Thread: Avatar [ Bear & Sugo ]

It was in the darkness of her tomb that she had the time to contemplate where her plan had all gone wrong, in the silence she mused over all of her wrong-doings, and in the dead air she thought about her future. The silence was her friend up to this point, a place where she was able to escape from the world, from the war even and find a place in which she could ease herself into a sense of peace, even if such peace were false. Mizuki had endured silence that was more complete than this, darkness that was more total, and places that robbed her more fully of her senses. If they thought that this was torture, then they didn't know what torture was. The relative quiet of her cell was broken only by a slow and gentle rumble and the occasional toss of the caravan, which was the system they were using to transport her. It had been a day, possibly, maybe even longer since they had left the capital, and she had a horrible feeling that they were taking her as far from curious eyes as possible. Afterall, she had been so close to killing the Fire Lord that it had shaken the higher ups. But Mizuki was not just an ordinary girl, not just an ordinary anything, really. She was a child born of war and trained by people that wanted nothing more than Ozai's death, and they were determined to have his head. Since she had hit puberty at thirteen, she had been taught the ways of seduction - how to move her hips, to bat her eyes, to purr her voice. She was taught to dance when her body filled in, and her water-bending had only increased her abilities and made her more... Appealing, to those whom wanted a show. And that was precisely how they'd pitched her and gotten her into the palace. The group had masqueraded as a traveling band of entertainers, with her as their 'big hit,' known for her erotic dance mixed with skillful bending. Ozai had been intrigued with her show, as Mizuki was an attractive young woman, her body thin and her breasts ample. He had requested a private show, to which she had gladly obliged. In the privacy of his throne room, she performed her dance just for him, with the added allure of less clothing. He had been intrigued, taking her to his bedroom. As he'd started to settle himself on top of her,his hands hungry on her thighs, she'd pulled the small blade from beneath her clothing. The tip had just pierced his chest when she felt her thighs burn, his guards rushing the room before she could get any further. He'd tossed her then, leaving her an injured heap on the floor, the imprints of his hands burned against her skin. Days later she could still feel the throb of the burn, feel the heat of her injuries, and the pain still throbbed as she struggled to pretend that it was nothing worse than a sunburn. Mizuki had spent several days in his prison cells, locked away from prying eyes and had decided what to do with the would-be assassin. It was after great thought that she was sent on her journey in the darkness, towards a destination that was to her unknown. She had been starved and beaten, burned and humiliated. But she had not been broken. Mizuki may have been a young girl compared to them, but her will was strong and her wrath was great. Mizuki was a patient creature, biding her time until they were foolish enough to let their guard down. Her bending wasn't just for looks, and her skills with dance had been transferred to dancing with blades, a dangerous and beautiful art of attack and defense. And it seemed that her caravan had come to a stop, her eyes opening and body pushing herself up as best she could with her hands still bound, sitting patiently on her knees as her ears struggled to catch any noises from the outside. At first, there was nothing. Then a small crack of light came through the door, not horribly bright to most but nearly blinding to her in comparison to the darkness she'd been bathing in. The guards took advantage of her temporary blindness, grasping her roughly by the arm and dragging her when her legs wouldn't immediately cooperate. She'd only just gotten her feet under her when they started to drag her towards a place she didn't recognize. The people there were whispering onlookers, too used to the brutality of the fire nation to speak out openly against it. And among the people was a man, unfamiliar to her but the apparent destination for her. The guards stopped several feet from him and a scroll was passed into his hands, no doubt a list of charges and her death sentence. They didn't speak a word to her as the key to her shackles passed hands, the rough ones restraining and supporting her releasing. And just like that, her entourage was gone. And she was left in the care of... Mystery man.