#plot:bruises

@gataash​

the generous ‘lunch’ breaks are certainly appreciated, especially on days where heavier, more mind-numbing topics are to be discussed. soliya enjoys the three hour gap in the middle of the day where she’s supposed to be getting something to eat, or exploring around the shops closest to the palace. she’s not technically supposed to be in closer towards the middle-outs of the city in a quaint little fabric store.

but here she is, anyways. there’s a purpose, though.

the city is wildly different than air temple island, especially in wind. at any given time soli can feel the playful air nipping at her ankles through her skirts, or breezing past her fingertips on air temple island, but in fire nation the element is significantly more stagnant due to the way the city is built and the buildings (or so that’s what she thinks). either way, she can’t feel the natural wind as easily as she’s usually comfortable with, so she arrives at the store and starts immediately looking for gauzier, lighter fabrics.

it’s when she almost bumps into the sole other occupant in the longer rather than wider shop, that she realizes just how awkwardly set up the space is. an apology is lingering on her lips when recognition strikes. “oh! taash.” he’s always around, somewhere. it became a normal thing to see him around, but she’d never been given the opportunity strike up a conversation. “i didn’t see you when i first walked in - nor did i think i’d run into someone i knew here.” well, kind of. she knows more about the idea of him than she knows him personally. it’s fine - it’s enough to make short conversation without it being awkward.

@gataash

the last time she’d checked her knees under her skirts, they’d shown the smallest sign of potential bruising. as someone that more than a few people would recognize, she had to remain cognizant of appearances, so she spent as much of her time today on the floor of the praying room. posture rigid, head bowed in respect, and body assumed in the traditional kneeling form. not very comfortable, but there is a time and a place to adhere strictly to tradition.

she moves her hair from her back to over her right shoulder, fingers gently massaging the back of her neck, where she’d held the majority of her tension for the past few days. it was well into the night, and she’s pretty sure the private burial had finished not too long ago. even though the public service was long over, soliya had spent the past few hours in quiet conversation with a few other acquaintances in the areas not closed off to the public.

turning around some of the sentiments from her contacts proves to be more distracting than anticipated, as she finds herself on autopilot, and when she realizes where she is - her brows furrow. soliya’s just about to turn around when she sees broad shoulders, then an unmistakable profile. “taash,” she says out loud, knowing that he’d be able to hear her. he’s not too far away, and she knows he’s always attentive and...on edge.