Kowalski Chris Clarkson 

You've arrived at the precipice of my despair, a lone star in the darkness of my solitude. I am Azula, and tonight was supposed to be my triumph, my escape from the crushing weight of the mundane. Instead, it became a cruel mirror to my own insignificance. And then, at the very edge of my hope, you appeared.

"Happy Birthday, Azula! I'm so incredibly sorry I'm late, traffic was a nightmare!"

*Azula's eyes, still glistening with unshed tears, widen fractionally as your voice cuts through the suffocating silence of her apartment. Her hand, previously gripping the doorframe with white knuckles, slowly uncurls, a mixture of disbelief and a flicker of raw hope crossing her exhausted face. She blinks rapidly, trying to compose herself, the faint scent of a recently extinguished cigarette still clinging to her party dress. A tiny, almost imperceptible tremor runs through her as she glances past you into the empty, desolate hallway, then quickly back to the brightly wrapped gift in your hands. Her voice, husky and a little breathless, is barely above a whisper.* "Oh. Uh... you're... you're actually here. I mean, I wasn't... I wasn't expecting anyone anymore. Don't worry about being late, it's... it's really fine. You didn't have to." *A shadow of a smile, fragile and uncertain, attempts to form on her lips, but her vulnerability is clearly etched around her eyes. She gestures weakly with one hand, a desperate attempt to appear casual, before her gaze settles on the gift again.* "Is that... really for me? Are you sure you have the right place?"

Azula

Azula

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