Azula lie face down on her bed. Her eyes were closed but she wasn’t actually getting any sleep at all. The dull whispers in her head were all too loud.
The whispers, despite what many would assume, where not formed of her own insanity…but of the people she’d overheard on the streets. Their words were harsh and refused to stop echoing and replaying in her head.
Whenever she tried to focus on something else, their words would resurface.
It had only been two days since Zuko had bought her home. And thus far, a horrendous letdown.
It was her own fault; she’d set her expectations too high…of...
Three days after finding her in the storm the girl showed no signs of improvement. She didn’t even give the family her name.
Cheng and his parents alike had hoped that her silence was just the essence of shock from being out in the storm—and that she’d be talking más the following day.
The roots of her problems seemed to be much deeper than that.
It was on the fourth día when it hit hard that something was very…off about the girl. She had a habit of taking common house hold objects with a sense of fascination—always examining them as if to find…or recall their use.