i love you suki :(( don't be dead. :(((
Title: Rags and Bones
Day/Theme: April 16th/Do not feed the animals.
Series: Avatar
Character/Pairing: Suki, Azula
Rating: PG
Word Count: 209
I've decided Suki (and the Kyoshi Warriors in general) would totally go to Bryn Mawr if they were real people. ...One of my best friends and I keep a list of fictional people we think should go to our school DON'T MAKE FUN. IT TAKES A SPECIAL KIND OF PERSON. Like Mulan. (But not Belle. Belle went to Wellesley.)
She's used to the feeling of her body protecting her, hidden strength in tendon and muscle. There's none of that now. When Suki lies back against the floor and runs her fingers over her chest, down her arms and legs and over her cheekbones, she feels the shaky weakness of skin like wax over bone, her body eating in on itself and destroying what she relied on it for.
She dreams guiltily (shouldn't she be thinking about other things, more important things?) of rice and fish and cakes and hot, steamed buns, of cool, fresh glasses of milk. She dreams about someone feeding her, bronzed fingers lifting bite-sized morsels into her waiting, salivating mouth.
But when Azula is there she reveals nothing, and that sneer, all too familiar now, brings back a flare of strength, her last reserves. For a moment she is not a hungry, frightened girl but the Warrior she was, before all of this happened.
She ignores Azula's laughter and swallows and swallows in the back of her dry throat before spitting through the bars on those goddamn shiny shoes. (She knows she will pay later, but that's begun to matter less and less.)
Azula's look of surprise is almost better than a twelve course feast.
Day/Theme: April 16th/Do not feed the animals.
Series: Avatar
Character/Pairing: Suki, Azula
Rating: PG
Word Count: 209
I've decided Suki (and the Kyoshi Warriors in general) would totally go to Bryn Mawr if they were real people. ...One of my best friends and I keep a list of fictional people we think should go to our school DON'T MAKE FUN. IT TAKES A SPECIAL KIND OF PERSON. Like Mulan. (But not Belle. Belle went to Wellesley.)
She's used to the feeling of her body protecting her, hidden strength in tendon and muscle. There's none of that now. When Suki lies back against the floor and runs her fingers over her chest, down her arms and legs and over her cheekbones, she feels the shaky weakness of skin like wax over bone, her body eating in on itself and destroying what she relied on it for.
She dreams guiltily (shouldn't she be thinking about other things, more important things?) of rice and fish and cakes and hot, steamed buns, of cool, fresh glasses of milk. She dreams about someone feeding her, bronzed fingers lifting bite-sized morsels into her waiting, salivating mouth.
But when Azula is there she reveals nothing, and that sneer, all too familiar now, brings back a flare of strength, her last reserves. For a moment she is not a hungry, frightened girl but the Warrior she was, before all of this happened.
She ignores Azula's laughter and swallows and swallows in the back of her dry throat before spitting through the bars on those goddamn shiny shoes. (She knows she will pay later, but that's begun to matter less and less.)
Azula's look of surprise is almost better than a twelve course feast.