i have no fashion sense so this outfit was a real challenge D:
i used the typical fire nation symbols for the accessories: national symbol shaped earrings and crown, the firebending masters ran & shaw inspired dragon hair pin, the usual red & gold colored clothes, and there are a few blue colored pieces to represent azula's blue flames too ~
Okay so as some of you might have realized by now, this year has been just not my year.
Today, on top of the IRL stuff I already mentioned, my car decided to break down again.
I'm also in the middle of an unexpectedly) involved hiring process for a job. Back when I put up the date poll, I had no idea that this week would literally be the worst week for me to try to host an event.
I think that this year's event just really wasn't meant to be as I've been having hassles at every turn. I feel like I can't really host this event adequately this year.
With all of that said, I think that it's better if I just take an L and call off this year's event. Regarding future events, I really do just have to see where life takes me.
I apologize so much for cancelling so suddenly but I would rather not host at all than host something lackluster. If I can't put care into the event then I would rather not host it. And I feel as though I won't be able to put in a proper amount of care into hosting and people can usually tell when that happens.
Thanks so much for understanding and thanks everyone so much for all of your support since I started this event in 2018! I hope to be able to host Azula week next year but I can't guarantee it.
Summary: After years of not seeing her, Sokka meets her again for the first time after watching her perform at a festival.
The is fire skittering over her skin. Shimmering little sparks and embers against ashy black body paint. Sparks like stars in a night sky or fireflies against dirt. He doesn’t recognize her with the brilliant orange blaze.
He has only ever seen one shade on her and it is not orange.
Her eyes glimmer with gold paint, it runs down her cheeks as though she is weeping liquid gold. Little false gems in shades of orange and red twinkle on her lashes. Beads and coins flash and glint with each bend of her body and roll of her hips. The reflect the flames coiling over her arms and throw prisms across the stage.
She extends her arm and the fire crosses it. And with a twirl of her wrist, tongues of fire burst to life and crackle in the shape of several firelilies that spit sparks into the night sky. She retracts her arm but the fire remains for a moment and just when it is about to dissipate into a plume of smoke, she brings her other arm forward and creates a new bloom.
She lets those die away and for some time, simply lets the fire crawl over her body, following each languid and fluid motion. If she sways her hips, the flames sway with her. If she holds her arms over her head while she does it then there is a rain of sparks that glitter over her. If she takes a step, the fire follows–it flares to life beneath her feet and fans out like ripples in a pond.
And then the music goes silent and she pauses. The fire extinguishes completely and she closes her eyes. For a moment, Sokka thinks that the show is over. That she has done her work and that she is ready for rest.
But then she inhales slowly. She looks up and a fountain of flames gush from her lips. She draws from those flames, makes two twin pillars that flank either side of her. He swears that he can see the glow of the flame burning a white hot orange in her belly and in her throat. The fountain of flame retracts and the columns remain.
And with the shifting and flicking of her hands they begin to take shape.
Dragons.
And they begin to take color.
Blue.
That is all Sokka needs to know. Her dangly earrings swing and bob as she beckons the dragons to herself. As they wrap around her. She closes her eyes again and two more jets of fire propel she and her dragons into the air.
So masterful is her work that, if he didn’t know any better, he’d say that she was suspended up there, flying like an airbender.
The dragons fly over the crowd breathing flames of their own. The roar and rage until they are spent. Breath fire until they shrink away into two twin candle wick flames. And then she gently lowers herself. Her ash dipped feet touch the floor, golden anklets tinkling.
And she bows, elegant and fluid as the rest of her performance.
She offers no parting words.
No words at all.
And she leaves the stage.
.oOo.
Azula washes away the last of the ash and body paint. Claps and cheers still echo in her ears–a phantom residue of her former glory. A little taste of what she could have been had she any success with the final Agni Kai.
Although she supposes that she hasn’t fashioned herself a dismal, dreary existence.
She is well liked. Her skills are well appreciated.
She does rather enjoy firebending for the sake of the art. Firebending just to feel the heat on her skin. Firebending just to mesmerize herself–and collaterally–an audience with the flames.
She can do blue and orange.
Next time she swears that she will try for purple or green. She has heard of rainbow flames, not that she has figured out how to accomplish this yet.
Orange is natural, default. Blue is natural for her.
She slips back into her day to day clothing. It is more comfortable, less showy, less performative. Perhaps she should do away with the more revealing costumes–though those do have their perks; they add allure, they leave room for plenty of more creative body paints.
But she is growing tired of feeling nearly naked in front of a crowd.
She misses her armor.
Yes, that is it. For the next show she will incorporate her armor and a more militaristic sort of concept. Something that is more in her comfort zone. Something less traditional among fire dancers who enjoy borrowing belly dances from Sun Warrior cultures.
She will put on a show that gets to the heart of Caldera City’s own culture…
.oOo.
He finds Azula by chance and chance alone. She is in line for mochi and skewers. She looks different without her makeup, without her crown, with her hair slightly tousled from day to day endeavors.
Sokka thinks that perhaps she has taken to actually enjoying the festival for herself. She is alone but she doesn’t seem particularly lonely–at the very least she doesn’t seem to be bothered by her isolation.
He clears his throat. “I saw your performance, it was really…I feel like it could have happened in the spirit world.”
Azula cocks her head.
“Like, I mean that it was like a performance that felt…mystical, I guess.”
Azula nods.
“You’re quiet.”
“You babble.” She shrugs.
“I’m just trying to say something nice about you!” He throws his hands up.
He thinks that he catches a hint of a smile. “I suppose it’s nice to hear every now and again.”
“People don’t compliment you on your shows?”
She hums to herself. “They do but it’s…it all starts to sound the same after a while.” She clears her throat. “Not that it isn’t still appreciated. If I do well I like to hear as much.” She takes a bite of mochi.
“So what made you decide to take up fire dancing.” Sokka trails along behind her.
She finds herself a bench and has a seat. She looks up at the festival lanterns and for a second he doesn’t think that she will answer. “I guess that I wanted to form a more personal connection to my bending. It’s…it’s soothing.”
Sokka nods. He supposes that he hadn’t really considered how heavy the weight of the crown and the war must have been on her. And really, she looks better. He can’t place exactly what it is–she has always been very well put together. And maybe that’s it; maybe it’s those wrinkles in her clothing or those strands of hair that have strayed from her ponytail. Those little flaws that aren’t actually flaws in the grander scheme of things. She looks more relaxed, her eyes are softer. Softer and brighter. With them, she regards him carefully and he realizes that he has forgotten to respond.
“I’m glad that you found something that you like.” He says quickly.
She nods.
“Have people been treating you well?”
She quirks a brow. “Why wouldn’t they?”
“Because you know…”
“Father and I lost the war? There are a lot of people who still support father’s ideals.”
“Are you one of them.”
She shrugs. “I suppose I don’t really care.” She sighs. “I never really had a problem with earthbenders and waterbenders. Father had expectations and I simply wanted to meet them…”
“And now.”
“I’d like to meet my own expectations.” She replies. “Nothing more, nothing less.”
“And what are those?”
“You ask a lot of questions.” She rolls her eyes. “Perhaps if you’d like the answers you should stick around.”
Perhaps he will. He can’t say that he is opposed to seeing another fire dance. She has a talent, that is for sure. And it is rather nice to see her using it for something that is both more mundane but also extraordinary in its own right. “Is that an offer of friendship.”
She stands up, stretches her arms, and slips him a ticket to her next show. “Stick around and fine out, Sokka.”
