Crapshak: Oh no, you aren't reading too much into it, you are very correct lol. Very very correct. :-)

Amanda: Thanks, I really, really enjoy world building! It's kind of hard to world build in a fic because the world is pretty much built for you, so the opportunity was fun to tackle. And thanks again, I was hoping that I succeeded in that area. Like Azula is very skilled, but I would imagine that it would still be hard for her to navigate the thug life so to speak, because she's never seen a day of poverty in her life. Yup, you have the right Chan, because of the whole 'cool kid' thing and how he'd always host these big parties I could seem him as the kind of guy who would be familiar with party drugs among others. You'll be seeing more of him later.

SoulHope: xP Thanks. I couldn't just give her any easy death lol. So many people seem to have these very 'clean' deaths where Suki dies on friendly terms with him. I feel like that lacks a bit of reality. I mean I enjoy that kind of thing every once and a while, but I wanted it to really hit home with him. Give him something that would really change him. I actually share that problem lmao; I have so, so, so many fics I want to type and I have a good lot of them already written in my mind but don't have the time to type them all! I now have an entire word document dedicated to these ideas and a sample of each to get me started. I also have a kinda nasty habit of not finishing things I start; my new years resolution was to, "finish the damn fics, Bella!" So far it's been working out. You'll have to let me know when you get yours typed.

The third day of his vacation to Hira'a left Sokka with an unrelenting itch to go home. He came to decide that he would begin urging them to head home, even if it meant giving an uncomfortable confession that he'd been visiting Azula on and off. Beneath the surface of the good time he was having, he had horrible feeling. It ate away at him as he leaned to cook traditional Hira'an food. It tugged at his mind as he part-took in a traditional Hira'an folk dance. On a normal day he would have been intrigued by how naturally the dances came to Katara, amazed at how well Ursa could still move through the motions as if no time had passed her by, and laughed at how spectacularly Zuko butchered all of the moves. Sokka himself retired early from the festivities, his head full of what if's and worst-case scenarios. Really, he ought to have stayed and kept his mind off of things; the solitude of his room called a forth many feelings he thought he had buried.

It hit him hard, the feeling of dread that had washed over him before Suki's boat departed. In full force his past mistake seemed to repeat itself. He ended things on a sour note with Suki, she died angry with him. And Azula…she seemed pretty alright with him when he'd last seen her. But he couldn't imagine that she'd take scorn and snubbing well, even if said snubbing wasn't intended. He shook his head, Azula wasn't getting on a boat. Azula wasn't traveling at all, she would be fine. He would come home and find her in her room, perhaps completely pass-out wasted in a corner or high out of her mind, but in her room no less and ready to give him a piece of her frayed mind. Still it would do him well to start pestering the others to start packing; with any luck they'd depart that night—or at least the next morning—and be home the next.

.oOo.

While Sokka began his pestering, Azula busied herself with her newly acquired Ruby Tears. The princess had to admit, she was still in a pretty elated mood, priding herself on just how many of her old skills she had retained. She need to leave her room. She needed that adventure, even if it only led her back to the very thing that was draining her in the first place. With needy hands and a horrific craving, she poured a neat pile of the dust onto her dresser.

Azula pulled a new much longer robe on over her arms before retreating to her bed. She buried herself in the abundant black and red silk of her robe and nuzzled herself against her pillows. For a while she lie on her back, staring at the ceiling until the ceiling seemed to dip and come to her. She lifted her hand to touch it and when her fingers grazed the surface it popped like a bubble raining shades of blue, purple, and white upon her. A look in the mirror showed her that she was covered in those different shades. She touched her cheek, leaving three parallel patches of her pale skin to show. From there she took to making a canvas of herself. For the first time in a long time—as far as she knew anyhow—she was a work of art. She longed to stay that way, to keep that feeling.

If she stared long enough, the colors on her skin would start to glow and shimmer leaving her feeling amazingly celestial. Azula took a seat upon the floor, intent on dwelling on those feelings for as long as she could before they left her to her misery once more.

She sat there for an indistinguishable amount of time watching clouds of feathers and snow drift down around her, she pushed her tongue out, waiting for a flake to fall upon it. She'd never tasted snow before. She also had never tasted a feather, so when one fell upon her tongue in place of the snowflake she had hoped for, she was surprised to find that it tasted like white chocolate and…coconut? She wasn't quite sure if that was an adequate description. But she rather enjoyed the flavor so she made a point of trying to catch more of the feathers.

Azula extended her arm and snatched at one but it moved out of her grasp, she tried a second and third time before it floated out of reach, prompting her to stand. Still, the feather drifted further from her. There were other feathers to be caught but she wanted that one because it was the biggest and because it was so determined to not be caught. She scrambled after it until it slipped under the crack in her door. Azula looked at the door reluctantly, it was late afternoon, people were bound to be up and about…

But she wanted her feather.

And she was feeling quite lucky, so the firebender peeked her head out of the door. She waited until the coast was clear before slinking out into the open. It took two tries to do so, the first time she managed to shut the door on the long trail of her robe. The second time she took the care to collect the excess robe and drape it over her arm. By this time her feather was aglow with a vibrant gold light and had burst into a cloud of twelve smaller feathers. She followed the cloud until it reached the hot springs where the feathers dropped into the water and fanned out into a delicate lotus flower. Azula cocked her head, wondering if that would still taste good. She reached out for her flower, leaning precariously over the ledge of the spring. The length of her wide bell sleeves dipped into the water. The former feather was afloat in the very center of the spring. Azula frowned, she didn't particularly want to go in the water, it would wash away the beautiful mural she had created on her skin. She looks down at the striking colors and then over at the shimmering lotus.

Maybe the water wouldn't be so deep.

Without even bothering to cast the robe aside, Azula dipped a foot into the water and then a second. With all said and done the princess found herself in waist deep, watching as some of the blues, purples, and whites swirl off of her and into the water. The colors churned and danced into an elegant spiral that found a center point at the lotus. The princess wadded further, wanting nothing more than to be a part of this sublime harmony.

Perhaps if she inhaled another dose, she could.

.oOo.

Sokka smirked to himself, all of his nagging and whining had paid off. Zuko wasn't too thrilled, he was having the time of his life in Hira'a, but Ursa didn't take it too hard. She assured the Fire Lord that they would return eventually. Sokka couldn't imagine that they'd be bringing him back any time soon, seeing as he had to pretend to practically hate it there to get them to take him home. One day he would offer a sufficient explanation, he would offer the truth.

They departed at noon, Sokka guessed that they would reach the palace some time in the later hours of the night. He loathed the idea of being on a boat, so he decided to join Aang on the saddle of Appa. He had been a seasick, paranoid mess on the way to Hira'a and had no desire to repeat that. Flying on Appa's back should get him home faster anyhow and Aang alone was lovely company to keep.

"So why do you want to go home so badly?" Aang asked. "I know you were having a good time in Hira'a."

Sokka peered into Aang's soft grey eyes. Those sympathetic, trustworthy eyes. He supposed it wouldn't hurt to get it off of his chest, if anyone would understand it would be Aang with his compassionate nature. "I've been talking to Azula."

"Oh!" Aang replied, "how's that going?"

Sokka scratched his head, not quite sure how to answer. "It was going well, I think. But I kind of forgot to tell her I would be leaving the capital for a few days." His scratching turned to timid rubbing.

"What's wrong with that?" Aang questioned.

"The last thing she did was tell me to go away. I don't think she wanted me to though."

Aang nodded. Sokka was certain that the avatar was ready to tell him that she would probably understand. But this time they weren't talking about Suki, so Aang bit his tongue. "I guess you'll just have to work extra hard to let her know that you didn't mean any harm."

"Aren't air nomads supposed to be great advice givers?" Sokka asked.

"I'm the only air nomad that has to deal with Azula…and questions about her." Aang shrugged, with a slight smile. "I think you're doing the right thing though, if that makes you feel better. She could use a friend right now."

"Yeah..." Sokka mumbled. He stared off at the clouds. "Hey?"

"Hmm?"

"This is between us right? Until I get a better grip on things."

"As long as you promise to let me know if you need help." Aang replied. Sokka could see the concern plain on the avatar's face.

"You have a deal." Sokka held out his hand for Aang to shake. At Aang's return of the gesture, he knew that their agreement was official.

.oOo.

Azula never did reach her feather. The lotus it morphed into shriveled and died before her hand could reach it. In her vain task all she had accomplished was washing all of the beautiful colors off of her body. She wanted them back more than ever so she wouldn't have to see her real skin with all of its old blemishes and new blotches. She tried just as unfruitfully to catch some of the colors, trapping them within the folds of her robe. The water dissipated the colors too quickly. She found herself frustrated to the brink of tears. Why couldn't she have one good thing? Just one, simple, little good thing.

She pulled herself out of the water and made her way back down the hall sopping wet and without any regard to the liquid trail leading back to her room. She had a singular focus; maybe another good sniff of Ruby Tears would get the lotus to blossom again. At the very least she could redo her mural. She ignored cries of annoyance from the servants who came upon her trail and the hand that tried to pause her stride. She ignored the fierce pounding on her door, thinking of nothing but her one goal. When had she acquired such a one track mind? It didn't matter.

Azula pulled out her pouch and took a second whiff as the rapping at her door continued. With the powder well and up her nose she turned to the door and snarled at them to leave her be. The knocking ceased.

.oOo.

All of the tension began to ebb away from Sokka's mind with the capital's skyline in sight. That majestic towering volcano, once so overbearing and oppressively large, now welcomed him back with a great cloud of comfort. Admittedly all he could see of the landmass was a fuzzy silhouette blocking the spread of cosmos around it, but he'd know that overpowering sulfur smell anywhere. Perhaps another few months in the Fire Nation and he'd finally become acquainted with it. Even with his nose unaccustomed to it, he was happy to be home.

Home…it was still so strange to think of the Fire Nation capital in such a way. But it had become home no less and he was definitely glad to be so close to it.

"You ready?" Aang asked, "To talk to Azula, I mean."

"Not really. I'm never prepared for that. But I want to do it." Sokka answered. "You don't leave a friend alone, ya know?" Immediately Sokka furrowed his brows. Had he just called her a friend? However strange it was to view the Fire Nation as home, it was odder still to think of Azula as someone he longed to support.

He almost didn't want to see the look on Aang's face. He turned around anyways to see the avatar smiling, "good, she needs one."

.oOo.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair at all. A whole hour had come to pass and still the lotus had not bloomed. She'd even taken a third snort, but still it didn't show, not even a faint twinkle. Moreover, the ceiling refused to swell a second time. It would seem that it was all out of colors to shower upon her, just like the world was well and depleted of favors to do her. She slumped down on the floor feeling completely horrible all over again. She let the feather trick her. She let it coax her into washing all of the beauty she had added to her skin away. She was ugly again.

And with no way to paint herself in a more flattering light.

Her sorrow subside for a moment to make room for unfathomable anger. That feather. That fucking feather. It was like Sokka, it was there for the moment showing her all of the pretty things and then it abandoned her.

The rage fell away as quickly as it had come leaving her feeling melancholy again. Sorrowful but with a twinge of fear. Her emotions were scattered so out of place, it was frightening. They allowed her to access them in spurts, very short spurts, before they'd slip through her fingers like everything else. But one thing remained. A single constant. That constant was her misery and the self-loathing that came with it.

Azula could see them at the top most corner of the room; the colors, those incomprehensibly beautiful colors. But she couldn't reach them and they wouldn't come to her. The pretty didn't mingle with the ugly.

Azula held her head in her hands, shaking terribly.

Feeling dizzy and nauseous, she remained like so until a voice roused her from the position. It came from the opposite corner of the room where the vase rested smashed upon the floor. Though broken and fragmented, it spoke. Its sound distorted and as cracked as the vase looked. "A mess… dishonorable mess." She could distinguish. "To think…thought you were…prodigy." She wished she'd never smashed the vase, its words were twice as jarring when pieces were missing. "You disappointed…greatly." It didn't matter though, these were the same sentences it had spewed at her from the beginning and with all the power and venom of the man the voice really belonged to. It was as if her father was right next to her.

He kept talking on and on, inviting a few more voices, some that she knew and some unfamiliar, to join him. Each and every one of them sent her into a deeper low. Facing the wall, she could see their lips moving. Every time a new voice joined in, a new mouth would bulge out of the wall. Through it all, Ozai's voice remained the loudest, until finally another came to overpower his voice. This one at an impairing volume and with words sharper than even Ozai's. She would recognize it anywhere. Azula squeezed her eyes shut, but that didn't alleviate the sensation of a tongue licking her arm up and down, inside and out. It tasted every bit of her soul and worries and invited the other mouths to do the same. And when they had her well and tasted through and through, they spoke even harsher truths. They shouted thing very things she least wanted to hear. Though Azula hadn't opened her mouth at all, her own voice remained the loudest.

Azula backed away from the wall, retreating towards the center of her room, where the tongues could not reach. She apologized profusely to no one in particular and for a reason she couldn't gauge.

She just wanted the torment to stop, for everything to just go away and maybe if she apologized enough, it would.

But the voice, her voice, was just as cruel and merciless as she. Its advice was quite simple really, "smash and slash." For a moment it took her a moment to realize what it was talking about, but when she came to the meaning she decided that it's advice was good.

She picked up the nearest bottle and smashed it against the floor. Finding the sharpest shard, she took it in her palm. She made it no further when her chest constricted. She dropped the shard and crawled back against the wall. The nausea from earlier smacked her full tilt, and had her doubling over and spilling her guts until she lay face down on the floor. It hurt so dreadfully, the physical pain almost driving the mental torture away. But even through it, she could still hear them talking.

A shadowy figure came to join her, raking at her back with its long claws. Azula rolled onto her back, short of breath. The figure came to sit on her belly, a putrid muddy green ooze weeping from its lips, drizzling on to her face. She closed her eyes, hoping to keep that ooze out of them. She turned her head and her body convulsed under the imagined weight of the beast. For a moment, the creature seemed to have been bucked off, but it came back twice as unrelenting. It's weight pushed more heavily upon her. She wanted to scream, but she couldn't even bring air into her lungs, much less utter a cry of any kind. She had to get that thing off of her.

Another tremor shook her frail body, reminding her that she was much too weak and far too fatigued to put up a fight of any kind. So the vile being expanded, it's weight on her belly, much too heavy. It kept her chest from rising and set her lungs aflame. With the Ruby Tears yet to dispel, she could see the flames leaping from her lungs and springing out of her mouth.

Her vision blurred, dark spots rising within. With tears streaming down her cheeks, she put the pieces together. Air would not come to her, the beast made sure of that. It was smothering her and no one was around to knock it away.

And there it was, in the midst of her failing consciousness, her lotus, blooming bigger and golder than ever. She reached out and tried to grab it, but her arm was not quite long enough. Azula watched the flower shrink smaller and smaller still, until it was only a simple feather. It glided languidly into her outstretched hand. She tried to smile, for it was hers, she finally got her feather.

But her feather was too light and weak to offer her anything more than a brief moment of comfort and a blinding comprehension; for the first time in such a long time, Azula realized that she didn't want to die, that all of the scars she'd put on her wrists were mistakes, she hadn't meant it, she wanted to live.