Death Fury: Thanks! Took a while to put this one out but I hope it's just as great. :D Tragedy and anguish is also very fun. It really depends on my mood which one I do.
Led Feynman M.D. D.D.S. Ph.D : Honestly I don't know, maybe some type of southern. To be quite honest, it's actually an exaggerated version of how I talk though.
Zirin reaches out and strokes her cheek, the same cheek she had touched time and time before. She tilts her head and takes in the sight of her. Those golden eyes seem to have lost their shine to months of pain and distress. And her hair… she only has it in patches. Zirin brushes her hand over Azula's head. It is somehow even more disturbing to view the various animal pelts and the clawed talons now that the hog-monkey head is off. Because now she can say for sure that they don't belong. Because now she can see completely, the suffering they bring their wearer. And those wings, a paste-like yellowy ooze weeps from the places where they were jabbed in. Worser still, Zirin thinks that Azula's skin is starting to grow around them. Her father will have to make quick work, the more her skin mold and fuse with the foreign wings, the harder they will be to detach. But he very well can't work on her again now. He doesn't have the supplies and she can't imagine that Azula is ready for round two just yet.
"Why didn't you tell me that it was you?" Zirin asks. She knows that she isn't going to get an answer. Regardless she pulls the princess into her arms, taking care to work around her wings. She doesn't return the embrace, leaving a faint ache in Zirin's heart. Azula tugs out of the hug. Looking into her eyes is like staring into dismay. She has seen Azula in moods before, but she has never seen the woman's eyes so blank and hollow, so empty of all emotion save for a dash of agony and a flicker of fear, distrust.
Distrust.
It stabs at Zirin, to know that the trust she fought to establish with her seemed to have evaporated. And to no doing of her own.
She finds herself wanting to yell at the princess. To shout at her for this newfound mistrust. It is irrational she knows, but she can't help but be a little bitter. She knows that it will do her no good to say anything about the matter so she, instead, offers Azula something to eat.
With the hog-monkey head cleared away, she no longer needs Zirin to feed her. She struggles at first, to lift the chopsticks with awkward claws in the way. And struggles further to position them correctly. "Let me." Zirin tries. Azula shoots her the most agitated look, as though she is fantastically offended by the offer. Zirin knows then, that she is still Azula beneath all of that torment and fear. The same prideful and proud princess she'd come to know. She retracts her hand. "Kay, sorry."
She watches her fumble with them for a while more before she finally gets a handle on them. However clumsily, she feeds herself. She eats fast, giving Zirin another painful reminder that she had been holed up in the ground only days before. She thinks that this may be the first time that Azula has eaten a decent meal in months. She sure seemed to be savoring the food, and Zirin always thought herself to be a horrid chef. Regardless she points to her empty bowl. Zirin can take a hint, she is requesting a second helping. She doesn't really want to cook another serving but she promised that she would take care of the woman. If that means extra cooking and more dishes, she will do it.
Eventually, Azula looks up. "Thank you." It is the first thing she has said while awake since being rescued. Zirin almost goes teary-eyed again. She never thought she would hear that voice again. Though it is much weaker than she remembers, she clings to the sound of it.
.oOo.
The morning after brings more hurt. Zirin has long since learned that one has to suffer to heal in full. Her father and his work with Azula only reinforces this. Zirin wasn't sure that it could get much worse than seeing the hog-monkey head come off. But the wings, those are proving to be worse. Her father orders her to mash herbs and mix aloe again. She hears him grumble something about the infection and how it treating it is going to be a tricky feat.
She watches him clan his hands and pull out his set of scissors. He inspects Azula's back for a moment before drawing a conclusion. He gloves his hands and pulls at a flap of moose-dragon fur. The one closest to the wings. "Stitched on good." He grumbles and Zirin knows that this will be tedious work. She isn't sure if he will even get to the wings themselves today. He pulls out a pair of scissors even smaller than the ones he just tried. He cuts the first thread and then the one below it and the one below that. Azula sits rigid, visibly tensing with each snip, bracing herself for some kind of pain that doesn't seem to come. The first patch of moose-dragon falls to the floor. It would seem that she is a morbid quilt of the things. Zirin wonders if all of it is moose-dragon fur, she imagines that there might be other animals tossed into the mix.
"Aloe gel, Zizi." Okon requests.
Azula hisses as he applies the aloe-herb mix to where the stiches had once been. She tries to push his hand away.
"Let me do it, fa." Zirin takes the gel and takes Azula's hand and finishes running it over the line of needlework. She backs off to let her father continue. He carefully clips away at another pelt. One after another, pausing only to let Zirin apply aloe. They work until every last pelt is removed and discarded alongside the hog-monkey head, which is collecting maggots and flies in the rubbish bin. Zirin shudders to see that some are clinging to the pelts that her father had just removed. They had burrowed there, probably when Azula was still confined. And they had been feeding and growing larger. She sees Azula's eyes fall on the pelts and the insects thriving off of them. It disturbs Zirin to note that Azula doesn't seem surprised to see them, she knew that they were there. She knew very well.
The longer her father stares at Azula, the more closely he inspects her, the more her discomfort seems to grow. Zirin watches her shift uncomfortably. "He's not going to hurt you…or say anything about you." She offered. "He's just trying to figure out what to do next." She doesn't think that her words helped, Azula doesn't trust her Okon. As his eyes scan the princess, Zirin makes an observation of her own.
Another thing that brings a fluttering to her belly.
Seeing Azula's naked body for the first time, it occurs to her that the woman's once perfect, flawless skin is going to be a mess of scars resembling a pai sho board. The stitchwork had been so uneven, just one more slap. She can't imagine that Azula is taking it well, she hadn't even assessed the damage for herself yet.
Zirin hands the aloe gel to Azula, thinking that she'd rather apply it herself. She does so wordlessly, her expression as unreadable as it usually is with her. As she tends to her own injuries Okon rummages through his drawers.
"I have anuter job fer ya, Zirin."
"What do you need me to do?"
"I needja to get summore things from the garden. Ash daisy, chili pepper juice, 'n orange jade."
Zirin wrinkles her brows. "I'll go 'n get it." She spares another look at Azula. Whatever is to come is unpleasant enough to warrant ingredients for a potent sleep inducer. She takes to the garden to fetch the plants. When she comes back her father is holding a saw, he takes care to keep it out of Azula's line of sight. She watches him set it to the side and pick up the aloe paste, a rag, and a bucket of water. He begins scrubbing at the place where her skin seems to fuse with the bone of wolf-bat wing. The place that leaks a yellow-green and a coppery red. She needs the cleaning, Zirin finds it hard to watch and wonders if she should just head outside again and being concocting the liquid remedy to fight infection fever. She is about to step back outside when Azula lashes out. She does so in a weak but damaging display of teal-blue. Her father grunts as he hits the floor, muttering a couple of curses.
She is in so much pain, Zirin notes, enough to strike at the hand that tries to help.
"Hol' onta yer girlfren." Okon hollers as he does when he is under pressure. His face is contorted into an angry scowl which does little to reassure his attacker that she is in tentative hands. Thing wings bob and she could see it on Azula's face that it ails her so when they do. But she brings fire to her palms again and tosses them with a furious yell.
"Stop it!" Zirin shouts. And when she doesn't Zirin yells louder. She is worried for her dad as much as she is for Azula. Azula who is more akin to a cornered animal than her regal self. Zirin's worry makes sparks a rage in her, one she is hard pressed to control at the best of times. "Don' touch 'im, Azula. He's tryin' to help. Don' touch 'im."
Her words fall on def ears. She still has the sense to not body slam Azula. But that sense is fading rapidly as Azula's barrage of fire grows more hazardous. Her father, a non-bender and the most non-violent person she's ever met, sits passively. She knows what he is thinking, he doesn't want to hurt the woman he is supposed to be helping. No sense in solidifying that distrust. But Zirin can't let her hurt him and before she knows it, she and Azula are on the ground.
For a moment the princess' eyes are wide they are almost frozen. But that suspended state is broken by a the most ungodly scream Zirin has ever heard and she realizes that she had partially ripped one of the wings off.
Her heart leaps, she feels sick. Azula's blood is streaming and Zirin is afraid that it can't be stopped. She can observe that some muscle tissue has been plucked with the wing. She actually gets sick.
And her cries.
Zirin has never heard someone cry like that. A terrifying cross between a wail and a shriek. Maybe she is alternating between the two. But it puts a decent hole in her heart, because she knows that it's her fault. She only wanted to protect her father.
Okon himself is on his feet again. This time Azula lets him have his way, but the act of picking her up alone has her eyes rolling back. They wouldn't need the sleep inducer after all. It was too much for her.
"Hol' 'er wings steady." Okon demands.
Zirin doesn't need extra coaxing, she holds the wings in place to the best of her ability as Okon lays Azula facedown atop a makeshift operating table. It is the one he usually uses when he's working on his bigger machines.
Zirin huddles in the corner feeling dreadfully ashamed at how she handled things. Her father finishes cleansing the infection. He is mumbling to himself debating over whether it is best to stitch the skin split from pulling the wing or if he should get on with whatever he was about to do before that. It doesn't matter, Zirin has already concluded that she no longer has any business being there. She's already made a mess of things and she can't imagine that she instilled any trust in Azula. She stands up and pushes the door open. She only has it slightly ajar when she hears a gruff, "where ya goin' ta?"
"My room, father."
"No, no. I needja."
She pauses in the doorframe. "For what? I think I helped a'nuff for today."
Okon raises the saw. "I needja ta hol' 'er wings steady again. I gotta saw through the bone, make id easier ta take out."
Zirin cringes she can't stomach it. The smell of infection is awful and she doesn't want to see how badly she'd worsened Azula's condition. But she does, she holds the wings in place as her father begins sawing through them. It takes too long, much too long. Azula gives a sleepy hum and her eyes crack open. Zirin leaves the wings to retrieve the ash lily, orange jade, and pepper juice mixture. Taking care to no breath it in herself, she wafts the fragrance in Azula's direction until she fades out again. And Okon resumes his work until the bone is severed completely through.
"This is gonna be the hard part, Zizi."
It is a warning.
He begins snipping away the excess skin that has accumulated around the wolf-bat bone. When this is accomplished he places a hand firmly between her shoulder blades and yanks at the protruding bone. It comes out with a slurp.
"It's not gonna stop bleeding is it, father, we have to put it back." She points at the gaping hole in Azula's back.
She sees it on his face, that he agrees. He doesn't have the medical skill to plug the hole in a way that a professional healer would. It is late realized, but Zirin finally thinks about just what they were doing. They should hand her over to a real healer. They should give her to the royal doctors. But now she doesn't have that kind of time. The blood flow is constant and urgent.
"Ken ya clean it fer me?" He hands Zirin the bone. His own hands are busy wadding a clean towel and stuffing it into the opening. It will only slow the bleeding for so long, so Zirin makes the cleansing quick. They're going to lose her, she can't see how a person could survive this. Once the cleansed bone is back in Okon's hand, he removes the cloth and sticks the bone back in place. He riffles through another drawer and comes away with a tin of blasting powder. He sprinkles it around the bone. "I needja ta fireben'."
Zirin hesitates. She isn't awake, she can't feel it. She repeats it over and over as she cauterizes the wound.
She has to keep up with the mantra much longer.
They have to replicate the process on the left wing. If they are going to leave it where it is, they have to clean it. Clean it and shorten it.
Again Zirin feels like crying for Azula, not only is she going to be a mess of stitch marks, but those bones are there to stay. Her father manages to shorten them enough for her to be able to lay on her back again in time. But she can't imagine that it will ever be pleasant.
"That's a'nuff fer tanight." Okon declares.
Zirin doesn't protest, it was more than enough. She doesn't know what else there is to do, save for keeping an eye on the infection. But she somehow feels that there has to be something else, something to make Azula feel better about the removal that is to dangerous to preform in full. She contemplates it as she dresses the woman. At least that would hand the princess some dignity.
The princess is still drowsy so Zirin has to help her into bed. She can feel tension ebbing from her. "I'm sorry, I couldn't let you hurt my father. He was just tryin' to help." She waits for a reply that Azula won't give. "He really was, see." She brings Azula to a mirror and lifts the night shirt some. "They're smaller so they won't get in the way."
Azula blinks at her reflection and then averts her eyes. She isn't any pleased with the results, Zirin can tell. All of that suffering and the wings are still there. If only she can find a way to make something pretty out of something dreadful.
"Please don't be mad at me."
The worst thing is that Azula doesn't seem furious. She is so far from who she had been and it scares Zirin. On a normal day she would probably find herself in an Agni Kai for her life. But today, the princess looks at her forlornly. All the same she is relieved to know that Azula isn't going to push her away. Maybe she realizes that intentions had been at their best. Zirin allows herself to believe that, Azula is smart. She can read a person. She helps Azula find a place on the bed and bundles her up in blankets. "We cleaned the infection." She holds out her liquid remedy. "You'll have to drink this to get fightin' the one you already have. Every day, 'til it's gone."
Azula takes the cup in her hands and sips at the mix of herbal juices. She makes a face, bitter was never a favorite flavor of hers. But Zirin watches her drain the cup. She holds the cup out for Zirin to take back. She sets it to the side and urges Azula to rest her head and close her eyes.
She longs to run her fingers through Azula's hair as she always used to when comforting the firebender. But the princess' long locks are gone and she no longer responds to touch…not affectionate touches anyhow. She is so damaged and Zirin doesn't know how to fix her. She think and fears that Azula is gone. She takes her hand anyhow and strokes it until she sees her eyes close. She wants to give her cheek a gentle kiss but can't imagine her receiving it well. So she holds back on a motion that used to be so natural.
Long into the night she peers at the other woman. Her eyes never seem to leave the small bumps that jut out from her back. She takes in the sound of Azula's breathing and savors it, the princess is at peace. At least until morning. For once she seems to be sleeping soundly, she imagines that slumber comes much easier now that she is free of the hog-monkey head and the worst of thing wings.
The wings…
How darkly poetic it is that a fierce dragon of a woman is ailed by wings…
The wings simply weren't right for this dragon.
An idea finally comes.
