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Death (Except Not Really)
OOC: Aftermath of this.
Azula had never considered her own death before- not seriously, at any rate. The possibility that she would die in battle had never crossed her mind (why would it, when she spent most of her time fighting a ragtag group of children?), but then again, she had to admit that she had never been able to see herself withering away and dying of old age; going without a fight.
Quietly, Azula took stock of her situation. After Richard had left and she had collapsed, her legs (which were, of course, still frozen to the ground) had almost been wrenched out of their sockets by her fall. Her arms, too, had hit the ground rather hard, and this time she hadn't been able to keep from crying out quite loudly. His parting gift- an iceball straight to the gut- left her with an unsettlingly sharp pain in her stomach that hurt more than anything else when she tried to move even just the slightest bit. She didn't want to know what that was all about. Her only comfort was the reminder that her opponent had been seriously injured himself- she doubted that he would recover from her attack.
It really wasn't a bad day- it was quite nice out, actually. The sun was shining. The grass was soft. There were worse places to die, really.
Azula was alone. No one was coming for her; no one even knew she was here, save from that one kitchen boy who had seen her heading out- and it wasn't as if he was going to come searching for her when she didn't return.
The virus would probably have worn off by the time her funeral took place. She wondered if Ty Lee would go.
OOC: And FYI- she's not really going to die (I can't even read deathfic most of the time), she just thinks she is. If no one shows up to rescue her then I'll... figure something out? XD
Azula had never considered her own death before- not seriously, at any rate. The possibility that she would die in battle had never crossed her mind (why would it, when she spent most of her time fighting a ragtag group of children?), but then again, she had to admit that she had never been able to see herself withering away and dying of old age; going without a fight.
Quietly, Azula took stock of her situation. After Richard had left and she had collapsed, her legs (which were, of course, still frozen to the ground) had almost been wrenched out of their sockets by her fall. Her arms, too, had hit the ground rather hard, and this time she hadn't been able to keep from crying out quite loudly. His parting gift- an iceball straight to the gut- left her with an unsettlingly sharp pain in her stomach that hurt more than anything else when she tried to move even just the slightest bit. She didn't want to know what that was all about. Her only comfort was the reminder that her opponent had been seriously injured himself- she doubted that he would recover from her attack.
It really wasn't a bad day- it was quite nice out, actually. The sun was shining. The grass was soft. There were worse places to die, really.
Azula was alone. No one was coming for her; no one even knew she was here, save from that one kitchen boy who had seen her heading out- and it wasn't as if he was going to come searching for her when she didn't return.
The virus would probably have worn off by the time her funeral took place. She wondered if Ty Lee would go.
OOC: And FYI- she's not really going to die (I can't even read deathfic most of the time), she just thinks she is. If no one shows up to rescue her then I'll... figure something out? XD
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