Night
When Korra wakes she is greeted by green clouds blossoming over the mountains. Beside her Asami is still sleeping. During the night Korra had woken to nightmares – not hers but Asami's. Asami's arms had clutched tight around Korra's shoulders, nails digging in hard enough to draw blood, and Korra had lain there in the darkness and endured. Amid hushed cries and whispers of "Father, father!" Korra had kissed her on the forehead. She licks her lips; her tongue remembers the tang of sweat and flesh hot as fever.
But Asami in the morning betrays none of her nightmares. She yawns, stretching out full along the blanket. When she sees Korra already awake, watching her, Asami curls up against her and breathes into her skin, "Good morning."
Asami does not seem to remember her dreams. Korra is not sure if that is good or bad. Is it worth it to drag sadness into the sunlight? Will it shrivel up like a cabbage slug? Or is it better to let it lie and let time grind it away, like time does all other things? Perhaps touching the wound will only cause more pain. She wants to help but her tongue wrestles with the words. She wishes Katara is here.
"Are you okay?" Asami asks. "What happened to your shoulder?"
"I must've rolled over a rock or something when I slept." Korra plays with Asami's hair, curling a stray lock around her finger. "Is there anything you want to talk about?"
"Of course!" Korra freezes. "I heard there was a library in the Spirit World, the biggest library ever built. Can we go?"
Korra's hand falls to Asami's cheek. Looking at that eager face, she thinks that perhaps there are emotions better left untouched, and words better left unsaid. In time, it may eventually rise to the surface – but why force it? Let come what may. Happiness is ephemeral, while sadness is the natural state of things.
