of tea can cure even the deepest of woes."

Deep as the ocean, Zuko thinks glumly as he brings his tea to his lips. It ends up all over his face, lap and chest when his boat rocks violently. Slamming the cup down, he races for the deck.

"Get back!" A female voice cracks like a whip. Except she's snapping an actual whip. At his men. Zuko runs out to meet her. "Get back! We're after a stowaway!"

"There are no stowaways on my ship," Zuko announces.

He's met with an amused and all to appraising look for his taste, before the girl snaps her whip again. The beast she's mounted on shrieks at the unspoken command and, without hesitating, rips right through his metal hull. Zuko barely has the time to blink before he's throwing himself down, metal sailing over his head. The beast dips into the hole.

A shriek fills the air, this one human, and a man in green robes dashes away from the monster. Zuko watches in stunned awe as a barbed tongue flicks out and strikes the back of the man's neck. He sees no blood, no sign of puncture, but the man drops.

"He's paralysed," Zuko realises as the girl dismounts, stalking towards her prey.

"Only temporary." Holding the man's collar, she once again appraises Zuko, to the point he looks away, embarrassed. Her huff of amusement brings his eyes right back to hers. "The toxins will wear off in about an hour. But by then, he'll be in jail and I'll have my money."

Bounty hunter, then, Zuko decides. "But how did you find him on my ship?"

"My shirshu can smell a rat a continent away." She mounts the great, snarling beast, readies to kick off. "I'm good at finding things. If you're looking to find me, ask for June."