Note: So this is ballerina!Asami in an alternate universe. I mean, come on. She totally looks like a ballerina amirite. Also I know this is short so do not complain abt the length s2g
Dedication: to every girl who wants to be free
Disclaimer: Legend of Korra belongs to Michael Dante DiMartino and Bryan Konietzko
Pretty Hurts
by mirajens
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She deals with all the heartache through dance.
The sad melody of her song plays as her heart bleeds; as her soul withers. In her leotard and pointes, she slides across the wooden floor like a stream of water: fluid, unstoppable and beautiful in its freedom. But Asami Sato was not free. She was confined in responsibilities and facades and wretchedness that hounded her from the moment she opened her eyes to the frightening fragments of dreams that haunt her.
There was a certain discipline needed for dance that she wished real life possessed. In dance, she controlled everything from the sway of her hips to the hop of every sissonne and even the music that the pianist performed. Ballet commanded all of that, and even the freedom she granted her movements contained a certain prohibition. As she danced, she knew that the world outside her mirrored dance hall held so much uncertainty and the lack of organization so innate in her person.
She danced for her ruined family, so carelessly discarded by her father in the name of work and his hatred.
She danced for her lost love, and the fact that she had to set free the first boy who broke down the sky-high walls around her heart.
She danced for Korra, who only saw her as a friend.
She danced for her broken heart, and the fact that no one wanted it when she had so much love to offer.
Tears blurred her vision as she spun like one of those ceramic ballerinas attached to her mother's antique music boxes, equally as breakable as the girl she saw in the mirror every morning when she inspected herself for imperfections.
One fouetté, two fouetté, three fouetté until she is too tired and heartbroken to continue. The pianist brings the melody to a halt when Asami is stationary, and once the music has stopped the shroud of make-believe is shattered.
She leaves the studio not less broken than when she first came in.
Maybe dance didn't heal wounds after all.