#gurgling blood but has time to curse your bloodline

[talesfromthecrypts]

The Descent page to screen

for @georgeromeros

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Speak No Evil (Part 2)

It is all fuzzy now. She doesn’t remember how she got home and she can’t quite place where she had been before she got there. She just knows that she had been somewhere else and that she is in the palace infirmary now.

She remembers that she had stormed off after a heated argument--argument implies that there had been some pushback, she reminds herself--but she doesn’t know where to. Really she ought to be trying to recollect what had happened. Instead she finds herself wishing that TyLee had yelled back. Had told her that she is an awful person or that she isn’t as great as she tries to be. Anything that could paint the princess herself in a better light. But the facts are all there; as per usual she is malicious. She is everything that Mai has been telling TyLee to avoid and get away from.

Azula can’t say that she has expected any different, no one is there by her bedside to greet her and no one comes to check on her for a better  part of the day. When the palace doctor does come by, she flatly asks the princess how she feels before flinching to herself. Azula isn’t sure why the woman is cringing until she opens her mouth to speak.

And she remembers. She remembers all of it. She touches her fingers to her throat, tears prickle at her eyes. She shudders; what has she done to herself? She should have stayed within the palace and waited for her episode to play through. She should have done a lot of things and she shouldn’t have done a great deal more.

The nurse awkwardly shuffles out, likely to fetch Zuko. But an hour goes by and no one else shows up. Her mind wanders. Wanders back to a gorgeous night, a night that feels like a distant memory.

.oOo.

Her mind was distant, still moving in circles, unable to leave that morning’s argument. The more she thought about it, the worse it felt, the more assured she is that she is a bad women. Perhaps the worst. That TyLee has and always did deserve better. Better than her manipulations and her biting remarks. It came to her then that she could make things better. She needed words to twist and a silky, pretty voice to speak them with. She wouldn’t be able to eloquently lie and connive if she hadn't’ a voice to do it with. By extension, she couldn’t hurt TyLee if she couldn’t speak.

She looked towards the sky and at the blade in her hand. She wandered further away from the palace, there were too many people about. She had thought of that, but put no consideration into what would happen if she didn’t have the strength to walk herself back to the palace. She would bleed out, surely, but that didn’t yet register.

She wandered until she reached the Capital City green, a thick spot of preserved jungle. The blade shook in her grasp. Even at the climax of her insanity, she had the sense to be afraid. But she is a strong woman. She has always been a strong woman. Her mind raced in silence, she had a mission and she was going to see it through.

She stood in a beam of moonlight, it caught and glinted on the blade as she brought it to her mouth. She squeezed her eyes shut and her stomach lolled as came to lick metal. She pushed the blade down with more force and was met with the taste of copper. The blade fell from her hand as she doubled over, nearly hurling. She felt sick and dizzy. Her world going fuzzy with anxiety and agony and she had yet to sever her tongue all the way through. She dropped to her knees and fumbled for the blade. It nipped her trembling hand and she reflexifly pulled back with a hiss.

She couldn’t do it. She didn’t even have the dignity to finish what she started. The sound that broke from her throat was gurgled and tortured. The princess found that pain was quite sobering. Lucidity was working its way back in and she wished that it would retract again.

She picked up the bloodied blade and conflictingly thanked her senses for coming back on time to stop her from slashing at her mouth with a dirty blade. But she could still talk and that was no good. She still had enough madness left to make her way out of the capital and into the jungle.

Since the war’s end it has been teeming with spirits. She couldn’t imagine that it was going to be too hard to find one of them to steal her voice from her. Her bloodline wasn’t well loved and the spirits always did have an inclination for poetic justice.

She was growing very faint and began to wonder if they would ever find her. Likely they would when her absence was noted and extensive sweeps were done. They would find her, face down with blood drooling from her mouth.

The spirits largely ignored her until she began her endless tirade. Eventually one of them would grow tired of her and shut her up. They proved to be surprisingly patient. And perhaps it was because they couldn’t understand her slurs and curses. Much of her speech was lost to swelling and wetness. She couldn’t be certain for how long she had ranted and raved and vowed to throw the universe out of balance, but they finally grew tired of her.

She had the sense to be afraid when the first of them paused to stare at her and the sense to be terrified when the rest of them caught on. She had the sense to be petrified when she realized that she had made a mistake. That she wouldn’t be able to simply undo this.

“No, wait.” She managed weakly. She couldn’t even understand her own words. She stumbled back and, growing dizzier by the minute, hit the ground below. That was when it first registered how truly lovely the night was; how friendly the temperature, how gentle the sounds…

They were on her in seconds but one towered over the rest. It was a tall and willowy thing. Elegant. Gentle looking. It shimmered like stars reflected on a sea. The creature, she deduced, was made of many strands of iridescent wisps. Or perhaps, the iridescent wisps were merely perpetually gravitating around it.

And when it spoke it’s voice was tiered. High and low all at once. Harsh and smooth. Masculine and feminine. Loud and soft. “Princess, Azula.” Her name on its tongue was every bit as pleasing as it was damming. Azula’s lips curled up into a sad smile; the sound of the start of her undoing was gorgeous. She let herself go passive, her trembling subsiding. She thought that her brain might have solemnly accepting the fate that it had led her to.

“You have provoked a powerful bunch.” It gestured about the jungle. She was well aware. “We should have you killed.”

She hadn’t thought of that but she found herself nodding. Nodding in agreement. It was probably for the best…

Her body went tense and her throat restricted. There was a tugging and a yanking, she felt as though she were being choked. She squeezed her eyes shut, unsure if the tears that dripped down her cheek were born of emotion or the throes of death.

She knew by the end of it, when she was left shaking and sobbing, that they were born of emotion because she hadn’t been dying at all. Merely suffering. There was a throbbing in her throat, the remaining residue of her voice. And it hurt. It hurt in a strangely numb and hollow way.

She watched a thin golden-blue wisp curl vividly around the spirit’s long neck. It pulsed and beat with the throbbing ache of her throat. The spirit spoke and she could feel it in her throat. The others gather around it to listen. “Such a pretty voice, wasted on such evil things.” It commented. She can never be sure if it was a trick of her mind or the intent of the spirit, but her own voice spoke back to her, louder than the rest. “I will use it better.”

She couldn’t bring herself to disagree. It might have been absurd, but in the wake of the spirits, she found herself wondering if she could have had herself a singing career.

.oOo.

The nurse is back and Azula calls out to her. Though her mouth does move and the muscles in her throat do work, no sound comes forth. It isn’t that she has forgotten, she is well aware that she wouldn’t utter another sound. It is more or less a habit. She thinks to stand and tap the woman on the shoulder but it would be pointless; she can’t communicate that she wants to see Zuko or TyLee.

She rises from the bed anyhow and the nurse comes to beckon her back down. She shakes her head vigorously.

“Princess, you have to rest.”

She shakes her head again and gestures to the door. She mouths her request, that she wants to see TyLee. Either the nurse doesn’t understand or she doesn’t care. Her stomach tightens as she tries to force out a sound that she knows won’t come. The nurse firmly pushes Azula back onto the mattress. “Don’t do anything that is going to further compromise your health.”

Azula rolls onto her side, face bunching up into an ugly, silent sob. She realizes that she can’t even vocalize that much; a wet pillow and tear streaked cheeks are the only indication that she has spent the hour crying to herself.

No one visits her. They are angry at her again. She is alone again. She thinks that she has probably been alone this whole time, she only notices it now because her loneliness is physical.

The only people that come to see her in the passing days are a steady rotation of palace staff. If only she could tell them to put her down. She waits for them to vacate before getting to her feet. Physically, Azula feels rather well. Even if it is an illusion, she can’t bring herself to regard her own well-being.

They have her dressed in only a soft pink medical shift and long socks. She must be quite a sight, meandering about the halls. She finds Zuko, Mai, and TyLee gathered around a pai-sho board, laughing and conversing. She swallows, her breath catching in her throat. She balls her fists and takes a step forward before turning to retreat.

She feels a hand on her shoulder. “You should be in the infirmary.”

She opens her mouth to ask him why he hasn’t come to see her. She closes it again. She doesn’t need to ask anyways, she knows that it is because he is angry with her. She stares at him.

“Come on.” She resists his gentle push and makes one of her own. Shoving past him, she finds herself a seat near Mai and TyLee. She knows that she is unwanted, but she wants to be wanted and so she stubbornly holds her ground.

“Azula.” Zuko says through gritted teeth. “They told me that you were found in the jungle bleeding from the mouth. You have to go back…”

She shakes her head, points to the spot she sits in, and folds her arms over her chest.

“Come on, Azula.” He takes her by the crook of her elbow. She looks to TyLee and Mai. TyLee averts her gaze and Mai scoffs.

Azula reaches out to caress TyLee’s cheek, Mai slaps her hand away. “Don’t you dare touch her.” She hisses.

Azula’s finds that her stomach is getting queasy again. She has never hurt TyLee, not like that. She never would. She doesn’t realize that she is trying to say as much until Mai’s brows furrow. She stops trying to talk.

TyLee peers at her with wide, sad eyes. It occurs to her that, even if she could put aside her pride long enough, that she wouldn’t even be able to apologize to the woman. She swallows and bites the inside of her lip. She flinches in pain as her freshly stitched tongue hits the roof of her mouth, even still, she makes no sound.

“Y-you can’t talk?” TyLee notes, it is somewhere between a question and an observation.

Zuko’s hold loosens as Azula gives a confirming nod.

“Oh, Azula.” TyLee remarks softly. “What did you do?”

“No.” Mai grumbles. “No. She did this to herself and just because she hurt herself, that doesn’t mean that she gets to get away with hurting you again.”

“But…” TyLee starts.

“No, TyLee. She can deal with this on her own. You cleaned up that picnic for her, she can clean up her own mess this time.”

‘I’m trying.’ She mouths. But she doesn’t believe herself either. She lets Zuko walk her back to the infirmary. She waits for him to leave before pulling the blankets around herself and bunching up. She feels sick. She thinks that she has finally forged herself a conundrum that she can’t work her way out of. Even still, she knows that she has to fix things. Yet she doesn’t even know where to start nor how.