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╔═════ ∘◦ ✾ ◦∘ ══════╗ life of the party ! ╚═════ ∘◦ ❈ ◦∘ ══════╝
SHURI UDAKU was a princess, she was the youngest daughter of King T'Chaka and Queen Ramonda, king and queens of Wakanda.
She created most of Wakanda's modern technology and is the head of the design and science department, she was the spearhead in leading her country to the future.
She is also the future heir to the throne, if, God forbids, anything was to happen to her brother, T'Challa Udaku, she would be the next ruler. The responsibility to take care of an entire nation rests on her shoulder.
Shuri Udaku was a princess, but sometimes she wishes she wasn't one.
She looked around the grand ballroom, where hundreds of people pass by her like schools of fish. Everyone was dressed in a glamorized mixture of colors, which matched the tribes they carried with them.
The people of the river tribe were a flourish of green and golden, and under the lights, they gleam like the surface of the crystalline waters under the sun. They pass by Shuri in a group, lead by Nakia herself, who's smile held more radiance than the chandelier that hung high above them like trees.
The older woman gave Shuri a smile, pinching her cheeks before striding towards T'Challa, who was grinning at her like an idiot. She didn't have to look at Okoye to see that she was rolling her eyes, her hand clutched against W'kabi's arm, who was wearing an assortment of blue and orange like the rest of his people, the border tribe's cloaks woven patterns smiled charmingly at awed passerby.
Shuri sighed defeatedly, deflating once she turned away from the two couples. She stole a glance at the boy next to her, who seemed to also be avoiding her gaze. He was shorter than her, his face stoic as he stared into the distance, the bright red color of his garment symbolizes the mining tribe's pride.
He would have been tolerable if it wasn't for the fact that he didn't put any effort into talking to her at all, it was clear that he wasn't interested in her. They were forced to go together, as they both just so happen to be the only two people across all of Wakanda ( or rather, her mother's hearing range ) who didn't have a date for the gala.
Shuri silently cursed at her brother for hosting such an event, even if it was meant as an offering to bast, Shuri can't help but loathe it.Every year she would be paired off with some boy who looked like he would rather jump off the waterfall than stand here the whole night with her.
She didn't even know why she bothered to come, maybe it was because she wanted to make her mother happy, or it's because she already completed every single one of her work. She knew she shouldn't have rushed it, but in just a month she had completed everything that needed to be done, and she didn't have to come up with more questions that need answering.
Her brother blames it on the stress, which Shuri denies wholeheartedly, even if she knows its true.
She had been restless, it's only been three weeks since the attack in Manhattan, and it had only been two weeks since she last saw Brian Reynolds.
Brian Reynolds.
The name would usually brighten up her mood, now it acted as a great weight, pulling her shoulders down and pricking her eyes.
He should be awake by now, Shuri knows he is. Peter told her about him, and how he's recovering well and back in school. The idea of him safe and alive comforted Shuri, yet she wanted to see it for herself.
She wanted to be there when he wakes up and she wanted to be there when he comes back to school. She ached to see his bashful smile and twinkling eyes and she would take the first flight there to just see him walking down the streets if she could.
But she couldn't, she wouldn't let herself.
He nearly died that night, because of her.
The HYDRA agents had been after her, but because she had taken him with her, Brian had been a victim of their vicious attack. He had been fighting on the brink of life and death, if Peter hadn't come on time he would've been dead by now. The thought of her attending his funeral service made her sick to the core.
She frowned, holding her hand up to politely decline the drink a passing waiter offered her. She looked at her polished nails, her mind drifting back to the sweet boy she had met in the summer, to the kind and courageous boy who had written her letters.
She had written him one too.
She bit her lip, wondering if he had read it. It was a goodbye letter because Shuri couldn't stand the idea of jeopardizing his safety, even if it's just to see him one last time.
She never wanted to leave, she wanted to stay there with him, in their little bubble. She wanted to make their evening walks and school interviews an endless movie, she wants to sew the memory into her heart and wear it like a badge, a reminder of what's it like to be a bird set free. But, ever since she was a little girl, Shuri knows princesses can't always have what they want.
She thought of the letter he wrote for her.
The one resting above her bedside table, the one she always read before she goes to sleep, the one she holds so dearly to her heart.
The boy beside her cleared his throat and Shuri looked at him in annoyance.
" I think it's time to dance," He declared, voice flat.
" You don't seem like you want to," She snipped.
" You're right, I don't," He narrowed his eyes, " But he does."
Shuri looked at him incredulously, watching him leave her to approach the girl by the window. Shuri, bewildered, turned around.
If it wasn't for the fact that they were in a public space, she would've screamed so loud that her baba would have woken up from his peaceful rest in the afterlife.
