DEAR DICTATOR → zuko

╸nine : the calm and the storm

❝ the calm and the storm ❞

· • -- ٠ ♛ ٠ -- • ·

           There has to be a storm brewing, somewhere in the distance of the never ending sea. The air is still, a thick coating of humidity sticking against Nari's fair skin. The atmosphere weighs down by a smoggy wetness, the smell of a forthcoming rain spoiling Nari's nose.

It's still arguably better than the odor of sea salt and rotten seaweed, though.

Nari sits against a wall on the deck, tending to her nails with a file whilst paying mind to any hangnails or cuticles. With the humid air around her, Nari's hair was sticking to the back of her neck, her hairline as well, even the regular tied-up hairstyle she'd wear becomes a nuisance. Because of the weather, her the bubbles in her hair have increased ten fold.

She takes out the crimson ribbon from her hair, and it falls against her back with anything but grace, and she brushes her fingers through it before pulling it high up in a ponytail. If needed, she'd twist it into a bun.

Zuko glances towards the sky with a spyglass while Iroh sniffs the air, an identical suspicion of a a storm. As he speaks, Zuko holds the spyglass at his side. "There is a storm coming, a big one." He announces, voice a still as the air around them.

Zuko cringes, eyebrows dipping lower in anger. His incredulity towards his uncle is adamant as he storms over to the older man. "Your out of your mind, uncle!" He scoffs, "The weather's perfect, there's not a cloud in sight."

Nari's eye roll is paired with an exasperated huff. She pulls her hair over her shoulder with a hand combing through her stands. Whenever she hits a knot, it yanks at the base of her ponytail, but nothing to detrimental happens to its shape. "Iroh's right. You can smell it—" or your hair would tell you, if you had enough... Nari shuts her mouth before her thoughts could slip out her red lips. Hair is traditionally linked to honor, but the crown of ones head is considered sacred— it is only cut in life or death situations, which is why Zuko's ponytail remains. "—it's humid, too." Nari finishes, pushing off her knees to stand.

She'd sat for so long, her legs slightly ache at the ankles for how she was positioned.

Iroh tilts his head Nari's direction in acknowledgment. "There's a storm heading in from the north," Iroh now faces his nephew, a wise look on his face as he holds his hands together under drooping sleeves. "I suggest we alter our course and head southwest."

Zuko juts out a brash hand, pointing straight north. "We know the avatar is traveling northward, so we will do the same."

It's understandable, Zuko's wish to capture the avatar. Nari gets his constant obsession, the same way she gets why he flinches or cowards when some rears a hand back at him. Part of her pities him, but she's got that same underlying need to find the avatar as well-- though it's more or less starting to dull. Things aren't terribly bad now, but they'll be better when Nari and Zuko return to their homes after repairing their names.

Albeit, rushing into a storm isn't exactly the smartest way to best the avatar.

Iroh's face falls stern. "Prince Zuko, please consider the safety of the crew." The older man gestures back as if referencing an entire crew, but it solely points to Nari. Ouch, Nari thinks, good to know I'm 'crew' and not someone vital to this mission.

Though, she very well is— a fire bender more powerful than someone of royal blood is usually quite seldom. At Nari's prowess, it's almost puzzling why they've failed to capture Aang by now.