I swear, this fandom is totally awesome. Thanks for reviewing, everyone—every review is appreciated, whether it's short or long, reviewing the writing style or just saying that you enjoy it. It's great knowing that people are enjoying this story, and I'm always glad to hear about it! Disclaimer: I don't own LOK or any associated characters.
Chapter Six
"Bolin?"
"Yeah, Korra?"
They are sitting on the cold rocks below the temple, overlooking Yue Bay, trying to catch the last timid rays of sun. Another storm is on the way, and Korra wants to enjoy the fair-ish weather while she can. Spirits know that the last monsoon left plenty of damage: leaves and sticks and branches littering the island, uprooted trees in the city park, patches of grass turned to mud overnight. Days have passed since then—two days, or is it three?
"Um..." She almost doesn't ask it. Almost hesitates, but she can't bring herself not to ask. "What do you think about the Avatar, ah..."
"What?" Bolin breaks a stick in half, chucks the other piece away. They both watch it fall.
"What do you think about the Avatar having sex?"
There. She's said it.
Bolin flushes, only slightly. Korra feels weirdly proud of him for that, for not getting embarrassed and turning scarlet and stuttering.
"Well," Bolin begins, then pauses. "What do you mean? Like...you?"
"Not me," Korra says, maybe a little too quickly. "Just...Avatars. In general. I mean, we're supposed to be all spiritual. And pure—Master Katara always told me that the Avatar is the purest bender in the world."
"Avatars obviously have...sex, Korra. I mean, Aang and Katara clearly went at it—how do you think Tenzin and his siblings came to be?"
"Right." Korra tries to force that unpleasant image out of her head. "Yeah. You're right, Bolin."
And he is right—of course he's right. Aang and Katara had obviously gotten down to business; she had borne him three children.
But that's different. That was love.
The voice in Korra's head is high and whiny; she can't seem to silence it.
"They were married, though," She says, immediately regretting it.
"Different times," Bolin replies easily. "Nobody's a virgin on their wedding night anymore."
It's different for you, Korra thinks miserably. Bolin isn't the Avatar—Republic City's eyes are not constantly trained on him. His mistakes aren't judged by the city's most influential citizens. And moreover, he isn't anyone spiritual savior. There is something very pure about being the Avatar, Korra has been taught, and she can't help but worry that she's ruined that.
"Thanks, Bo." She's never called him Bo before. It feels funny, like a pet name. There is a brief silence, and then Korra says, "It's lonely here, isn't it?"
She almost expects him to protest, but instead Bolin nods.
"Especially at night."
"I'm scared."
"Me too." He pauses. "Scared of what?"
Korra stares out across the flat gray-blue water. There's another storm coming; low clouds roil over the city already, moving towards the island.
"Scared of something."
Neither of them know exaclty what.
When Tahno sees the Avatar approaching from across the park, his heart skips a beat.
What the hell, Tahno? He's acting like a nervous teenager. Praying that he doesn't blush (or further embarras himself), Tahno stands swiftly and gives her a friendly smile.
Dusk is falling across the city's sprawling park. Paper lanters glow and sway in distant trees, like strange lightning bugs.
"I'm glad that you could come."
"I lied to Tenzin," Korra says. She wears a coat over her blue tunic. Naga is not with her. "I told him that I was going to the city library."
"He doesn't know that it's closed?"
Korra shifts her gaze to the ground. "Does it matter?"
She had agreed to meet him here, but Tahno felt her hesitation. The silence between them hung awkward and heavy.
"So, ah..."
"Let's walk around," Korra suggests, and so they trace a path through the darkness, around the lake. Republic City's lights gleam behind them, illuminating Korra's earnest brown face, her sharp eyes.
"How has training been going?" Tahno asks, just to be polite. He doesn't really care. In the end, the Avatar will always win. He pretends to not believe it, but he does. He does beleive. It's all he has, really...that belief. Good will win.
Won't it?
"Fine." Korra says briskly, and then, "Look—you're not fooling me with this nice-guy act. What do you want to talk about?"
"I..."
"Is this about you taking my virginity?" She stops and turns to face him.
Tahno swallows hard. "Well, to be honest..."
Korra stares at him, unrelenting.
"Yes." Tahno admits. With caution, he adds, "I feel as if I've violated you."
"What? Why?" Korra scowls. "I'm a consenting adult."
"You're not," Tahno reminds her, his voice gently. "You're still a girl. Young. Innocent."
He sounds stupid—he's three years older than her, not three decades.
Korra turns away, her face hard and impassible.
"Nobody's a virgin on their wedding night anymore."
This surprises Tahno. He knows that there is a double standard for this type of thing. Out in the countryside, especially, young men are expected to have "relations" with women, but a girl who sleeps around is a whore, a bringer of shame to her family.
He stares into the darkness, remembering.
"So...pro-bending, huh?" Ty Su traces her fingernails across Tahno's arm, her lips twisting into a smirking smile. "I'll bet you're headed for Republic City."
"Maybe."
They are standing in the semi-darkness behind her parent's home. It's after market day, the chaos just now winding down. Evening, dusky. Pink clouds in the eastern sky.
Tu Su is a pretty girl—straight, shoulder-length black hair, eyes like river rocks—but Tahno can't quite figure out why all of his friends go on and on about her.
"What do you want to do now?" She asks.
Tahno is about to say 'I should be going about now', but then she reaches down and lifts up her black tunic. She's not wearing undergarments. In the wan light, her breasts are full and round and white. Tahno feels himself harden instantly, feels a hot flash of guilt. He doesn't know Ty Su well.
He knows why his friends go on and on about her now.
"Touch me," She whispers. He doesn't know what to do, not really; but he's fifteen now, six full moons away from turning sixteen. He knows enough. His hands fumble a little. Ty Su slides her hand into his waistband. Their breaths are heavy and panting; something tightens in Tahno's stomach, and a moment later he comes into Ty Su's hand, letting out a low whimper.
He tries to touch her fervently, lustily, and it is admittedly arousing to watch her squirm and moan as he pushes his fingers inside her. She's not a virgin. Obviously. He knows that she's been around, that she's done this with maybe dozens of other boys, but it's no use. She lets out a high scream and comes against his hand. Tu Su kisses Tahno hard, sliding her tongue into his mouth. He's sure that she's going to go further, but then they hear voices approaching.
They scramble apart. Tahno fumbles to straighten his hair and clothing, but Ty Su easily picks up a nearby bag of onions. Tahno's mother and father approach; the neighbors walk beside them.
"Mother, Father." Tahno dips his head in a bow, praying that they don't suspect anything.
"Hello," Ty Su bows politely, smiling. "Thank you for the onions, Tahno."
She turns and walks away. Tahno forces a smile—it's a smile that vanishes when his father says,
"Have you heard the news? Jai-Li Sang is going to be married."
"What?" Tahno doesn't know why he's surprised. He tails them back to the farmhouse, listens as they gossip endlessly about the groom-to-be (a wealthy boy from a neighboring village)...it was arranged between the families, you know. A bit secretive about the entire affair, but they've got so much money, it's not as if anyone's going to say anything...
He goes to bed that night feeling strangely empty, unsatisfied. Previous nights, he'd lain awake, watching the moon fall on the fields beyond the window, shamelessly touched himself, thinking of fucking girls with full breasts and red lips, feeling their tightness, their mouths on him...
Invariably, his thoughts would wander to Jai-Li, and Tahno would feel awkward and guilty. Better to picture a nameless, faceless girl. Obviously, real sex was different. It wasn't only heat and want; it was also the buildup of need and the white-out of finally coming, and, apparently, an empty feeling when it was all over. Tahno turns over in bed, listens to his brothers and sisters mumble and squirm in their sleep—their innocent sleep—and tries not to think about Jai-Li Sang.
"You don't understand," Tahno tells Korra. They've moved into a darker section of park, far from the lamplight. "It's complicated."
"What is? Sleeping with someone?" Korra hears the tight, angry quality to her voice. "You fucked me, Tahno. You fucked me and you—"
"Don't say that," A pained look crosses Tahno's face. "Don't say it like...that."
"You're unbelievable." Korra turns to face him, reads the hurt and surprise in Tahno's eyes. "You really are."
She sounds brittle, about to be pushed over the edge, and maybe she wants to fall.
"Korra..." Tahno reaches out, extends a hand to touch her, to hold her arm. Korra steps away, her chest cold with rage.
"Get away from me."
Confusion.
"Now."
Tahno doesn't move. Korra turns on her heel, is moving away (is she running? Jogging? Walking quickly?) and then she is making her way through the darkening park. A group of people are listening to a flute player, gathering around a low knoll, and Korra pushes past them, barely able to see through her coursing rage. The anger is white-hot.
She does not return to Air Temple Island. There would be too many questions, the Airbabies asking her where she's been, why, why is she blushing—she's not crying is she?
They are too young to possibly understand.
Korra finds herself downtown, dodging streetcars, numb to the blur of the city. There are elbows, faces passing within her line of vision; a crowded street, downtown, below the darkness.
She turns onto a side-street, is passing a dimly-lit teahouse when someone whistles and, a moment later, slaps her hard on the ass.
Korra wheels, murder in her eyes. A boy stands behind her, rough-looking, his hair cut brutally short. He wears a grin, almost sheepish.
"Did you just slap me?"
Sheepishness vanished in an instant, he leers.
"You want some of this, honey?" Gesturing towards his pants. In another time, another place, Korra might have challanged him to a fight, her voice full of bright, innocent justice and clarity—fighting for what's right, for what's good.
Not anymore.
She steps forward and punches him.
Hard.
"Ow! Fuck!" The boy stumbles, holding his jaw. Korra readies herself, prepared to use her firebending, earthbending, anything...
He's a nonbender. She realizes it almost at once, a brutal realization—he's ready to use his fists, not earth, not air, not fire or water. She can't use bending now, not against this boy.
Korra raises her fists, ready to fight back with punches, kicks. The boy, holding his jaw, stares at her in disbelief. When he swings, Korra is ready.
They skirmish wildly, throwing punches, launching kicks. Korra catches him again and again; he gets in some good blows, almost knocks her off balance. They move into an alley. Punches. Korra tastes blood. She avoids kicking him in the privates, knowing how much that would hurt.
She doesn't want to hurt him.
She wants to feel release.
This isn't about some young man who slapped her ass in front of a teahouse, and Korra knows it.
It's about Tahno.
He finds himself hunched over a wooden bar, staring into the depths of a ceramic cup of sake.
Yes.
This is good.
No.
This is irresponsible.
He already feels a little drunk—just a little, he hasn't reached the point of total inebriation. Tahno has always prided himself on remaining in control, even when he's intoxicated.
A little sake never hurt anyone.
That bitch.
He can't shake Korra's face from his mind—that face, tight and brittle with anger, with some kind of...
Hatred? Hatred for Tahno? He can't imagine—the thought of Korra hating him makes Tahno feel lightheaded, feel awful, empty and hollow.
There was a time when he enjoyed the thought that other probenders disliked him, envied him...relished in their envy. Got off on it.
Not anymore.
He slumps a little lower, drinks more sake. This is a little better. Tahno begins to feel light, disconnected from his body. There is a pleasant fog blanketing his mind, clouding out the sorrow, the bitterness.
"Hey." A smoky voice, low and husky. Someone slides onto the barstool beside Tahno's. He glances up, registers a young woman.
She says it again. "Hey."
She's talking to him. Tahno blinks.
"Hey."
She's wearing a red dress, fringed, black hair tumbling across pale, exposed shoulders. A unlit cigarette dangles from bloodred lips.
"Never seen you here before." There is an easy, sophisticated drawl to her voice, something casually high-class. Her eyes are dark, half-closed. She looks at once lazy and uncaring and beautiful.
It is a girly beauty, very feminine.
She slides closer. They talk briefly. Are names exchanged? Tahno won't remember later. He doesn't think so—no, no, they weren't, can't have been, because she sure as hell doesn't recognize him as the ex-Wolfbat that he is.
When she kisses him, Tahno doesn't protest.
He knows how it goes—they will stay here, in the smoky, dim bar, and kiss, and then go back to her apartment, or maybe fool around, and in the end he'll be sated but not satisfied.
Her hand slides up his leg. Tahno flinches away, places his hands on her shoulders.
"I'm sorry."
"What?" She removes the cigarette.
"I can't." He says. "I can't, I'm sorry."
Tahno leaves, wanders around a poorly-lit portion of downtown. There are other bars open; he hears people singing, laughing, the clink of glasses. The distant jangle of music.
A few months ago, Tahno would have swaggered, would have a girl hanging off of his right arm, his left. Would take them home at the end of the night—maybe one, maybe both.
Maybe not both.
He would have sneered and drank and looked down on those who were less than him—less of a bender, less of a man. He would have hidden easily behind a facade of confidence, confidence bordering on cruelty. And behind it, of course, Tahno would have felt slightly hollow, almost guilty for putting up this wall, this mask of superiority.
But those days are over, and Tahno has done his time, waking up in a cold sweat with the feel of Amon's thumb against his forehead, he's done his time and he's moved on. It's over, it's done with.
Not quite though, the voice in Tahno's head chimes in airily. You'll never really get over it, Tahno.
And Tahno knows that the voice is telling the truth; that he will never really get over this, the loss of his bending. He's no longer a Wolfbat, no longer a probender—and that was as much a part of his identity as his hair, or his eyes.
It's getting late, and Tahno doesn't feel like staying out until the small hours of the morning, and so he walks (drunkenly) home and lets himself into the apartment, and then falls asleep half-clothed (his shirt being discarded halfway between the doorway and his bed), and allows a thick, dreamless sleep to overtake him.
Korra winds up in the back room of a small teahouse downtown, wrapping her wounded hands in tape and strips of canvas bandage. The owner was kind to let her in.
She goes into the washroom, stands over the sink for a while. There is dried blood under her nose, one eye already blackening. She'll have to explain to Tenzin—make up a bullshit story, hope that he'll believe her.
Her gaze is steady and ice-blue, and full of sadness. This isn't the girl who left the Southern Water Tribe all those months ago. That girl wouldn't pick a fight, wouldn't feel so awful over a stupid boy.
Korra stares at her reflection in the mirror, shamed when it blurs with unbidden tears. This isn't the girl that she used to be. This isn't the Avatar.
Korra doesn't know who she had become, and it scares her.
Another chapter! Sorry that it took so damn long—finally home from a long road trip with my family! Please review and let me know what you think!