Chameleon Bay's picturesque navy-green waters are surprisingly calm today, and everyone on the massively elegant SatoYacht was very thankful for that. The wedding forecast had previously called for bouts of rain in the morning, but so far they were all spared, much to the bride (and her father, and his wallet)'s delight. The East Beach ceremony had gone off without any issue, and the large party of guests were eager to drink and be merry upon the luxurious mini-cruiseliner.
Evera stands among a sea of expensive silks, gleaming goldenrod chains and handsome United Republic dress blues. The crowd around her is pretty evenly split between the bride and groom's families; there are decorative Fire Nation pauldrons draped across the men and honoree medals pinned to some of their collars, while many others don wide-sleeved Watertribe robes lined with otter-mink furs and long, floor-length gowns in icy turquoise and royal purple hues.
A string quartet plays a graceful, mingling melody as Evera makes her way through the crowd, a large serving tray of wineglasses and a fat open bottle of chardonnay balancing on her arm. Once again, Evera finds herself singing Song's praises with the clothes she had loaned her: An elegant beaded sapphire dress with a conservative shawl to cover her shoulders. And of course, a black apron to blend in with the other catering waitresses.
"Miss, a refill please?" A stately Fire Nation soldier steps in her path, holding out his empty glass. Evera nods, sighing silently, hoping she doesn't mess this one up.
Flicking her free wrist up and out, a spout of champagne lifts magically from the bottle upon her tray. With a swirl of her hand, the bubbling liquid whisks between them and begins streaming right into the soldier's empty glass.
A look of hard focus falls on Evera's face; it was like learning an intricate dance, she thinks, watching the last of the liquor stream fill up to the lip of the man's goblet. Phew; I'm getting better, she thinks hopefully. The man nods his head in thanks and walks off to rejoin his clique of soldier boys on the main deck. She overhears a snippet of their conversation as she walks off:
"Like I was saying, I just don't know if I trust Secretary Hilan," He says to his fellow soldier friends, "she's a career politician. If I was in the Earth Kingdom, I would have a hard time swallowing my pride to vote for her."
"Nonesense," the wife of another soldier pipes up, clutching onto a wineglass of her own, "She is perfectly qualified. You'll see at the debates next week."
The yacht itself is massive; two enormous outdoor decks separated by a cascading grand staircase, as well as sizeable indoor dining lounge where the party was to eat their evening meal and toast to the happy couple. They certainly spared no expense for their big day; along with the string quartet that plays their cocktail party fanfare, a metalbending harpist sits just inside the lounge, bending away in a graceful plucking motion at the thin, steel-lined chord strings on her beautiful pearlescent harp. Every table, doorway and railing is lined with bushels of tulips, rose garlands and rare panda-lily bouquets, matching the bride's carefully picked color theme. Fountains of food and drink are everywhere, with the finest fresh fish hors d'oeuvres and toothpick-impaled delights making their rounds with the servers. For a moment she wishes Sencha had come with her; she'd love these table scraps.
From the upper deck, Evera peers down to the lower level to survey the crowd. Just as Tuvo had mentioned, firebending jugglers were spread throughout the gathering, heating up guest plates, playing fun firemagic tricks and even pretending to spar with one another to give the crowd a show. Her contact is suppose to be one of these jugglers; but which one?
"Look mommy! The firebenders are fighting!" A very young watertribe girl, her poofy dress swallowing up her tiny frame, points down to the lower deck. Evera looks over, finding a large crowd encircling two firejugglers. They are kneeling on the deck, facing away from one another in a dueling stance, but soon rise to their feet and about-face.
"Don't worry, it's not a real fight, sweetie," the girl's mother says back, reassurance in her voice, "It's just pretend. They're reenacting an Agni Kai. They're just gonna show everyone their super cool firebending." The mother picks her daughter up, hoisting her onto her waist so she can get a better view of the performance.
Evera peers down as well, finding the growing crowd standing in awe of the two men. On one side of the circle stands a ponytailed juggler, azure-blue tape wrapped around his wrists, a royal Fire Nation breastplate shining over his chest as he takes a powerful, exaggerated stance. He points across the empty stretch of the deck to his opponent.
"I'm sorry it has to end this way!" He shouts, flames igniting out the tips of his trigger fingers like two welding torches. The crowd looks eagerly to the other man, who stands confidently on the other side of the circle. Evera narrows her eyes to focus.
"No, you're not." the opponent says back, his voice deep and tender as he stares back across the circle from beneath a shielding hood. He retrieves a roll of bright red tape from his pocket, stretching out a line to wrap up his own wrists in a fresh covering. As the red layers cover over his knuckles, Evera's eyes go wide; those hands... they are so gentle looking and worn...
Her vision! These are the hands she had seen in the desert! They are being wrapped in red tape, just as the vision predicted!
As he trails around the open circle, the mysterious man removes his hood and Evera gets a better look at him: His hair is long and wild, untethered by any elastic and flowing down past his shoulders in a thick, copper-brunette mane. He sports a hearty yet well-groomed beard, highlighting his already strong jaw and a sly, curious little smile. His eyes are goldenly hazel and shining in the sea-sprayed sun, a deep V tanktop robe showcasing his well-defined biceps and thick, veinlined forearms as he takes his firebending stance. A decorative black headband stretches across his forehead, intricate Fire Nation symbols embroidered across the front. He raises his fists to his jaw as the jugglers begin encircling one another, his hair swathing around in gentle waves as if they were born from the coastline of the Bay.
This must be the guy, Evera thinks with a smile. This must be I.J. Lee, the writer of the books; the one she's here to meet.
"I will defend my Nation, for the lasting love of the bride and her groom! RAH!" The ponytailed juggler punches forward, a sparkling fireball blasting out in a controlled burn toward I.J. With two prayer-folded hands out, I.J. parts the fire like the red sea, curling the flames up and around him in a beautiful spectacle of flashing yellow light and heat. WOOSH! The fancy crowd around them applauds. Evera is impressed with his ability to control the blaze to keep it safely away from the outskirts of the audience.
"Take THIS!" I.J. rolls a series of three high roundhouse kicks down across the circle, a long wave of flames lashing out from each jump. The flames undulate along the deck like a fiery serpent; the crowd "ooo's" and "ahh's" as this serpent dances right within a few feet of their expensive leather dress shoes and sparkling heels.
The ponytailed juggler intercepts this snaking flame with an outstretched palm, launching its trail upward above him in a series of colorful blasts; blue, green and orange fireballs explode above his head through his fingers, thanks to the slight-of-hand powders he had hidden inside his palm. The crowd cheers wildly.
The jugglers bow to one another in conclusion; their little spar is over, for now. The crowd again cheers and applauds to them around the circle.
TING-TING-TING-TING!
The music pauses and the crowd turns to the top of the stairwell.
"May I have everyone's attention please!" The stoutly father of the bride, donning his noble Watertribe suit and long white hair, continues clanging a fork on his wineglass as he speaks, now overlooking the massive crowd. "It is time for the traditional Water Tribe Rain Dance! You know what that means!"
The crowd begins to happily chatter and smile with delight at this announcement, the gathering mob around the jugglers now quickly dispersing as the guests begin to pair off into couplings.
"For our new Fire Nation family, or those unaware of the tradition," the proud father continues, "This is a celebratory dance where everyone must be moving! Grab a partner, feel the music, even groups of three are just fine! I want everyone up, the waiters, crewmen, even you Uncle Zuzi! Everyone must be dancing! It is bad luck to be standing still!"
The members of the string quartet glance at one another and nod. They begin to play a sweet, romantic ballad for the party to waltz along to; a soulful, slow symphony. As the vibrato harmonies of the violas chime out, the happy crowd jumps to their feet and starts searching on the deck for a partner: men and women, women and women, men and men, children meeting hands and swinging one another around to the swaying, dreamy music.
Evera quickly finds herself alone. Everywhere she turns, a gentleman was bowing deeply to their chosen partner before whisking them off to the dancefloor. One by one they vanish, including all the pretty party guests, the other waitresses, the wedding coordinator, the maitre d', even the metalbending harpist, who finds herself a partner in a charming Fire Nation navyman. Evera places her heavy tray of drinks down on a nearby table and begins descending the grand staircase to the lower deck, watching the pairs of dancers synchronize their two-step in awe.
"May I have this dance?"
With a deep bow and an outstretched hand, Evera turns to find the one and only I.J., still glistening with sweat from his fantastical spar, that sly smile still painted across his otherwise stern-looking face. She pauses in shock at first; great, she thinks, first she had to waterbend, now she has to dance?
Looking around them at the base of the stairs, Evera discovers that they are now the only ones standing still; all other feet shuffling, all other guests now entirely lost in the throes of their partner and the romance of the day. The tender music swells around them as the mysterious man's eyes look deeply into hers with the question; they seem so oddly familiar. She glances back down at his hand, still outstretched, still wrapped in the red layers of fresh prophetic tape. Her vision must be leading her to this dance... it must be important, she thinks. She reaches out with her own little hand, so much smaller than his, and finally takes it.
He escorts her out onto the lower deck, offering another polite bow when they find the center of the crowd. His strong, gentle arm reaches around to hold the small of her back, Evera's grip now tightening nervously onto his other hand, the one that had lead her here. He grips back softly as they take position, face to face, the coarse red layers of the tape atop his knuckles grazing on the pads of her fingers.
He begins to lead, sweeping her in a slow waltz around the other guests, effortlessly gliding his feet across the floor to the music. Evera fights a tiny wave of nausea, thinking too hard about the bouncing boat and the miles of water surrounding them. She grips onto his bare shoulder tightly to brace herself; it is as hard as creeping crystal jennamite. She has never been one for dancing, especially without the salts of the earth beneath her, but still allows him to guide her in this two-step about the other happy couples, so long as they blend in. Song never warned her about any kind of Watertribe dance; two ways in which she is quite literally out of her element.
As the party dances on in a spellbinding synchronized weave, the yacht begins rocking a little harder now, swaying with more effort than it had in hours past. The waves begin churning stronger and stronger as the people waltz about, big smiles, happy eyes, as Evera gets a full view of the gleeful party. She begins to wonder... Is this what happens when a large group of Waterbenders celebrate in the center of an ocean? Does the ocean dance along?
I.J. has led her to the outskirts of the deck now, the bulk of the crowd before them and the guardrail of the sea behind. Feeling clumsy, Evera can't help but keep her head down to her feet to focus on the steps, endlessly distracted by the carousel of fellow dancers, but I.J.'s piercing gold eyes do not move away from hers for one moment. He suddenly pulls her close, edging his lips right into her ear for a raspy whisper:
"Hey, it's alright. Just follow my lead."
The cellos and violas call out in the bridge of the song, and all the guests begin twirling their partners out; I.J. does the same to Evera, holding out his arm for her to gently wind away. She does, watching the line of partners to the left of her and to the right all reach their hands out toward the ocean guardrail and up to the sky. Evera does the same, and...
CRASH!
A HUGE wave comes SPLASHING up the side of the yacht, just barely contained by the thin guardrails of the lower deck. While some of the seawater sprays down upon the guests in a tiny bought of rain, Evera watches in awe as the top edge of this wave continues curling up and around them with the spiral of the waterbender dancers. As they lockstep into another twirl, all of their hands are still up and guiding the rogue wave across the starboard bow of the yacht. They pass it from waterbender to waterbender, streaming it with the melody as if it was a part of the song. Evera stares in amazement; how beautiful!
I.J. grins with curiosity at his waterbender partner; he wonders if this could be her first ever Rain Dance?
He continues leading her around the border of the deck, sweeping her back and forth with the music. With most of the crowd distracted by the wave, which is now being ceremoniously bended around the bride and groom, he brings his lips to her ear once again.
"Are you the one they sent from Ba Sing Se?" He whispers to her, "I wasn't sure the Dai Li had many waterbenders in their ranks."
"You'd be surprised." Evera whispers back, "You must be I.J. Lee."
"That's me," he says with that sly grin, continuing to waltz her around the dancefloor, "Listen. When dinner is served, we should meet in the back kitchen of the lounge inside. There are no guests allowed back there, no cameras, and the staff will be on break while these fat mole-cats eat."
"When is that supposed to be?" Evera asks, noting the man's intricately sewed headband lining across his forehead. She can see each delicate stitch in the embroidered Fire symbols as they disappear neatly under his thick locks of reddish-brown hair.
"It was suppose to be a half hour ago but these folks just won't go inside," He whispers again, "I guess I can't really blame them, it's a good party."
Evera thinks, the couple continuing to saunter gracefully around the outskirts of the deck. She is still very taken with this dance, and the strange joy that came with the conformity of the steps, not to mention the water wave that continues to be passed above them from dancer to dancer. The quartet plays on, and even the cellist and violinists are now standing and swaying to their own song.
STOMP! Evera's foot lands hard on I.J.'s shoe, causing them to slightly stumble out of place. She grits her teeth in apology.
"Come on, loosen up." He whispers playfully, "You may be the stiffest waterbender I've ever danced with."
"Sorry," Evera pipes back sarcastically, "We don't exactly do a lota' dancing while we guard the Palace walls." He shoots her back a cunning half-grin.
"In case you've forgotten," He continues, "this Watertribe dance is about freedom. It's a celebration of letting go, of accepting the changing tides as the best possible thing that can happen."
Evera thinks on this. Her eyes again fall on I.J.'s hand clasping gently over her own, the firered tape wrapped taught around his knuckles.
She recalls the vision she had seen, and the other visions as well. She remembers the beautiful black-haired woman and the smolder in her eyes, the joy that Evera could feel emanating off of her.
I.J. spins her out again, her feet filled with confidence this time. She twirls about with poise, reaching her hand up just as they all had before. CRASH! Another series of waves come hurtling into the side of the yacht. Evera grins a very real, satisfied grin.
Pulling her back into his arms to fight the new sway of the ship, he draws her in a little too close; chest to chest, breath to breath, continuing to rock her back and forth. A deep, strange feeling of something falls upon her; it pulls at her chest and tints a redness in her freckled olive skin. Her eyes meet I.J.'s sharpened stare again, the wind suddenly whipping all around them, lifting her thick braids and flapping at I.J.'s robes. A heaviness casts down upon them, and for a moment it feels as if he and Evera were alone in this vast sea, the only two standing on this grand stage of Chameleon Bay.
They twirl around each other again and again, Evera freeing her hand to wave it up and around the humid ocean air. She closes her eyes in an attempt to enjoy this fleeting moment, thinking again of the visions Korra had bestowed upon her, hoping to make it last just a little longer.
And as she spins, a hint of darkness begins falling over the ship. The afternoon sun that had once poured onto the party is rapidly shrinking down into a murky shade. Is it just that my eyes are closed, Evera asks herself, or did someone just turn out the lights?
She opens her eyes to find thick stormclouds gathering above the yacht. I.J. brings her back in from another spin and saunters her into the bulk of the crowd, but with every step Evera takes, the clouds above them seem to grow thicker and thicker.
Camouflaged in the sea of couples now, I.J. glances around him with a grin, observing the mysteriously changing weather. The blackened clouds are closing in fast on the open yacht as the ballad plays on, reaching its final verse.
Spinning her one last time, he shifts his weight and suddenly throws Evera backwards. She grabs onto him in shock as he guides her down into a deep, low, passionate dip to the floor. Her knee kicks out; nose to nose, eyes to eager eyes again...
BA-BOOOOM!
A huge CRASH of thunder echoes above the party, and as if on cue, a torrential cloudburst of rain begins UNLOADING onto the deck in a DOWNPOUR. The song pauses; the guests stop their dancing, some laughing, some screaming, their eyes all turning up to the suddenly black sky. But not I.J.'s- his eyes stay down on Evera. He pulls her up from the dip, their clothes getting heavier by the second with the soak of the falling rain.
Evera looks around; did she do this? Did her Avatar powers summon the rain, or was it the force of all the dancers combined?
She frees her hands away from I.J. She was on a mission, after all, and knows that she must remain careful around such a stranger, especially one who's helping in an investigation. She takes a look around at the chaos of the guests in the rain; the Water tribe families seem to be jovial and excited at the storm, but the Fire Nation partygoers are not so enthused. A fleet of bridesmaids surround the bride, bending a protective bubble shield around them to protect her exuberantly expensive dress. BOOOM! More thunder rolls in from the clouds.
As the water begins to build up at their feet, Evera catches her breath from their steamy tango and focuses it on the pooling water. She takes a heavy step out and closes her fists tight, curling her wrists up and out at the deck. The water all around them begins to freeze, suddenly turning the deck from a waterlogged yacht into a round rink of ice. Some of the Water Tribe guests love this; they run and skate their feet above the frozen deck and glide their partner around in a dizzying spin. But the majority of the party, especially the Fire families have had enough; they turn to carefully slide themselves across the ice and safely into the warm, dry interior of the dining lounge, away from the still-falling rain.
"That should hurry things along." Evera says, turning back to I.J. as they watch the crowd very quickly thin out. He smiles again, his famous sly grin crossing over his face.