retrograde
yviga:
it seems ridiculous now to think that she used to find dorjee wholly intimidating. suppose the association with asana alone would’ve been enough to unnerve her – but was there ever really any good reason? just assumptions. time has dulled her unease, made her more tolerant of the peculiarities of the people around her.
“was it meant to be a secret?” yui laughs, shaking her head. “i certainly hope i didn’t spoil your grand return, if that was the plan.” probably wasn’t, knowing him – or rather, his family. still, there are certainly less pleasant welcoming committees than her. it’s quiet enough, not a public spectacle. dorjee must be used to that by now.
“word gets around. i heard you were back from.. several people,” unnamed, unimportant. she folds her arms across her chest: that’s that. “but i didn’t expect to run into you – so, if you’ll forgive my curiosity, why are you here?” she doesn’t mean to pry – and yet, terribly, she does exactly that. can you blame her though? the rumors of a summon were clearly true, but to what end? from her experience, the uncertainty is the worst part.
a brief glance over her shoulder confirms that they’re not exactly alone, which she wouldn’t ever expect within the palace walls, but don’t seem to have attracted any unwarranted amount of attention either. yui draws another breath, leaning in slightly for the next line of questioning. how subtle of her, how discerning.
“and, if you have time,” he might not. it would be understandable, but dorjee doesn’t strike her as being in a rush either. “i’d love to hear about it – you know, where you’ve been and all. the rebellion.. everything.”
nothing is ever meant to be a secret. the palace walls were as high as they were all encompassing. trapping within it mongrels worse than those seen on the streets. they, with sharpened fangs and keen ear, whittle secrets down to the bone—edged to hurt. general nao had taught his oldest this lesson long before he even stepped foot into court.
sages, officials, nobles? none of them are trustworthy. none will bat an eye about hanging people like them out to dry.
(your position is clear. always been clear. dog of the fire nation.)
dorjee takes his father’s words to be true—if only for the fact that the general was the exact same.
(he too, would throw them out to save himself.)
“no, you know there’s no secrets here.” he casts a pointed look at her, gaze flittering briefly to their surroundings for any other signs of life. “did you? i didn’t know i was that popular.” it’s his name more than anything. but this is yui. it didn’t matter that three years had gone by—blink of an eye for her (half a lifetime for him)—she’s still, the same. but that’s the overcompensating talking. that’s guilt talking. that’s misdirected leniency over the wrong “younger sister” talking.
“well, you know,” dorjee’s gaze focuses once more, hand lifting to rub calloused fingers over the back of his neck. “there’s always something to do around here.” he lifts the documents in his hand, envelope deep red and sealed with the nation’s emblem. noticeably, he hadn’t opened it. it hadn’t nearly been important enough of a summons to meet anyone else beyond an official that handed it over. and dorjee isn’t so eager to plunge back into work before he could put back together coherent pieces of himself.
she wants to hear stories. the thought is mildly baffling. brings out a short chortle from the pit of his stomach. rattles his shoulders with disbelief, if only just for a moment. yui kerita, as expected, acts exactly as a noble would. wastes time on tone-deaf things exactly like a noble would. stories. with the wounds on his body still fresh. “you’re a bit too young to be hearing war stories, yui.” dorjee spares a toothy grin. unlikely to bare fangs at someone who, just years ago, hid behind the rest of the royals just to greet him.
“how about you tell me how you are? what are you doing these days?”
