prompt one
beginning

entitled: stolen, part one
summary: 001. The net slipped around her and she was pulled, in one fluid motion, to the surface. "We caught it!" —IrohKorra. AU.
rating: T, for swearing
disclaimer: I do not own.
notes: So a collection of sorts for the thirty days drabble challenge.

The net slipped around her—a sudden, nearly invisible monster—and she was pulled, in one fluid motion, to the surface.

"We caught it!"

The laughter of men—humans—rang in the thick, humid air. Everything was louder above surface.

Korra moved to cover her ears but her arms were tangled in the relentless net. Her eyes were blinded by the blaring sun, as her skin simmered in the ungodly heat. Her fin beat ineptly against the net as the woven rope marred her glimmering blue scales.

"We caught it!"

Korra felt herself being moved in the monster's embrace. Seconds later she was hovered over a crowd of men wielding spears that glinted threateningly. Their faces were painted with a twisted elation as their laughter rang with cruelty. Korra tried to summon the water, but she was powerless, hanging limply in the air.

Once she left the warm embrace of the sea, it would abandon her in turn.

As she was lowered down onto the deck of the human's ship, Korra knew.

This was it. For all the tales of not swimming near the bay, it was because of this.

"It's a girl! A pretty one!"

Their eyes were like daggers, skimming over her body—"Her breasts!"—cutting her with their indecency, with their mortality.

Korra felt the blunt end of their spears digging into her skin, prodding along her fin. "Stop!" she screamed shrilly. Her voice resonated through the dense air that suffocated everything.

The men at the forefront dropped their weapons, covering their ears. "This bitch!"

Korra kept screaming. It was her only defense; it was all the power she had left.

"Damn!" one man cursed among the rest, her voice deafening them all. "Get something to cover that damn mouth!"

Suddenly, from above the thick rope came a large hand that pressed against her lips. The screams ran livid in her throat, burning down to her lungs.

"Stop!"

The voice was not hers. It thundered from somewhere behind the men.

"Clear away!"

"Sir—!"

"Now!"

The men that had encircled her eased away, their eyes wary. The weapons fell away from her body and the hand detracted from her lips. As her screams were about escape her throat and shatter the sky, she felt it—the overwhelming dryness.

How long had she been exposed to the sun? How long has she been away from the water?

Korra looked down in horror as her scales began to fall from her—as if they were only ever an illusion. "No. This can't be—"

And then she saw him, standing over her, a path having been cleared for him right to the center where Korra laid tangled and utterly defenseless. The shrillness of her once radiant voice had left her, leaving merely the crumbling speech of a seventeen year old girl.

"What's happening?" The men were curious, thrilled—"The scales are falling off! Hey, hey, look! Underneath!"—pushing at each other to get a better view, but not daring to breach the two meter ring they had formed around her.

Only he stood in the ring.

The man—his attire, his countenance, different than the others, more refined—leaned down.

"Don't—" Korra began, trying to move away despite knowing the futility of her action.

Where could she run? How could she run? Korra felt the water fall from her eyes. Tears—these were tears.

"Just. Don't—" Korra stiffened, the words were caught in her throat as she watched the man pull out a small knife. With the same fluid motion that had snatched her from her home, he slid the knife into the net and dragged it, tearing the rope till a gap was made big enough to ease her out from the tangles.

His expression was stern. Korra could only stare, terrified and trembling, as his fingers grazed gently across her scales—now dulling into gray—brushing them away till her mocha skin was revealed.

And then—

Legs.

This couldn't be happening. Katara had warned her, Katara had—

Korra tensed when she felt the scales from her hips begin to fall.

Wait. If—

Covered.

The man had slipped off his red coat—his movements quick and exact—and covered her. The warm cloth wasn't long enough to reach her breast, but it covered what mattered.

"Now then," the man mused, his hand reaching to her face, brushing the wet strands away—she flinched—so that his eyes could peer into hers, "Let's get you inside."

Korra was speechless, caught in firmness of his voice, as he slipped his arms beneath her and lifted her from the cold wood planks. He held her close and carefully, in a way that hid her from the curious stares of the other men.

"That's enough boys. Good work."

Of course.

Korra was not stupid.

It was him.

He was the leader in all this. He, who could command so many with his unyielding voice, was the reason why she was here, on this ship, in his arms, completely nude and absolutely defenseless.

Despite what may have seemed like kindness, saving her from the ruffians, Korra knew.

He will not be returning her to the sea.

He will be keeping her, either on this ship or somewhere, and that is only on the off chance that he doesn't sell her first.

Korra knew the tales.

This was the beginning of the end.

tbc.

endnotes: Yes—this is not a drabble, so I've basically failed the challenge on my first go. Yes—this will be continued, just look for 'stolen, part two,' in the future.