@kiniros | plotted thread.
boiling rock’s name was.. accurate. even in the worst summer
of his life, he’d never sweat so much.
even when asleep, he’d find no relief. the short hours that they
allowed him some respite, it felt like they had their damn guards
blasting against his cell. as if it wasn’t enough that they had him
for physical labor eighteen hours a day, they’d been beating him,
STARVING him, making him weak. and it was all for one reason.
a reason they were trying to keep him from knowing-- but he’d
been raised in nature. he could hear someone whisper from a
mile away. there was no hiding it from him.
the firelord’s daughter herself was coming to bend him into shape.
he’d almost be flattered, that he’d garnered such attention-- but
in truth, he just didn’t care. he was simply biding his time until he
could find a way off this god-forsaken rock.. but it was only natural.
he’d counted at least three guard deaths and five prisoner deaths
by his own hand since he had arrived, and apparently, they needed
to let him know just who was in charge. well, they could howl and
mewl all they wanted.. there was no breaking him.
he awakens to the patter of tiny feet carrying along the hallway,
accompanied by two larger presences. they’re told to wait outside,
however, while only the smaller frame enters, it’s face disguised by
the shadow. once she steps into the moonlight, however.. it’s clear
to see. this was her. this was azula.
he doesn’t rise to meet her, not yet. she was still on the other side
of the cell bars. all he did was mutter;
❝ brat.. ❞
