Disclaimer: I own nothing, only a computer
Divine Things
Over the years, it's become a habit.
When he wakes at sunrise, Mako slips from his bed and into the cool morning, tugging at his father's scarf around his neck. The world is still largely asleep, with only the exhausted night shift employees, finally returning home, out on the streets. He walks, hands in his pockets, down the streets until he reaches the temple, where he takes off his shoes, and enters. Most mornings it's deserted, but sometimes he finds some small, underfed kid sleeping on the marble floors.
The priests are usually the only ones there though, and he greets them with a nod every morning, and they smile back at him. He's gone there for years, but never has he bothered to learn their names. To him, they are the Fat One and the Skinny One, and the One Who Feeds Fish In The Park. They never speak.
Each morning Mako lowers himself to the cold ground, and stares straight ahead at the shrine, lit with hundreds of tiny candles. He inhales the scent of incense, thick and sweet, before exhaling slowly, letting his breath out bit by bit.
When he first started going to the temple, he was looking for answers. He couldn't make sense of why these things had happened, why he and his brother deserved the despair that the death of their parents had brought upon them. He couldn't understand it, no matter how hard he tried. Looking for reasons, Mako had turned to the spirits. Maybe, he thought, just maybe they could give him answers, give him guidance.
Each morning, he sat there and stared up at the altar, memorizing every flower petal, every curve of the golden statues that decorated it. He thought that if he found the right pattern in the architecture, or whispered the right combination of words, everything would be illuminated before him, that the confusion and anger that clouded his mind would be gone.
He never found the answers that he was looking for, but over time, the anger faded and his confusion subsided. Still, he wakes every morning to go to the temple. Sometimes, he doesn't even have a reason, or a problem to ponder. It's a habit, part of a comforting routine.
When he and Bolin move in with Asami, he stops going. It's too far to walk from the Sato's mansion to the tiny temple in the city's slums. Besides the distance, he's too preoccupied with Asami, too enthralled in this new and unfamiliar world full of wealth and luxury.
But after the ordeal beneath the ground, what with Hiroshi's treachery and Asami's gutting display of strength and loyalty, Mako needs guidance. There are two distinct kinds of sadness that he observes in Asami, and while he knows how to deal with loss, he's unsure how to handle betrayal. He wants to be there for her, be everything that she needs, but he doesn't know how.
What he also doesn't know is how to react to Korra's decision. She had been so calm, and sounded so sure when she had told him to go to Asami, but he had seen the sadness in her eyes. She's too strong, too good of a person to let it show, but Mako knows. He knows and he feels it too, a strange and dull aching sensation that threatens to numb his whole body.
He wants to wrap his arms around Asami and hold her until she is alright, but at the same time he wants to stand next to Korra and hold her hand as they march down the path into what is rapidly becoming a war.
He's with Asami, and he knows that it's the right place to be right now, but what about a month from now? A year? He's so unsure of everything, and knows that their future is changing from day to day. It's turmoil inside his head, as he tries to work out his feelings for both girls, and his obligations to his brother and himself.
Now that they're on Air Temple Island, walking to the temple that he has frequented for years is even more out of the question than it was when they stayed at Asami's home. However, since it's Air Temple Island, Mako is sure that there must be somewhere that he can go to seek guidance from the spirits.
Early in the morning, Mako creeps from the room that he and Bolin are sharing, wrapping his coat tightly around himself. It's so early that even the Air Acolytes aren't up yet, leaving the grounds of the Island completely empty. Fog rolls in off the bay, coating the ground as Mako makes his way up the steps and into the temple. When he enters, he gasps.
It's beautiful, so much more beautiful than he could have imagined. Light is beginning to spill in through the windows, glinting off the polished marble floors and the golden statues. The shrine is lush with flowers, beautiful fire lilies lining the base of the statues. A small pool with water lilies floating in it is located at the edge of the first tier of the floor, before it drops down into a lower level, and a light breeze rustles the wind chimes hanging from the ceiling. The noise that they make is like what Mako thinks light should sound like.
It's when he kneels down at the edge of the pool that he notices her.
She's asleep on the lower level, slumped in front of the step between the two tiers. Her legs are crossed, as if she had been meditating when she fell asleep, and her hair has come out of its ties, falling in her face. Korra's mouth is open slightly, and Mako can hear each breath that she takes.
The light is shining through the windows, spilling across the floor and over Korra, lighting up her slumbering features. The expression on her face is so serene, so at peace that Mako feels like he almost intruding on an incredibly private moment. Quietly, he tiptoes past her, but stops when he sees her shudder from the cold.
She's in her bare sleeves, body pressed against a stone ground, and however peaceful she looks, Mako can tell that she's cold. Sighing, he takes off his coat and drapes it over her body. It doesn't wake her up, but Korra does shift slightly in her sleep, her head rolling back so that her whole face is exposed.
Mako lets her sleep, and makes his way to the altar, where he lights a stick of incense before settling down on the ground somewhere near Korra. There's something calming about her rhythmic breath that lets Mako relax before the shrine.
He sits there for half an hour, meditating on his problems and the confusion that has so recently flooded his life. When he is finished, he gets up, bowing towards the altar before he turns to leave. He walks softly, trying to not wake Korra up, but as he passes her on his way out, he sees her stir on the ground.
Korra's eyes flutter open briefly, and a smile flits across her face as she sees Mako. Her eyes haven't even been open for ten seconds before they droop shut again, and she stretches out, wrapping Mako's coat around her, burying her face in the fabric.
Before he leaves, Mako studies Korra's sleeping form and the subtle angles of her face. There's something nearly divine about the subtle rise and fall of her chest with each soft breath, something sacred about her hair fanned out across the temple floor. He turns back around to face the shrine once again, dropping to his knees and for once he is not asking the spirits for answers.
He is thanking them.
He is thanking them for somehow blessing him and his brother with Korra's friendship and despite the craziness that she has brought into their life, he is thanking them for all the wonderful things that have happened to them since they met her. He thanks them for her.