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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Everybody has their lines.

"Maybe," she replies, non-commitally. "But just how early did your...obligations begin?"

Another attempt to get a rise out of her, put her off-balance, and another total failure. She'd changed her entire life for these people, and yet when Azula openly insulted them, she just... ignored it. Kept asking the question she'd been asking, kept the conversation about her.

Spirits, this woman was difficult.

"Ever since I was old enough to understand the instructions, I suppose."

Because she knew the disdain for what it was. A smokescreen. And you never indulged the enemy in their plan. She leaned back a bit, packing up the little kit.

"So you never really had a childhood," she said, stating the obvious. "And what about your mother? Did she at least encourage you to...well, live, at all?"

She rolls her eyes at that. "Of course I had a childhood, don't be so melodramatic."

The question about her mother... well. She's able to keep the intrusive thoughts out of her mind. She is at least able to keep the irritated response from her face, instead giving the practiced smirk again.

"As for mother, well. She was a little busy taking care of precious Zuzu to spend much time on me."

She gives Azula a look at that. She's also learning that using 'Zuzu' is a key part of that smokescreen. A good place to displace some anger, too.

"Right," she replies, setting the kit aside, sitting with her arms draped over her legs. "And I'm sure your father - raising you to be his obedient little doll - had nothing to do with you and your mother not getting along."

It's a guess, but a logical one. It's strategically sound - if she were a manipulative despot, needing a loyal second, it's how she would approach it. School them from a young age, cut them off from any intervening influence as much as possible - and where not possible, since appearances had to be maintained, make sure to poison the well. Ozai hadn't been exactly clever or original in his way of doing things, but it was effective nonetheless.

"Do you think your mother loved you less than Zuko?"

There it is again, the spike of rage so intense she can't quite keep it from momentarily reaching her eyes. As before, the knowledge that she was in the middle of a functional fortress full of metalbenders is the only thing that keeps her from responding with immediate violence. But she takes a deep breath, and she plasters the false smile back on her face again, speaking with venomous sweetness.

"What an insulting question."

After a moment, she shrugs and adds, "I know she did. He was soft, like her."

"Is that you talking," she replied, curtly, "or your puppet master father?"

She couldn't let her duck away into her usual responses - responses she wondered about. Had they come to her naturally, or had they been programmed into her? Azula had it far worse than Kuvira had - similar paths or not. Kuvira had made her choices, she hadn't been manipulated as a child.

"You're still making the choices he wants," she adds. "Don't you think it's time you started to re-evaluate those assumptions?"

"And the insults just keep coming."

Despite that, she doesn't seem particularly bothered by her jabs against Ozai- no trace of the uncontrolled fury that the question about her mother prompted- but the smirk does take on a slightly harsh edge.

"I haven't been motivated by what my father wants for a long time, even if you don't count the eighty years I lost."

"I've no reason to insult you," she pointed out. "I'm merely pointing out that you're still playing out the pattern he created for you."

As for the rest, well.

"What does motivate you then? It can't be power, or revenge against the mother you seem so angry at."

Not an insult? Well, if that's what she wanted to tell herself.

The later question, though she had only recently, from her perspective, tried to get that exact revenge-

If it's true- if I am your mother- then I'm sorry I didn't love you enough.

Rrgh. She ignores the intrusive memory and focuses on the question, but there's another flicker of frustration on her face.

"Why can't it be power, exactly? Perhaps I simply haven't yet found an opportunity to my liking. And I sincerely doubt dear mother is even alive anymore."

She shook her head.

"Not that you couldn't figure out ways to strike at her regardless. But I advise against it. And seeking power, frankly. Because it won't satisfy. Or exorcise the ghosts I can see haunting you."

She stares at Kuvira for some time at that- not scrutinizing her, just broadcasting her disapproval.

After she feels her point is made, she finally responds.

"Then what is it you believe would satisfy me, exactly? Assuming I don't find your little retirement plan appealing."

She emphasizes the words by sweeping her fingers upward to indicate the room around them.

"The one question I can't answer," she replied, matching the gesture.

"This is my choice, my penance. There is no other recompense I can offer, save my life, for what I have done. The misdeeds, the pain. This is what has to be. But you...you are in the unique position to decide for yourself."

She nodded.

"For the first time. Not thanks to your father, or in spite of your mother. Or even out of consideration of your brother. This is your moment, Azula, to find out who that really is."

She can't explain why that prompts another surge of frustration. The rational part of her brain feels like it's an admission of defeat by Kuvira, an answer she's failed to provide, another reason why Azula should just ignore this conversation and leave.

But it doesn't feel that way. It feels... disappointing, somehow.

"Who I really am? You have been talking to Korra, then, she used a very similar line of reasoning." After a moment, she sneers, "It sounded inane when she said it, too."

That was probably petty, but the longer she thought about the idea, the more irritated she became. Not knowing what she wanted. Not having a goal. Not having a purpose. She'd assumed it was simply a lack of context, that the next step would become obvious once she'd assessed the state of the new world where she found herself, but it didn't.

She was silent for a moment, then rose, moving to her desk. She opened a drawer, lifted a few papers - and returned, offering a letter over to Azula.

"That's all she said," Kuvira said, taking her seat again. "She didn't tell me anything other than that you were coming, as you can see. This is all just from what I've seen, in the time you've been here."

Because honesty, applied liberally like an artillery barrage - has superb use.

Somehow, she has a feeling Kuvira was telling the truth, even before she checks the letter herself- though, she does anyway.

Which only made it more frustrating. She doesn't like being read, and Kuvira has done a frustratingly thorough job of defying all attempts at deflecting her attention, distracting her, upsetting her, or misleading her.

That's the focus and will of the would-be dictator, she supposes. Why that focus and will is being spent on her is another question. She hands the letter back, summoning the projected smirk again.

"Well. Since she didn't share my answer, I suppose I'll have to tell you what I told her- this idea that there's some better person inside me begging to be set free is absolute nonsense."

She laughed a bit, shaking her head.

"How in the hell would you actually know?" she asked. "You've been propagandized and groomed into being a weapon since you were, what, able to walk? But no, please," here she actually laughed a bit, skeptically, "explain to me how you can speak with such certainty."

That certainly raises hackles, and she narrows her eyes at Kuvira.

"Maybe you're not giving me enough credit for self-awareness."

Which, even in her mind, sounded defensive and difficult to believe. Ugh. She scowls down at her bandaged hand.

"...I've tried, you realize. To be... ordinary. To deal with people as equals, rather than letting the power of my reputation speak for me."

"Tell me about that, then," she replied, calmly. "I'll leave aside the fact that people are your equals, and once you accept that, you'll do better. I'll also leave aside the fact that you're somewhere where you don't have to have any reputation at all."

"No reputation at all?" She scoffs. "The looks your family gave me when I came in make me suspect that ship has sailed."

She's not particularly looking forward to revisiting that trip to Ember Island, but she's got nowhere else to try and direct the conversation, and so far Kuvira has proven frustratingly resistant to the tactic anyway.

"It wasn't much of a story. During the war, my brother and I, along with two of our friends-"

The word 'friends' carries a hint of bitterness despite her best efforts.

"-went to Ember Island, and I chose not to reveal my status to the locals. Call it an experiment, if you like."

"The strange firebender, here mysteriously to see me? Pretty sure that would draw their attention. They're worried enough about vengeful assassins as it is."

But as she listens to the rest, she merely gestures for Azula to continue.

That... was something she hadn't considered. She'd assumed that the animosity was a matter of who she was. The idea that they were nervous about any stranger coming to see Kuvira... made sense, but surely the Fire Nation wasn't as likely a source of threats as the embittered Earth Kingdom. She had come from Republic City, she supposed.

As to her story... She hadn't wanted to continue. She really hoped 'there wasn't much of a story' would put her off. But she didn't have a persuasive response that wouldn't be revealing anyway, and deflections weren't an option here. Finally, she decided that just getting it over with was her best option.

"Even without knowing who I was- even when I made no attempt to intimidate, manipulate, or command them- they still treated me like..." She hesitated, but there was no other way to phrase it. "Like a monster. Worse, even, because I no longer exercised power over them."

The Republic City that Kuvira had, latterly, tried to destroy. She had many enemies there.

"And what happened the next time?" she asked, simply.

"I didn't try again after that. I'm a fast learner, I rarely need lessons repeated."

She tries to make that sound neutral, tries to keep the frustration and bitterness out of her voice, but she knows it failed. She's beginning to tire of these lapses, these moments of weakness that conversations like this seem to evoke in her.

"Even if I were so inclined, trying to be something else was never an option."

She's silent for a very long moment, then shakes her head.

"You learned the wrong one. Social skills don't just happen. People won't like you right away, no matter who you are - and I think you need to ask yourself why you never tried again."

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