Notes: And here's the Makorra I was talking about in the first drabble. I love comparisons to Mako and Katara, because wow are they similar. This is a little cheesy but I thought the idea was pretty cute. Enjoy!

The mail came during lunch. Korra always had mail.

She sat at the low table alone, as her airbending practice ran into the scheduled time for lunch. She pushed her food around the bowl, waiting for Tenzin to sift through every letter until he found all those addressed to her. Any addressed to The Avatar Korra were taken by Tenzin, though; those were usually from various politicians asking for endorsements or help with minor problems in the city. It was silently agreed that Tenzin would take those, as she didn't need any more responsibilities.

One thick letter wrapped in a tan envelope skidded across the table to her. She dropped her chopsticks and tore it open without bothering to check who it was from. There were only two options anyway.

DearKorra, started Katara's soft, practiced handwriting.

It was a sweet letter, as all of them before had been. It was long, spanning two pages front to back, full of good advice and loving words of praise. ...I always said you were strong, and I've never doubted you. But remember that it is healthy to break down. Your friend Asami sounds good for you: I'm glad you both talk and comfort each other. That is a friendship that will last. However, sometimes, you need someone there who can be strong for you. I was that way for Aang and for you as a little girl, and when I needed it, Aang was strong for me. I hope you find someone like that, and maybe they are already with you. I wish I could be there for you now, but that isn't my role to fill anymore.

"Mail?"

Korra jumped, knocking over her bowl of rice and crumpling the edge of her letter between her tensed fingers. She jerked her head to find Mako kneeling next to her, Meelo hanging around his shoulders and tugging at his hair.

"Spirits, you scared me," she sighed shakily, turning away to flatten out the letter.

"Oh, sorry," he muttered. He shifted beside her, and she continued reading the letter as he sat down, pulling Meelo from his shoulders.

Meelo babbled and Mako tried to talk sense back to him, but it was easy to tune out and dissolve her thoughts into Katara's letter again.

...Everything is essentially the same back home. Your mother and father send their love, and apologize for no letter this week. In the middle of preparing for the hunting season, it seems your father accidentally knocked their last sheets of paper into a fire. Expect a longer letter from them next week, and he promises to send new polar-leopard skins and tiger-seal jerky with it.

She didn't know what really did it, whether it was the way she could hear Katara's voice with every word, or the loving tone, or the mentions of life as usual back home, but the tears started to well in her eyes.

Very few people saw her cry. There had been many close calls, and Korra knew when the tears would truly fall to when her eyes would just water. Knowing that she wasn't really going to cry, Korra finished the letter and refolded it, smoothing it down against the table with a shaky sigh. She rubbed at her eyes to press any moisture away, only enough to seep out and coat her eyelashes. She blinked afterwards, drawing the sunny dining room into focus, her eyelashes cold against her warm, aching skin.

"Meelo, how about you go find Bolin, huh?" Mako's voice drifted back to her at her side. She knew Meelo left when a swift breeze blew across her face, and Mako shifted. "Is something wrong?"

She shook her head instantly, face pulling into a smile and her shaky hands fiddled with the bent corners of the letter. "No, I'm fine. Just a little homesick."

"Oh," he paused, because his idea of homesickness conjured up dead memories, which she knew and felt a bit ashamed of. She wanted him to leave and not have his misery and longing for his parents contrast against her own. Instead, he leaned his elbows on the table and she knew he wasn't going anywhere. "Anything exciting happening back home?"

"Same as always," she sighed heavily. "Snow leopard season is starting, which is a big deal. Katara didn't say, but I think she's going to try and make me another dress with the new furs. She always tries to."

He lightly laughed, which she was surprised by. "You don't let her?"

She had never spoken of home to him, not knowing how he'd react. She expected him to maybe turn melancholy, walk away and think about his own broken family; not laugh. He seemed to be approaching the topic lightly, and she found she was grateful for it.

"No," she chuckled. "It's especially pointless now, since Asami wants me to go dress shopping with her. For fun, modern stuff. But it's nice of Katara to try."

There was a pause, and she knew he had no response. She turned her head to look at him, only to find him already staring at her. She jerked her chin up towards the door.

"You can go, I'm fine," she said, and she started scooping the spilled rice off of the table and back into the bowl. "I've got to write to Katara, anyway."

He frowned incredulously. "Not with those hands."

She looked down where he had been staring at her hands, palms cupped to hold the rice. They were covered in small scrapes, knuckles torn, layered in dirt and shaking. For being the element of freedom, the hand movements of airbending had to be controlled, which usually led Korra to tensing the tendons in her hands until they popped against her skin. It was the wrong way, and she was slowly letting go of it, but now with all of her other practices and training piled on, her hands were difficult to control.

He grabbed the bowl and placed it beneath her hands, where she let the rice fall. "I'll just heal them and wait until they stop shaking."

"I can write it for you," he said.

She looked at him, and he was being completely serious. He shrugged under her gaze, and started helping her clean the table of the rice.

"You just tell me what you want to say and I'll write it down," he said quietly. "Even if my calligraphy isn't the best."

"It's pretty personal," she replied, pressing her index finger into individual grains, collecting them into a mush of starch before scraping it into the bowl. "The letters, I mean. You don't have to, I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"It's fine," he said, taking the last of the spilled rice and returning it to the bowl. He set it off to the side. "Unless you're uncomfortable."

She thought about it. Out of all of her friends, out of everyone she knew, Mako was the one who saw the least of how her duties and responsibilities ate away at her. He had little understanding of what she had to do and who she was-which on one level, she liked. He saw her only as Korra and never as the Avatar, but she was starting to understand that she had to be both. And she wanted him to understand too.

"Alright, fine," she conceded, and his mouth tugged into a small smile. "But if it gets too weird, I'll kick you out."

"Of course," he laughed, and stood to leave. "I'll go get the paper."