Memories – Within Temptation

The Ling Estate, Fire Nation

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The drips of water persisted through the mouth of the sink's pipe, creating an irking momentum to my already irked temper. Is this what life is? Lying down under the moon's eye and anticipating the conclusion of that drip-drip sound coming from the kitchen's pipe? My eyes drew back in exasperation as I fingered with the hem of my nightgown.

I never gave much thought about my life…or the people who were in it. Had the cause not been due to my Father's crucial death last spring, I would have thought otherwise. Father had been a loyal man who carried out the duties of his nation. The Firelord had known that…He had also known about his woman - my mother…if that's the correct word to describe her.

From the plotted death of my Father, who without argument was purposely attacked unarmed in the midst of the battle between the Northern Isles and the Southern Isles war…From then, the Firelord had proposed my Father to take a forefront stance in the battle…and he had.

The soft, short breaths I once possessed were now ones that drew out heavy and low. My head tilted back against the cold, stiff pillows as I placed a finger to my lips. The slim curves of my lips were now swollen and cracked, due to my unattended care towards them. When I cried the two days after my Father's death, my mother had slapped me. She told me it was evil to mourn for those in the Spirit World. Yet I could not stop, so my cries ached from the insides of this bedroom, echoing through the night as desperate screams of despair spitting into the dark pits of my mother's soul. She had made way to the entry of my bedroom, a small dagger in her hand and a fury that refused to melt when she slashed the blade against my face. From that day, I had vowed myself to shield my lips from the heartless contempt's of others and allowed that same blade my mother forayed me with as the only comfort to my restless soul.

The time read two lighthours and fifteen sparks - it was a new morn. A new morning that consisted of the callous trials of attending Royal Academia of Fire, as a bored mundane junior student, with no interest in public reputation or any likings to a tainted princess of wretched virtue. In four weeks' time, the Firelord – Azula's father- and my Mother was to success a marriage that would never work. I'd be locked in the gates of a vast room, tied to a bedpost of my bed and allowing vehement fire to engulf me in a tease…at least that is how I would feel inside. However, Azula was quite shameless to admit that she paid no heed to this marriage and was quite enthralled by the whole idea, anyways.

Azula was vivaciously cruel and gritty – just like her Father. Despite her awful ways, she did have a face to contradict them. Azula was prone to tying her hair in a male inspired top-knot or wearing the newest war armour in the warfare industry. Despite the nasty knots between us, we still were lost among the rest our age.

My body rolled to the side, facing myself with the mirror before me. My eyes had deep shadows and tear ducts that were highlighted against my pale skin. I had golden eyes that curved into widened slits that tore into the cognizant knowing of others. The form I possessed was left of only bone and skin, leaving everything else fairly skinny and flat. The raven hair rolled off my shoulders, down my back in straight waves. Had I simply snipped one inch of my hair, my mother would burn me alive – literally.

I rolled to the other side, missing my Mother's dagger by a mere inch. Gently, I allowed a slim finger to graze over the sharp edge of the vane. How I longed to go to sleep…lulled by the sound of blood rushing to fill its loss as my heart thumped slowly into a deadly pace. How I truly longed to feel peaceful again…I allowed my hand to curl around the blade.