"It's amazing how you've managed to create this passive and broken version of her how Azula has lost herself" Thanks again and in this next chapter there are going to be layers of uncertainty. "And Aang seems to question his part in this crime more and more cause he starts to realize that this has nothing more to do with helping her getting better." Exactly, in his heart he knows that they aren't really aiming to do what they promised, they aren't trying to help her at all. They pretty much only cause her more harm. "It's painful to watch Azula's misery and it is painful to see Aang being an active part in this mess cause it brings up the question what has happen to him that he has closed his eyes before the violence they are doing to Azula." That's definitely going to be addressed eventually. "Aang seems to be broken as well and acts very shy and passive so far but he finally starts to have troubles with his part in this actions." And yeah, Aang is also feeling quite dejected and helpless. "I hope you had some good days lately. Take care of you and keep on having fun with your stories" It's been really rough but I'm hoping for better ones. Thank you and I hope that you're doing well.

They take her and strap her down before she are gentle with her this time, but only so not to wake her before they finish binding her. This is how they always do it. Sedating her and then taking her is counterproductive, or so Sangyul says. "We're going for authenticity, so we can't have her all muddled by sedatives and drugs."

Aang thinks that this is an odd choice of words. There is nothing authentic about her treatment.

He watches her blink awake as they fix a final metal plate over her mouth. They do it just on time to keep her from breathing fire, but not before she can muster a cry of distress and anger. "Alright, Avatar Aang. She's all yours."

He takes an anxious step closer to her and tries not to look her in the eye. Her stare is always so cutting and furious before he tampers with the spirit energy behind them. Sangyul adjusts the bands of spirit vine that he has placed over her head. Aang inhales through his nose and touches his fingers to her forehead. He draws another deep breath and his eyes meet hers. It is only for a flicker but in that flicker he sees both resignation and a conflicting dash of defiance. Or maybe he has mistaken hatred for defiance.

He closes his own eyes and lets himself sink into the serenity that is the half state. Were he to open his eyes he would be able to see halos of color all over the spectrum. The nurses tend to have passive and stoic greys. Sangyul boasts the black-purple of ill-will and arrogance. Today, he has a small procrastinative peek, it is tinged with a fervent red.

He doesn't like to look at Azula's aura, seeing it is almost worse than seeing the look on her face. It's vivid brilliance has gone dull and muted. Once a tantalizing blend of passionate and powerful red, confident orange, and a delicate touch of soothing and intelligent blue it is now a dreary grey. The blue remains but it alludes to fear and a depressive apathy.

He can't see his own aura but he speculates that it might just look similar. He lets his spirit energy flow into her aura and into her mind. He braces himself for whiplash and the headache that comes with having to crumble her mental walls. Though it is more of an extinguishing; the wall that wraps around to protect her spirit is a fire as hotly blue as her physical bending. He doesn't know why he still expects it to be there, he has watched it dwindle from a roaring blaze to a bonfire , to a campfire, to a candle glow, and then to nothing but embers.

Even the embres have cooled to nothing.

His spirit energy infringes upon hers with a stomach churning ease.

A soft shimmer runs down the threads of her aura like a dew drop down grass. Starting from the front row and moving to the back, they flash and glint. It isn't always like this, the patterns of the blinking and glimmering are like a fingerprint of sorts. When he had taken Ozai's bending, his pattern was overwhelming; each thread with glint in an eye-searing uniformity before the glow fades for a moment. He thinks that it has to do with personality though he has hardly begun to theorize exactly why the blinks and flashes happen. He thinks that maybe it is more like a pulse; a sign that the person's spirit energy is still tethered to them. But then, wouldn't they beat in synchrony with the heart…

He cringes. He isn't paying attention. Luckily has has only tainted one thread, it is a rather rich pink. The pink of affection and love. White, pure and innocent white is the intention. Physically he grits his teeth. Spiritually he retracts his fingers for a moment. He resolves to keep Azula's aura as white as possible and keep the pink to a minimum.

.oOo.

"Unbind me, Avatar." She requests softly. "I'm not going to do anything."

"I know." Aang says.

"Can you loosen the straps a bit?"

He shakes his head. "I don't think that Sangyul will like that."

"I suppose."

The man steps back into the room. "Alright, Azula, how are you feeling?"

"How you want me to, I suppose."

His lip twitches. "We've discussed your sarcasm and witty quips. I suggest that you try to remember our conversation."

Azula nods.

"Let's try this again; how do you feel, Azula?"

She shrugs. "I'm not sure." She also isn't sure what he is playing at in asking for her opinion, she knows well that he doesn't care in the slightest. "I'm going to free you from these restraints and you are going to follow me." He turns to Aang. "I should like you to accompany us as well."

The straps fall away and she flexes her hands and fingers. She stretches her arms and legs and gets to her feet. They lead her down the hallway. "First we're going to pick out something to wear." He opens a door and gestures to the outfits spread out on the floor. "Pick one."

She furrows her brows. "I get to pick?"

"Of course."

There is an itch in her mind, it tells her not to trust them. It tells her not to get her hopes up. It nags her as she looks over the outfits. They range from elegant and formal to casual and plain. There are some articles from the Earth Kingdom and Water Tribe in the mix. But her eyes are drawn away from the Water Tribe furs, the fine Earth Kingdoms silks, and the extravagant Fire Nation kimonos to the expensive sets of armor. She misses wearing armor; misses the bulky feeling of protection, misses the powerful aesthetic it brings to her look, and-mostly-misses the confidence it instills within her.

There are several suits that stand out to her, one that is plain and sleek, not dissimilar to the one she used to wear. There is a second that has studs on the shoulder guards and jagged pieces that look like tongues of lightning for accents. There is another that bears the insignia of her nation. But the one she adores the most is the phoenix themed one. It does look rather heavy, but she isn't actually going into battle so she can choose aesthetic over agility. She manages a soft smile and points at it, "that one."

"Are you sure, Azula?" Sangyul asks.

She nods.

"But it is awfully heavy, don't you think? You aren't exactly in shape…"

She swallows. "I want that one." She insists despite a flicker of doubt. It would be rather humiliating if she put it on just to complain that it is too heavy for her more feeble condition. "I suppose that, that one is nice too." She points to the one accented with lightning filigree.

Sangyul scratches his chin. "Yes, that one would probably be a better choice. But I think that you should try one of these." He gestures to the Earth Kingdom silks and Fire Nation fineries.

They aren't awful, she doesn't exactly mind getting herself nice and pretty every now and again, but she is in the mood for something bolder. She casts a glance at the armor. "I suppose that it is a bit impractical to wear armor outside of battle."

"Yes!" Sangyul declares. "Exactly! Now which would you like, Earth Kingdom or Fire Nation?"

She brushes her hand over a Fire Nation festival kimono.

"Nurse Hanaki will show you to the changing room."

She finds that by changing room, he had meant taking her behind a four-panel folding screen.

It isn't comfortable having the nurse stand there and watch her but it is better than having Sangyul, his team, and the Avatar gawking at her. "Can you turn around?" She requests.

Hanaki gives an awkward shuffle. "I can't risk turning my back on you."

Azula turns away from her and with as much haste as she can manage swaps her current outfit for the new one. The nurse helps her tighten her obi and leads her back out.

"Wonderful." Sangyul replies. "I think that you made the right decision with that outfit. I think that we should apply some makeup to match."

She almost smiles, she does miss having a touch of makeup, but she doesn't even begin to smile before realizing that there is probably a catch. She knows that a touch of makeup is going to turn into more makeup than she has ever worn or has had a desire to wear. And by the time they are done with her face, it is accented in away that she almost can't recognize. It is a dangerous thing, she thinks. She doesn't feel like herself and now she doesn't look like herself.

Her stomach flutters as her mind starts to make the separation.

"Now, let's discuss your hair."

She jolts. She is grateful for the jolt, it brings her, to some degree, back to herself. She reflexively pulls a good portion of her locks and holds them against her chest. He leads her to a mirror and hands her a pair of scissors.

She looks at her reflection and then scissors in her hand. She likes how her reflection looks now, how her hair falls in thick and elegant waves. How her bangs so nicely frame her face, giving her delicate features a sharper edge. She isn't sure that she'd like how she'd look with shorter hair.

"Go on, Azula." Sangyul coaxes. "Cut your hair. Just under the chin will do."

She peers at the boy next to her and whispers, "I don't think that this is what I really want, Aang."

She can see Aang's heart sinking in his eyes. "I don't think that it is either."

"Azula." Only her father has ever spoken to her like that. So low, so cautionary.

She raises the scissors and cuts the smallest fragment of hair away and repeats on the next side. She watches the strands fall to the floor and her mind shifts again. It shifts to a night in her bedroom. A night when a disheveled reflection stared back at her. She puts the scissors down and allows the pricks of anger in her aura to unfurl. "I like it long."

"Azula." Sangyul warns again. He is in her face now.

"I like it long." She repeats flatly.

She feels the sting of his slap. "Cut. It." The man growls. "Or so help me."

Shock, it must be shock.

Whatever it is, those pinpricks of anger retract and she feels somewhat dizzy.

She feels the scissors being pressed into her hand again. "Cut. Your. Hair."

She swallows. "Yes, father."