Arrogant, Elitist, Conceited
ebonyquill
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A loud crash sends two Wolfbats out of the changing locker. Their coaches and sponsors, who were previously discussing the popularity of their star player, look at them with quizzical brows. The Earthbending and Firebending counterparts of the Wolfbats merely shrug and shake their heads.
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Inside the room, a crumpled newspaper sits near a broken helmet, a discarded pro-bending glove, and a demolished glass of wine, its contents dripping on the wall.
Tahno picks up the newspaper and glowers at the polished, confident,mocking photograph of himself. His eyes move towards his reflection in the clarity of the locker. At the moment, his hair is a culmination of his frustration — its strands are unevenly pulled in every direction; his frown is indicative of his furor — deeply set into his otherwise handsome features; his eyeliner reveals his fretfulness — an exaggerated wingtip at the corner of his eye denotes the exact moment when he lost his temper and let his eyeliner fly.
He only stops looking at himself when he bends water from a nearby pitcher, solidifies it into a dozen icy knives, and pierces his own reflection, destroying the locker in the process.
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Bastards! The unmistakable voice of their celebrity athlete echoes from within the changing room.
By now, everyone is used to Tahno's mood swings and they simply return to their previous conversations, ignoring the cacophonous words stemming from the waterbender's displeasure.
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Arrogant, the article sighs. Elitist, the words moan. Conceited, the pen writes. Tahno is no fool. He knows he's not the most — er, pleasant person to work with, but his talent and good looks and rabid fans should speak more for his character than his occasional inability to say please and thank you. They're just jealous. That must be the explanation — he's rich, athletic, successful, handsome, adored, yet — He starts to shred the paper even more when he notices a striking girl on the next page. Yes, vile reporters, call her arrogant and elitist and conceited.
Tahno quickly turns to the article. The first thing he notices is the fact that the photograph is colored, unlike the rest of the black-and-white photographs in the newspaper including his own grayscale visage. When he begins to admire the portrait, he immediately discovers why they chose to print it in color — the answer is in the endless blue of the woman's eyes. A pang of jealousy rushes through him — he has to put on eyeliner to separate himself from the crowd and mask his single weak physical attribute, but the girl's natural eye color pierces through him like the icicles they imitate. She's almost as gorgeous as he is so he's certain that the lying, bitter press will rip her to shreds. His eyes narrow. Humble. Earnest. Polite. He's read enough. No matter who she is, Tahno knows that he will always hate her. He merely wishes that he had read the article before he had seen her picture. From now on, as he's taking a breath in between rounds, while he's rolling his eyes at a fan's request, and behind his eyelids before he goes to sleep, he'll see her beautiful blue eyes beaming up at him, silently asking him why he is so arrogant, elitist, and conceited.
He scans the article for her name. Korra. He sends the remnants of his icy knives into the rest of the newspaper, shredding it into pieces.
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Disclaimer: Lovely, rich people own Legend of Korra - not me. Surprise!
Author's Note: Thanks for taking some time out of your day to read this! I've written a few versions of Tahno and temper tantrum Tahno has to be one of my favorites. Please review if you have a second. :)