cabbagesforall | The Meeting [Open to itstillhurt]

The Meeting [Open to itstillhurt]

In the uncertain remnants of the Earth Kingdom - then the Earth Empire and now...now a nascent Republic - the name Kuvira provoked deeply divergent views. For some, she was a traitor. Oh, not for leading an attempt to reunite all the Earth Kingdom's former territories through terrible violence - but for betraying it. For giving it up, for saying she had been wrong. Then there were those who grumbled about how, after all the violence and lives lost, she'd clearly used her family connections to avoid a lifetime in deep, dank cell or a hangman's noose.

Then there was the third group, which thought she'd done the right thing, and were ready to forgive her.

Most of that third group was situated in the towering metal city of Zaofu - seat of the Beifongs. It hadn't been the most welcoming to Azula, for oh so many reasons. Deep suspicion accompanied the entire enterprise - were it not for letters from the Avatar, she might have been turned away.

But, finally, with more than a little concern - she was brought into a small room. It wasn't much of anything, but it was better than a prison cell, certainly. There was a bed, a desk, a bookshelf - not much across the board. The woman at the desk, however, turned as she entered, frowning in confusion.

She stood up, wearing khaki slacks and a green, sleeveless shirt.

"Can...I help you?"

Behold, Kuvira. Once the mightiest warlord in the known world. Now, living a life of house imprisonment.

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All that talk of debts, of crimes. Pathetic. She'd fought for her destiny and lost, that was one thing. The anguish and martyrdom about it, though, that was...

Uncomfortable. And she couldn't explain why. It was an obvious motivation, it gave her something to work with. The obvious sincerity of it was perhaps the most valuable information Azula could have about this woman. So why did it make her uncomfortable?

The discomfort only grew as she began- correctly- assessing Azula's thought process. She'd never been frustrated by the slow, blind fools around her, except when their incompetence was a hindrance, but it always set her apart, that much was true. It was a minor distinction, but it gave her an insight into another difference between herself and Kuvira, and those, she'd decided, were more valuable than the similarities.

And then Kuvira mentioned that word. Alone. Something about that immediately made her bristle, and she was already reacting before she even realized it, her smirk becoming more harsh and her tone more sneering, responding to Kuvira so quickly that she nearly interrupted her.

"Too late for what, I wonder? Maybe you don't understand as much as you think."

... After the outburst, she settled to a more neutral expression again. That was an unfortunate lapse. Urgh, it seemed like maybe the Avatar had been wasting her time after all.

"Before you're me," Kuvira responds, a bit sadly but with a slight, rueful smile.

She stands, coming to stand next to Azula for a moment, long enough to pull on a pull-cord. Moments later, a sombre face approaches, and nods.

"Excuse me, but could I have some tea for myself and my guest?" she asks, and bows in return when the other does. She moves back to her seat with a sigh, gesturing at Azula to choose a seat of her own. Casually, she crosses her legs, and her posture is...well, perhaps a bit unexpected.

Calm, relaxed, at ease. A strange attitude for a prisoner, even one in a gilded cage. Because Kuvira, importantly, knows herself.

"You can drop the barbs, though. It doesn't help you, and nor does it bother me. In any event, I am your future. Succeed or fail. I can proceed through the checklist, if you insist on proof. For some reason the Earth Kingdom remembered you rather well - your history is well-known to me."

Edited 2022-11-07 04:02 (UTC)

Hm. She'd been challenged- rather flippantly, if subtextually, mocked- and she wasn't bothered by it. She'd expected either a dismissal or a rebuttal, not... Whatever this was.

Seating options are still limited, but she's not going to have a conversation seated on the floor, and she's not going to bother asking them to bring in a chair. Perched on the edge of the bed it is, then, her own posture still quite tense, as if she's expecting a trap of some sort.

Though she does note Kuvira's own posture, far more confident and poised than she expected. Comfortable. That does throw her a little. Given the self-imposed guilt and martyrdom, she would have expected something more... insecure. Doubting, desperate for validation that she was doing the right thing. Something more like how Zuko had been, the last time she saw him.

Well, maybe not the last time. Weak, even when he's strong. Not a useful thought. She ignored it.

"I'll spare you the points I made the Avatar about victors writing the history books, I'm sure you're already quite familiar with the concept. I don't doubt that you know all the significant dates and places."

And then, having conceded her point, she dismisses it immediately with a handwave.

"But I'm not in any danger of becoming you, even if I tried. You just proved that."

"Everyone says that, but I've had time to read a lot of histories. The victors may write it, but the historians then challenge it. Argue over it. Falsity does not stand long, in posterity."

Which, by itself, was a point worth making.

"The person I was, certainly. The one with a thirst for power, control. No, a need for it - whatever the justification. Because nothing else has ever been in the control of your own hands, not from a troubled childhood up until the moment power became a possibility."

She paused.

"How am I doing so far?"

The argument about history doesn't impress her much, but it's hardly the point. The analysis, however, does land... close enough to the mark to be upsetting. It takes her a moment to think of a rebuttal- but there it is. She finds one. She scoffs dismissively.

"You'll have to do better than that. Of course I never got to realize my own ambitions, I was defeated on what was to be my coronation day. You don't even need to know my history to know that, you could guess that much just from learning about Zuko."

She nearly slipped and used the mocking nickname, but clarity seemed more important than the habitual goading of her brother.

"Now, here's why I'm nothing like you, even when you were doing all those horrible things that keep you up at night."

She emphasizes the word 'horrible things' with a gesture of mocking horror, and the comfortable smirk returns to her face as she finds her stride.

"You're an idealist. Even at your worst, your most 'terrible,' you were still an idealist. You talked about vision. You didn't seek power by using the system that was in place, you tried to tear it down and rebuild it entirely, something that would fit your ideals better. Not surprising, from a peasant raised among nobility. Even at your worst, you believed you were saving the world. Or at least the country. I imagine that's how you justified it to yourself."

She quirks an eyebrow and sneers,

"How am I doing so far?"

She listens to that, nodding along with some of it.

"You're right. I came from nothing, and I'm proud of that fact. My blood is as common as dirt, and every bit as good as yours. That was part of the point, really - never letting things go back to what they were."

But she shook her head, smiling a bit.

"But..." She lifted a hand, knowing this would bother Azula. "There wasn't any system to use. The Earth Kingdom was dead, chaos was everywhere as the old structure ate itself. And I'm sure I told myself I was saving the country. I'm sure I told myself a lot of things."

She paused.

"Just as I'm sure you have to tell yourself a lot, to keep all those little thoughts at bay. For me, that was the military. Service, then command. What was it - sorry, is it, for you? A sense of destiny? Restoration to your rightful place?"

She catches that rather pointed commentary about blood, and though she finds it... well, comically naive, really... but it only proved her point. The idealism. The genuine belief that there was a moral wrong, some injustice to correct. It was still just as foreign to her as ever, just as utterly disconnected from anything in reality, entirely rooted in the lies that societies told themselves.

"You still don't get it, do you?"

She held her arm out to gesture at the room

"You're in this room- a cell, albeit a nice one- completely of your own volition, out of remorse. Trying to win back the favor of the adopted family that you rejected and hurt. Those ideals of yours may have made you a fool, but they never went away, did they? And neither did the remorse that comes with them. All those little thoughts in your head? The people you hurt? The pain you caused? Those were the reasons you had to lie to yourself. You knew you were hurting them, and you hated it."

She shrugged, still smirking, before dropping her arms again.

"I don't know what to tell you, Kuvira. I don't have to make up a story about them, because they never bothered me in the first place. They were in the way, and I dealt with them. I didn't care, and I still don't. I'm not like you."

"Well of course there's a difference there," she replied, casually. "I wasn't raised to be a sociopathic extension of imperial will. I weaponized myself later, true - but I wasn't moulded to be one practically from the crib."

"But in any event," she continued, as if that were merely a small point of order, "that's just it. I didn't hate it. Not in the moment. And not now. There's always going to be a part of me that whispers that all I did was for the grand design, and thus acceptable. It's our nature to try to justify what we did somehow."

She chuckled a bit.

"I have it a little easier there, I suppose. It's a simpler task to say 'I was creating a strong, free Earth Empire that would never be brought low by despots or outside enemies' - as opposed to extending tyrannical rule."

She leaned forward, then, just before there was a knock at the door.

"The thing is, if I may be blunt? We lie to ourselves. And your bullshit is in there even deeper than mine is. I'm...honestly, I'm sorry, Azula. I'm not sure I can help you excavate self-deception that deep."

She stood then, to get the tea, but paused as she passed, looking over her shoulder.

"But I'm going to try, anyway."

Initially, her instinctive response is to argue somehow- that there was no remorse to lie about, that she had no need to make pretenses about who and what she was, that she never needed any narrative more idyllic and noble than the ugly truth about power and destiny.

But then she says something that trips up her thought process altogether. The accusation of self-deception... rankles. She'd been perfectly honest about what she was, it was her and the Avatar who insisted otherwise...

On the other hand, she said it like she was giving up, and Azula saw no need to argue with those results. She'd wasted enough of her time on this anyway. She wasn't even entirely certain she'd need to stay for the tea- no need to linger, she'd find somebody else to drink with her.

And then, as Azula is still adjusting to the admission, she surprises her again. But I'm going to try anyway.

That... what? What? Why would she- why?

"You realize your family doesn't even want me here, right? You don't have to waste your time on me just to keep them happy."

She settles the tray between them, shrugging her shoulders before pouring the tea. First for Azula, then herself. One thing to be said for the city, it does brew a brilliant cup of tea.

"A former brutal ruler of the Earth Kingdom meeting with the equally brutal former ruler of the Earth Empire? I can't imagine why," she replied. "They worry you'll bring me back into bad ways. I can't blame them for that. The old days are never as far away as we'd want. But I've taken responsibility for my crimes. It's all I can do, unfortunately, for the terrible acts I committed. The lives I took."

She pauses, letting that sink in with Azula.

"It's what you'll have to do, before the end. The hard path."

"I understand exactly why they don't want me around, that's not the point."

At least they were displaying a modicum of sense. Kuvira admitting that she was probably a waste of time and then volunteering to waste the time anyway, that was completely unreasonable. She suspects that pressing the question won't yield any useful results, so she just accepts her tea. At least that still makes sense. It still tastes right.

"You accused me of self-deception so dire you didn't think you could help it." She sounds amused by the notion, but continues. "So by all means, enlighten me. How am I deceiving myself? Oh, and feel free to embellish, I could use the entertainment."

She sips her own, holding the cup in both hands, regarding Azula over the rim. She won't be so amused in a moment, she suspects.

"By thinking that the power we garner, the struggle, are worth anything. That it will fill the gaping maw inside of you that you try not to acknowledge is there. It won't. The more you achieve, the more pain you have to cause - and the more hollow the feeling inside becomes. The more alone you become. And so you hammer down even harder on what it is you're striving for. Empire, dynasty, power, whatever it happens to be. It never fills the void. It's always there, waiting for you. In every quiet moment, in every empty room."

She paused, taking another sip. Her own face showed how serious she was.

"You cover it with mockery, I suspect. That imperial hauteur, the idea of being born better, smarter. I didn't have that, so I became the Great Uniter. Feared, adored. An inspiration."

She sighed. "Different paths, but along the same road. And because our lives are based in deceiving ourselves, well. That's why we both loathe someone like Korra but also are strangely vulnerable to her persuasion. Because she's the exact opposite to us. Completely honest with herself, and the world. Such an alien but interesting way to live...and it pulls us, curious, like moths to flame."

She arched an eyebrow.

"Entertained? Embellished enough?"

There's a moment- a brief moment, when Kuvira mentions feeling hollow and lonely- when her composure fails, when a flash of genuine pain and anger reaches her face. It's the faintest slip, covered immediately, but it doesn't matter. She's certain Kuvira would have noticed.

She tries to preserve the facade, though she's not certain why she's bothering to perform for this woman. Finally, at the mention of Korra, she sneers.

"Irritating though Korra may be, I certainly don't loathe her. Trust me, if you'd met the last Avatar, you'd prefer this one as well. I humored her for lack of any better occupation, since I missed all my sitting engagements by a few decades. I can see now that it was a waste of my time."

She takes another sip of tea, sets the cup down, and stands.

"Thank you for the tea."

With that rather disingenuous dismissal, she turns and starts walking toward the door.

"You can't outrun yourself," she said, quietly, not stirring from her spot.

"You can walk out that door. And you know what will happen? You'll be right where I was. Buried deep, in chains, like I was - after you continue on and Korra defeats you. Worse than me, really, because at least I woke up and found my family again."

She shakes her head.

"Pride is a terribly stupid reason to reject one's last chance."

You can't outrun yourself.

Something about that statement makes the frustration ebb out of her, replaced by- she's not sure what.. She stops before she reaches the door, considering Kuvira's words.

Pride? Pride wasn't what made her want to leave. Leaving felt like a defeat, a surrender. Already she felt shame over it. Pride had been what kept her in her chair this long. And finding her family- No. No, she'd gone over that with the Avatar. There was no family. Whatever empty lies he'd used to try and control her, that had been decades ago. Family was gone. Family was dead. Not that she needed it, or him. Her hand clenches into a fist, and she has to control her breathing for a while.

"I told you, I prefer this Avatar to the last one. Maybe I just won't do anything worthy of her intervention."

Still no ideas for what she will do, only another thing she won't. She won't pick a fight with the Avatar- no point, no need. She won't need to do anything that would upset her in order to-

To what? There's a million things she won't do, and still nothing she wants. It was more frustrating than anything Kuvira was telling her, and suddenly she wondered what she was so afraid of in the first place- No. No. She wasn't afraid. That was ridiculous. She had nothing to fear from the scrutiny of this broken, defeated woman. She simply had no patience for lectures, that was all. That was all.

She spun to face Kuvira again.

"I'm curious what chance you think I'm after. Endless martyrdom? Helping more of the Avatar's wayward little monsters? A comfortable cage like this in Zuzu's retirement home? I think I'll pass."

"Fulfillment," she replied, simply, after all of that washed over her. She shook her head.

"Without it," she said, a bit more quietly, "you'll never have peace. And the rage inside, the long-held wounds - they'll only get worse. And they will eat away at you. The emptiness, the fear."

She looked Azula in the eyes, with something akin to sympathy.

"You have to face yourself, Azula. Or it will all end up the same place it did before. And then, well. You'll be in chains either way. Of someone else's making, or your own."

"And this is fulfilling for you, is it?"

It's petulant and she knows it, but something about those words struck her again. The details were wrong, the differences Azula had tried to cling to, but she couldn't ignore parts of it. Hollow, alone, rage, emptiness, fear.

She couldn't even articulate why. It was ridiculous. What was she afraid of? Kuvira could do nothing but prattle, and she'd certainly endured that before. And she was different, she knew that much, even if there were some... commonalities. Kuvira was still wrapped up in ideals, in sentiment, in remorse. That had been the impetus for her grand reformation, no doubt. More like Zuko than like her.

At least, that's what she kept telling herself.

"And I already told you, I'm not in the habit of torturing myself."

"Yes," she replies, a very slight smile coming to her face. "I'm making amends for what I did, at least. Paying the cost. I can never take back the pain I caused, but I can accept my responsibility for it."

She leaned back in her chair, reaching for her tea again.

"Your tea's getting cold."

There's a long, long scrutiny at that- she doesn't even try to hide it, she's studying Kuvira, looking for something. Trying to understand something, to find something...

It was absurd. A woman of that ambition and drive, that power, reduced to this? Locked away in her own home, being badgered by scholars and trying to win forgiveness? And now, having somebody who- whether Azula agreed or not- had been judged as like her at her worst foisted upon her? It should have been misery. How could it possibly bring peace?

But... Kuvira was formidable, but she didn't seem like a liar, certainly not like Azula. Her strengths lay elsewhere, she guessed. Somehow- impossibly- she's telling the truth. She seemed genuinely content with her path, even now, even dealing with her.

Azula finally averted her gaze with a frown of frustration, sat down, and picked up her tea.

"I can warm it if I have to."

It was all the acknowledgement of the change of mind that she was going to give.

And she just looks back, knowing full well what's happening. It wouldn't have been hard to guess under any circumstances, but in the moment -

She just waits, calmly. Letting Azula approach this, now, from her own direction. She'd made the first, required crack - what happened next had to be of Azula's doing.

It takes Azula some time to speak again- for a while, she simply drinks her tea in silence. She's turning things over in her mind- what exactly she wants to know. Why she's even still here.

Finally, frowning at the bottom of her cup, she finds something to say.

"What made you change your mind? About your... empire?"

She refilled her own, offering to do the same for Azula.

"Because whatever ideals I supported, in the end I did it all out of fear. Fear of being vulnerable. Which I applied to the my nation, but in truth - I just kept doing worse and worse things. Sacrificed people. Sacrificed relationships. And it never helped. There was just the next challenge, the next thing to control. By the end, I was willing to sacrifice the man I loved for the greater cause."

If anything, that was the first time something like sadness appeared on her face.

"It's ironic, I suppose. In trying to build the future, I destroyed my own. And I was still as alone as I was when I started."

She keeps her expression neutral again as she watches Kuvira refill her cup.

That... tracked, she supposed. A zealot so driven she would sacrifice the person she loved. Instinctively, she rejects the notion. Azula was never an ideologue or a zealot, and there was nothing that her deeds could cost her, because there was nobody she cared about enough to fear losing.

Sharp pain in her shoulder, a dull impact on her side, her legs go weak and numb, and she gasps in shock as she collapses onto the gondola platform-

She realizes her hand is clutching the teacup so tightly her hand trembles, and she quickly sets it down so she won't break it.

"Nobody ever said making history would be comfortable. Surely for a noble enough cause it was worth the sacrifices."

"No," she replied, "it really wasn't. Each sacrifice just led to another, and another. The more I pursued it, the less there was of me."

And she watches that cup as it's put down, giving Azula a bit of a look in return.

"I was willing to sacrifice friends, lovers, even family in the name of something that, in the end, just caused harm. What good would that be, in the end? What history was I writing?"

Of course, now she's in foreign territory. The thought of sacrificing something she valued for her ideals was still alien to her, because she was never an idealist. It had always just been a motivation for other people, another lever she could manipulate. Idealism was impractical. Tying your hands with unnecessary complications irrelevant to your objective.

"You tell me, it was your grand vision, after all. The greater good of the nation, or the delusion of equality, or whatever you thought you were accomplishing."

It occurs to her that she probably shouldn't have called it a delusion if she wanted to foster goodwill. Not that she's sure why she's trying to foster goodwill, but-

Well, it doesn't matter. She already said it. She opts not to fixate on it, and instead picks up her tea again, now that her hands are more cooperative.

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