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I
Azula is six.
She's bored at the banquet table, only partly listening to the man at the podium drone on and on. Her feet uncomfortably dangle over the chair which makes her kick the ivory silk tablecloth in frustration, earning chiding little taps on her knee from her mother on her left.
If you ask Azula, this was all an unnecessary and frivolous fuss (though she would tell you so in probably a sequence of well-timed sighs). Her socks are edged with lace and itch around her ankles. The new Mary Jane's from the department store are a shiny glossy black, which might be the only thing she likes about them given how hard they are freshly out of the box. The strap feels a bit too tight.
Getting ready that evening was just annoying. Sitting on her mother's padded vanity stool in her parents' bedroom was not enjoyable when hands were brushing through her particularly stubborn locks. Her hair is finally tugged into a bun when she spots her brother striding across the room for the millionth time through the mirror.
"Stop Zuzu!"
"You're just jealous Zula'. Do you like my tie mom? Dad did it for me."
"I think it's lovely dear," her mother replies as Azula rolls her eyes.
The roaring applause breaks her out of her recollection. Suddenly it is her father's name being called and he rises from his seat next to Zuko. At last, something to pay attention to, Azula thinks as she schools her quiet grumbling, sitting up straight.
But then her father starts talking about revenue and profits and assets. She slumps and resorts to poking her brother in the arm who only returns an irritated glare. Even that doesn't satisfy her.
"One day. I'm gonna be like Dad. You just watch Azula," Zuko remarks, determination in his voice.
Still, Azula sees past the guise. His fidgeting does not reflect entertainment even if he adamantly stares straight ahead. Desperate, she whips around, hands on top of the chair's brim. She makes eye contact with an unamused gentleman sitting at a neighbouring table but not before she catches the sight of a girl and a boy at the back of the room. Near the buffet tables of chafing dishes in silver and stacks of plates that weighed heavy in her hands earlier. Zuko had stuck a tongue out when her mother carried her so she could scoop the rice noodles herself.
The girl's dress has ribbons that could rival the ones on Azula's. Her curly hair looks soft even from here, so soft Azula could reach out and touch her, if only for a second. The girl's chin rests on the boy's shoulders eagerly peering at whatever the boy has in his clutches. The boy, looking strikingly similar to the girl, seems to be engrossed fully as well.
Azula wonders what on earth is so interesting.
Ignoring her mother's eyes boring into her back as she deserts her chair, walking with a spring in her step towards the pair. Now that Azula's closer she recognizes the pink and purple blurs of colour on the girl to be those butterfly clips she'd seen before in a Claire's. At the time, the barrettes didn't interest her and she'd wished she had chosen to stay home instead. Grimacing each time her mother would ask if she'd like a glittered bow only a tiny bit different from the last.
It takes her two attempts to open her mouth but eventually they both look up.
"Hello," she manages after swallowing the lump of nerves lodged in her throat.
"Hi."
The girl's voice is shy while the boy shoots her a wave curiously.
"My name is Azula."
"I'm Sokka. This is my sister Katara!" Sokka exclaims, extending a hand out to her.
Azula clasps her own into his just like Dad had taught her.
"....What are you doing?"
Sokka's head tips to the side and Katara scoots over to make space. Azula, between the siblings, is handed a console where pixelated figures dance across the screen.
"You have to destroy the ones that turn green before they become zombies."
Azula isn't quite sure what exactly zombies are but she figures the game out well enough, Sokka telling her that her score was awesome for a first-timer. It is not until she gives the electronic back to Sokka does she realise Katara's chin was on her shoulder all along, and still is, eyes only straining further to watch Sokka now one person over.
Now unoccupied, Azula raises her head to look on to the front, sparing a glance at Zuko who stares back with his little beady eyes before looking longingly in her direction. Azula snickers at this. Her father had returned to his seat, and it seemed her brother was forgotten by their parents who were now in a conversation over something no doubt uninteresting.
Zuko stands, shuffling until he makes the decision to drag his feet to them, hesitation written on his face.
"Hi, Zuzu," Azula greets with mirth at her now blushing brother.
"Zuzu? What kinda name is that?" Sokka asks jokingly while a smirk plays on his lips.
Azula likes the sound of Katara's giggle. It has a musical quality and it’s so easy for Azula to fall into it. It feels like something she should remember. But there are other things, too, things about Katara that feel like they're tugging at her brain. Like how Katara smells faintly of the strawberry baskets her mother would bring every time they visited their grandparents. Like how the blue of Katara's eyes reminds her of the sapphire stones in her mother's jewellery box.
"It's actually Zuko," her brother answers, a little disheartened.
Sokka seems to notice and quickly pats the ground next to him.
"Wanna play?"
Time has flown and she notices that a couple is conversing with her mother enthusiastically.
"Mom!" Katara exclaims, leading Azula by the hand to the woman.
"I see you've made a friend."
Katara’s nod has Azula beaming all the way home.
(On her next trip to the mall Azula requests fervently to go to the sparkly store. She soon has her very own multi-coloured pack. Yet when her mother clips them on they just don't look quite right, and Azula snatches them off in the safety of her own room.)
II
Azula is eight.
She's not a fan of Valentine's Day. Her brother, on the other hand, has no problem making a big deal out of the day. It must be something he picked up from their saccharine mother.
It's just another one of those things that never seems to properly concern her. The plethora of sickly sentiments stuffed down her throat in the form of supermarket greeting cards and fuchsia display windows down the street is tiring.
So she's not particularly keen when her teacher passes everyone three red coloured pieces of paper before school ends. She's told to bring them to school tomorrow, toss them through the slim cut-out opening of a cardboard archive box decorated with heart motifs and red alphabet stickers that spell out 'mailbox'.
"Valentine's Day sucks."
"Azula...Valentine's Day is a chance to show your loved ones you appreciate them. Isn't that nice?”
"No Mom. It isn't. Remember Lu Ten last year? He got his girlfriend flowers and he went out with her and everything was fine until they tried to eat dinner together but then she started crying so they broke up and now they haven't spoken. People get all mushy just for someone to like them back," she scoffs in a way that sounds remarkably like her father, although her voice is far higher.
She doesn't mention her someone.
She sees her when they cross paths on the school playground or on the way to the colouring pencil tray at the front of the class. It's always a fleeting moment. And yet, she thinks perhaps she would recognize that warmth of a smile anywhere. Even if it would last only for a second. Even if it was only in passing. But then again, Azula supposes she could have imagined it.
(Still, Azula wants more.)
What's that you've got in your hand?" her mother inquires, eyes glancing to the rearview mirror then back to the traffic in front now easing up.
"Nothing."
"They're our blank valentines mom—Ow! We're supposed to give them to three of our classmates," Zuko remarks eagerly, not even wincing at the pinch to his thigh as dramatically as usual.
"Since when do you have friends?"
"I have friends! Sokka's my friend. Aang’s my friend too.”
“Aang is Sokka’s friend. He’s not even in your class, it’s not like you can give him a card.”
“It’s not just a card, it’s a valentine! And like you’re any better.”
“I have Mai and Ty Lee.”
“That’s two. Can you even count?”
Her mother frowns, pausing briefly and turning onto the main street of town, parking the car just outside the shop she knows her son loves to visit. Her daughter, not so much.
"Aren't we going home?" Azula questions, sighing, wanting to merely scream into her pillow over her fate for tomorrow.
"Not when you kids have got valentines to send. Just a quick stop, run along now and get your supplies," her mother instructs, handing her and Zuko two bills each before accepting a call most likely from a colleague, given her annoyance.
The door jingles as the two of them enter. She follows Zuko, who has already made a face of impatience to her reluctance and began running towards the stationery department.
"Come on Azula, this is really cool!" Zuko enthuses while she mutters the few curses she's learnt from the internet, trailing behind him.
He stops suddenly and begins rummaging through the shelves for what appears to be some type of glistening origami paper. After about three minutes of rifling, he finally finds a stack he likes and holds it up proudly.
"Look!"
"The school already gave us paper remember."
"I'm doing something extra. Gonna do some of those cranes mom makes for us."
"You're going to send them unfolded to everyone?"
"What? No? I'm gonna fold them then put them in the box."
"How do you figure that will go over? Will you stuff them through the gap until all their little wings flatten and bend?"
"I guess I'll just give them separately."
Zuko huffs once, yelling something about meeting at the entrance in ten minutes before turning to walk down the aisle. She strolls mindlessly, stopping when she notices a pack of unusually enticing glitter pens. There's one that's purple with silver sparkles, but she finds herself gravitating toward the blue instead. She doesn't think too much about it, because the money in her palm can buy her a modest selection, and she does just that. Just before she pays the cashier, she throws in a packet of stickers and a set of themed stamps just for good measure. If there was one thing she was not going to be, was bad at something school-related, valentines or not.
Once they return home, Zuko immediately tries to fold his cranes. They were an odd assortment, ranging from large and delicate, to simple and sturdy. She's sat across the kitchen table, already having rearranged her working space to maximise efficiency. All she had to do was write Happy Valentine's Day in her best loopy handwriting. When she finishes her three written-up cards, however, they still look horribly lacking.
Taking the first one, Azula draws circus animals. An elephant, a monkey, and a lion. She hopes Ty Lee will at least appreciate the thought behind it. The second one she sets about improving will include her best attempt at drawing a rose, one with thorns circling up its stem. As she adds a sketch of one of those Japanese pagodas Mai dreams to visit, her brow furrows.
Azula hesitates at the last card. She stares at it for a long time after her first development. She's drawn a butterfly, a delicate winged creature. It doesn't seem like much of anything yet she doesn't want to throw it away. It looks cute, in Azula's eyes. She doesn't know why she felt compelled to draw one in the first place, but soon her impulses have made several more appear on the paper. She doesn't write her name on this one.
It's the next day and Azula is hidden behind a book at her desk. The teacher goes about delivering the cards out to the class, and the rest of the students shuffle through them excitedly, looking for their personal favourites. Some of them swap extra little presents.
She gets two, one from Ty Lee and one from Mai, as expected. Ty Lee surrounds her and Mai in a crushing hug, clearly happy with what she had received. Mai continues to wear her mask of cool indifference, but Azula sees the care Mai puts in placing the papers into a special folder of hers.
Azula catches Katara's stare from the back of the room. She's surrounded by her friends. Something warm and fuzzy stirs in her at the sight of it. As she returns to her book, Katara's gaze lingers.
Azula hopes Katara likes butterflies.
(Azula isn't stupid. She understands exactly why people love Valentine's day.)
III
Azula is ten.
Azula doesn't know if she considers Katara a friend. She was, but she wasn't. She wasn't a friend Azula sat with at the same cafeteria table. They just didn't exist in the same circles.
Sokka and Zuko's friendship was only ever growing stronger. That meant once-a-month dinners at either her or Katara's house. The adults would chatter, boresome discussions that left the four of them to their own devices. At times, they'd all play together, tag or homemade obstacle course competitions in the yard. More than often though, Zuko and Sokka would retreat to either of their rooms and start up video games involving robots, tanks, or any other thing that interested neither girl.
So Azula and Katara would talk. Sometimes, it was about school. Other times, it was about what books Katara had read over the past couple of weeks. Other times, it was just a comfortable silence as they sat close on Katara's bed playing a game of Pai Sho.
One day, when they were five minutes into their usual board game, Katara stands up.
"Are you hungry?" she asks.
"A bit."
"Want some snacks?"
"Sure. But aren't we having dinner soon?"
"Yeah, which means we have to be sneaky," Katara says, holding a hand out, a suspiciously mischievous glint in her eye.
Azula takes it and gets off Katara's bed, letting herself be dragged by the other girl to a small pantry, hidden underneath the stairwell downstairs. When Katara opens the door, there are heaps of tiny containers with tidbits galore. There are dried fruits and nuts but both of their eyes are trained on the ones with cookies and chips.
Katara opens the lid of a container and pops a chocolate confection in Azula's unexpecting mouth.
"It's good."
"I know. Homemade. Come on, let's take some," Katara ushers, holding a bowl and handing Azula one as well.
Azula complies and soon the two of them have taken half a dozen different types of cookies. They begin their journey back, tiptoeing and side-eyeing every possible person in the distance who might catch sight of them and give them away. Kya and Ursa, who are meters away preparing the upcoming meal. Ozai and Hakoda, who are on the couch in the next room, talk animatedly. They link arms, an 'if we go down, we go down together' policy suggested by Katara who had watched a hundred spy movies and was an expert in all things stealth by now.
They make it three-quarters up the stairs before Azula sneezes into her arm, tilting her bowl accidentally. Its contents spill on the stairs, the sweet's spherical shapes allowing them to roll down. In a daze she quickly bends down, trying to recover what she can. Katara's body jerks down in response, making her trip and land right on Azula.
She lands face first, her head slamming into Azula's chin. Both girls end up sprawled on the steps.
"Ow," Katara grunts softly, her breath tickling Azula's neck.
"Shh, don't say anything!" Azula hisses.
They hear Ursa asking Kya if she had heard the sound too. Azula assumes it had been the impact of their fall. Thankfully, Kya is completely oblivious.
They've successfully managed to avoid getting caught.
Azula can see how pretty Katara looks close up, their faces only inches apart. Her sun-kissed freckles dot across her nose. Her hair is slightly messy, falling into her face. Her lips look soft. Like the rest of her skin. And those lips are moving, saying something that Azula can't hear.
"You okay?" Katara asks, tapping Azula's shoulder.
"Mmhm."
The two girls slowly sit up and look around, Katara rubbing her jaw while Azula brushes imaginary dust off her clothes.
"Well, this was not a very covert mission," Katara comments as she picks up a handful of cookie crumbs and tosses them back into the bowl.
"No kidding," Azula mutters.
Then all of a sudden they erupt into a fit of laughs. Azula snorts into her palm and then lets out another burst of laughter, wiping tears from her eyes. Katara clutches her stomach, in stitches as well.
"We're such idiots."
"Agreed."
Half an hour later, Azula is sitting across from Katara at dinner. Every time they meet each other's eyes, they grin like fools. Their mothers are already giving them knowing glances, but no words are spoken. When goodbyes are said Katara pulls Azula away.
"I thought we could maybe hang out sometime. Just you and me. We can go to the park or something. Or we could go to the movies. Whatever you want."
"Okay.”
(It made sense for friends to spend time with one another, after all. Friends.)
IV
Azula is twelve.
She's stood at the doorstep of Katara's house, throwing a glance back to her mother, who still seems to refuse to drive away until Azula is fully indoors. Her overnight bag is slung over her shoulder, stuffed with a change of clothes, toiletries, and other miscellaneous essentials she might need for the birthday sleepover.
She rings the doorbell, waiting anxiously for someone to come to open it when suddenly, the door swings inward and Katara's grinning face stares out at her from inside.
"You're here!" she says, looking genuinely excited as she steps back, beckoning to Azula.
"Yeah,” Azula confirms uncertain, her mouth dry.
"Hi, Mrs Sozin!" Katara shouts with a wave.
Her mother nods and finally pulls the car away from the curb, driving slowly down the street before disappearing around the corner. Katara takes her hand and they head up to Katara's bedroom, Sokka greeting her on the way.
She feels out of place, Katara's friends are all there sitting on the carpet and laughing amongst themselves. As soon as Katara shuts her door behind them, they fall silent, watching her with wide eyes and expectant smiles.
"You guys know Azula."
She was here for Katara, so she would at least try to make conversation with Katara's friends throughout the whole thing. She's introduced to three girls that seem nice enough; Suki, Yue, and Toph.
Azula knows them all from class but doesn't really remember anything about them beyond what Katara has told her. Suki and she are on the same field hockey team, which makes her presence at least somewhat familiar. Toph sits next to her, already throwing out jokes and sarcastic comments like Azula is just another regular member of the group. Yue is soft-spoken, with an air of kindness about her. The easy, casual conversation Azula is drawn into is comforting.
They decide to put on a movie for the afternoon. A chick flick that all of them have watched at least once. Suki and Toph share a bowl of popcorn on the floor while Katara is in the middle of her and Yue on the bed. She leans against Katara, calmly listening to the four of them chatter about certain characters and plotlines. Nothing will change the fact that this is her first time properly meeting and talking to the others, and Azula just isn't completely comfortable yet which means she's happy to simply listen to them talk.
The credits roll around when the sun starts to set, and the group begins to propose ideas for further activities. Katara leaves the room for a minute, returning moments later with a bunch of cosmetics in her hand. She reveals more from the drawer of her vanity, and the pile on the floor grows bigger. By the time Katara seems to finish searching high and low for any beauty supplies, Azula's head is spinning.
"Makeover time!" Katara exclaims with a clap of a hand.
Azula looks at the others. Toph shrugs, as if she doesn't care, Suki and Yue are nodding, even though both of them look a little surprised.
"Pretty!"
Katara's hands have been tending to her face for quite a while now, refusing to let her see a mirror to enhance the 'big reveal'. Katara's hands are cool on her face as she works, her fingers quick and methodical. Azula can feel the brush strokes against her skin and the gentle touch as the girl moves to apply blush. It's kind of relaxing.
With nowhere else to look, she finds herself staring into Katara's iridescent eyes. They're intense and focused, and Katara's cheeks are faintly flushed with the effort and heat of working.
Yue and Suki are gossiping mid-nail painting session, occasionally interjecting to give Katara their advice about what to add to Azula's eyelid, whether it be more colours or glitter. Toph's sitting cross-legged eating leftover popcorn, filling Azula and Katara in on stories of her beating her peers at the local martial arts gym. Katara swipes her lips with lip gloss that tastes like cotton candy.
"All done!"
To be honest, as Azula looks at the mirror, it's no work of a professional. But even though her eyelids weigh heavy in a cascade of blended hues and the foundation is thick on top of her face, it is definitely pretty.
It is definitely worth it when Katara has had fun.
They all wind up dolling each other up, Toph as well who groaned the whole time. They must look a sight as Kya yelps when she enters Katara's room with a tray of snacks and drinks. A pack of make-up wipes is passed around shortly after. Later they eat cake, play games, and generally hang out.
"Are you asleep?"
It's completely dark outside now, and the moon shines through the window, bathing everything in its silver light. Azula is in the living room, lying on a mattress that is on the end, which means only one person could have possibly asked this question.
"Not yet," she whispers, turning onto her other side to lie face to face with Katara.
They shift closer and Katara wraps her blanket over both of them, tucking it around them tightly. Azula can smell the coconut scent of her shampoo. Katara is still wearing the necklace Azula had given her for her birthday, the one with Katara's birthstone. Her mother had raised an eyebrow at the price of a present for a thirteen-year-old but Azula persevered.
"Did you have fun today?"
"We did."
Silence settles between them, broken by rustles of blankets or the movement of pillows.
"My dad's job might make us move abroad."
"Where?"
"I don't know. Maybe Australia."
A pause.
Azula reaches out for Katara's hand. Their fingers lace together, and she holds tight. They stay like that for a long moment, just holding hands, breathing quietly.
"Happy Birthday Katara."
(In the end, Katara does not move away and Azula is glad.)
V
Azula is fourteen.
She doesn't like the hospital. The slight smell of antiseptic and disinfectants and other things she can't name always makes her want to vomit. Even the beds seem sterile. Everything is a little too bare, a little too clean for anyone to be comfortable.
It's been six months since her mother's hair had first started falling out. Azula remembers the day well, her mother combing through thinning locks with trembling fingers and trying desperately not to cry. But then her father had walked into the room, dressed in a nice suit, and said something to calm her mother down and convince her that it would get better.
(It didn't.)
The vending machines in the oncology wing aren't as good, so Zuko suggests checking out other areas. They end up in the pediatric ward, which has lots of kids screaming, playing with toys, or colouring in books. Its waiting room also has a better candy selection.
The chocolate doesn't taste good. She feels better after eating anyway.
She learns bedside, at fourteen, how to fold a paper crane.
(She also learns how not to think about the yearly trips to the theatre stopping.)
Fold by fold.
Fold.
By.
Fold.
A thousand cranes for one wish.*
She and Zuko fall short at seven hundred and seventeen cranes. It’s too late.
“All these people in black. Mom wouldn’t have liked that.”
Katara stills.
“She was a bright person. Bright colours, bright dreams. I don’t know why we’re doing this at a church, it’s not like she was religious.”
Her words feel hollow. They both know that Azula is just deflecting. Avoidance is a common coping mechanism.
“She looked sad. That night. That night she died she was sad. I was sad, everyone was sad. But she cried and Zuko cried and Dad cried... what kind of monster doesn't cry at their mom dying? Me."
There is bitterness there, anger and hatred. Azula's voice is hoarse when she speaks again. Her throat hurts.
"I'm not a bad person. I swear."
Katara's embrace is warm. She holds Azula close, pressing their foreheads together. She murmurs soft reassurances.
“You're not a bad person,” she repeats over and over.
Azula lets herself break. Lets herself feel. Lets her grief wash over her, lets it settle heavy on her shoulders until she’s shaking. The tears won't stop, they keep coming, spilling over onto Katara's shoulder and soaking into her blouse. Azula cries harder. She cries until she can't anymore. Until she's exhausted herself. Until she's spent every last drop of emotion she has left.
For the first time since her mother passed away, Azula lets herself mourn.
I
Katara is sixteen.
It's the first time she's not spending New Year's Eve with her parents, on the couch watching the ball drop in Times Square on the television with kazoos and candy from Christmas. She checks her phone, the house party is in full swing around her. Midnight is thirty minutes away. Alcohol has already flowed like water and a few of her friends are drunk already.
Azula slides up next to her, sipping on a red cup that Katara doesn't have to worry about. Azula doesn't seem like a lightweight and it's only her first one of the night.
She's beautiful. Azula. A vision of beauty. Her hair is hanging loosely around her shoulders, which is rare. She's wearing her favourite black dress, it matches her red lipstick. It's short and shows off her legs. Azula is all bold colours, reds, blacks, and golds. And she glows. Azula is stunning and breathtaking.
Katara is breathless for her.
"Sokka's fake ID worked then?"
"No. Apparently, Zuko's did though. Saved the day."
"What my brother's emo brooding seemed beyond his years?"
"Well, yeah."
Twenty minutes till midnight. Sokka gathers everyone together, proposing a game of spin the bottle to pass the time.
"So juvenile," she says with a smirk.
"Fine. Truth or dare," Sokka slurs eyes unfocused, turning towards Katara, swaying slightly.
"Like that's any better."
Ty Lee gets asked first. She chooses dare, happily obliging as she backflips into Mai's pool. Mai scowls as Ty Lee tracks water into the house, soaking her parents'—who are out of town—expensive carpet.
A few more people go, it's nothing special, some routine dares that include Aang shaving off an eyebrow.
It's her go.
"Truth or dare?"
"Truth."
Katara looks at Sokka, he's smiling drunkenly at her and she can tell he's going to ask something stupid. Something that will make her want to strangle him.
"Who was your first crush?"
The room freezes, except for Aang who is too busy rubbing his naked browbone, and Ty Lee who is too intoxicated and too giggly to notice anything different.
She knows that they're expecting an answer. That they'll expect her to tell them everything. But she can't. She can't admit to this, to this whole stupid thing. So she chooses an outright lie and hopes they won't call her out on it, naming some random actor from a tv show she used to watch.
"You're so lame. Didn't Azula come first anyway?"
Katara wants to run.
She wants to scream. She wants to yell and curse and throw things at her stupid wasted brother. Instead, she just stands up. Stands up, turns, and walks away. Doesn't look at anyone. Her heart aches with every step she takes, it feels like a knife twisting between her ribs.
She needs air.
The sky is clear tonight, nothing but dark blue above, stars glimmering behind it. There's a soft breeze that tousles her hair gently against her face. It helps her breathe easier, and calms her down enough to think. To remember that a friendship she treasures so much may be gone.
"Katara."
She jumps a little when she hears a voice coming from behind her. She whirls around. It's Azula. Of course, it's Azula. The girl who stole her heart when she wasn't even looking.
“Can we talk?" Azula asks quietly.
Katara's hands grip tighter on the balcony railing until her knuckles turn white.
"What?"
Azula sighs softly and steps forward, her fingers brushing against Katara's wrist.
"I just want to talk. Okay? No pressure."
"Yeah. Yeah okay. Let's do that."
"…Why didn't you tell me?"
"I don't know," Katara mumbles, shrugging.
"That's bullshit. I'm your best friend, you should've told me."
"There's nothing to tell. It doesn’t matter anyway."
"Of course it matters!" Azula yells in exasperation.
"Okay."
They stand there, staring at each other. Katara can see Azula biting her lip anxiously.
"Did you really think it didn’t matter?"
"I... no. Not really. But—"
"I like you."
"….What did you just say?"
"I said, I like you Katara! Is that so hard to believe?"
She can hear the countdown from inside the house. It's loud. Katara laughs a little before leaning in.
"Nah," she whispers against Azula's lips. "That's impossible."
The kiss lasts forever. Azula cups Katara's jaw with her right hand while Katara wraps her arms tightly around Azula's waist. It sends sparks through Katara's body, making her feel electric. Sparks that make her want to melt, leaving her dizzy.
The feeling isn't exactly unwelcome.
Azula kisses like fire, burning bright and consuming. She tastes bitter, like vodka, but sweeter than anything else. She tastes like passion. Passionate. She's passionate. Katara feels herself losing control of her senses. And Katara loves it. Loves every part of it.
"Happy New Year Katara.”
❀
*senbazuru: the Japanese legend that if one folds a thousand origami cranes they will be granted a wish from the gods.