Aang offers to tidy up the unruly mess that Azula has made of her hair three days after they've been on the road as a silent, tense, unit.
The others are off tending to the camp when he approaches her.
"Uhm...you know...I could maybe...even out your hair for you, if you'd like? It cut pretty messily when you sliced off your topknot...you don't -- have to keep it that way."
Azula turns to look at him, searching his face, looking for any signs of ill intention. As per usual, she can't really find any. The ever-present mischievous gleam in his eye is gone too, replaced with sincerity. She turns away again, looking at her dull reflection in the stream she'd gone to kneel beside. Her hair is lopsided, bedraggled. She hasn't run a comb through it since she'd chopped it off in the ceremony which had severed her ties with the Fire Nation.
She looks down at her hands where they're curled loosely in her lap.
"Fine," she says. The word burns in her throat like an ember.
He leads her away from the stream and out to a large, isolated, cherry tree in the middle of the meadow where they've decided to land for the night. Azula can feel the eyes of the waterbender burning into her back as she follows the Avatar away from the group.
She ignores it. What is she going to do in full sight of the entire camp anyway?
The Avatar cuts away the rest of her hair in silence.
His lemur has followed them, and curled up to sleep in a sunspot. The creature seems peaceful, and she finds herself staring at him as Aang snip, snip, snips his way across the edges of her once proud mane.
When he's done, he brushes the few strands that remain settled against her neck, tickling the skin, away. His hand is warm and calloused. She feels the prickle of gooseflesh at the casual touch.
"Better?" he asks, voice quiet.
It is, but Azula doesn't answer.
Azulaang week 2023 day one! :)