unstable | prisma inbox.

"quality time......?"
just trying to be polite, obviously i know they wouldn't mind, i watch tv with gokudera there sometimes anyway

actually now that i think of it though
our tv is much bigger than theirs
it made a big difference for the movies, better details
...so maybe my place after all......?

my schedule isn't busy, tell me when you want me and i will come

when you want. i'm off two days so i'll be home

this is my address, use the map thing
just tell me before you come so i can let my roommates know you'll be here.....

[ He drops a pin. Really, he doesn't want to clear his roommates for the sake of quality alone time with his sister; he just doesn't want to deal with introducing Azula to the host club... It's too much for him right now; he already has a lot of confused, stressful feelings in his mind these days, and he doesn't need that kind of extra energy on his day off. Besides, he'd be clearing them out for all their sakes, really. This group is not an intuitive match even without Azula thrown in the mix. Living here has been very good exercise for Zuko deliberately practicing patience. ]

what if i come now? do you have a movie ready for us

yeah there's a million inside the tv, you'll see what i mean
we can pick one when you get here

[ She really had nothing else to do, but that wasn't the only reason she was happy to spend time entertaining him. Truthfully, this Zuko reminded her of the only time where everything seemed okay. He had come back to her, she was happy. Or as happy as she could have ever been under Ozai's thumb with her world shattering around her while she thought she had complete control, anyway. Those moments were still fresh on his mind, whereas for them now... things were so complicated.

It was always complicated, but years ago, for a moment, they had been in tune. He wanted to keep her close here, too. Sports and now this? He hid from her because he thought she would kill him, and now? Sanguis had really illuminated things for her, her reality was shifting and now the thought of keeping Zuko at a distance seemed foolish when he was offering himself up on a silver platter.

Azula had already known his address, but she wouldn't tell him that, the path familiar enough as she had let herself trek it a handful of times before deciding haunting his roommates wasn't worth the destruction to their fragile relationship. She expects them to be gone now, knowing that regardless of how he felt of her there would be no trust with his friends.

She couldn't blame him for that.

Anyway! She's knocking on his door! She'd let herself in but this is her trying to be polite. ]

[ Zuko was surprising even himself with this invitation, in fact. The sports — he wanted to win at kuai ball, legitimately. He trusts Yamamoto to be a formidable kuai ball opponent, and he can't lose at his own game. Hide and Explode — a nostalgic whim, might-as-well type invitation. This idea was different, and confused him, who went back and forth sometimes a few times a day on what sort of relationship suits them here... Those times they'd spent together peacefully, despite his own personal anxieties, and their trip to Ember Island, the intimate night on the beach — these were recent memories, and conflicted his feelings of ire and combative defense that had come to follow, but which likewise are all but irrelevant here, going with his model of thinking that'd comforted him until her arrival.

Now, shedding his life did not seem so cut-and-dry. Even if it'd just been Uncle who'd arrived, Zuko knew he'd understand on some level, and they had buried the hatchet very recently before Zuko came. Azula? Technically, threats and whatever had them at each other's throats were all no longer were at play. Logically, there were many things between them that should dissolve here... Easier said than done. Even after inviting her, a part of him had a gut regretful reaction — "why did I do that?" he said aloud. What is his expectation? But on the other hand, a louder part of him told him this was the way to approach their new chance at... something else. This was the right thing to do, it felt like? And truth be told, he found himself looking forward some, thinking/hoping it'd maybe actually be a genuinely nice time, by the time she got there — which surely wasn't very long, no surprise.

The small hall leading from the front door to the living room at least obscured for the moment the decorative horror that lies within. A few pairs of shoes are lined up by the door, as per his Japanese roommates, which he'd nod at to indicate to her once he lets her in. He takes a deep breath before opening the door, and greets her with a somewhat blank expression, brows slightly knitted as naturally as they almost always are. He'd thought about his opening line prior, too. ]

Hey.

Hey.

[ She repeats back to him in the same low tone, like she'd practiced his voice a million times before. Azula laughs immediately after, brushing passed him like she'd entered his dwelling a million times before, like they were old pals that did casual hangs.

Hah. She tilts her head as she watches him close the door behind her, ignoring the shoes on the floor (what, was she going to wiggle around his apartment in socks?) to focus in on him. Purposely to make him a little uncomfortable, Azula was still excitedly trying to pick him apart, figure out his motive. She had convinced herself he'd attempt to disappear the second she let him out of her sight, not do her best to keep her in his circle. Always. It felt like any time he had finally slipped her mind, the ping of a new notification forced him back in. ]

I never thought you would actually invite me to the place you live. Where you rest your head at night and close your little eye.

Me, neither. Take your shoes off.

[ The prince was respectful of his Japanese roommates' custom, the same at Gokudera and Yamamoto's; in fact, he found it sensible. He did expect her to wiggle around in her socks, yes. He, himself, was barefoot, wearing a comfortable mix of his Fire Nation pants he'd arrived in, and a plain black t-shirt. He started to feel a bit less comfortable as he shows her in, though, feeling her eyes on him. He starts to walk forward, not waiting to see if she takes her shoes off or not, but does stop just at the mouth of the hall, his eyes scanning the scene. The decorating war was still on, but this was fairly cohesive, his roommates all being excited and festive for Halloween, or whatever the Lunatian holiday it was. He didn't know or care about it, but somehow he's been loped in by others. He didn't find it so awful, and the living room was... better... than it could be. The blue-and-orange tropical theme versus Rococo palatial theme in their first month was rough on Zuko... But still, he pauses to take an agonized sigh, but says nothing, gives Azula no warning as they move on.

Indeed, the open space before them was more of a battleground than a living room. On one side, a rather regal set-up made a striking impression, grey and gold, black accents, roses in fancy vases. There was one white chaise longue that stood out, and it was the first victim of the myriad tacky Halloween decorations that littered this royal scene (including the witch's hat and some silky veils for ambience topping the lampshades, all fire hazards). On the other side of the room, however, from whence the decorations clearly crawled, was quite modern and chic, clean-cut, the exact opposite of the couch across from it. The decorations on the posh side were stylish and cute, whereas all the decorations on the fancy side were rather obnoxiously kitschy. There was a throw pillow on the white couch, that may be the most offensive of all, with a tacky print framing the words "Too Cute to Spook." Fake spiderwebs were strung about both sides, subtle touches like that to bring it together a little bit.

However. However. The most unnerving part of it all, undeniably, was the abundance of jack-o-latterns speckling the house. Some in nice rows of various sizes, some large that stand out. If one looks closely, the backs of the pumpkins all have different designs on them, things that match the theme — some classic smiling faces, some bats, some ghosts, but all of these cute, festive carvings were hidden. All of the other pumpkins had been spun round and rather artfully carved with this face, over, and over, and over. As Zuko's eyes did one more torturous scan the war zone of his own home — which he had absolutely nothing to do with — his mind did a sudden backflip. He spins round and starts to walk back toward the door, stepping aside to maybe block Azula before she sees, but he's not quick enough. She's already there by the time he speaks his second thoughts, which leaves him mid-sentence, suddenly mortified. Why did he invite her over here instead of going over there? Stupid! He could have just hung out with her and the boys, that'd've been quality time too, right?! Not in this scene! Stupid, Zuko. He's so used to the war here, he's just... been desensitized... and the impact didn't set in until it was too late. ]

Actually, maybe we should go to—...

[ Azula might kick her shoes off later when she feels like the time is right, but she isn't doing it now merely because Zuko insisted. It gives her plenty of time to soak in the abhorrent sight before her, the furniture and decor was truly a mess but the strange pumpkins scattered about? The longer she stood there in silence, the longer it felt like they were boring a hole into her soul. How many were there? Why did Zuko let them linger in his living room? What Yamamoto and Gokudera had chosen was simple, Azula barely paid it any mind-- she had been detached from the luxurious, regal lifestyle long enough that she no longer insisted on it.

But what was this. What was her reaction supposed to be? ]

Oh, no, Zuko. I fear that I have suddenly gone blind.

I'm jealous...

[ The pumpkins were absolutely boring a hole into her soul — as they'd done to all household members since the very first of Tamaki's pumpkins was violated. To their devilish creators, though, the sadism was worth the masochism. The twins were willing to spare their good tastes enough to torture Tamaki with anything that they could. The face of Nishiko-kun, apparently a lesser-known mascot in Japan commemorating the archaeological excavation of an ancient roof-tile, had become an unnerving fixture in their house in various forms, after the twins had crafted the mascot suit for Tamaki as a prank (they'd also sewn Zuko an abominable "dragon" kigurumi with googly eyes that also stared into his soul, but that doesn't need to be brought up).

Nishiko-kun has the spotlight, and it was glowing out of every face. There weren't enough to be ridiculous (surely, we're past that point, though), but enough were strategically placed so that no matter where one looked, even out of the corner of the eye, there was at least one looking back. This was probably the cruelest design yet. The ever-evolving incarnations of their living room wars had finally come to this "cohesive" culmination with an army of Nishiko's at the frontlines, and it was getting tough. They seemed to multiply every couple days all month, a long con... Zuko stayed in his sparse room plenty, making dorky models; he'd really chosen this apartment at random on his first night and it shows. Could he even begin to explain their dynamic to Azula? He's not even sure he could to himself, fully. ]

I have roommates. They have decorating wars. I have nothing to do with it.

[ He's clearing his good name as a first priority. Glancing aside at her painfully, he leads her in, gesturing at the posh side to sit as they come up. The black screen of the television mounted on the wall blended in rather stylishly and subtly with the black walls on Tamaki's side of the room. The TV was a decently nice, decently large flat-screen TV, hi-def, Moonflix, all the fixin's. Much different than the one at Gokudera and Yamamoto's. Regaining a sense of luxury is important in this house. Clearly. Albeit disjointed and mismatched, neither side was short of glamorous (apart from the tacky pillows the twins had bought for Tamaki; at least Zuko and Azula won't have to sit with those)... ]

You could have everything to do with it.

[ Azula now has plenty of chroma to light this whole apartment ablaze, it'd be doing him a favor if she took the liberty to take care of his decorating problem for him. She contemplates it for a long moment, silently debating the pros and cons of such destruction, before finally talking herself out of it and flopping on the couch. Azula doesn't bother leaving any room for Zuko as she sprawls out, booted feet very clearly displayed for him to yell at her for. ]

Instead, now I must wash my eyes when I leave in an attempt to unsee what you've forced upon me.

[ While Azula may have enough Chroma to set the place ablaze, Zuko doesn't, but between the incompetence, ignorance and insufferable privilege of the four boys in the house, in time they won't need Azula's help to set it ablaze. There are already fire hazards begging to be set throughout the house, independent of Zuko's or Azula's own incensed flames. But indeed, she earns his narrowed, irritated gaze, as he stands before the couch, crossing his arms and scowling at her. She knows how to get his goat. He knows that she knows, and yet it always works. ]

I have to see it every day — you'll live.

[ That she left her boots on doesn't bother him so much as the full effect of her sprawl. He takes a lingering exasperated glare at her, then steps aside to grab the remote control for the television, switching it on as he returns. Maybe in the 30 seconds that took, she'll be more willing to lift her legs to make room for her only brother and kindly host. Ha. Haha. ]

Let me sit, Azula.

There's still plenty of room.

[ She found it odd that Zuko was bothering to stay with the disaster roommates, but if he saw some comfort in this mess she'd never understand enough to talk him out of it. Nor did she particularly care that much.

Azula doesn't move for him, instead lifting her legs in the air just enough that he could slip around them and sit so she can use him as a leg rest. It's as good as he's going to get. ]

[ Frankly... he expected it. He takes his place, huffing as he sits and her legs fall across his lap. He takes pause once the feeling of Chroma spreads across both their legs, glancing at her from the corner of his eye as it does. It felt so different than with others, Chroma with Azula. Very different than Chroma with their uncle, too; which, of course, was much sweeter and more comforting than this. But this still felt more intense to him than most. The feeling with family was stronger. From day one, Zuko has felt rather sensitive to the feel of the flow, finding that tactile sensation extra stimulating, at times almost too much. He's been touch-starved for so many years of his life — and so has his sister, he's reminded now... Casting that glance toward the TV quickly at the thought, he fiddles with the remote control, making just a couple mistakes in navigation before finding Moonflix; he's getting the hang of it, okay. ]

Okay... So these are all like little posters. We can choose from any genre, all kinds of stuff; it's endless.

[ He starts scrolling down slowly, passing by many pre-made playlists. Romance. Family. Comedy. He knew neither of them wanted anything lighthearted and uplifting. No, instead he dwells a moment on Action, where he'd found his own movies before. A few playlists down, another genre reads Psychological Horror. A lot more specific than "Action," at least, that's for sure. ]

[ The flow of chroma had almost been a surprise, behavior that was so familiar offering a new connection she'd forgotten to anticipate. It gives her pause, steadying her breath as she grows familiar with what seems like a dark pit in her stomach unraveling, its tendrils igniting her skin everywhere it touched. For a moment she thinks to draw back, but she doesn't want Zuko to notice any vulnerability, any hesitance.

She combs fingers through her hair as she watches bright titles flash across the screen, none of which seem particularly interesting-- though she's not trying too hard to enjoy this moment. Her hands settle in her lap as she leans her head against the back cushion of the couch, staring up at the ceiling. ]

Surely you had something in mind before you asked me to come here, you know me well enough to make such a decision on your own.

[ Zuko's glance finds her again from the corners of his eyes, a soft pout tugging his lips at her words. Of course he knew she wasn't going to engage that much, but at least was trying to be a little considerate of her input... If they could suffer through such a botched production of Love Amongst the Dragons summer after summer growing up, and still find some fun in it, then they could find a movie both could tolerate, if not enjoy. They're not kids anymore, though; the theatrical ante has been upped. His cursor passes by some tacky action posters with cars and guns and shit he doesn't recognize or care about. But one poster below catches his curiosity. The pale face of a beautiful but ghostly woman, her lips concealed by a large butterfly of some kind... with a skull on its back. Visually dramatic from the first glance. Caught his eye, at least. He pulls up the info screen, the chilling preview clip playing in the background as he speed-reads the summary. ]

What about this one? "Silence of the Fawns." 'Psychological Horror' is the genre... It says it's famous, I guess. About a killer.

[ Eventually, she lets her eyes wander back to the screen, admittedly a little interested in the technology. How long before they would have something like this in the Fire Nation? It seemed like this was the norm for so many, it annoyed her just thinking about it, forcing herself to focus on the fact that Zuko-- ]

You think because it is about a killer I will enjoy it?

[ She raises her eyebrow at him, clicking her tongue against her teeth in fake disappointment before she snatches the remote out of his hands. Azula wants to press play. ]

No, I liked the picture, I was just letting you know— Hey...!

[ Aaand the remote is snatched. Zuko's face is washed with a short-lived look of surprise before it falls at her childishness. But he lets her do what she wants, relinquishing control of the controls. He's not so surprised that she grabs the remote but more surprised that she actually goes with his suggestion. "Psychological horror" was more what made him think it'd be up her alley, but even if he had the chutzpah to say that aloud to her, he'd know better. Instead, he just lets out a little puff of a huff, and returns his gaze to the screen as the credits open to a young woman running in a forest, alien names rolling across the screen, all their job titles just as unfamiliar. As they ease in and get settled now, Zuko reclines against the couch, lowering his arms onto Azula's legs gingerly as he leans back. The Chroma rushes through them, too, when he does, and he keeps them lying there with a comfortable pressure. One hand is left lying loose against his own leg, while the other idly wraps itself halfway around her shin, which his thumb starts to gently but unconsciously stroke off and on after they're several minutes into the film. It wasn't intuitive nor comfortable to ask Azula over for a movie date, but now this felt rather normal and natural. It'd been many years since they touched like this — like siblings should. He'd not admit it, but even without the Chroma considered, there was still some warm spark between the fire prince and fire princess, and it felt nice. Normal and natural and nice. ]

[ She didn't care about the film, he seemed interested enough and that was good enough for her, dropping the remote into the cushion once it starts. It was hard to keep herself focused on anything but Zuko, draped lightly over her like they'd done this a million times, knowing that Lunatia was the only reason they'd be this close at all. It wasn't fair that he didn't remember what they'd gone through, what had become of her, but this Zuko was the one that shattered her life when he fled to the Avatar-- maybe he knew, maybe he regretted it? Or at least her, she'd be foolish to think he'd ever believe he made the wrong decision with Aang. Azula knew that much.

She takes a breath when she catches herself watching him, allowing herself to bury herself a little more in the cushions for comfort, gaze finally returning to the screen. The movie didn't start out exactly thrilling, hitting too close to home even if she wouldn't ever call herself a killer, but Zuko's soft touches are enough of a distraction to keep her from minding enough. Sitting here for two hours like this would be agonizing, but it reminded her of sitting together on a dark bench watching the same play over and over. This one, at least, seemed to be a bit more intriguing, ears perking up the more she catches wind from the interview that this was going to be about grisly murders. ]

[ Zuko's fixed his gaze to the screen, but after a while, he feels her eyes on him, and it catches his breath noticing it — what's so interesting about him, more than the movie? But when she repositions herself in the couch, Zuko's own eyes drift to the right at her in turn, checking if she's looking, rather than checking if she's watching... But he doesn't let his gaze linger too long, and it follows back to the screen as the interview with the cannibal psychiatrist grows ever-more eerie. This was a very different style than the two heavily aesthetic, colorful action movies he'd seen. Already he's not quite on edge, but comparatively to any other piece of theatre or cinema he'd seen, he's sucked in with sick fascination. All the sicker as the film unfolds, too — and this scene sick enough to call up question aloud, when an especially insane inmate harasses the pretty young detective lady by throwing both sexist insults and his own fresh ejaculate at her at once as she rushes by his cell and out of the prison-like hospital. The filmmakers had certainly built up a mood. ]

...What was that he threw at her face? Was that his, uh—?

[ His eyes turn again from the screen to Azula, his idle stroking of her leg stopping suddenly when he does. Hopefully he's saying enough by not saying the word he thinks he means to say, if he read that scene right. It's not his comfort zone, it's uncouth, and he's asking his sister. He'd probably be more comfortable asking about how the guy ate someone's liver. ]

prisma inbox.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject