A/N: So in my head Jinora is like 17 and Bolin is 24? 25?
Disclaimer: ATLA and LOK belong to Bryke.
Mirror Me
There is a vagueness about her. Like she is made from the same essence as the clouds. There is no mystery about the how or what to the way she does things, but the question of why always rears its head to glance at Bolin dismissively, as if he isn't good enough to know.
"Tell me something?" He whispers into her shoulder and she doesn't giggle like she's ticklish when she's not or groan with fake-lust when she's tired.
"I like the way words look on a page." She says with a smile. Transparent enough, but he still cannot put a finger on what it is exactly that he wants.
"Why?"
"They say things."
He nods as if she has answered her question, and she has, but still...nothing solid is in her answer.
She is untouchable sometimes.
There is a sweetness to her smile, a lightness in her touch, a sense of isolated wonder in her voice, like she cannot bear to come down from the places she has flown to. She is taller now, more than strong enough to hold her own against the world and other worlds but her wrists are so small as he looks down at the way her hands are splayed across his chest.
Bolin lays on his back and Jinora leans into him, breathing slow and deep. Dreamy still even as she is awake.
"Your turn."
"I am a mirror."
"How?"
Her voice is soft and her fingers slip into his. Long and agile and so affable. His smile is gradual, but it appears so readily. Her heart is beating a rhythm into his side and he feels like if she slips any closer their hearts might touch and their ribs interlock.
"I am a product of what has made me. I show what I have seen."
"There are things that can't be seen that you can reflect too."
It's easy breathing with her. Her breath puffs against his neck and he presses his lips to her forehead. Her skin is blue in some places and he thinks of the sky.