Azula

Authors note: okay halfway there! Here's number five. Once again I tried to play with the psychology here.


All those people.

Those villagers.

I need to deliver this information.

Father says no weakness is allowed.

But, I'm shy.

She's not.

The princess isn't.

But I am.

Azula is.

This hair. Such a mess.

This smile. Crooked and awkward.

This laugh. Disjointed.

These eyes.

They want to look at the ground.

No.

I'm not Azula.

I'm the princess.

She's strong, she's free, she's a big girl.

She doesn't cry.

They all Liebe her.

No.

They fear her.

She's confident.

But I'm shy.

I'll put on this armor,

And I'll tie up this hair.

And be her.

I've done it before.

Why's it so hard today?

Why can't I be her?

Why can't I be me?

And read a book?

I'm scared.

I'm awfully shy.

Authors note: okay, trying to c if I can use some color imagery to express what Azula might have felt during a lonely night at the palace.


Red.

Fire.

Blood.

The tapestries.

Honor.

They're all Red.

Burns.

Hearts.

Roses.

Red.

The Red sky turns to black.

The walls adorned with tapestries, black.

Where's the honor?
Where's the pride?

I'm scared.

The darkness consumes the red.

All of it.

Run faster! Turn here! Lock the door!

Sleep. No.

Red ink dries up. Write with black.

The candle flickers, a Red orange glow persists.

It's out.

The black is here only now.

They're gone.

Honor. Pride. Family.

The black consumes it all.

I huddle here into this corner, waiting to be taken next.

My spirit is still Red!

I can make it.

The wind blows once. Twice. Three times.

Who's there?

My Red spirit lies alone.

Alone...

It is crimson. Now Black.