title: venom
note: i'm a bit late but after re-watching the finale, this is the result of my overly sad feelings.
disclaimer: own nothing
You failed.
The world you proudly constructed crumbles at the notion; your confidence dissolves, your endurance shatters, your pride in tatters on the ground. You feel the burning inadequacy in the pulsing pain in your crumpled legs. You see all your faults in the black and blues burrowed in your dark skin. You taste the self-hatred deep in your throat, a bitter pill you are ashamed to have swallowed.
I told you Korra, the world doesn't need you anymore.
The time of the avatar is over.
Let go.
These words have wormed their way into the back of your mind since you stepped foot in that dim, stuffy basement to face the mask of the first man who would try to murder you. Initially, you scoffed at them. You knew your worth; the world always needed its avatar, after all. But then you heard them again, this time from a man of your own tainted blood— his betrayal sinking deep into your bones as his water gripped your throat, slayed your purest spirit. Turmoil churned in your stomach, but you buried the feeling within yourself, not allowing it to affect you.
But it did.
You always knew it did. Deep in the curve of your soul, you could feel the cracks elongating, growing haunting roots into the essence of your being. With each new threat you faced, the cracks became fissures, your sense of self declining to be more and more fragile until all it needed to shatter was a trigger.
Zaheer's poison was the bullet.
And in that moment, all the demons you chained within burst forth and like a gruesome dream, twisting and morphing into your flickering sight and you collapse in on yourself. The jagged pieces scatter across the expanse of your spirit, and you think to yourself, this is the end—
But it isn't. You, in a form that isn't quite your whole self, overcome your most violent battle yet. But it's not enough. You find yourself tired, unable to pick up the remains of what people knew as Avatar Korra— you fall victim to your own mind, and you realize that even the most miraculous of medicine cannot cure this.
Nights turn into days, days into nights— you're not sure how much time has passed, but the dark circles under your eyes grow heavier, and the whispers people think you cannot hear— my god she doesn't look good— become more frequent. Asami tells you when she fixes you up for Jinora's ceremony, but you never caught it.
You don't really listen much, lately; you know your friends voice their support, but the sound never reaches your ears. But this time, you do. As Tenzin begins to introduce Jinora he turns to you and makes a promise. A promise that pierces you through the hollow of your soul: the air nation will assume the role of the avatar in your absence, to bring peace and harmony to the world.
You give a weak smile, trying to swallow the vomit creeping up your throat.
Then he unveils Jinora's tattoos, and they are bright on her bald head and arms, shining like they're magic. You should be proud. You know this and yet you feel nothing but shame, tears welling up in your eyes as you look at the new airbending master and you think your enemies of the past were right. You aren't needed anymore. You should have died on that day—
No, you amend, realizing; you are already dead.