A. N. : A viper-lizard's tales turns 7 this coming March 6th ! It's been a hot minute, but this time I actually went back to the old tradition of writing a short OS to celebrate. I'll post it on the anniversary date, it's a sweet story about Tao and Sekiji, when they were much younger. So for anyone curious about these two, or just in need of some fluff, feel free to check it out ! Otherwise, there's nothing affecting Viper-lizard's plot directly in it, so if you're not interested you can also skip it as easily - in which case, see you in 2 weeks !

The pattern goes thus –

Name, rand and affiliation, age, region of origin – the latter doesn't come up regularly, but shows up enough that Azula can infer it is more for lack of knowledge than lack of intent.

Then, in as much detail as possible, rows upon rows of faded ink characters recording the circumstances and causes of death.

It takes time for Azula to even just roughly decipher the contents – low-grade ink, low-grade paper, awful archiving conditions, and the worst calligraphy she's ever had the displeasure of setting eyes on all combine into the most unpleasant reading experience possible.

Still, there is nothing else for her to do, and she refuses to be defeated by mere paper.

Before the first entry, the barely coherent, heavily misspelled text speaks to a confused urgency, emotional distress or maybe simple lack of time. It reads somewhat like this –

Almost a whole battalion, I probably didn't know anyone but – the ink bled too much here – dead. Command calls it a victory. No one will ever know what really – happened, Azula completes mentally – there's no way they'll tell the families. Someone has to do it, I'll keep a record. It's all I can do for them, there's nothing else I – a series of characters were blacked out, and the list starts after that.

Azula wonders, for a second, if that record ever reached its goal, but quickly realizes there's no way it did. Someone has to tell the families, is the gist of the author's original intent, but if these dozens of notebooks were left to rot in a drawer the way Azula found them, then they most likely never left their owner. The truth, whatever it's supposed to be, never made it out of these pages.

She smiles.

Whatever the reason, whatever the details, this inaction reveals one thing – these notebooks hold power over their author. And Azula holds them in her hands.

There are two things she needs to do before she can put them to use – to what end, she doesn't know yet, but it matters not. First, she needs to figure out which of the two men wrote them. The date would make her lean towards the Doctor – as a firebender, he would have been among the first conscripts, unless he was currently in training at the time – but it's also possible that the pirate enlisted on his own at that time instead, so Azula needs to investigate.

Second, figure out why these notebooks never saw the light of day. As of now she sees two possibilities – either they are filled with treasonous content, be it top secret information or something else, and the author knew better than to risk execution for the sake of some strangers' peace of mind, or… or it's simply cowardice, inaction brought about by the fear of accomplishing one's duty, or whatever it is the weak-minded fear.

Both reasons can be used as leverage, but in very different ways. A more in-depth read-through should reveal everything Azula needs on that front, either way.

She closes the journal. Puts each one back inside the drawer, in their original, aberrant order. Right now, she cannot risk getting caught. She will do things slowly, sharpening her knowledge of this newfound tool until she can turn it into a weapon.

Wobbling back to her cot, Azula grabs the teapot the Doctor left for her, pours herself a cup of whatever this is. The taste of honey fills her mouth, but for the first time in a while she doesn't mind it.

The power she just gained tastes much sweeter, after all.