#wrongless

[yremn6xpunff]

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#bookends #T-number #abo #werewolf #protonotater #amphibians #Kitlope #Shree #wrongless #warrantableness #vasotocin #Melodee #dreary-eyed #farsightedness #naturize #fear-created #semi-indurate #archcorrupter #phrasal #autosensitization

[lp-23]

GenZ (Balenciaga K/F)

Exocom, Exoxom: Adult You Emulation Wrongless, Personal Focus

[paragonrobits]

It is years after the end of the hundred year war. It is years after a time of... reflection, perhaps. Of an understanding that the world was truly not as she believed it was. When she was younger, she might have thought it was a battle of ideals and thoughts, one winning out over the other, and the best thing would be to feign submission while waiting for an opportunity to strike...

Now, Azula doesn’t see the point of that.

There is no victory in her thoughts, now. But a very hard lesson, learned after many years of painstaking reflection, and the slow route towards understanding the other and internalizing those stepping stones, after another, is that victory means little.

It hurt, then. It’s a strange thought now.

She sits on her bed. The window is open, and the sun burns hot and bright. Some aspect of it calls to her; warming her, the fire within her flashing more heavily at its touch.

She flexes her fingers. There are no electrical sparks. The cold-blooded fire is not lost to her, exactly, but the means of compelling it from her eludes her.

‘Once there was certainty’, A fire sage once told her, examining her and trying to understand the shape that her mind was burning into. ‘No, there is no certainty. Lightning comes from calmness, and I think the uncertainty in your thinking has lost something of that.’

She remembered being afraid, then; of herself. For her future. Flailing inside, terrified of the rootlessness; what as there for her, then? Her father imprisoned; the brother she always thought a rival or pawn in the dangerous games of the court, ascended to the throne.

In those years, there was much, she had come to realize, that she did not know. The shape of it frightened her.

She didn’t know her own future.

For so long, she’d known nothing but certainty. 

Now?

She knew the nature of what her nation had done to the world, and bit by bit, she’d begun to understand much of the same things her brother had, though in her own fashion, and largely on her own.

(It starts, as it always does, with a faint revelation: ‘We lost. The things we did failed; have we lost the favor of history? If so, why?

‘What did we do wrong?’

Of such thoughts is doubt made, and from doubt, questioning.

And hence, from questioning, revelation.)

She does not, now, know the shape of her future, or what she must do.

It does not bother her, as it once did.

The wind blows in.

It feels like a small piece of freedom. She thinks that knowing one’s destiny, or believing that you do, can sometimes be a chain all its own.

#atla #azula #my writing #fics #so basically this is the general vibe for Azula that i find interesting in post canon content #someone who over the course of years #comes around to concluding the wrongless of FN actions #in a very unsentimental and stoic way #eventually as she attains understanding and peace #she recreates lightningbending #i imagine it originally came from her absolute surety and now she doesn't have that #but that's not necessarily a bad thing