Her train of thought was promptly derailed by a cool, damp cloth being brought up to her face and wiped gently across her eye.
She blinked as much from surprise as the sudden intrusion, and before she could even draw breath to protest, he met her gaze with a scowl.
“I’m not stupid, Azula.”
“What?”
He held up the wet cloth, now stained with the makeup she’d worn to cover her eye. It took her a few moments to see where he'd gotten it from- a small bowl resting on the table beside the sofa. He must have retrieved it while she was distracted
She'd be impressed if she wasn't so irritated.
“You fought somebody yesterday, right? Let me see your arm.” It was surprisingly blunt. She was used to his occasional brazen moments, but it still took her aback a little. She withdrew her hand from his, scowling.
“I didn’t want you to fuss and coddle.”
“Shut up. Let me see your arm. It looked like something tore up your sleeve yesterday.”
She considered objecting, arguing, perhaps even storming out... but instead, she huffed, stared at the terrarium again, and pulled up her sleeve, revealing the bandages she’d wrapped around her arm.
“I already took care of most of it,” she insists. He seemed to accept that.
“Sit down.”
“Shealtiel, I hardly need you to-”
She glanced back at him and her protest died when she saw his face... and she sat on the couch. He sat beside her and began gently dabbing away the rest of the makeup, frowning in concentration. Or was it a grimace?
“Are these burns?”
“My enemy, it turns out, could also use fire.”
She glanced at him, and she felt her vision misting slightly. No, not now, not-
“Azula, what happened?”
“I survived, what does it matter?” No, no, too harsh, too hostile, too obviously shaky.
He recoiled slightly, and he got that look, the wounded look that made the venomous whispers come back into her brain. But he kept dabbing the makeup from her face anyway.
“I... relapsed,” she said quietly. She wasn’t sure what even compelled her to admit it. “I became a Noctaere again.”
His hand paused at her brow, and she felt her heart sink.
“That was why I didn’t want to be around you,” she continued, scowling and turning away. “I tried to help somebody and nearly became a monster again myself. Surprising nobody, I suppose.”
There was a long silence, and for a moment she considered just getting up and leaving.
“...I can’t actually clean your face if you’re looking the other way.”
“You don’t have to clean any-”
She was interrupted by a wet cloth slapping against the side of her face, and she wheeled around to tell at him. Before she could, he resumed dabbing at her face as if it hadn't even happened, and it stunned her into silence again.
“I don’t have to do anything,” he insisted, “you don’t need to tell me that.”
“I meant-”
“I know what you meant. How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t care?”
“I can’t!”
It was far too loud, far too quick, far too uncontrolled, and she saw him flinch back at it. A tiny, buried part of her felt a bit of vindication- not so harmless after all, is she? But the rest of her...
Sooner or later, they all see what you are. Then they leave.
“It... it’s like something stuck in my brain. What I did to you last time. Every time I think about it, it’s...” She folded her arms around herself defensively, staring at the floor. “I can’t let it happen again.”
Weak. Weak and pathetic. She was tearing up again.
“It didn’t.”
“...what?”
“It didn’t happen again.”
“Of course not. I threw myself at the Avatar’s mercy and he fixed it.”
“You’re so annoying!”
She blinked, once again shocked out of her tears. She’d expected any of several possible reactions, mostly negative, but that one was decidedly not one of them.
“What?”
“The Noctaere isn’t you, stupid! The first time it happened, it almost killed me, and you stopped it. This time, you found somebody to help you fix it before you even attacked anybody.”
She rocked back as if he’d struck her, mouth opening wordlessly. The irritation on his face faded a little, but he was still glaring at her in open defiance.
“What if I can’t stop it next time?”
“What if I turn into a wolf and try to kill you again?”
What?
Wait.
What?
“Stupid.” He said it with finality. And then he reached out and started cleaning the makeup from her neck and lower jaw, still scowling. His face actually looked ridiculous. A little comical, really, though she was hardly in the mood to laugh.
“...that’s obviously not comparable at all, a folk tale had taken over your mind.”
“It happened twice, stupid.”
She’d always had a certain inexplicable tolerance for his defiant and blunt moments, but admittedly, him calling her stupid was beginning to annoy her. Especially because he had a point, which was vexing. She’d nearly forgotten about the incident with the dreamcatcher. That hadn't even been him, it was just a manifestation of his nightmares, but she suspected the distinction wouldn't impress him.
“The Noctaere was my own doing. The first time, I was arrogant and careless. The second time, I tapped into it to try and subdue somebody who had turned Noctaere himself.”
“I still don’t care. Hold still.” He finally put down the cloth and began inspecting her face.
“Why?”
“So I can check how bad the burns are.”
“That’s not what I-” she began, and then stopped. He knew. Obviously he knew.
“If you’re so afraid to be around me, then why did you come over?”
“You asked me here.” She wiped the stray tears irritably out of her eyes.
“If you don’t want to be here, you don’t have to.”
Her heart sank. She knew it. She knew it was only a matter of time. It had taken him longer than most, but-
“Do you want to be here, Azula?”
“Don't be ridiculous, Shealtiel.”
She froze. He was giving her the look again. The painfully vulnerable look. The looked that begged for...
She swallowed and restrained the impulse to look away.
“Do you want to leave?”
“...no.” It came out as barely a whisper.
“That’s all I care about." He took one last look at her neck, then set the cloth back in the bowl he'd retrieved it from.
“...where are you-”
“I need aloe for your burns. You’re going to stay here and eat something, because I bet you haven’t yet. Then we’re going to watch The Cavendish Eagle and eat fire flakes.”
She stared at him, bewildered- and, admittedly, a little irritated that he was right about her not eating. After a moment, the usual awkward smile came back to his face, and he added,
“...if that’s okay with you?”
She said nothing at first, and he just looked back at her expectantly. She felt something flutter in her stomach. Ridiculous, ridiculous man.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Passage Out Of The Dark
Date: 2026-02-14 05:41 am (UTC)She blinked as much from surprise as the sudden intrusion, and before she could even draw breath to protest, he met her gaze with a scowl.
“I’m not stupid, Azula.”
“What?”
He held up the wet cloth, now stained with the makeup she’d worn to cover her eye. It took her a few moments to see where he'd gotten it from- a small bowl resting on the table beside the sofa. He must have retrieved it while she was distracted
She'd be impressed if she wasn't so irritated.
“You fought somebody yesterday, right? Let me see your arm.” It was surprisingly blunt. She was used to his occasional brazen moments, but it still took her aback a little. She withdrew her hand from his, scowling.
“I didn’t want you to fuss and coddle.”
“Shut up. Let me see your arm. It looked like something tore up your sleeve yesterday.”
She considered objecting, arguing, perhaps even storming out... but instead, she huffed, stared at the terrarium again, and pulled up her sleeve, revealing the bandages she’d wrapped around her arm.
“I already took care of most of it,” she insists. He seemed to accept that.
“Sit down.”
“Shealtiel, I hardly need you to-”
She glanced back at him and her protest died when she saw his face... and she sat on the couch. He sat beside her and began gently dabbing away the rest of the makeup, frowning in concentration. Or was it a grimace?
“Are these burns?”
“My enemy, it turns out, could also use fire.”
She glanced at him, and she felt her vision misting slightly. No, not now, not-
“Azula, what happened?”
“I survived, what does it matter?” No, no, too harsh, too hostile, too obviously shaky.
He recoiled slightly, and he got that look, the wounded look that made the venomous whispers come back into her brain. But he kept dabbing the makeup from her face anyway.
“I... relapsed,” she said quietly. She wasn’t sure what even compelled her to admit it. “I became a Noctaere again.”
His hand paused at her brow, and she felt her heart sink.
“That was why I didn’t want to be around you,” she continued, scowling and turning away. “I tried to help somebody and nearly became a monster again myself. Surprising nobody, I suppose.”
There was a long silence, and for a moment she considered just getting up and leaving.
“...I can’t actually clean your face if you’re looking the other way.”
“You don’t have to clean any-”
She was interrupted by a wet cloth slapping against the side of her face, and she wheeled around to tell at him. Before she could, he resumed dabbing at her face as if it hadn't even happened, and it stunned her into silence again.
“I don’t have to do anything,” he insisted, “you don’t need to tell me that.”
“I meant-”
“I know what you meant. How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t care?”
“I can’t!”
It was far too loud, far too quick, far too uncontrolled, and she saw him flinch back at it. A tiny, buried part of her felt a bit of vindication- not so harmless after all, is she? But the rest of her...
Sooner or later, they all see what you are. Then they leave.
“It... it’s like something stuck in my brain. What I did to you last time. Every time I think about it, it’s...” She folded her arms around herself defensively, staring at the floor. “I can’t let it happen again.”
Weak. Weak and pathetic. She was tearing up again.
“It didn’t.”
“...what?”
“It didn’t happen again.”
“Of course not. I threw myself at the Avatar’s mercy and he fixed it.”
“You’re so annoying!”
She blinked, once again shocked out of her tears. She’d expected any of several possible reactions, mostly negative, but that one was decidedly not one of them.
“What?”
“The Noctaere isn’t you, stupid! The first time it happened, it almost killed me, and you stopped it. This time, you found somebody to help you fix it before you even attacked anybody.”
She rocked back as if he’d struck her, mouth opening wordlessly. The irritation on his face faded a little, but he was still glaring at her in open defiance.
“What if I can’t stop it next time?”
“What if I turn into a wolf and try to kill you again?”
What?
Wait.
What?
“Stupid.” He said it with finality. And then he reached out and started cleaning the makeup from her neck and lower jaw, still scowling. His face actually looked ridiculous. A little comical, really, though she was hardly in the mood to laugh.
“...that’s obviously not comparable at all, a folk tale had taken over your mind.”
“It happened twice, stupid.”
She’d always had a certain inexplicable tolerance for his defiant and blunt moments, but admittedly, him calling her stupid was beginning to annoy her. Especially because he had a point, which was vexing. She’d nearly forgotten about the incident with the dreamcatcher. That hadn't even been him, it was just a manifestation of his nightmares, but she suspected the distinction wouldn't impress him.
“The Noctaere was my own doing. The first time, I was arrogant and careless. The second time, I tapped into it to try and subdue somebody who had turned Noctaere himself.”
“I still don’t care. Hold still.” He finally put down the cloth and began inspecting her face.
“Why?”
“So I can check how bad the burns are.”
“That’s not what I-” she began, and then stopped. He knew. Obviously he knew.
“If you’re so afraid to be around me, then why did you come over?”
“You asked me here.” She wiped the stray tears irritably out of her eyes.
“If you don’t want to be here, you don’t have to.”
Her heart sank. She knew it. She knew it was only a matter of time. It had taken him longer than most, but-
“Do you want to be here, Azula?”
“Don't be ridiculous, Shealtiel.”
She froze. He was giving her the look again. The painfully vulnerable look. The looked that begged for...
She swallowed and restrained the impulse to look away.
“Do you want to leave?”
“...no.” It came out as barely a whisper.
“That’s all I care about." He took one last look at her neck, then set the cloth back in the bowl he'd retrieved it from.
“...where are you-”
“I need aloe for your burns. You’re going to stay here and eat something, because I bet you haven’t yet. Then we’re going to watch The Cavendish Eagle and eat fire flakes.”
She stared at him, bewildered- and, admittedly, a little irritated that he was right about her not eating. After a moment, the usual awkward smile came back to his face, and he added,
“...if that’s okay with you?”
She said nothing at first, and he just looked back at her expectantly. She felt something flutter in her stomach. Ridiculous, ridiculous man.
You’ll never deserve him. Never.
“...it will do,” she said.