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Mai holds her wrist, twisting it in circles to sort out the stiffness in her joints. Outside, the rain falls in heavy globs, thumping on the roof as if it were demanding her attention.
Not that it needed to. Rainy days used to be Mai’s favorite. Dark and gloomy and a reprieve from the heat, stalling the usual hum of activity in the palace walls and beyond, encouraging everyone to slow, to breathe.
She flexes her fingers. An ache zaps along her knuckle down to her elbow, making her wince. Nothing like the rain reminds her of the time that has passed.
Sure, there’s the white strands that streak through her otherwise dark locks and the lines in her face that prove that she has actually smiled and worried and cried, but it’s the rain, now that taunts her, reminding her of the agility she no longer possesses.
It’s a shame. The tapping on the roof and the dark, gray clouds used to bring a sense of calm. Now they only bring a nuisance.
Soft steps approach and the weight of another taking a seat at her side on the divan interrupt her musings
“Enjoying the weather?”
Mai twists in her seat, her attention now on her husband.
“Hmm,” she hums, flexing the fingers of her right hand, the thumb of the other massaging her wrist. “Not particularly.”
Zuko chuckles, low and leans against the back of the chair. His strong hands wrap around Mai and pull her to rest against his chest.
It’s funny. Zuko is older than her and he has been through so much more. And yet, his movements are much more steady, and strong, and youthful. Apart from the occasional gray in his hair and beard, age has been much kinder to him. It feels insensitive, but Mai can’t help but grow a little jealous.
His hands slide from her biceps, down to her palms and he rubs his thumbs in slow circles, calling just enough heat from his fire to ease the aches in her joints. Mai sighs happily, relaxing back against his chest. “I wasn’t expecting you back yet,” she says.
“Couldn’t get much done today,” he says.
Zuko never liked weather like this. Being a firebender, the cloudy skies and the damp air always dulled his inner flame. He would only describe it as feeling off, in a daze.
His warm hands travel up her arm, stopping at her wrists and elbows and shoulders to work their wonders. They return to her hands, his large over her slender ones, and his thumbs rub a path back and forth along her knuckles. Mai hums, content in his arms.
“I thought you liked the rain,” he says, his breath hot against her ear.
She closes her eyes. Briefly, she thinks she could call a blade between her fingers and hit her target to the millimeter, movement fluid and precise. At least, she muses, there is no longer much need for such deadly accuracy. A few millimeters off can suffice these days.
The rain continues its rhythm against the roof, announcing that it’s plan to stay for the night and lull the city to sleep.
“I do,” Mai answers and leans further back into her husband’s chest while he continues his gentle massage along her joints.
And though it now carries a few inconveniences along with it, Mai still enjoys the rain and the gray when it rolls through. It’s a reminder to slow down and she is happy to comply.