[Drabble]
Player: banerry
Subject: Azula
Table: A
Prompt: 002- I'm here
The rain was calming, and so was Ty Lee's hand on her hair.
She liked being like this. It was a break from the pressure and stress that came with the title of Fire Lord; pressure and stress that seemed to get to her more and more as the months went on. But that didn't matter now. Ty Lee knew just how to make her feel better-- with less words and more touches, long and soothing along her back or her face or her head.
Words were more Lisa's forte. When Azula wanted advice (or something like it), she'd call for her, and she'd always seem to know the right thing to say to make her feel better. That wasn't to say Azula never got physical comfort from her too, of course-- when she was feeling particularly gloomy she knew she could always go and find Dr. Cuddy, curl up against her side, and stay there for as long as she liked.
Tonight, however, belonged to Ty Lee. She didn't need words of wisdom or someone to talk to, she just needed that hand on her hair-- to tell her that she was loved; cared for; safe. To tell her that she wasn't alone. That was what it was all about, really: she could not be alone. No matter who was there at the time, whether it was Ty Lee or Dr. Cuddy, Azula needed more than anything else to be sure that she wasn't suddenly going to wake up by herself. That's why one of them was always with her when she fell asleep-- and sure enough, they were always with her when she woke up, too.
Azula knew that they would never leave her.
--
The asylum's night guard walked briskly down the small, dimly-lit corridor, quickly glancing into each room that he passed to make sure that all the patients were safe and sound. This particular hallway was secretly his favorite-- no matter how much he may have denied it, he always got a slight thrill from seeing the former Fire Lord broken and defeated, wasting away in a cell (because that's really what it was) as if she had never been great; never been worshiped.
The circumstances of her capture were puzzled about even to this day. She'd been caught carrying nothing but a large book and a long black feather, and how she had screamed when they were taken away. She had raged and cried for nearly a week before she suddenly stopped and became... like this. Silent. Unmoving. Unresponsive.
As he walked past the cell, the guard stopped.
"Maybe you really have been crazy all along," he mused out loud, half-curious as to whether or not the girl would respond. She didn't. She didn't even look at him. Her hand, running gently and evenly down her own hair, didn't even break its stroke.
Subject: Azula
Table: A
Prompt: 002- I'm here
The rain was calming, and so was Ty Lee's hand on her hair.
She liked being like this. It was a break from the pressure and stress that came with the title of Fire Lord; pressure and stress that seemed to get to her more and more as the months went on. But that didn't matter now. Ty Lee knew just how to make her feel better-- with less words and more touches, long and soothing along her back or her face or her head.
Words were more Lisa's forte. When Azula wanted advice (or something like it), she'd call for her, and she'd always seem to know the right thing to say to make her feel better. That wasn't to say Azula never got physical comfort from her too, of course-- when she was feeling particularly gloomy she knew she could always go and find Dr. Cuddy, curl up against her side, and stay there for as long as she liked.
Tonight, however, belonged to Ty Lee. She didn't need words of wisdom or someone to talk to, she just needed that hand on her hair-- to tell her that she was loved; cared for; safe. To tell her that she wasn't alone. That was what it was all about, really: she could not be alone. No matter who was there at the time, whether it was Ty Lee or Dr. Cuddy, Azula needed more than anything else to be sure that she wasn't suddenly going to wake up by herself. That's why one of them was always with her when she fell asleep-- and sure enough, they were always with her when she woke up, too.
Azula knew that they would never leave her.
--
The asylum's night guard walked briskly down the small, dimly-lit corridor, quickly glancing into each room that he passed to make sure that all the patients were safe and sound. This particular hallway was secretly his favorite-- no matter how much he may have denied it, he always got a slight thrill from seeing the former Fire Lord broken and defeated, wasting away in a cell (because that's really what it was) as if she had never been great; never been worshiped.
The circumstances of her capture were puzzled about even to this day. She'd been caught carrying nothing but a large book and a long black feather, and how she had screamed when they were taken away. She had raged and cried for nearly a week before she suddenly stopped and became... like this. Silent. Unmoving. Unresponsive.
As he walked past the cell, the guard stopped.
"Maybe you really have been crazy all along," he mused out loud, half-curious as to whether or not the girl would respond. She didn't. She didn't even look at him. Her hand, running gently and evenly down her own hair, didn't even break its stroke.