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❝ the leader ❞
· • -- ٠ ♛ ٠ -- • ·
Nari must be careful around Zuko.
As a prior friend of hers– despite whatever attempt she gave to wipe that word from existence– she has to be careful around him. Too many jokes and too much comforting will lead to a strengthened bond. What was once rope tied across twigs will become metal chains against deep-rooted alloy stakes.
And the reminder of such strikes through Nari like a javelin.
Especially now. As she watches a silent river ahead of her, the colors of a sunset settling orange upon it, Nari toys with her nails. Zuko joins her as he rests his back against a similar tree. His hair grows back slowly, now more of a spiky fluff that can't catch the wind.
Nari tugs at the end of her own hair, fingers stopping short where it cuts off– it should be much longer than this, but nothing goes Nari's way. Not normally.
Like how she'd been wishing to call Zuko out on his gruffness and how he acted at the North Pole, leaving so haphazardly after not leaving soon enough. She holds a resting grudge, and she'd wish to have thrown it off her chest. But now isn't the time for shouts and curses.
Because she realizes something; had they gone home, she'd go home. Nari doesn't want that anymore, she just wants to be... better. Nothing more than respected and feared, not shunned and hated. Had they gone home, Nari would be forced to meet Rai's eyes, to return to the gates of evil. Hikaro, with all his stubbornness, would act as if she were dead. Gone. Never existing in the first place. And every picture of hers would be turned or burned away.
Zuko would return home with honor restored, Ozai would treat him as he always had, and the boy would stand by his father's right side until the day the throne is passed down to him. Then he'll rule as Fire Lord. Peachy keen.
Zuko leans his head back against the tree as he analyzes Nari's composure. Not once have her eyes left the scene in front of her, not once have they met his. Her shoulders are tied up in knots, tense, hands picking leaves off a fallen branch from the tree she's resting against. She's got a fair share of toys to fidget with, a rock by her side which she's surely twirled in her palm before.
Zuko clears his throat in case she missed his presence. She didn't. Nari simply pays him minimal mind. "Nari," He starts, dragging out her name with such a low tone he's practically pulling it through the mud. "What's wrong?"
Nari purses her lips before turning away with a shake of her head. She hums, not wanting anything else resulting from her voice beside a simple "M-mhm."
The afternoon sunlight hits her pale face in shades of pinks and yellows, darkness bringing out tired eyes.
"What's your problem?" He hesitates, adding a hitch of uncertainty to how he sits. A boy trembling from the fear of a vicious girl's response. Zuko can tell how pissed Nari grows with him by the simple rise in the air's temperature around them. The girl gnaws at her tongue as she remains hushed, lips sealed with tar. And thus a confused Zuko continues on. "Why aren't you talking? Is there something I did?"
