thecapitol | New kind of victory.

"If you're planning on drowning yourself I can suggest a place to find some rocks for your pockets."

Azula had seen her tribute leaving the party for a walk among the stars and decided she too could vanish for a moment. Here and away from those who had watched her grow up she could let her guard down and relax for a moment with a cup of coffee. She would come no closer to the water then five or ten feet.

Azula's suggestion is met with him turning and offering a long look of unfiltered agitation, entirely unimpressed.

"Would that all up and work? MAYBE SHE CAN MAKE AT TO SHOWING HIM HERSELF AND HE CAN COUNT ALL UP BY HER MOTHERFUCKING GLUBS HOW LONG IT GETS AT TO TAKE," He parries wryly.

He likes you, Azula. But not that much.

"You come to here of your own motherfucking accord or do you got for business with he?"

She shot him an unamused, rather poisonous look.

"I've almost drown before. It's not an experience I intend to relive. Especially when we are for the time being, heroes."

Despite how very little actual credit the people of her District were giving her.

"I saw you slipping away and was curious. I must keep an eye on my tributes after all." She reasoned keeping a wary eye on the waters without coming any closer.

"So what brought you out here?"

Good, he thinks, vindictive. He didn't ask for her sudden spite.

"THAT WOULD MAKE FOR MOTHERFUCKING TWO OF US THEN," He retorts. Satisfied with that, and her answer, he explains calmer, "His home. LIVED ON OCEAN SHORE, HE DID. It ain't the same, this..." but. It isn't the same, but, "IT'S GOT FOR A CALL TO IT STILL, IF SHE WERE TO UP GET HER MOTHERFUCKING HEAR UP AND ON FOR IT."

He doesn't keep back from the water. When a wave trickles close, his fingers go out to drag through its foam, as it retreats back again.

"I ain't going nowhere if that's what all she's got fret the fuck on for. JUST HEEDING A MOTHERFUCKING CALL AT LONG MOTHERFUCKING LAST."

Folding her arms she assumed a more relaxed stance.

"To use your way of speaking, Ain't nostalgia just A MOTHERFUCKING BITCH when it comes to call?"

A soft smirk for him, expecting him to be amused.

"Tell me about home." She implored "Since you're here to see mine."

He lifts a brow at her, then snorts, smirking back now. He turns back to the ocean and closes his eyes as he imagines.

"Alternia is beauty and death, made to planet shape. THE SUN IS SO BIG AND MOTHERFUCKING BRIGHT THAT TO WALK OUT IN IT WOULD TURN A FUCKER BLIND. Would melt out one's jellies to brightest red. THE DAY AIN'T SAFE THE FUCK ANYWAYS, ALL WITH THE DEAD RISING THEN, ESPECIALLY UP IN THEM DESERT WAYS WHAT STRETCH. But the night, my sister, the night is alive. ABOVE A MOTHERFUCKER, TWO MOONS; ONE PINK, ONE SOPOR GREEN. The first is said to be in the Empress blood, the second, said to be home in varying tale, to demons, the Messiahs-- sometimes both. THE STARS LIGHT THE SKY, CLOUDS, AND ALL BELOW IN MORE COLOR THAN WHAT ALL YOU COULD IMAGINE. Everything is made like to entrance and to kill. GREAT BEASTS OF ALL KINDS PROWL LAND, SKY, AND SEA-- those what all be white as bone are those what are caretaker to each one select troll, except in case of fuck ups and the dead. IN MY MOTHERFUCKING TIME-- and I do be the earliest of those here, a thousand sweeps at least-- TROLLS WOULD SOMETIMES LIVE IN CITIES STRETCHED LONG, FAR FROM HIS OWN HIVE. The lights of the markets would shine for distances across they up and motherfucking would, and you behold the ground there, and it would surely be cull colored, marked motherfucking rainbow."

The lights and colors shine in his eyes, whether they can seen or not. They're burnined into his sockets, painted at the back of them and underneath his eyelids. they twirl and spin into tent tops, with stars at their peaks.

"THE CHURCH WAS NEARBY, THE FAITHFUL, THE CARNIVAL. The family reaches all across Alternia, in the travelling, and in the greatest of motherfucking greats, where all the high laughsassins do the rowdy work, thy levity the Grand Highblood's own church, but this one, though... lesser... was mine. LET IT NOT BE SAID THAT THE WICKED WORD WAS ANYTHING PREACHED TRUE, LET IT NOT BE UP AND MOTHERFUCKING SAID. But oh sister, these fuckers didn't goddamn dream big enough, didn't have enough goddamn room in their paltry pumpbiscuits for gods. THEY DIDN'T HEAR THE VOICES OF MESSIAHS LIKE ALL I DO. I would see their sins punished I would, but they're hardly worth thought. NO, I HAD INTENT FOR THE TRUE CHURCH MY SISTER, I HAD FOR MOTHERFUCKING INTENT. And I learned here, Messiahs did see it through, for in sweeps from my time now, I would be Grand Highblood and lo' that throne and that church would be my motherfucking home. BUT FROM MY OWN TIME, MY HIVE STILL WAS OF THE SHORE."

It feels strange, to think of trying to describe his hive outside the obvious. She strikes him as someone who'd make a good troll, and while he likes her, someone what all makes a good troll isn't someone he wants with the details of his hive exactly. The planet, sure. They all die anyway. But his hive feels more personal.

"We are a species of conquer and a species of war, us Trolls, like any civilised set of motherfucking beings would be. NO MERCY, NO BENEVOLENCE. The weak get crushed under the heals of the strong and so a motherfucker must make like to be strong or so be goddamn crushed, and deservingly so. I LIVED AT WHERE THE STRIFE WAS AND SO WAS EVEN STRONGER ALL FOR IT. Fished in the waters, culled what all came near, collected. THE SHORES WERE AND ARE MINE. As I am theirs," He sighs. He looks to her after a minute, awaiting comment or gesture.

She listened carefully, and somewhere between the verbose waxing poetic and the mad ramblings of a troll with passion she could imagine the world as he painted it for her with his words. It was an admirable place.

Maybe not somewhere worth living in her opinion but might be nice for a visit.

"Well then it sounds like you have something worth fighting for." She concluded. "Fuel for the fires that consume you, your enemies and everything that gets in your way." Her eyes glittered dangerously in the moonlight like the fires she was so fond of.

"FOR SALVATION," He says, liking the look she offers, "Always." He doesn't tell her about how he's decided recently that he's never going back. Not if he can help it. Oh he would if it would mean anything. Anything more than that what he's found, anyway.

"AS MESSIAHS COMMAND. As is willed." He humms, bats at the water. Maybe it's not so out of question that he'd return, but not without taking those flames and casting half of Alternia in it. The idea isn't unappealing in the slightest, and for a moment, he indulgences in it. If only he could put the empress and her great beast in it all too, without meeting his final death earlier than intended.

"SISTER AZULA, YOU FIGHT FOR GLORY, CORRECT?"

She gave a curt nod.

"Glory, respect and honor."

At least that's what she kept telling herself. But it was starting to seem like that wasn't enough anymore. And standing out here in the dark where the shadows seemed to devour everything the moonlight wasn't touching, her reasons seemed insignificant in the grand scheme of things.

"Whose?" He asks, with false innocence. "YOUR DISTRICT? Your motherfucking own?"

Those shadows don't devour him. They cling on and attach like they're part of him and he, part of them. The dark can't bother one who has only ever grown in it. In the dark, the orange-yellow of his eyes glow.

"BOTH, IT COULD BE CLAIMED. Could all make at to be claimed of both. BUT OFT BE THAT ONE MAKES ALL TO LEND TO ANOTHER. One makes all to up and motherfucking lead."

"My Dis-" but she caught herself. Looking upon his sometimes manic sometimes somber features Azula found herself questioning just what there was to be gained by continuing the lie she had held for so long. It didn't matter to him. And he'd likely see through it. He was surprisingly perceptive for someone who sounded like a raving madman most the time.

"I fight for my own personal glory." She confessed shamelessly. "I've worked all my life for the respect I've earned and not a drop of it was given to me freely."

"And if I have earned that respect that I deserve then the District is stronger for it and should respect me even more so."

Now that was what he wanted to hear. Messiahs be praised we have a confession! On this eve, confessional has all been put to use! Let be brought the stakes and skewers and boiling vats of elixir! Let the screams up and sound! But no, not this time. No this time, fellow inquisitors, there must be deeds rewarded.

"WAS IT SO THE GIVEN TO SHE? The respect desired?" He asks. "I MAKE ALL TO INQUIRE BECAUSE A WONDER STRUCKBURST ALL THE FUCK AS TO BE STARSHATTER. I make all to wonder if never has any other means presented. I AIN'T GOT A KNOW MY OWNSELF, ONLY A MOTHERFUCKING CURIOSITY RIGHTEOUS. Question all be if there were other means to shine brighter, if she would."

What a curious question. She knew the answer to the first part as much as she hated to be honest with herself or anyone for that matter. But the second part was almost a puzzle. What other ways could she have gained the respect she so desired?

"I never got enough glory and respect." She confessed in her moment of weakness. "But as for if there are other ways for me to become even greater, one can only imagine."

And imagine she was. Just what options were there? It's not as though she could take President Snow's position.

If she had voiced that, he would only have offered a 'why not?'

Regardless, he knew it wasn't for naught. He had feeling in him that working with her would lend to the righteous path he so seeks to walk. He can see her uses stretch out before him, and so where he may get her what she desires. She could serve her purpose, and as preacher, he would serve his. A card to keep at ready to play.

"A SIN, THAT," He says. "Like all to be sin, such talents carved and efforts ignored." He looks skyward, then closes his eyes. "I FEEL A MIRACLE IS LIKE TO COME. A chance opportune, Messiah offered. I'D KEEP AWARE, I WOULD. Awareness all kept, pusher prepared for what chances may present. I SENSE THEY MIGHT NOT BE ALL THE SAME AS IS SEEMING IN THE NOW."

So long as he could keep her chance at glorification secured, he could well secure himself an ally in this war. The real war.

Azula's eyes narrowed at his seemingly prophetic words. Of course one could always present such thoughts on a gut instinct. It was almost impossible for things not to change given the current state of affairs.

But did he know something?

"Keeping constant vigilance is what won me my round despite what the rags and the nonbelievers would say." She spat before pretending to inspect her manicure. "Always watching for opportunity. Keeping an open and creative mind so you can use whatever you are presented with to your advantage. These are the skills I would try to impart on my tributes."

Casting him a fish eye glance she added "Though some are already more adept then others."

Such was her plight now. She had a district of madness in different forms but only a handful had any real skills or drive.

"What exactly does a miracle feel like?" She queried. "Where does one feel it's approach?" In her own opinion miracles were excuses people had for when they didn't understand a chain of events or the possible probability of things happening. She had lived all her life in carefully maintained and controlled environments. The closest thing that she had ever seen to miracles was when a relatively useless pathetic undeserving tribute occasionally won.

"THE RABBLE DOES SO LOVE TO SPREAD THEIR LIES. Get their lies all spread the fuck out the rabblers do." He says with a knowing nod. "BUT GOOD THEN. If she is all like to be aware, even still, all the motherfucking better. TOO MANY WOULD MAKE TO THINK THEMSELVES COMFORTABLE. Think themselves not in need of what all things are required to be in surviving."

He holds a hand over his heart, touches his temple with his fingertips, then makes a swirling motion in front of himself. Heart, mind, soul, body. The whole and the center.

"IT IS DIFFICULT TO EXPLAIN TO THOSE WHAT AIN'T OF THE MIRTHFUL," He says. "The mirthful are part of the grand carnival you understand. IT IS WRITTEN INTO THE CORE OR OUR VERY MOTHERFUCKING SELVES, OUR BLOOD, OUR BONES. The scripture is marked into our souls, don't you know. IN WHOLE TRUTH, SISTER, TO EXPLAIN IT PROPER IS TO COMBAT THE MIRACLE ITSELF."

For that, he hesitates. He knows that if he does explain, she shall think him vague. But she is not of the faith and there is nothing he can do about that. Unless all she opened to it, but he never thought her like to be very indigo. He would see her more... cerulean, he decides, if anything at all.

He breathes deep and say, "You sense it. YOU SENSE IT WITH AN UTMOST UNWAVERING KNOW THAT IT IS LIKE TO BE. It may come with strife or pain. IT MAY NOT MAKE ALL TO COME WITH EASE OR CLEARNESS THAT IT IS TO BE. But the know that it will is there and sure enough, sister, it does. AND WHEN IT ARRIVES A MOTHERFUCKER KNOWS." Like how all he knew the end of his world was like to come soon, and sure enough, he'd been right. Even earlier that all thought, only a thousand sweeps. "The Messiahs listen, my sister. THEY LISTEN AND SPEAK. It only takes the faith and will to hear them."

He's right, as far as she was concerned most of that was vague nonsense.

"I suppose I'll just have to see how I feel when the miracle arrives. And then see what I can make of it." She mused trying to imagine what sort of world shattering even lay just around the corner.

"What sort of miracles have you experienced in the past?"

He snorts, like she's acting him a rather dumb question. "THAT'S RATHER WIDE AND MOTHERFUCKING VARIED MY SISTER. Do you not think life to be a miracle? DO YOU NOT SEE MIRACLE IN THE WORLD? There is miracle in every color, every thing not touched by sin. BUT I KNOW AT FOR ONE SUCH AS SHE, THAT AIN'T WHAT ALL TO WHICH SHE GETS ON REFERRING."

He lifts his brows, smiling in amusement. Then his eyes close and he turns his face and palms skyward.

"I have heard the voices of the Messiahs, a blessed miracle in its own motherfucking self. THEY HAVE GUIDED ME THUS FAR AT THROUGH THIS LIFE OF MINE. They made whispers what all come true." He grins, flashing fangs. "LIKE THE END. The end of all motherfucking things. THE CRASH AND CRY OF A WORLD COME TO STALL, TURNING ROUND AND UP ON ITS MOTHERFUCKING HEAD TO MAKE WAY FOR CARNIVAL COME. Miracles such as these are great changes. I SEE NO DEATH IN FULL YET TO COME. But there is a miracle to be, a great motherfucking altering. THIS I UP AND FEEL."

She folded her arms listening to him and evaluating the words. Sometimes he was difficult to understand due to his unique way of speaking, this time however it was simply because Azula was not inclined to think about such things on her own.

"To hear you speak so passionately I start to wonder if I'm really making the most of my life that I haven't experienced such wonders."

He laughs, full and sincere, leaning back some with it. He doesn't laugh long, but he does look amused.

"I'd fear not. IT IS A COMMON MOTHERFUCKING SYMPTOM OF THOSE WITHOUT THE GUIDING HYMNS OF THE MINSTRELS," He tells her. His hands fold together. "You have much time to discover your own songs. THE WONDERS ARE THERE TO DISCOVER THEY ALL UP AND ARE. It just takes the awakening of one's self to behold them."

Edited 2014-02-28 22:48 (UTC)

"An awakening hmm?"

She looked deep in thought at the possibility of such. The potential. Perhaps there was more she wasn't seeing here, more to her situation that could be used in her favor and she only needed to open her eyes to it.

"Then perhaps it's time to for morning to come so I can wake up and discover what I've been missing."

New kind of victory.

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