Sun Child: Journey to the Boiling Rock

[weirdlet]

Complete and utter crack. Sun Child AU:  The episode in which Zura and Sokka are trading love-life yarns.

The Fic-

 

“I know, I know, you’ve changed-“

 “I meant my uncle.”  Zura looked into the miniature furnace of the war balloon, pensive.  “He was more of a father to me- and I really let him down.”

 “I think your uncle would be proud of you.  Leaving your home to come help us?  That’s hard.”

 “Not that hard.”

 “Really?  You didn’t leave behind anyone you cared about?  I mean, you got your kid out, yeah, but-”

 “Well- I do have a boyfriend.  Mao.”

 “That gloomy guy with the knives that looks like a porcelain doll?”

 “Yeah…”  She frowned, turning back to the furnace again.  “Everyone in the Fire Nation thinks I’m a traitor- and they were already looking at him for being complicit with me.  I couldn’t drag him further into that.”

 “…My first girlfriend turned into the moon.”

 “…that’s rough, buddy.”

 There was quiet for a while.  Then-

 “Hey, did he know about the thing with the veils and the-“

 “That didn’t happen.”

 “But I swear, you tried to-“

 “That didn’t.  Happen!”

…

“You have to let us in!  These are dangerous fugitives- I must capture them!”

“I ain’t lettin’ any men into the back of my house ‘less they’ve paid,” the old proprietress said, giving them all a fishy eye as the mole at the corner of her mouth drooped.  “Much less rough-looking types who’ll scare my performers out of their wits as they hang about.”

Zura glanced around at her squadron, loyal, tested soldiers and firebenders who’d followed her thus far.  The latest intelligence had that Water-Tribe idiot located around here- and with one bird in hand, she could lure out the others.  She was so close- she didn’t dare lose the trail now.

“What about,” she finally gulped.  “-me?”

…

Sokka was trying to keep his head down and his wits about him- but come on.  He was in a high fancy house of the sort young men went to in order to lose their wits, and their money, and if they were very lucky sometimes their clothes.  He, Aang and Katara had each taken some of that nice haul and chosen their own mini-vacations- this was the perfect town, quiet, big enough not to stand out but small enough not to get lost in, no occupation, just trade- and his mini-vacation was a miniature tour of the world, in the form of very pretty young ladies who the announcer professed to be from such exotic places as the Fire Nation, the Water Tribes, distant parts of the Earth Kingdoms and various mythic legends.

He had to admit that the moon-mermaid one had made him choke up a bit.

But now it was getting to be time for the next act, and the whistling and stomping on the furniture was dying down to a quieter anticipation. 

The music hummed.

The lights dropped.

And red blossomed out of the midst of the dark stage.

The girl was draped in ragged-edged veils, layers of red and brown and gold tracery falling like autumn leaves around her hips and armbands.  Her face and crown were hidden behind red scarves, held in place by gold chains.  A long, braided coil of black hair stood out amidst the trailing folds, swaying like the cord of a curtain after it’s been shut.  The stage lights looked chilly and remote, stars far out in the blackness on a cold night.

She just stood there.

Then someone’s drumstick clacked on a block, and the girl flowed into a stance.  Clack.  Another.  Clack.  Another.  Thump.  Another, and this time a low, thin flute joined in. 

There wasn’t nearly as much hip or snakey-ness in it as there had been with the other girls.  It was like watching a fight in slow motion, flowing kicks and strikes turning around and around until they sped up, leaves whirling, catching, turning into a bonfire…

Damn- he had to hand it to that lighting crew.

And then one of the extraneous red scarves around her arms, the ones covering up asymmetric paint on her limbs that matched the leaf-mask around her eyes, landed around his neck.

“Guh…?”

And just like that, it was over, and the stage was empty and the men around him were howling and he was left there holding the filmy sundry with eyes wide and dumbfounded.

Someone tapped him on his shoulder and he whirled with his hands up in defense.

“Whoa, I swear, she threw it at me-!”

“I know,” said the guy, who was perhaps three times his size and bald as an egg.  “The lady’d like ta see ya.”

The teenaged boy gulped.

“-huh…?”  think fast, think fast you should know what to dothinkfast-!

“Just accept that good things is comin’ to ya, kid?  It makes my job a hell of a lot easier,” the big man sighed, and gently shepherded the Water Tribe rube off to meet his destiny.

Country kids.

…

Sokka had never seen this much frippery in his life.

Seriously, it was hard to tell what walls were costumes and what was just decorative and whether this or that collection of beaded strings was somebody’s abandoned outfit or standing in lieu of a door.  The feathers alone could have filled mattresses, if you didn’t mind them being very tawdry ones.

In a funny way, it was a little like a properly lived-in house in the South Pole, only instead of furs and leathers, you had spangles and jewelry hanging about the place.  A nest insulated against the outside world, filled with the tools and treasures and illusory privacy of a close-knit life…

He saw the girl’s silhouette move into a veiled doorway- if he ran now, would it be rude?  Should he have done it back when the enormous guy had been guiding him, or ducked out of the way of the scarf in the first place?

“Uh- hi.  My name’s Sokka- Southern Water Tribe- how ya doing?”

The girl didn’t say anything, just moved with strong, careful steps over pillows and cushions, hands curled around a tray that held a substantial-looking liquor bottle of jewel-cut glass and two very small cups.  Her veils hadn’t been disturbed since he’d first seen her, and she kept her eyes lowered.

“I, ah, you see, that is I’m from the Water Tribe and we kind of have a thing about the draping around the neck thing you see it’s sort of supposed to be the boy that does that to the girl and he’s supposed to take some time and be careful about it and she can try him out sure but he-“

Strong, beautiful hands grabbed him and cut off his babble by pulling him into a silencing kiss, skin to silk, and he went with it after a moment and let it go on (just testing, mind) for a good long while before he opened his eyes and began to wonder, hey, that leaf-mask’s not all paint-

Stars exploded in his head to the tune of CRACK, and the smell of liquor echoed the breaking of glass.

…

Zura stood up swiftly as the boy’s hands tumbled down with the rest of him. 

“Great,” she muttered, glancing around to see if anyone had noticed the noise, and stepped carefully aside, not trusting the delicate dancing-slippers to stand up to a lot of broken shards.  Moving swiftly, she stripped off veils and skirts and jingly things and started tying joints, knowing that she had to get him outside to her guards before anything could go wrong-

At which point the actual star of the show, beginning to age and bitter with it though she might be, discovered that someone had found her private stash and leapt upon the nearest culprit.

That would be the one who’d pilfered it for a makeshift weapon.

Zura dropped the prostrate boy as she was hit by eighty pounds of angry acrobat, grappling for her life (and what little remained of her hair) while shouting for her guards to get the hell in here already-! 

Clothing tore, beads popped and scattered and knees and nails flashed as the two women tumbled about the room-

…

“It didn’t happen that way!”

“Who’s telling this story?”

“Not you!”

…

Sokka woke with an aching head, smelling like a brewery and tied up in an alley behind a highly suspicious type of theater.  It wasn’t Katara that found him, thank the spirits, but he felt bad enough without adding a killer lecture on top. 

Besides, he'd just had the craziest dream about the evil battle-princess that kept chasing them trying to seduce him...

…

“Hey, I had very fond memories of that trip before you knocked ’em out of my head!”

“You want ’em knocked overboard?”

“…just fly the balloon, woman.”

thump

"Hey, I need that arm!”

 

 

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