By the evening the makeup is a stiff coating on her face, like an extra layer of skin. Her image in the mirror is a glaring mess of gaudy colors. A picture of bad taste and useless ritual. Mai wets a sponge in rose-scented water and starts excavating her features from the layers of paint.

Ba Sing Se lies covered in velvety darkness, the mild spring night stroking the rooftops. From her seat at the dresser she sees the room in reverse as the background to her own reflection. The room is decorated all in green, as if spending all day decked out in the color wasn't enough. She'll never be able to look at grass again without wanting to hurl.

Ty Lee passes behind her back in a swirl of sweeping skirts. She's been bubbling over lately. When Azula's plans run smoothly and the princess is in a good mood, Ty Lee thrives on the harmony. Mai likes the glitches better. Not knowing the outcome brings a whiff of excitement to the routine of success.

Azula breaks Ty Lee's stride with a measured flick of the wrist, motioning for her to assist with undressing. Their movements follow a set pattern; right arm, left arm, slip the shirt down her shoulders. Ty Lee folds every piece of clothing with a smile on her lips. Mai dips the sponge again to wash her eyelids.

With her eyes closed, Ty Lee's hands sneaking around her waist comes as a surprise.

"Do you want me to help you, too?" she says, while tugging at the thin sash.

"Thanks, but I learned to undress myself when I was four," Mai replies. She puts the sponge down and runs her fingertips over her once again familiar-looking face. Ty Lee's breath flutters nervously by her temple.

Azula's image in the mirror turns around slowly. Her golden eyes seek out Mai's in the glass, lock their gazes.

"Let her do it."

There's a dare hidden in her voice, a dare and a calm sort of amusement. Mai waits until the angle of Azula's jaw begins to sharpen, then she shrugs and lets them have their way.

--

Ty Lee fills the silence with good natured, silly chatter about everything and nothing, peeling the fabric from Mai's torso. Mai remains sitting, and her hoarse, monosyllabic answers are rocks in Ty Lee's word-stream.

Azula checks her uniform a last time - a brief control of the state of her equipment before bed is a habit. There are some creases in the shirt, and the skirts aren't folded properly. Normally, she would make sure to reprimand or punish Ty Lee for her mistake, but tonight she corrects the errors herself. Everything is going according to plan. She can afford to be generous.

She walks over to the dresser, bare feet on marble, and leans against it with her back to the mirror. Her fine cotton underpants ride even further up her thighs. She doesn't pull them back down. They're all girls here.

Azula is in her underwear; Mai dressed only from the waist down. Ty Lee is the only one still fully clothed, having moved over to tending to Mai's hair. The long, dark tresses flow like ink over her fingers as she combs them, making sure to rake the comb-teeth gently over her friend's scalp for each new stroke. Mai's eyes are half-lidded. She must be unaware of it, or she'd never have allowed her pleasure to show.

On her right cheek, close to her ear, is a small trace of white paint still clinging to the skin. Azula extends a hand and puts her finger on it, pressing down. Her nail leaves a tiny crescent-shaped indenture in the flesh.

"You missed a spot."

"Oh."

Mai reaches for the sponge. On the way, the back of her hand brushes against Azula's thigh. She feels the saliva fill her mouth.

--

She has the two prettiest friends in the whole world. Mai's hair is thick and shiny, and her slender neck uncharacteristically girly, pale from lack of sun. Azula carries herself as though her underwear was a royal gown, and the lines of her waist and hips paint perfection.

Ty Lee sighs under her breath, taking extra long to pin Mai's hair into a bun, stealing touches of her neck, shoulders and back now and then. It's impossible not to, sometimes, and Mai always lets her without protest. These quiet evening moments are a treasure, a rare and shimmering chance to express her adoration with her hands.

She feels Azula's eyes on her. When she looks up, the Princess is smiling. Azula pushes herself off the dresser and comes up close, her one side pressing against Ty Lee, the other against Mai. She tugs at Ty Lee's hairdo, undoing it in sharp, smarting tugs. Ty Lee tenses her neck, and rests both hands on Mai's shoulders for support. She is soft and warm under her palms.

Azula becomes more insistent, yanking harder, until Ty Lee's hair spills out over her shoulders in a wavy cascade. She smirks with satisfaction, leans in with bright red, demanding lips.

Right then, a second before impact, Mai stands up in a movement that comes to a twitchy halt before she plops back down on. She twists around in her chair and says:

"Ty Lee, you're standing on my skirt. Get off."

Ty Lee is about to, when she hears Azula's voice, hot in her ear.

"Don't move."

She shuts her eyes and complies.