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bellatrixobsessed1 · 3 years

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Speak No Evil (Part 25)

“I am going to focus on one fanfiction at a time.” I vowed before not doing that.

She can feel it in her throat, it is an itch like she had swallowed a living fly. Now apprehension takes the place of longing. And it doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t make sense to have yearned so relentlessly to speak, only to find herself completely tongue tied for the first time in her life. For all of the words that she wants to speak, she can’t seem to grasp onto any of them.

What if her voice no longer sounds lovely when it comes from her own body. The spirit could tweak and shape her voice in the most pleasant ways, work it into a crystalline smoothness that she isn’t sure she can manage anymore.

“Go on, say something.” Zuko urges.

She sifts in her mind for something worthwhile to say. Perhaps it would do her well to thank the spirit for giving her, her voice back. Maybe she should take the easy route and ask him what she should say. But she isn’t sure that she wants to speak anything more than a single word.

She reaches for her waterskin and has a generous sip, the water is pleasant on her throat. “Seicho…” She finally manages. Her voice is softer than she remembers, significantly breathiter.

She isn’t sure how she feel about it. Isn’t sure that she wants to hear it a second time. But Seicho beams at her. She presses her fingers to her throat, feeling faint vibrations run up and down it as she repeats the woman’s name.

“You have a pretty voice.” Seicho notes. “It’s really...relaxing.”

She clears her throat, “thank you.” But her voice is still rather husky. She absently brushes her fingers over the parchment, they are shaking slightly and she can’t say why. She should be elated rather than apprehensive. She looks towards the spirit.

It regards her silently, coldly. She really ought to thank it if she knows what is good for her. She reaches for the parchment and her brushes and writes a quick thank you. She is growing increasingly uncomfortable under the gazes of all of the smaller spirits. She feels as though they are poised to attack her at any minute.

“Why are you still using the parchment?” Mai quirks a brow.

Azula offers only a shrug as she moves to stand closer to Seicho and Zhang-Zin. The spirit closes the distance just as quickly. She supposes that it wouldn’t be a spirit encounter if she wasn’t left with some lesson or warning. She thinks that her last visit had been the lesson, and she is fairly certain that she has learned it well enough. At the very least, she is decently afraid to speak malevolently. She wonders if she should speak at all, lest she lose her voice again. And so she finds herself a new paradox.

She decides that she will speak minimally; her vocal cords feel so taut that she isn’t sure she has a choice regardless…

The spirit lowers itself to eye level. With hers no longer shimmering upon the base of its throat, the voice that takes dominance over the others is thundering and feminine. Wrapped around it are lighter voices like ocean waves and rustling leaves. It’s warning is quite simple, efficiently so. “Speak carefully.”

Azula supposes that, that shouldn’t be a problem, she has always cultivated her words choice with tedious thinking. As though every sentence could be her last. As though every word could be her ruin. With Ozai’s sharp ear, any wrong word could have been her downfall.

Perhaps she ought to live her life in silence afterall, it is easier knowing that the choice is hers.

Seicho takes her hand as she gives the spirit a nod. She holds out her arm, the one that Seicho is holding and gestures to the bitemarks. She suppose that now is as good a time as any to test out new tones and inflections. “Tell them to stop?” But she falls short--the pitch isn’t right. Her lower lip trembles.

Agni, it has been so long since she has put laryngeal muscles to use that they seem to have gone useless. She has missed her chance to speak with feeling. She has been forced into tonelessness when she could most benefit from expression.

The spirit doesn’t humor her with an answer. Its wisps break apart and disperse like scintalling flutterbats back into the canopy and under the rocks. The smaller spirits swoop down and close in. “Let’s get out of here, they’re starting to freak me out.” Zhang-Zin shudders.

.oOo.

Every now and then a spirit tugs at Azula’s hair and Seicho finds herself swatting it away. Perhaps the misdeed will come back and catch up with her, but she can sense that the princess is sinking again. Anxiousness and anger have given way to weariness and confliction, she can see it in the woman’s tired eyes. And with those tired eyes, Azula watches another spirit hiss and flit away. At least a small flicker of relief appears in them.

They have been trekking for almost half of the day and thus far, “tell them to stop” has been the last of her vocalization.

“I can have Katara try to heal your vocal cords.” Zuko offers.

Azula returns his offer with only a nod, albeit an affirmative one.

Healing… It dawns upon her, a reason for the reluctance, “does it hurt to talk?”

And Azula finally speaks again, “I--no...I don’t think so.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Mai asks.

“Do you not like how your voice sounds?” Seicho guesses. “It’s a little hoarse, but it’s still nice to listen to.” She promises. And that is an understatement, really she thinks that she could listen to that voice for hours.

.oOo.

It isn’t that so much as it is that there is too much to say and too many people to say things to. Really, she should have settled for that one I love you. She rubs her hands over her face, she hates herself for even thinking so weak mindedly. What she should do is speak until her voice finds its strength again. What she should do is speak regardless.

And yet she finds herself as mute as ever and, suddenly, with less to say than ever. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me.’ She writes upon the parchment.

Her whole body feels heavy with self manifested helplessness. It shouldn’t be so hard to just talk. She finds herself touching her tongue, cringing at the earthly mossy taste that taints her fingers. She doesn’t think that the scarring on her tongue is so obstructive as to impede her speech. The blockage comes from her mind, her mind and her underused vocal cords.

“You just have to get used to talking again. That’s all.” Seicho smiles.

She wants to believe her, she wishes that she could. But it grows harder to do so as the days wear on without being able to muster up a word. She knows that she is only making her condition worse by leaving her laryngeal muscle to rust.

She decides that she will make a habit of saying at least one thing a night. She doesn’t know what that thing will be. Not until they bring their hiking to a halt for the night. Like clockwork, Zuko asks if she is still feeling okay. And like clockwork she nods her head. She supposes that she is feeling as well as she can.

At least now she can take comfort in that healing is an option should she work up the courage to take it. At least now, with every time he asks, she can find herself reassured that she doesn’t have to work through her barriers alone.

She helps Mai cook their hunt over a flame that pleasantly warms her face. “I don’t have a problem with you talking.” The woman sighs. “If that’s the problem.”

And on the parchment she writes, “it isn’t.” Though a small pang of relief has her thinking otherwise. At the very least it takes some pressure away to know that her voice isn’t unwelcomed.

She passes a strip of meat to Zhan-Zin and then busies herself with her own. She makes her way back to her sleeping bag and bundles herself up as tightly as possible, leaving as little room for the spirits as she can--though they haven’t been bothering her as much lately. She thinks that they are finally growing to accept that she isn’t a particularly antagonistic force.

“Mind if I join you?” Seicho asks.

She looks about the camp and makes a vague gesture towards Zuko and Zhang-Zin. Seicho laughs, “they’ll get over it.”

Azula unzips the sleeping bag and lets Seicho crawl in. The woman wiggles in close and presses her forehead to Azula’s. She closes her eyes and she feels a small kiss upon her nose. “Good night, Azula.” Azula puts her arm around the woman.

If she can only manage to say one thing a night, she knows what it will be. And Seicho beams from ear to ear when she says it, “good night, Seicho. I love you.”

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #Azula/Cupholder girl #Azucho #Fanfiction

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