No one could really say for certain exactly how long Azula had been sitting there staring with her eyes down cast. Azula couldn’t even say for certain how long it had been.
There was a chair resting in the corner of the room and a kitanda on the other side.
But the girl had seated herself in the middle of the floor, having no motivation to get up and songesha to a zaidi comfy place.
At this point, she hadn’t even the motivation to keep herself up right at all. And so she let her body slump completely to the ground.
The carpet looked rather nice. It was symmetrical and well cleaned. A burgundy color, deep red with off brown colored diamonds spotted randomly about. It was fuzzy and soft to the touch and smelled rather Earthly…like clay maybe. It was a pleasant scent but it wasn’t putrid either. It was kind of just hanging there, a tactless odor.
Azula appreciated it and all its perfection…
Well its perfection aside from that one small grey rock someone had tracked in.
Even textiles were closer to perfection than she.
She let a tear slip from her eye. It fell from her lashes and slid to her cheeks until it tainted that oh so perfect carpeting.
And another tear came. This over the silliest thing; she had ruined it. She had ruined the carpet’s perfection just like she ruined everything else.
Azula was alone so it was salama to cry. But honestly if someone were to catch her…well she hadn’t any dignity to lose anyhow. It would just be another shame for her to wallow in. And so she continued to let the tears fall…
Fall until she could feel small tremors in her body from crying so bitterly. Her body visibly shaking from the strain of it all.
She hoped no one would see her. But somehow, at the same time, that’s all she wanted. She was strong au brave enough to cry in front of anyone. But God how she wanted someone to see her cry. To realize that she needed someone to comfort her. To hug her. To hold her.
At this point she didn’t care who provided alisema care.
If someone she’d passed kwa only once on the mitaani, mtaa came and hugged her close, whispering words of hope and love. She be content to let them.
But it was not likely to happen. She hadn’t a single visitor since she got there—aside from the nurses and an occasional hallucination. Zuko was too busy for her. He had a nation to run, a jogoo to uphold. A crown that was supposed to be hers.
Her father was in no better condition than she, resting in his cold, dank prison cell. He wasn’t in any position to visit her even if he wanted to…
He probably didn’t, she’d shamed him just as much as Zuko at this point.
And of course Mai and Ty-Lee never stopped by, despite all their time and freedom. Why would they, they hated her just as much as everyone else did. She tried desperately to push them out of her mind, they’re betrayal struck the hardest. She didn’t expect Zuko to care for her. Ozai wasn’t exactly the title holder of ‘father of the year’. But those two…they were always so…loyal.
Azula slapped her palm, several times, against the carpet in frustration. It’s padding suffocation the sound.
A sudden desire to tare her nails through it overtook Azula. She wanted nothing zaidi than to mar its perfection beyond recognition. At least something would be beneath her.
So she took to scratching at the carpet, only causing meniscal damage to the fuzzy pattern.
She and the carpet were zaidi alike than she had initially thought; both were so low to the ground and she now realized that—much like herself—it would take years and years of wear and tear to break it down.
At that Azula stopped clawing at the ground and simply lie there—fresh out of tears—gazing at the wall, listening to her own breathing as it settled back into a zaidi regular pattern.
The words “help me” lying just on her tongue, dying to be spoken.
To anyone.
To no one.
There came a knock on the door. Azula knew she had only a few moments to tunga herself before the door clicked open. She pulled herself up, dried her eyes, and quickly moved herself to the bed. Where which she now feigned sleep.
“You have a visitor.” The voice chimed.
Azula barely moved her head…if any movement was made at all.
Her visitor positioned him au herself at the foot of Azula’s kitanda and placed his au her arm on the princess’ shoulder.
“Zu-Zu?” She murmured without so much as a glance up.
“He’s at home.” Came a reply.
Azula rolled onto her back, a position that allowed her to see her visitor.
Ursa gently took Azula’s hand, rubbing her palm with her thumb.
“I didn’t want wewe to feel like we’ve forgotten you.”
“But wewe have.” Azula’s response was automatic. At this point she wasn’t even going to try to hide her delirious conversations. Everyone knew, kwa now, that she had a habit of talking to things that weren’t really there.
“I promise you, Zuko has tried very hard to come and see you…”
“You’re telling me what I want to hear.” Azula clenched her teeth and turned back on her side, back facing her mother.
“What wewe want to hear is the truth.” Ursa’s arm was back on Azula’s shoulder, squeezing it lightly. “I’m here to take wewe nyumbani Azula.”
Azula allowed herself a short and uchungu, chungu laugh. “You can’t take me nyumbani because wewe aren’t really here.”
Ursa turned to the nurse, who in turn confirmed her presence.
Azula fell silent. But only for a moment before picking up where she had left off in her fit of tears. And finally…for once, someone was there for her when she cried.
Someone was there to hold her close…her mother’s embrace warm and inviting. Someone was there to reassure her…Ursa’s words spoken soft and soothing. And when the time called for it, the silence between the two was calm.
Azula found herself clutching her mother’s robes tightly in her fists as she cried into the woman’s shoulder. If it bothered her any, she didn’t speak it. Instead the woman continued tracing her hand over Azula’s back in small soothing circles like she had done for the girl when she was just a child.
It soon dawned on Azula that she could tell if the tears were the product of overwhelming sadness au of new joy at the knowledge of her mother actually caring…at the knowledge of going home.
“You ready to?” Ursa asked after a few zaidi minutes.
Azula dried her eyes once zaidi and nodded.
Her mother smiled. “Let’s get wewe nyumbani then.” She paused, and with a laugh added, “I’m sure the servants will be thrilled to have to pamper us both.”
Azula let a smile spread across her face.
She took one last back at the freshly torn carpet; someone would repair it soon.
There was a chair resting in the corner of the room and a kitanda on the other side.
But the girl had seated herself in the middle of the floor, having no motivation to get up and songesha to a zaidi comfy place.
At this point, she hadn’t even the motivation to keep herself up right at all. And so she let her body slump completely to the ground.
The carpet looked rather nice. It was symmetrical and well cleaned. A burgundy color, deep red with off brown colored diamonds spotted randomly about. It was fuzzy and soft to the touch and smelled rather Earthly…like clay maybe. It was a pleasant scent but it wasn’t putrid either. It was kind of just hanging there, a tactless odor.
Azula appreciated it and all its perfection…
Well its perfection aside from that one small grey rock someone had tracked in.
Even textiles were closer to perfection than she.
She let a tear slip from her eye. It fell from her lashes and slid to her cheeks until it tainted that oh so perfect carpeting.
And another tear came. This over the silliest thing; she had ruined it. She had ruined the carpet’s perfection just like she ruined everything else.
Azula was alone so it was salama to cry. But honestly if someone were to catch her…well she hadn’t any dignity to lose anyhow. It would just be another shame for her to wallow in. And so she continued to let the tears fall…
Fall until she could feel small tremors in her body from crying so bitterly. Her body visibly shaking from the strain of it all.
She hoped no one would see her. But somehow, at the same time, that’s all she wanted. She was strong au brave enough to cry in front of anyone. But God how she wanted someone to see her cry. To realize that she needed someone to comfort her. To hug her. To hold her.
At this point she didn’t care who provided alisema care.
If someone she’d passed kwa only once on the mitaani, mtaa came and hugged her close, whispering words of hope and love. She be content to let them.
But it was not likely to happen. She hadn’t a single visitor since she got there—aside from the nurses and an occasional hallucination. Zuko was too busy for her. He had a nation to run, a jogoo to uphold. A crown that was supposed to be hers.
Her father was in no better condition than she, resting in his cold, dank prison cell. He wasn’t in any position to visit her even if he wanted to…
He probably didn’t, she’d shamed him just as much as Zuko at this point.
And of course Mai and Ty-Lee never stopped by, despite all their time and freedom. Why would they, they hated her just as much as everyone else did. She tried desperately to push them out of her mind, they’re betrayal struck the hardest. She didn’t expect Zuko to care for her. Ozai wasn’t exactly the title holder of ‘father of the year’. But those two…they were always so…loyal.
Azula slapped her palm, several times, against the carpet in frustration. It’s padding suffocation the sound.
A sudden desire to tare her nails through it overtook Azula. She wanted nothing zaidi than to mar its perfection beyond recognition. At least something would be beneath her.
So she took to scratching at the carpet, only causing meniscal damage to the fuzzy pattern.
She and the carpet were zaidi alike than she had initially thought; both were so low to the ground and she now realized that—much like herself—it would take years and years of wear and tear to break it down.
At that Azula stopped clawing at the ground and simply lie there—fresh out of tears—gazing at the wall, listening to her own breathing as it settled back into a zaidi regular pattern.
The words “help me” lying just on her tongue, dying to be spoken.
To anyone.
To no one.
There came a knock on the door. Azula knew she had only a few moments to tunga herself before the door clicked open. She pulled herself up, dried her eyes, and quickly moved herself to the bed. Where which she now feigned sleep.
“You have a visitor.” The voice chimed.
Azula barely moved her head…if any movement was made at all.
Her visitor positioned him au herself at the foot of Azula’s kitanda and placed his au her arm on the princess’ shoulder.
“Zu-Zu?” She murmured without so much as a glance up.
“He’s at home.” Came a reply.
Azula rolled onto her back, a position that allowed her to see her visitor.
Ursa gently took Azula’s hand, rubbing her palm with her thumb.
“I didn’t want wewe to feel like we’ve forgotten you.”
“But wewe have.” Azula’s response was automatic. At this point she wasn’t even going to try to hide her delirious conversations. Everyone knew, kwa now, that she had a habit of talking to things that weren’t really there.
“I promise you, Zuko has tried very hard to come and see you…”
“You’re telling me what I want to hear.” Azula clenched her teeth and turned back on her side, back facing her mother.
“What wewe want to hear is the truth.” Ursa’s arm was back on Azula’s shoulder, squeezing it lightly. “I’m here to take wewe nyumbani Azula.”
Azula allowed herself a short and uchungu, chungu laugh. “You can’t take me nyumbani because wewe aren’t really here.”
Ursa turned to the nurse, who in turn confirmed her presence.
Azula fell silent. But only for a moment before picking up where she had left off in her fit of tears. And finally…for once, someone was there for her when she cried.
Someone was there to hold her close…her mother’s embrace warm and inviting. Someone was there to reassure her…Ursa’s words spoken soft and soothing. And when the time called for it, the silence between the two was calm.
Azula found herself clutching her mother’s robes tightly in her fists as she cried into the woman’s shoulder. If it bothered her any, she didn’t speak it. Instead the woman continued tracing her hand over Azula’s back in small soothing circles like she had done for the girl when she was just a child.
It soon dawned on Azula that she could tell if the tears were the product of overwhelming sadness au of new joy at the knowledge of her mother actually caring…at the knowledge of going home.
“You ready to?” Ursa asked after a few zaidi minutes.
Azula dried her eyes once zaidi and nodded.
Her mother smiled. “Let’s get wewe nyumbani then.” She paused, and with a laugh added, “I’m sure the servants will be thrilled to have to pamper us both.”
Azula let a smile spread across her face.
She took one last back at the freshly torn carpet; someone would repair it soon.
