Fear is a word many feel easilly described. But for one truly expirencing the fear, this is not the case. Although fear is permanent, it can be subdued over time, just like anything that arises in the inigma that is the human brain. Those whom used to be afraid of water can now swim, but they will always hold back again before jumping into deep tides. It's only those who arise from the water after entering it that have defied their fear, while learning to subconciously live with it.
The late night sky of the witching hour is a truly gorgeous sight in Republic City. Though lights will always flash their majesty above the sky line and create light pollution from the city, it is assured that only the strongest and most beautiful stars peak through to make themselves seen. And just like any star, it will hide and come again in a cycle, much like that of the girl whom watched the stars religiously that night; Avatar Korra, of the Northern Water Tribe. Her trance is interupted by a weak yet urgent knock on her door.
She takes the time to become decent, wrapping a traditional long robe of Mammoth Fur around her muscled frame, loosly, yet managing to hang off of her broad shoulders and her wrapped figure. Expecting it to be Asami or Bolin, she dosn't put much thought into completely covering up, until she opens the door, to find Meelo whimpering in his Pajama's at her front door. She awkwardly clutches her robe closed, and wipes a adjacent booger from his nose, flinging it out the window as a tear rolls down his cheek.
"Meelo, what's wrong?" She asks, groggilly
He simply grabs onto her leg, and continues to sob into her robes. She feels slightly annoyed, yet sympathetic. She would always secretly care about Meelo more than any other of Tenzin's children. This being said, she managed to somehow politely shake the sobbing tot off her leg and coax him onto the edge of her bed, where he sniffles and begins to reside from crying.
"Are you going to tell me whats wrong or not?" She asks, harshly yet unintentionally.
This, of course, causes Meelo to resume crying, making Korra realize that getting words out of children and a criminal are two very differn't matters.
"I'm sorry Meelo, I just..."
He finally begins to calm down, squeezing onto his stuffed bison toy. Korra wipes away his tears, and re-asks him the question;
"Meelo, can you tell me what's wrong?"
"I had a nightmare..." he whimpers, clutching to Korra's arm. "There was a big, scary man with a weird mask on..."
Korra feels sick. A war brewing in Republic City is frightening enough. But when childrens mind sets start to become adapted to war, and they begin to become as afraid as those who are fighting, she feels strangely guilty for how quickly a unadulterated mind can be changed by impending violence.
"You mean Amon?..."
Meelo shakes his head, holding onto his stuffed bison protectively.
"Meelo, you have no reason to worry about that jerk Amon. If you want me to, I'll beat him up for you"
He giggles, the last of tears vanishing from his eyes.
"If anything, you should be worried about even scarier things..."
"Like what!" screams a terrified Meelo, shielding himself with a bed sheet
"GETTING INTO A TICKLEBENDING WAR!"
The young boy looses control as Korra manages to tickled him under his little toes, giggling manically and kicking his legs about, demanding to surrender over Korra "The Ticklebender". She eventually listens to his pleas for mercy, and she scoops him up, tired, with a satisfactory look in his face, and tucks him into his bed, making sure to prop up his stuffed animal next to him.
She quietly tip-toes out of his room, her robe now, once again, unfastened and hanging from her broad shoulders. She gives a sigh of releif, praising herself for her amazing skills with children. She's sure Katara would be proud if she could see her right now, conforting a child. She makes her way back to her room, where she undoes herself for the night. As she brings down her long brunette hair against her bare caramel back, another knock meets the open doorway of Korra's room. This time, it's Mako.
"Korra?" He asks, as if he is in some sort of strange place for the first time.
The sound of his voice stuns her, and she quickly jumps from her spot, wrapping her robe hastilly around herself, blushing.
"Can't you knock?"
"I did..." He replies, embarrassed
She tightens her robe and flips over her long brown hair to one side of her shoulder, pouts, and scoots Mako out of her room and into the hallway.
"What do you want?" she asks, pretending to be annoyed
"I came upstairs to see why you and Meelo were giggling so late at night... You woke Asami up"
She rolls her eyes, a hint of jealousy in her voice "Well you missed out on the fun... Speaking of which... Did I interrupt you and Asami having fun ?"
He rolls his eyes, annoyed "It really isn't like that right now, Korra. She just found out her dad has been plotting against us..." he mumbles under his breath "...She dosn't have any time for what you call... Fun". Mako makes air quotes with his hands at the word fun, and then blushes; "Besides, you don't need to know about... That"
Korra laughs at her discovery "Are you implying something Mako?"
He blushes and stammers "No, whatever me and Asami do... Or don't do... I mean... Ugh..."
"Well call me a cabbage merchant! Asami is a prude, isn't she?" Korra breaks into tears laughing "Does Bolin know? Oh my god, he has to, this is hilarious"
Mako shakes his head "Its not like that at all Korra..."
She laughs, leaning against the door frame. Her competition for winning Mako has just increased- the news of Asami Sato being a prude was life changing for her.
"Sure, sure... Well,you two have fun... I'm going to bed. Goodnight Mako"
"Goodnight Korra" he mumbles in a annoyed tone, slaming the door in Korra's room.
She takes off her robe and crawls into the safe haven of her bed. She pats Naga on the head, whom has already begun to be in a deep sleep, turns off the gas lamp by her bed, and curls up agaisnt her pillows. For a momment, she feels like a normal teenager. As the word "normal" races through her head, she begins to softly cry.
