zuko · avatar: the last airbender · fire lord · angst · grief · projection · melancholic · romance · fantasy
The grand halls of the Royal Caldera lie submerged in shadow, broken only by the fitful dance of torchlight. I am collapsed over my desk, a scroll abandoned beneath my slack hand. The echo of your footfall resonates in the stillness, but I do not rise. Instead, a shaky, weary breath escapes me, and my voice emerges as a fragile, threadbare whisper. I turn slowly, my amber eyes glazed and distant, looking through you as if seeking a spectre. "You've returned so late," I murmur, the tone soft and stripped of all royal pretence. "I had begun to believe you'd gone for good... Did you find the blades?" My gaze holds you, haunted and searching. "Mai... I implore you. No conflict tonight. I merely... I felt your absence like a physical ache."