DEAR DICTATOR → zuko

╸seventeen : the trigger

The younger girl grows quite confident with her title, and with Nari's newfound respect. It's as if the uncivil girl has learned a pristine and state-of-the-art set of manners. "Hm," Azula sings, arm stretched out to assist Nari up from her current sitting position. "I suspect you've changed your mind?" With a glossed smile, Azula speaks each word with skilled prowess and obvious intentions. The petty drag in her voice is a bell that forces Nari to realize she doesn't have a choice when it comes to Azula's ultimatum.

Much to Nari's fortune, however, she sheds no care to choices-- her plan alone defeats the princess's proposition. It stomps on it as if it were an unsuspecting bug. "You know, back in my country, we exchange a warm greeting before asking questions." As Nari jumps to her feet, she quotes Azula's prior words, mimicking a similar smile.

Azula's face falls flat as she huffs. "Fine," Words snap out of her lips like a cracking whip. "How was your morning, Nari?"

Tedious and tiresome, just like you. "It was restful and calm. Great weather outside, don't you think?"

Azula's hands fly to her temples like magnets as she suppresses yet another draining sigh. "Yes, the weather is great." Nari steps back with Azula's tone-- though it was previously maintained and chilled, it grows rushed. "Enough with the dull pleasantries; will you be accepting my offer?"

Nari laughs at the wording; an offer? More like a prison sentence.

"The Fire Lord will pardon you and your precious Zuko, do you not realize that?" Azula's patience runs thin, the obvious tells shown on a flattened face.

Nari mirrors this but forges a hint of affability onto her face rather than a dull restlessness. "I do," she replies calmly. "And stop referencing Zuko like that, we're not-" her shoulders scrunch together as she cringes. "-ugh, it's not like that. Have you not seen his hair?" It's not the hair that makes her cringe, for the most part, it's his insanely bitter attitude.

Azula grumbles, but an agreeable laugh is hidden behind it.

"Not to mention, he's not my Zuko, he's the Fire Lord's son. His pardon is reasonable, mine? Not so much." As Nari continues, Azula listens well. She stands as stiff as a sturdy tree while Nari switches her weight from hip to hip, a thoughtful countenance planted on her face. "I'll take you up on your offer—" this changes Azula's expression quite colossally, despite how well the young girl tries to fight it, "—on one condition. You tell me why exactly the Fire Lord wants me pardoned. Specifically."

Azula scoffs, her head turned trivially away from Nari. "Well, you're my friend, of course. Not to mention, a pretty strong bender." When Nari's lips grow tight with a smug smile, well aware that Azula never passes out flattery to anyone but herself, the young princess quickly corrects herself. "Whatever— it's not a compliment, it's just a fact."

Nari stalks at a slow pace, circling Azula while examining her nails, elbow resting in the opposite hand. "Oh, it's a compliment," she challenges. "But that's just your reasoning. Why does Fire Lord Ozai wish to have me pardoned." Her inquiry is drawn out slowly, like venom gradually sinking into a bite wound.

Azula slightly hesitates. "I just said it; you're a strong bender. Under the circumstances you have been put under-"

"-And you know them so well, don't you, Azula?" Nari goads with a lowered voice, stopping strictly behind her. "Only so many people can spread the word of what happened that night truthfully. What have you heard?"

"If you'd listen to me," Azula starts, her vexed tone unintentionally falling flat just after each word. An exasperated huff follows. "You'd know I'm not saying you did anything wrong. Akio-" Nari shivers with that name. "-got what he deserved."