The air is tinged with moats of dust and music notes. Kuvira slides from one note to the next in time with the saxophone. Her glitzy, green sequined dress glimmers in the spotlights as she slowly sways her hips to the beat of the song. It is a nightly endeavor, and a good way to pass her time. Since her days of conquer have come to a close, she occupies herself with song and dance. It is both solace and discomfort to be in front of an adoring crowd. To swap one kind of performance for another is somewhat disorienting.
With eyes lined lightly with glittering charcoal, she scans the crowd for a particular face. She finds Korra in the very front. She gives Kuvira a wave and Kuvira flashes a smile. She slides her hand down the mic stand and then back up to where she curls her fingers around the microphone.
She holds her note for a few beats before letting her voice fade out, her final note resonates about the theater.
She is met with familiar claps and cheers. In some sense she feels as though she is still The Great Uniter. It brings both a sense of power and a feeling of nausea. She sets the feeling aside; tonight's mood is smooth and suave and she needs to fill the image lest her musical career take a downward spiral.
She draws a golden pipe and takes a drag to calm her sudden burst of nervousness before making her parting statements. She bids her audience a good night and safe trips home. The flutters in her stomach refuse to subside, even as the room begins to clear.
She doesn't know why she does this.
No. That isn't strictly true.
Jazz is an art form that she cherishes; on several occasions it had saved her life. Had helped fill an emptiness. The music filled her bed after Baatar had left it. If offered her warmth where her parents didn't.
So it is a dream to perform jazz. To see that look of admiration and comfort in the eyes of her audience.
It isn't the music that unsettles her so. It is the idolization. The way a few of her listeners put her on a pedestal.
The fanatic sort of worship.
The familiarity of their fanatic looks unsettles her deeply. Coaxing that unhealthy sense of unquestioning admiration is a chapter of her life that she is trying to close.
Korra is waiting for her backstage.
Somewhat shaky and with images of domination and conquer resurfacing, Kuvira kicks off her heels and slips out of that uncomfortable form-hugging dress. She takes another drag before dressing herself in something light in formality and heavy in comfortability.
"You did great tonight." Korra remarks as she massages Kuvira's shoulders. She presses a kiss to her neck. "You always do."
"Thank you." Kuvira replies quietly.
"What's wrong?" Korra asks. "It really was an amazing show. I liked the little dance…"
"It's not that." Kuvira puts her pipe aside. "It's the way that they look at me...it reminds me of…" She had no doubt that they'd do anything she asks of them just because they love what she can do with her voice. Just because she can sing.
"Need a break from the spotlight?"
"Yes, something like that..." Kuvira trails off. She finds herself a seat.
Korra plops down next to her and rubs her rigid shoulders some more. "Try to relax, you're so tense." She coos. Her voice is soothing. It reminds Kuvira of when she had awoke in the Spirit World in the woman's arms. "It's nothing like that. You're not like that anymore, if that's what you're worried about." She takes in Kuvira's expression. "I can see it in your eyes. You just like the music." She works to unravel the tight braided bun that Kuvira has her hair fashioned in, muttering something about a crazy amount of bobby pins.
"Thank you, Korra." She feels some of the stress leave her body. The Avatar always seems to know how to talk her down.
"Do you want to grab some dinner?" Korra asks.
"Dinner sounds nice." Something with candles might take more edge off of her antsy mood.
Korra gives a soft smile and wraps her arms around Kuvira's torso. The earthbender leans into her, trying to get comfy. Spirits, she doesn't know why people assume that she hates cuddles. Sometimes she simply craves the contact. Korra nestles her head in the crook of Kuvira's neck.
"We're going to have to leave before they close the venute." Korra notes.
"I'm quite comfortable here."
"Our sofa is nice too…"
"I'd like to wait out the crowd." Kuvira counters. "They can wait a few minutes to lock up."
"I guess." Korra caves with a laugh.
Kuvira cups her hand over Korra's and closes her eyes. She feels the Avatar's finger brush and stroke the skin beneath.
She exhales.
On nights like these, she must admit that she likes being backstage much more than the performances themselves.
"Whenever you're ready."
"Just a few more minutes." Kuvira replies, as Korra strokes her hair. "Just a few more minutes…"