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It seemed that her memories were here to stay, after all.
While in the hospital- bored, with nothing to do- Azula had spent some time contemplating this fact, wondering how it could be possible. She had come up with several theories- that it was an effect of the medication she was on; that being shot, even just in the side, had caused some sort of trauma to the brain (Azula wasn't very familiar with the logistics of rifles and bullets, but this idea didn't seem too far out of the realm of possibility); etcetera. However, now that she was home, she realized that she didn't particularly care how it had happened. The point was that it had, and that she had her memories (good and bad) back- and though she logically knew that things had been much better off after the mindwipe, she couldn't really bring herself to be angry, or even displeased, about their return. Regardless, she would be paying a visit to the one who had agreed to perform the service for her. She had some gold to take back, and punishment (the severity of which she hadn't quite decided) to exact.
Upon her return, she was surprised to find no war reports waiting for her. On one hand, this was good news- no unexpected problems had arisen, and things were going quite smoothly. Still, she expected weekly status reports, and General Sho in particular was quite late with his. Had things really become so lax in her short time away? If so, that problem needed to be dealt with as soon as possible... but not tonight.
In the absence of any "required reading", Azula took a book on Fire Nation royal history to bed with her. It wasn't all that late; she could easily stay up for another hour or so before retiring for the night. And she hadn't done any pleasure reading for a while.
Dimming the lamps (but keeping it light enough to read without straining her eyes), she settled back against the pillows. Really, the beds in those hospitals had been atrocious- all hard mattresses and scratchy sheets and lumpy pillows; she had gotten better rest sleeping on a bedroll in the middle of the wilderness. After that, her own feather blankets and satin sheets were simply heavenly.
It was good to be home.
While in the hospital- bored, with nothing to do- Azula had spent some time contemplating this fact, wondering how it could be possible. She had come up with several theories- that it was an effect of the medication she was on; that being shot, even just in the side, had caused some sort of trauma to the brain (Azula wasn't very familiar with the logistics of rifles and bullets, but this idea didn't seem too far out of the realm of possibility); etcetera. However, now that she was home, she realized that she didn't particularly care how it had happened. The point was that it had, and that she had her memories (good and bad) back- and though she logically knew that things had been much better off after the mindwipe, she couldn't really bring herself to be angry, or even displeased, about their return. Regardless, she would be paying a visit to the one who had agreed to perform the service for her. She had some gold to take back, and punishment (the severity of which she hadn't quite decided) to exact.
Upon her return, she was surprised to find no war reports waiting for her. On one hand, this was good news- no unexpected problems had arisen, and things were going quite smoothly. Still, she expected weekly status reports, and General Sho in particular was quite late with his. Had things really become so lax in her short time away? If so, that problem needed to be dealt with as soon as possible... but not tonight.
In the absence of any "required reading", Azula took a book on Fire Nation royal history to bed with her. It wasn't all that late; she could easily stay up for another hour or so before retiring for the night. And she hadn't done any pleasure reading for a while.
Dimming the lamps (but keeping it light enough to read without straining her eyes), she settled back against the pillows. Really, the beds in those hospitals had been atrocious- all hard mattresses and scratchy sheets and lumpy pillows; she had gotten better rest sleeping on a bedroll in the middle of the wilderness. After that, her own feather blankets and satin sheets were simply heavenly.
It was good to be home.
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Another reaction that happened quite often was a fluttering, almost swooping feeling in the pit of her stomach; one that, from what she had heard, was often equated with nervousness (though she herself had never experienced it in that context). That made even less sense. She wondered if Ty Lee would know anything about it. If Azula had had absolutely no sense of pride, she would have asked her straight out. However... there were roundabout ways.
"Ty Lee, are you familiar with the phenomenon that is colloquially referred to as 'having dog-butterflies in one's stomach'?"
OOC: ... I love finding excuses to invent Avatar animal name-smooshes. Even crappy ones. :D
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"Are you... feeling better now?"
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"... I did mean what I said, though. About... showing weakness. Just for future reference, I suppose."
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