Post by likeadove on Nov 4, 2012 18:26:24 GMT -6
Hey, Like A Dove here! It's so nice to have a forum all our own where we can celebrate our flawless ship together in peace. *cuddles forum*
Anywho, here is a drabble inspired by the awesome banner to introduce myself and say hello to all of you lovely people!
**
Zuko should never underestimate his wife. Because when he does, he always ends up either in trouble or with a smug, arrogant waterbender on his hands who’s perfectly happy telling him “I told you so.”
Most of the time it’s both.
Tonight he sneaks back into his palace. Although there’s not much sneaking involved. He’s paid off all of his guards to glance the other way if they happen to see a vigilante in a blue mask skirting around the dark corners of the palace.
When he enters his bedroom he expects to find his wife asleep in their bed.
Instead he finds her sitting on the other side of their room, facing the door. Her legs are crossed and her hair is out of its braid. It curls about her shoulders alluringly.
But her eyes are fierce.
“Where have you been?” she asks casually, pretending to inspect her fingernails in order to feign nonchalance.
A whirlwind of excuses fly through Zuko’s head. He opens his mouth to utter one of them before he remembers that he’s still wearing his Blue Spirit mask.
“Out,” he mutters pathetically.
Katara quirks an eyebrow at him. “Out?”
“Uh huh.”
She stands up and begins to slowly walk over to him. “Do you want to tell me what, exactly, you’ve been up to?”
Zuko gulps. “Stuff.”
Katara lets out a huff of anger before grabbing his mask and yanking it off of his head. “Stuff? Really, Zuko? Stuff? I’ve been waiting for you to tell me for two months, two months, that you were the Blue Spirit! And all I’ve gotten from you is silence.”
She glares up at him and Zuko squares his shoulders. “I didn’t tell you because I was trying to protect you.”
Katara rolls her eyes. “You, Fire Lord, need to be protected more than I do.”
Zuko flexes his fingers and sighs, knowing that she has a point but not wanting to admit it. “I’m sorry,” he says earnestly. The last thing he wants is his new wife angry at him over something this serious.
But then Katara is smiling and trotting toward their shared closet, as if their argument hadn’t even happened. As if Zuko’s mask isn’t still lying on the carpeted floor.
Zuko hears her rummaging around and he takes a few cautious steps forward. “Um—“
“I’m coming with you tomorrow night.” Her voice is muffled. She emerges out of the closet a moment later, a mask covering her own face.
It’s white with insinuated lips and paint swiped over the cheeks. It’s lovely and it’s familiar. Zuko remembers seeing similar images in his childhood scrolls.
Katara is trying to join him as the Painted Lady.
He automatically starts shaking his head. “Katara, I can’t let—“
She props a hand on her hip. “Zuko, let me put it do you this way. Either you let me come with you from now on and I’ll forget about the fact that you didn’t tell me that you were the Blue Spirit or you can not let me come with you and I won’t forget about the fact that you didn’t tell me that you were the Blue Spirit.”
Zuko stands still for a moment, trying to consider which option is scarier.
The choice is easy.
He nods slowly. “All right. But if I ever tell you to run you—“
He’s cut off by Katara throwing her arms around him and squeezing him tightly. Her mask smells like fresh paint.
“The Blue Spirit and the Painted Lady,” she says, and he can hear the excitement in her voice.
Zuko knows never to underestimate his wife.
Anywho, here is a drabble inspired by the awesome banner to introduce myself and say hello to all of you lovely people!
**
Zuko should never underestimate his wife. Because when he does, he always ends up either in trouble or with a smug, arrogant waterbender on his hands who’s perfectly happy telling him “I told you so.”
Most of the time it’s both.
Tonight he sneaks back into his palace. Although there’s not much sneaking involved. He’s paid off all of his guards to glance the other way if they happen to see a vigilante in a blue mask skirting around the dark corners of the palace.
When he enters his bedroom he expects to find his wife asleep in their bed.
Instead he finds her sitting on the other side of their room, facing the door. Her legs are crossed and her hair is out of its braid. It curls about her shoulders alluringly.
But her eyes are fierce.
“Where have you been?” she asks casually, pretending to inspect her fingernails in order to feign nonchalance.
A whirlwind of excuses fly through Zuko’s head. He opens his mouth to utter one of them before he remembers that he’s still wearing his Blue Spirit mask.
“Out,” he mutters pathetically.
Katara quirks an eyebrow at him. “Out?”
“Uh huh.”
She stands up and begins to slowly walk over to him. “Do you want to tell me what, exactly, you’ve been up to?”
Zuko gulps. “Stuff.”
Katara lets out a huff of anger before grabbing his mask and yanking it off of his head. “Stuff? Really, Zuko? Stuff? I’ve been waiting for you to tell me for two months, two months, that you were the Blue Spirit! And all I’ve gotten from you is silence.”
She glares up at him and Zuko squares his shoulders. “I didn’t tell you because I was trying to protect you.”
Katara rolls her eyes. “You, Fire Lord, need to be protected more than I do.”
Zuko flexes his fingers and sighs, knowing that she has a point but not wanting to admit it. “I’m sorry,” he says earnestly. The last thing he wants is his new wife angry at him over something this serious.
But then Katara is smiling and trotting toward their shared closet, as if their argument hadn’t even happened. As if Zuko’s mask isn’t still lying on the carpeted floor.
Zuko hears her rummaging around and he takes a few cautious steps forward. “Um—“
“I’m coming with you tomorrow night.” Her voice is muffled. She emerges out of the closet a moment later, a mask covering her own face.
It’s white with insinuated lips and paint swiped over the cheeks. It’s lovely and it’s familiar. Zuko remembers seeing similar images in his childhood scrolls.
Katara is trying to join him as the Painted Lady.
He automatically starts shaking his head. “Katara, I can’t let—“
She props a hand on her hip. “Zuko, let me put it do you this way. Either you let me come with you from now on and I’ll forget about the fact that you didn’t tell me that you were the Blue Spirit or you can not let me come with you and I won’t forget about the fact that you didn’t tell me that you were the Blue Spirit.”
Zuko stands still for a moment, trying to consider which option is scarier.
The choice is easy.
He nods slowly. “All right. But if I ever tell you to run you—“
He’s cut off by Katara throwing her arms around him and squeezing him tightly. Her mask smells like fresh paint.
“The Blue Spirit and the Painted Lady,” she says, and he can hear the excitement in her voice.
Zuko knows never to underestimate his wife.