Title: Two - Korra Alone
Word Count: 1,910 words
Rating: T (for language)
Notes: Korracentric view on what she's going through in Eps 1 & 2. These episodes were so emotional for me! What Korra is going through is tough-I wanted to flesh out a little of what (I think) is going thorough her head. A bit of Makorra (of COURSE)-it's there but just a taste since we've been having a drought.
Everyone knows that Korra has nightmares. It's not a secret and there was no way that Korra could have kept it a secret, even if she tried.
She was never a stranger to physical pain and for her entire life, she was a 'grin and bear it' kind of girl. No screaming, that was for wussies.
But when she would bolt upright in the middle of the night, her hands tangled in her hair as if she could pull the disturbing images out of her head from the roots of her long, thick locks…she barely recognized the wail that burst from her lips.
She never spoke about what they were about, specifically, but she knew the general consensus was that she was terrified of the….incident, and of going into the Avatar State.
They were only partially right, but Korra never speaks of it. Instead, she wheels herself around the Palace and tries to smile when she runs into someone.
The expression feels fake, cheap, and plastic.
….
Korra is a stranger in her own body—she has no control over her actions and she can't stop what's happening. She is her beautiful, larger-than-life, gargantuan self—the true Avatar Korra. Her presence radiates a bright, harsh spiritual light and her eyes are cold. cold. cold.
She watches in horror as the Avatar assaults Air Temple Island. A giant, clenched hand swats the bison that's trying to save Tenzin and his family. She stomps onto the beach and grabs the Airship that Asami is piloting, hurtling it into ocean. The Avatar roars as the parachute flashes in the distance.
The earth splits under her fists and Bolin disappears instantly—a blast of fire from her gaping mouth incinerates her Father's body first—he tries to shield her Mother but she vaporizes instantly after. The Avatar slams her fists together—the shockwave sends an elderly Katara flying into debris.
A flash of red catches the Avatar's eye—her head snaps towards the source. Mako is hanging on for dear life; his fingers are clutching for handholds in the rock face as his scarf flutters in the wind.
Korra's throat is hoarse from screaming…at this point, all she can do is sob when the Avatar's lips curl up in a mocking smile. She is effortlessly graceful as she bends down, cradling Mako within her monstrous palm. Slowly and deliberately, her fingers snap closed, one by one as that smile turns into something sinister.
….
Her lips are chapped, her skin is sunburnt, and the soles of her feet are blistered and aching, but all Korra cares about is sleep.
And of course, sleep never comes when it's wanted.
In a bored effort to occupy her mind since sleep isn't an option, Korra's mind wanders…she thinks of home.
She thinks of Asami, who is probably hunched over her desk, overworking herself, as usual. There are probably twelve pencils stuck in her hair like a strange, pointy halo—an odd habit that Asami tends to do when she's distracted and working on something new. She always reaches for a new pencil and forgets that she stuck the last one in her bun.
She thinks of Bolin, who is most likely be…eating. Or perhaps something more romantic, like stargazing with Opal. Or eating? With Opal? A small smile flits across Korra's face—knowing that Bo is being taken care of brings her comfort.
And, she thinks Mako, who would be just getting home from a long day's work. Korra grins to herself, softly, because she knows he would have burdened himself with papers and folders and boxes full of fried noodles. And that he'd be swearing at himself because OF COURSE, he forgot the mustard. AGAIN. (It was always her job to remind him about that, before the left the shop.)
She can practically picture him dropping everything onto his dining table with a loud, aggravated sigh. His eyebrows would be furrowed, as usual, but as he unbuttoned his jacket, one button a time, his expression would slowly relax. Slowly.
He'd carefully hang his jacket up on the hanger waiting on the wall, but the rest of the process wasn't as precise. His crisp, white, officer's shirt comes with collar pins and cufflinks—gold to match the buttons of his jacket. He unfastens these quickly, tossing them into a small bowl onto the counter. The shirt itself is also unbuttoned swiftly; his deft fingers would be used to the ins-and-outs of the buttonholes by now.
What Mako wouldn't rush, which also happens to be Korra's favorite part, is the shrugging off of his shirt. He would roll his shoulders back, stretching his stiff muscles, and slowly pull his arms out, the right one first, then the left. He would have neglected to wear an undershirt, of course, and the lines of his back would shift deliciously as he balled up said shirt, tossing it onto the couch. His defined shoulders would taper smoothly to his waist—she could imagine that his hip bones would be peeking up from his waistband.
And of course, Korra thinks to herself, it would have been a ridiculously hot day in Republic City. It would be only natural if everything came off. Right? Right.
She imagines that he'd walk over to the shower, turning the water on full-blast. The button to his trousers would open and the he'd pull the zipper down slowly before stepping out of them—he'd be wearing boxers. Light grey. Regulation? Probably not—they had light blue stripes. Just as she pictured him slipping the light cotton off of his hips, she tentatively slid her hand under her own waistband…
Suddenly, there's a flash—everything is dark except for Her. Her ominous eyes, silently glowing are the only thing that Korra can see. Her mouth was expressionless but Korra KNEW that the corners—they'd be turned up, ever so slightly. And Her elegantly slim fingers would be snapping shut, one by one.
Violently shaken out of her daydream, Korra groans, and flips over.
This has got to stop.
….
Korra is freaking pissed off. She dodges left, jumps right, but it isn't the same—she feels old, stiff, and rusty. She desperately wants to land a blow but nothing is falling into place. Her movements are starting to flounder in fatigue.
"Is that all you've got?" Korra shouts as she gasps, her hands up.
She says nothing, as usual. She flicks the chains on her wrist; Korra moves a split second too late—she's sent flying into the wall.
Get up get up get up get up, her mind screams, but her body is weak—her arms give out and a bell tolls.
….
The cracked mirror makes her black eye look even worse. No amount of water bending healing is going to speed this one up; it'll have to heal on its own.
As she smoothes a bubble of healing water over her forearm, she can't help but think of a previous time she had sported a black eye from an Earthbender—it was one of the Fire Ferret's early matches. A loss (her fault); She had failed to block the spinning disk and it had hit her square in the face. She had sulked out of the arena and had tried to escape as quickly to the locker room before he stopped her in the hallway.
"Korra, you've got to move your hips—you're so stiff," he had exclaimed, placing his helmet on the ground. "Look, you've got to twist, then at least you can dodge the disks and stay on your feet."
Before she knew it, he had two gloved hands on her hips. They slid upwards to grasp her firmly around the waist as he swiveled her body back and forth. "You can't force it, you've got to go with the flow. Korra—are you even listening to me?"
She had meekly (or perhaps awkwardly—oh definitely, it was awkwardly) managed a few okays before he accepted that she understood, and stalked off to the locker room himself.
Korra shakes her head. She had been so embarrassed! A black eye and Mako was right up in her face. Not the best way to present yourself to the guy you can't stop thinking about, but even through gloves—his touch was electric.
A loud pounding on the door makes her drop the water back into the sink and she twists to shout at the man outside.
Yep, still stiff. She'd have to work on that.
….
There is NOTHING she wants more than to END this.
She grits her teeth, swinging a boulder right at Her, but of course it misses. As usual, She just stands there. Her face is impassive but She looks determined. Korra tries to control her breathing a little more—this isn't going to be easy.
'I've got this,' she tries to reassure herself, 'Don't I? I'm…the Avatar.'
Her poster is menacing; Her shoulders are hunched up and Her fists are clenched. She hurtles forward, suddenly, and Korra slices water at Her body—she remembers at the last second to throw her hip into it—and the second slice is devastatingly harder and faster than the first.
She doesn't even feel it. She simply phases to the left and continues her onslaught of the elements.
Korra starts to panic now; she's in the air hanging on for dear life—she can't help but think that this is exactly like her dreams and that She is going to grab her with her massive hand and snap her fingers shut one by one.
'Oh shit—I can't do this. I'm not the freaking Avatar, SHE is,' Korra thinks rapidly, 'I'm just some dumb, pathetic water-tribe girl who lets everyone down and can't even—'
Her eyes are wide with fear as she feels chains wrap around her feet, pulling her downward. As she she feels herself being swallowed by the body of Poison, Korra reaches for the sky—everything fades to black.
A/N: I kind of feel like Korra WANTS to to be the Avatar and she's not afraid of being the Avatar, it's the other parts that fill her with self doubt. The fact that she can't control it, that the Air Nation is out keeping the peace, the fact that her friends are out living while she's relearning how to walk. The idea that she's not good enough and that she's got to live up to some ideal. I'm thinking that these insecurities are whats manifesting as the big, bad, Avatar presence. But idk. I'm just sitting here typing while I drink my coffee~