Euphoria tingled on the fringes of her mind. The high was fading, hopefully for the last time. Baatar weaved his fingers through her hair, if he was disappointed, it certainly didn't show on his face.
It never did.
He was patient with her.
Kind.
He was from the start. From the moment he found her curled up, shivering and dirty on the side of the road. She was sputtering and delirious, clutching at something no one else could see. In present she couldn't recall just what she had been clinging to but it had been important.
Baatar was on a vacation, it was his first time in Republic City and no one had thought to warn him not to venture into the fringes of the city. No one thought to inform him of the dirty, drug-infested parts of the city. Of the women who stood on street corners wearing faux furs, heels, and clothing much to revealing. No one thought to inform him of the people like her.
Perhaps that was why he had approached her with such little caution. Her hair was straggly and dirty, her clothes tattered. Maybe she might have made it out of that life if she hadn't let her ex coax her into taking and selling lotus leaves.
But the fact of it was that he had.
And she did.
She'd sold and used until she knew all of the street names; lotus leaves, breath of the green dragon, green dragon, the breath, green breath, lotus green, and an endless stream used to evade the Republic City police force.
She'd sold and used until her mind unraveled and she had no qualms about sending sharpened chunks of metal into whoever her former boyfriend had put on his list. Most of the were rival sellars. They couldn't afford competition.
Soon the lotus leaves' hold became too strong. It reaped her competence and speed. And her ex had no use for her. She had been abandoned twice over. At least that time, she had the breath. At least that time she wasn't fully alone.
If she took enough of the lotus leaves, she could pretend that she had a family. They felt so real. So real that it hurt when the euphoria faded.
She couldn't say exactly how long she'd wandered in a drugged daze. But her shoes had worn to the point she'd discarded them altogether, allowing for shards of glass and sharp rocks to shred her feet. But she had taken no notice. The breath took away the pain. She hadn't even realized she was bleeding at all.
Kuvira could only faintly recall meals. She didn't like to think of where she had found them. She imagined that they were only edible because the lotus leaves had turned them to something else in her mind. Baatar had found her when she was certain that was on the brink of death.
She was sickly; gaunt and pale, skin tinged with patches of yellow and spots of purplish bruising. Her hair had grown matted. The hue of her eyes had dulled into a muted and hollow green. They were void and vacant.
Absent.
Her mind was absent.
She had looked at Baatar, but she hadn't seen him. He had told her that a light froth dripped from the corner of her mouth and that he'd almost left her to die. He had left, she remembered that much. He'd returned with help though. But not before she could wander. In her drugged stupor she had gone chasing dragonfly-mantis. They were made of gold and she was going to sell them. She was going to have new shoes.
Her feet pulsed with infection. They were swollen and oozing, but she hadn't noticed, she was so close to the golden dragonfly-mantis. So close. All she had to do was walk out onto the beams and reach out. She was so dizzy and the height wasn't doing her any favors. She watched the traffic below, the buzzing city streets. Her body had pitched, a deeper sense of detachment setting in. From a distant place, she felt a tug.
She couldn't recall anything after than. But Baatar had told her that she'd had a seizure. One brought on by an overdose. That she'd almost plunged from a lethal height.
Kuvira fell back into the chair. She should be dead. Yet she was given a chance and here she was, wasting it. She still wanted more. She craved more, cried out for it. But Baatar was as unmoving as he promised her that he would be.
She was crying and begging. She needed the lotus leaves, the hit he'd given her was too small to provide anymore than a short high. She dug her nails into her hair. "Baatar, please…"
He untangled her fingers from her locks and squeeze her hands. "You don't need them anymore. I promise."
He was making so many promises, ones that were out of his control. He could dress her in silks and velvets as fine and deep green as he'd like. He could put exotic foods in her belly and exquisite gems on her fingers but she was still a mess. The sort that could only be made by being tossed to the streets to raise herself.
And it wasn't for him to fix.
Kuvira had to fix herself.
Kuvira didn't know if she had it in her.
If she even wanted to fix herself.
She didn't have much of a choice anymore. She'd run out of her stash of lotus leaves and she coudn't see Suyin funding more. The woman barely tolerated her as it were. "We don't need a whore living under our roof!" It was an exchange she'd had often with Baatar. The woman didn't even bother to wait until Kuvira was out of earshot.
The cop, Lin, liked her even less. The woman constantly looked at her as though she was a free paycheck. Constantly questioning her about her ex. What his name was, where he hid out. Kuvira couldn't recall, had she ever known? It took some time for Lin to realize that, in the long term, the lotus leaves affected memory.
"She's a wreck and she's going to lead you to the back of my satomobile." Lin scoffed at Baatar. Suyin lingered close by, nodding rather smugly. According to Baatar, the sisters didn't agree on much, but they agreed that she was a lost cause.
Baatar didn't realize it until she had taken off.
Back to the streets where she'd belonged.
Away from Suyin and her harsh words.
She didn't make it very far at all.
Months had came and gone. He held her. He loved her. He cherished her as if she was capable of reciprocating. He did everything in his power to keep her from the lotus leaves. Just when he thought that she was getting clean, that her withdrawal had climaxed he'd come home to find her with a patch under her tongue. A patch she earned through slipping out of the gowns he bought for her. Months came and went and Kuvira could see in his eyes what he was going to do.
Lin was more than thrilled to escort her in a cop-grade satomobile. Perhaps it wasn't to the prison she had hoped, but to an institution. One the forced the lotus leaves out of her bloodstream. They watched her writhe and whimper with such apathy.
She missed the care Baatar gave her.
.oOo.
Kuvira stared at her feet. Scarred from the infection that had almost taken them. They were sore, but not from the roughness of the streets. No, they were sore from hours of dancing. Dancing was the first hobby she had picked up after leaving the institution. It was a hobby she'd stuck with. It kept her mind from pining for lotus tears and from wandering to all of the vile names thrown at her in the past.
She watched the rest of the dance team carry on with their routines. It was nothing short of frustrating to still feel the effects of the lotus leaves even after a year without them. Her body cramped and tired out much faster than it ought to. The rest of the team insisted that it was fine, that they were just glad that she was on the right track. But it wasn't fine to her.
She felt arms wrap around her middle and lips press to the crook of her neck. At least Baatar had stuck around. She admired the man for his silent patience. She had distanced herself from him for the longest time, deciding that he deserved better.
He didn't push things, accepting things for what they were. She'd seen him with quite a few pretty and delicate girls, the kind he ought to be with. Three of them to be exact. He vented to her about all of them. About how Mi-Lao was too judgemental and hated his glasses, even though he insisted that he needed them to see. He vented about how Soyan hated everyone in his family. And he vented about how Yi-Ling was too controlling. For once he was the one to break things off.
"I just don't have much luck with women do I, Kuvira?" And that had been that. She let him get things off of his chest.
Finally, in a rare moment of self-respect and pride, she allowed herself a tinge of happiness. A chance to hope. After such a long time had gone by, she finally mustered up the courage to ask the Baatar if he still wanted to love her.
And so she had grown used to days like the one she was having presently. With her fingers woven between his. "How was dance practice?"
"I suppose it could have gone worse." She hadn't fallen that time. Perhaps in time she'd be able to make it through a full session. She let him ramble on about his day and about how his father was proud of the blueprints he had crafted. She admired his sharp mind.
He led her to the circle of pines, sat down, and beckoned her into his lap. She took him up on his offer and leaned into him. She let him weave flowers and pine needles into her hair. He wasn't very good at it, but the attempt was charming in its own way. His care, his touch. It provided a sort of euphoria that the lotus leaves couldn't.
A kinder one. A safer one, without the horrid fall.
She was glad that he waited for her to get herself together.