It was never expected that she would leave the asylum, but for some unfathomable reason, her brother– and she spits at the word–was convinced to allow her to be moved to the new city. That shining beacon of hope and harmony that made her want to rip at her eyes because she could not stand the brightness.

Azula held little hope for her own recovery (despite her own protests that she wasn't crazy), and even less for her surroundings. She wondered how much effort was put in to make it seem as though there was no effort at all.