He tells her to run but it's not in her place to do so. It never was.
'Tenzin?'
She's trying to find where his voice is coming from but there are too many people in the streets, screaming and brushing against her, for her to even pinpoint the direction of the warning.
'Tenzin!'
She's frantic. A turn too slow results in a rough fall between the crowd, countless soles bruising against her arms and legs, stumbling over her to get by, to survive—as if Korra's presence in itself is nothing.
Republic City has lost all hope, and their only means of survival is through sheer will and prayer. Dozens of air raids plummet against the nearby buildings and the debris sprinkles over the heads of potential victims; some of them being absorbed into the soot clouds, and some of them never coming out. There's no time to try and save everyone, not like this, she knows that—there's too many of them—too many scared faces blurring by her as the disaster escalates.
But where is Tenzin?
"RUN, KORRA!"
There it is again, but it's muffled over the sounds of the stampede. She has to find him, she has to—
Stop herself from getting trampled to death.
Enduring scrapes and burns, Korra manages to clear out from the stampede, stumbling to her feet with more wounds than she cares to count. There are some on her face, on her ribs and knees, and they sting, but it's not important. The only thing that matters right now is finding Tenzin.
"Korra!"
She turns again, this time with a focused ear, moving towards the direction without a pause in her step. The calling gets louder and finally, through smoke and ash, she can spot him, yellow and red robes flaring from the gusts of wind being created by the overhead air crafts. There's a fire cutting off half the city in evacuation and they're only growing wilder by the minute. Tenzin grabs her by the arm and pulls her against him in a brief hug before pulling away. The look on his face is worn, burdened. Has the hope left him, too?
"Come, Korra," he says, with no room to interject, and flaps his glider open beside them. Before she can protest about needing to be here for the city, to redeem herself, he snatches her up and propels them into the air, rising higher and higher from the sins of war, almost seemingly belittling the suffering in a visual light as they grow farther away. The cries of the citizens struggling to stay alive become dull from in between the clouds, like slowing heartbeats of a pulse that fades to nothing.
This is wrong, and Korra knows it, but being hundreds of feet in the air leaves her helpless. Tenzin is still protectively holding onto her as they glide through the sky, but even the flight of flying cannot free her from the burden of abandoning the people who need her most. Somewhere in between the internal war, a dark shadow looms over them, serving as a foreshadowing of what's to come. Barely craning her neck, she can already tell who it is that's after them, hovering over them like merciless gods, waiting to claim what's rightfully theirs - for power. The Equalist symbol beaming bold against the red is a sign she's used to seeing, and every time, it triggers the usual emotion: anger. But this time, it's different, this time it's an emotion she cannot claim the reigns for - fear.
Without knowing what the plan is, she can feel the air around them start to thin and the blimp become leveled. They're going to have to fight.
A sharp turn allows them to land unstably atop the aircraft and for the first time in what seems like forever, Korra is on her own two feet. Foreign feet, that feel like they'll give away at any second, and while the henchmen start flinging themselves to the top to meet them, she risks a glance over the ledge and can see nothing but mist. Blind, cornered, out numbered, and newly infamous, she stands beside a silent Tenzin who only calmly puts a hand on hers for comfort. It doesn't work, they're in no situation for it to work—
They attack.
A series of fights ensue, some men disappear over the ledge Korra can't fathom to focus on. She can't fully focus on the men in goggles and focus on Tenzin and focus on compromising with gravity all at once, and in her distractions, she's hit.
With a fall on the level beneath her, she can see Tenzin stupidly letting his guard down to see if she's okay. He barely makes it half way before they hit him too, only they block his chi as well and drag him by his wrists. Not long after, Korra is yanked upward, gloved hands pinning her arms behind her back, body facing her Master as if she's about to see something she doesn't want to – but she can't look away.
"Korra, run—" he says,
but there's nowhere to go.
She's left to watch them drag her mentor to the side, and dangle him over the edge like he's bait for something much, much more—and she knows.
A small struggle, and swift punch to the jaw, but she's still standing, her urge to scream is at the tip of her tongue but it catches the blood instead. The grip against her own limbs start to let up slowly, and her heart begins to pounds against her ear drums because they're only doing it so she can run.
So she can run to him.
There's not another word the man can think to say as he's released from their grip, falling away from them, from her, from everything. She doesn't think, she doesn't speak, she doesn't cry. She just runs to the ledge where only his memory resides and—
She jumps.
She falls after him, an outstretched hand searching through the clouds for him, to hold, to protect, to do something appropriate with the title she has the nerve to hold.
Avatar.
And as if by some miracle, she does find him, and they continue to fall together, spiraling out of control in between the vulnerable void of blue, trembling fingers gripping tight against blistered skin. It's hard to see, it's hard to hear, but they exist, she knows. They exist like the people down below, they exist like the burning buildings and the screaming children.
They exist, but it's not enough.
Even between fluttering eyelids, she can feel the tears start, blasting up and away from her as she continues to plummet to her demise; the last airbending master, and his pupil that has failed them both and the world, for the last time.
It's the realization that this is the end that makes the fall seem that much more endless.
And they fall,
'I'm sorry, Tenzin,'
and they fall,
'I'm so sorry,'
and they fall,
and Korra knows that this is wrong, but there's nothing left to hold onto. It's hard to think, and the consciousness is finally starting to slip away. What she hates the most is that she won't feel the pain in the end.
The world goes fuzzy, and the blue she always imagined herself soaring beyond, is the same blue that is claiming her life. Air - the element of freedom, but this is not the freedom she wants, or the freedom she deserves.
'...Tenzin?'
It's hard to tell if he's still with her, but she thinks she can hear him.
"Run, Korra," It echoes in between the force of air smashing against her eardrums, but she can hear it.
There's nowhere to run.
They fall endlessly, spiraling down to earth, and even though it's too late, it's still all she can hear.
"Run, Korra,"
"Run, Korra,"
"Run, Korra,"
But, it's not in her place to do so—it never was.
Everything goes black after flipping arrhythmical from white to blue, but she already knows the sky will let them go, eventually.