Three days after finding her in the storm the girl showed no signs of improvement. She didn’t even give the family her name.

Cheng and his parents alike had hoped that her silence was just the essence of shock from being out in the storm—and that she’d be talking more the following day.

The roots of her problems seemed to be much deeper than that.

It was on the fourth day when it hit hard that something was very…off about the girl. She had a habit of taking common house hold objects with a sense of fascination—always examining them as if to find…or recall their use.

Cheng could remember one instance of this very clearly. It was a fork. Such a simple piece of metal. She stared at it—set before her on the kitchen table—for at least 10 minutes…all the while her food growing cold. She twirled it in between her fingers, jabbed at the food a little but not quite hard enough for the food to stick. Eventually she put the piece of silverware down and began eating with her hands.

His mother was quick to ‘correct this behavior’. She was gentle in the task, lightly gripping the girl’s wrist and taking her through the motion of using a fork. It was this that had Cheng deciding that she was examining the objects in order to recall them as she picked up on the motion quickly.

She had another peculiar habit too. The girl would often sleep on the floor even when there was a bed available. And when told that she shouldn’t sleep on the floor, she’d get cozy on the sofa.

She also had her quirks when it came to storms. At the faintest sound of thunder she’d squat herself in a corner and cover her ears. Depending on how wild the storm she would tremble.

Cheng supposed that made sense considering the circumstances.

One of her most odd habits was swatting the family’s picture of Firelord Zuko to the floor. This was a habit that had his mother scolding the girl and his father chuckling in the distance.

Of course the girl had more habits, but among them all, those stuck out the most.

While strange, unpredictable, and rather uncivilized, she had this sort of elegance to her. It came in the way she carried herself; posture and stance, the way she walked. Despite it all she walked with her head carried high and with a regal sway of her hips.

And in mastering things like the fork—once she had it down, she carried out the task with a flowing type of grace. Not a crumb left on the table. Or when sipping tea, the way she positioned her fingers on the handle and the way she’d daintily move the cup to her lips.

The kind of mannerisms you’d expect from an upper class woman.

The girl was a walking contradiction; a blend of high class society and what creatures resided in the jungle.

This was also true in a physical sense; her disheveled, long, dark hair a direct contrast to her sharp elegant facial structure. The light film of dirt on her skin a foil to her soft amber eyes.

After Cheng’s mother had taken a brush through her hair—taking the time to even her bangs—and taught her how to bathe herself, the girl was the picture of classy. Particularly after his mother let her borrow some makeup.

Much like with the fork, her application was sloppy at first but quickly became second nature.

The only thing that she seemed to have trouble with at that point was speech. Speech was something he’d work with her on most every night—re-teaching her words, hoping one would lead to the next in her mind. Cheng found that the problem didn’t lie in not having a vast vocabulary to work with, but in other things. One of which being a lack of memory on sentence structure, and even more so her struggle to recall how to shape and pronounce with her lips, the words that she seemed to know so well.

From this Cheng came to guess that she’d once been of the upper class (or at least a very smart middle class girl) and had somehow gotten herself stuck in the jungle. And based on the bitter underuse of her voice…had been out in that jungle alone for way too long.

It had taken him a little over three months to get her to even start talking—and when she did her voice seemed to come out raw and hoarse for going unused for so long.

And in the following four months her ability to speak seemed to have improved drastically. Once he had her shaping and pronouncing words, she was all set.

It was on, about, month four that he had asked for her name again. She said it was Soo. And eventually she added Young. On the sixth month—when her speech was nearly perfected—he asked her, again how she’d gotten lost in the jungle. To which she simply stated that she did not remember.

The last few months of that year were spent saying goodbye to his parents and making the final preparations before moving out to start his own life…

A right glittering on her finger.

Their wedding night was the last Cheng saw of his parents before they were claimed by the hands of time. It was a cheerful night. There were no guests from Azula’s side…she really didn’t have anyone to invite. Cheng however had his family (both near and distant) as well as some old high school buddies.

They had their wedding on a beach—of course it ended up raining. It mattered not, it was a smoldering hot day, they actually kind of needed the rain.

Azula had a favorite part; after the vows were said they had thrown an after party. It started and dusk and went through the night. It was just past sundown and their performer was late. So Azula decided to entertain everyone by tossing the groom into the water. He surfaced with his very own collection of starfish and seaweed—later to be hung over the mantle.

Azula looked up at Zuko. And then she turned her glance to Cheng and told him of her search for Ursa and what lead her to run into the Forgetful Valley. “Anything else either of you want to know?”

“I think we’re good.” Cheng replied.

Zuko nodded. He then added a quick. “Actually, I would like to know why you choose the name Sooyoung?”

“Soo was short and easy to pronounce.” Azula replied. “Pretty sure the first actual word I had said for Cheng was ‘young’.” She paused. “No, I don’t remember why the first word I said to him was young.”

Azula lie her head back on the armrest and pulled the blanket up to her chin. “Anything else?”

“I don’t think so.” The two answered.

“Good. Because I plan on sleeping tonight.” She rolled on to her side—facing opposite Zuko and Cheng.

“Good night Azula. We’ll talk some more in the morning?”

Azula murmured something that sounded like a sure whatever, and then added a “do blow out the candles for me on your way up.”