A young goddess doubtful in her plan; a beast awakens in a boy, which transforms him into a man.
Korra moved her illuminated hands up and down Bolin's broken body for what seemed the hundredth time, letting her healing glow do its work. It'd been a week since the defeat of the Abdicator, and the poor earthbender still lay unconscious, victim to his broken body and the echoes in his mind.
Each of them had been hurt during that whole ordeal, but somehow, after the monster had been destroyed, it seemed like his helper-Mu Vhan? Whatever his name was- had perished with his teacher-their eternal bond severed. About a half hour passed before Asami had miraculous-Korra had to pinch herself to make sure she wasn't hallucinating from going into shock or something- came down the tunnel, with Tenzin and Lin, to their rescue. The metal bonds were cut instantly, and they limped/carried Bolin/ couldn't-get-away-fast-enough out of that forsaken place.
But that had been a week ago. And Bolin still hadn't woken up.
Kya had healed her sprained wrists and ankles, as well as the burns on both of them. The whip marks on Mako's back, however, Korra had painstakingly let her hands cease healing after endless hours, and finally came to accept that there would be scaring. Not that Mako 'gave a damn about some fucking scars' as he so put.
But Bolin's cracked ribs would have to heal the ol' fashion way. The monster hadn't been bluffing when he said that one bite from those snakes could kill anyone. Apparently, he had forgotten that Bolin didn't fall under the 'just anyone' category anymore. The venom would start to work its poison through his veins, which would cause a slow, painful paralyzes, until all the vital organs shut down under- normal circumstances.
Honestly, if Korra were being truthful with herself, she had thought Bolin had been dead at that point. The snake had been clamped around his throat, his face turning purple. He had choked horrible gasping noises, clawing at the air desperately-and Korra had never felt to helpless in her life, watching her friend being tortured like that. Because once those fangs had clamped down on Bolin's neck, his body had gone rigid, down to the floor, in little twitchy spasms. Until he had gone completely still.
Korra would have to say she'd thought they'd really lost him then.
But apparently, seeing a knife being thrown at his brother, had given Bolin enough adrenaline rush to put the toxins at bay for the time being. And the events that had happened next, Korra knew she would never be able to get those images out of her head: Bolin's screams. His horrible glowing eyes. The chanting. The fear in the monster's eyes. How his face had become a bomb ready to explode.
And then it was all over.
Korra shivered as the images went away, and forced herself to continue healing. Bolin was counting on her.
But the evil cocktail was back in full force now that it had the advantage of a very weakened, unconscious body. The process was just much slower than a 'normal person'. That, and whatever Bolin had done with his "lights show" as Verrick so nicely put, had zapped all his energy away.
But those hands. Those markings on Bolin's hands still glowed with their sickly red, and it was all Korra could do not to put her finger on them and see if her flesh would burn away.
Korra sighed as she readjusted the patient's pillows. She probed a clean needle into his flesh, and worked the water through it, into his bloodstream, trying to cleanse out the poison.
She'd finally gotten Mako to leave his bedside so she could heal in peace, without the firebender's frantic eyes and nagging. Because apparently she was going it wrong, and had no idea how to heal at all.
The young Avatar took a deep breath, and with a wave of her hands, the water came back out, now stained dark with the horrible substance. She bent the tainted water into a tin to be deposed of later, and rubbed her pounding temples. All this excessive healing and stress, mixed with a lack of sleep, was really taking a toll on her chi. She found herself actually wanting to meditate. Ever since Harmonic Convergence, Korra had felt a sense of...not peace, per se, but a feeling of intuitiveness within her. She could always ask Raava for advice and guidance, and when she was doubting herself-such as lately- Raava was always a good friend to talk to.
As confident as Korra appeared on the outside, to those who knew her, her self-doubt and criticism lay just beneath the surface. She had been so sure of herself in her plan to leave the Spirit Portals open during the time being, but now...Resent events, and the still lingering stares of hatred directed at herself and her friends, followed by numerous riots in the past four months since the New Age, had caused her to look inward even further.
Had she made the right choice?
Like a bird picking at her brain, her thoughts always went back to That Question. The one people scoffed at her for on the streets wherever she went. The one people tried to kill Bolin for, and caused eleven children to be slaughter mercilessly.
The Question that Changed the world.
Korra put a hand to her heart once the voice of her soul spoke to her. Raava, like a mother's love, like a father's bravery, guiding her on her wayward path-
Do not fear, dear Korra. Even Wan had his doubts, and every Avatar after him. This was your decision alone, and I for one, think it was meant to be.
"But everyone hates me now. I got their children killed, I brought Spirits into their lives! It's not like I let anyone have a say in any of this," she exclaimed, "You should see the way they look at me-"
Change takes time, Korra. Peace and acceptance shall come. Maybe not for a long while, but like the seasons, it will happen. You must have courage.
Korra rubbed her eyes, as she glanced at Bolin's still form. "I haven't felt courageous in a long time, Raava. Maybe you should be the Avatar instead."
Now, now. Come. Let us go meditate. You need to gain back your strength.
Korra took one last glance at Bolin, to see if he needed anything else before she left. She knew the second she walked out the door, Mako would probably barge right in and let no one else come in. He was probably sitting in the hall right now, thinking of ways for her to allow him back inside.
She squeezed Bolin's hand encouragingly."I'll be back later, Bo," she whispered, " We're all so proud of you. Please come back to us soon."
And with that, she walked out the door-to be met with a certain firebender shouldering past her, and slamming it shut- and made her way to the gazebo, lit up by the stars.
His eyes flutter open, to the pounding in his head. For a moment, he is blissfully forgetful of everything. He thinks he's waking up in the morning in his bed back at his apartment, sore from a rough probending match.
But everything really hurts and he doesn't know why. He's not in his apartment; the Air Temple room smells like rubbing alcohol and dirty bandages, and when he tries to move he feels ready to explode.
He groans, and shifts his eyes left, then right, taking in his surroundings. He turns his eyes down at his hands.
He screams.
The symbols are still there on both of his palms and wrists, shining bright like crimson, and, he tries to scratch them off, they need to come off! but he's still screaming and then the door is bursting open and Mako and Korra are running into the room in a panic.
"Bolin-"
"What is it-
"Ahhhh! Get them off-
"Bo, stop, you gotta calm down-"
"No!"
And then the mirror shatters into a billion pieces.
He's still thrashing against their hands holding him down, and he's trying to get them off but they won't let go, and-
"They're still there." he pants desperately, "Why are they still there? Get them off me!"
They give him a minute to catch his breath and Mako and Korra share a concerned glance at each other.
Korra is the first to answer him, as she sits on the edge of his bed. "Bolin," she begins, "I'm sorry. We can't get them off. A Spirit...A Spirit told me they were permanent."
And silence echoes like pinpricks.
"You...you have to kill me." he says, nearly begging. "Please."
"What?!" Bolin's not sure who yells loudest.
"You guys have to kill me. It's the only way." he closes his eyes.
"H-how can you say that?!" Mako demands, "I'd die myself before I let that happen!"
"Yeah," Korra adds, "And I'd kill any Avatars who come after me for letting it happen! No way, Bolin!"
"You guys don't get it. It's my fault this all happened. The Abdicator wouldn't have killed those kids if not for me! I'm a monster."
In the end, there was nothing they could say to convince Bolin that he was not at fault. After getting food and water into him, Mako managed to help him walk around a bit. No words were said as they went around the halls, Bolin leaning heavily on the elder brother's shoulder. Then, they heard some commotion from outside, and against their better judgment, went to take a look.
They opened the doors to the courtyard to a mass a lights and cameras blinking at them. Reporters yelled at them and stuck notepads in their faces.
"Child Killer!
"Child Killer!"
A man shown a light in his face, "Bolin, what really happened back there? Where you, or were you not, working with the Abdicator?"
Bolin blanched. Mako pushed the man away.
"Of course he was!" a woman a screamed, pushing her way through the mass of people, "He's a monster! He killed my baby!"
Bolin was about to say something, when another microphone was stuck in his face, "Bolin, can you defend this statement?"
"I-w-what?" he groaned, blinking away the harsh lights. He sways, and Mako steadies him.
"My brother is innocent!" Mako exclaims, "He's risked his life for those children! All he did was try to help!"
"C'mon, Bo," he mumbled in his ear, "Let's go."
Bolin starts to turn, but then she speaks up.
"Wait, please! My Nyla! Tell me you've seen her Spirit." The woman is a mess, with tears running down her face and limp hair.
Just before the door closes, he says quietly, "I have," he says, "Don't worry, I'm taking care of her."
He gets inside and collapses in a dead faint.
It's two days later, and he should still be resting. But he runs off (more like limps off) the Island during a rainstorm, to his childhood haunts.
If Mako were here, he'd try to help him. (Actually, no. He'd yell at him for being stupid and getting himself more sick and hurt and worrying him and everything else first) Bolin knows he doesn't deserve it. He's too dangerous.
But Mako is not here, and the air and heat are gone from Bolin's chest, replaced with images like rivers of hot iron, poured into his body and left to harden in the milk of his bones. Oh, he doesn't really want to remember, but of course- of course- it's all he can think of.
-Nyllaaaaa...Come out, come out wherever you are...-
-teeth tearing apart his flesh, and mother's tears and souls exploding, and white-hot hate-
-rolling heads, and endless dark, the lights coming too fast; then the screams-
Bolin puts his head in his hands- his Spirit-damned, cursed hands that bleed fire-and he can't stop it. Rainy evenings like these so overrun and interwoven, and flooded into him, bring the memories back with such accuracy and efficiency- Poppa had forgotten the umbrellas that night; the alleyway was quicker-that it stuns him, bowls him over like a top-sized boat. (Rain can wash blood away quite fast, but leave a horrid smell.) Maybe it's because he was so young when it happened, younger than Mako; maybe it's because he is so young now.
Or maybe it's because they were all so young.
Their lives ripped away like a scab; stolen fresh before lessons were even learned, before regrets sunk in. Before life even started.
He finds it funny in a cruel way, that it would rain so heavily after a massive amount of deaths-like a funeral of sorts. That the sky would cry, because the sky sees all. That the silly sky would cry for its lost creatures, and penetrate the earth with her tears to help life grow in the place of what was lost.
Bolin sticks his hand out, past the roof shadowing him, into the line of rain. His palm toward the sky, fingers twitching. Water meets his tattooed palm, and sizzles, bubbles over like a pot.
He draws his hand back in.
He knows that, if Mako knew- if he would talk to Mako- he would help him. Try to help him. Try to understand- to reach into the growing void inside him that is pushing everyone and thing away, drowning him under crimson seas- and bring him back. Mako's yellow eyes and stickly warmth, constant- home;safe;love- a summer day, his arms and hands that carry him through darkness better than any god-Mako would try to help him, if he were here. If he would talk to him. Talk to anyone.
Talk to anyone alive.
I'm an adult now, he tells himself, repeating it so it'll sink in. I'm in adult, I have to be strong. He knows for sure he must never let Mako see him cry again. He's cried too much in the past months. He tries to calm himself, breathing deep and shallow. The memory of ashy cigarettes creep up and he coughs. He closes his eyes. (eyes, eyes, stop, never again, strong, never again)
He must ignore the ghosts-
-Crash! Thunder shakes the world-
-must control the visions-
-the wind picks up and howls against the windowpanes-
-Cannot blow anything else up-
must never get
angry again-
(Don't/think/about/ it, stop, NEVER AGAIN)
Lightning booms right by him, illuminating the whole alleyway, and he shakes.
(Hemustcutoffhishands)
Child Killer!
"NO!" he screams, because no one can hear him except the sky.
A cackles echoes in the night.
He freezes. He knows that voice. He turns his head slowly, eyes flickering. There at the end of the alleyway, in a swaying form, like wispy webs he floats.
The stench of alcohol burns his nose. Bolin chokes back a sob.
His horrid lips pull back into a ashy smirk.
"Oh, Number Twelve. You didn't think you could escape me that easily, did you?"
Sorry this chapter sucked, guys! But please check out my sequel to this story called,"Quintessence". The first two chapters will be up today!