Dance On Our Graves
Chapter 4
Asami Sato is even more beautiful in person than Mako made her out to be. Hana feels a little put out standing next to her. Asami is made up of soft lines, fair curves and molten green eyes that flit like a temptress. Hana is harsh in comparison. Her body is lean, taut with feminine muscle, her hair straight to her shoulders and her lashes girlishly long instead of mature and sleek. But Asami is as sweet as she is striking, and she wastes no time making Hana feel beautiful.
There's a gala being held for Avatar Korra this evening. Hana's ribs are almost healed. She can at least walk around –which means she'll be Bolin's date for the night. Their cover story if anyone asks is that they're all old friends. That Hana moved away for a few years and is back visiting. Mako doesn't think anyone will ask, but it comforts Hana to have a plan. The next order of business after creating an alibi was to look presentable. Hana has never done the whole pretty business. She has all the right mechanics for it, she supposes. Her mother's soft face, the thick, shining hair, her father's pale blue eyes and smooth skin –it's just she's never had to arrange any of these features into anything worth while. Her life has been about survival and preparation. She hasn't had opportunities to wear make up or dress up.
Thankfully, that's where Asami has swooped in to save the day.
Hana is a little uncomfortable with the whole ordeal, but Asami talks enough for the both of them. She's friendly but firm. Much like her upbringing. She's explained that she's learned how to take care of herself from an early age. Something Hana can admire and relate to. It only takes an hour for her to warm up to the young heiress, and the bitterness about having her in on her identity eases. It was Mako's decision to tell Asami about the Arai Society. He insisted she could be trusted. Now, Hana thinks he was probably right.
"You look wonderful," Asami gushes and spins her around to look in the mirror.
Hana turns. A gasp flutters from her mouth. Staring back at her is a woman she doesn't recognize. Her hair is piled on top of her head like a blossoming white lily and strands like ivory vines spill down the sides of her angled face. Her lips are red, skin dusted ivory and her lithe frame is wrapped up in a scarlet dress from Asami's closet that actually makes it look like she has a waist. Her bare, olive arms stretch out as she admires the long fabric. Her ribs twinge a little with the movement but she barely feels them. She's stunned into numbness by her appearance.
"Oh," she whispers once she's spun full circle.
Asami smiles from over her shoulder, "Well, what do you think?"
Hana swallows. Wets her plump red lips.
"It's…beautiful."
She turns back to face Asami, who looks equally as radiant in a red dress with her dark hair curled about her shoulders and her eyes blazing. Her friendly smile is comforting. It's nice to have another person around who seems to have blind faith in her for no apparent reason.
"Thank you, Asami," she murmurs. For this, and her kindness.
The other woman seems to understand the weight of the gesture and she smiles, taking Hana's hand.
"Of course. Now come on, there's a party waiting!"
It's hard for her to concentrate on a party when so many things are going on outside the elaborate venue. Somewhere, the Equalists are planning. Somewhere, the Arai Society feels the ripples of her absence. But she made a promise to Bolin. A promise she intends to keep. It's the least she can do to repay him for his trust in her.
So she puts on a brave face as Asami guides her through the crowd. All of Republic City's elite are here, jabbering away, clinking glasses and laughing. Do they even know what's brewing under their feet? Have they any idea of the storm that waits at their doors? Asami tightens her grip on her hand and suddenly they're standing in a clearing of partygoers. Across the way Mako and Bolin stand shoulder to shoulder, looking decidedly strapping in their suits.
Bolin catches sight of them first and doesn't bother to try and disguise the way his jaw unhinges. Asami chuckles beside her.
"Looks like someone is a fan of your new look," she murmurs under her breath.
Mako notices the girls too, and then with some discouragement notices his brother. He jabs him hard in the ribs so he'll close his mouth and once he does so he grabs onto his elbow and drags him towards the middle of the floor. The girls meet them.
"You two look lovely," Mako says politely, though Hana isn't sure if he's seen her. His eyes are only for Asami, and it doesn't surprise her at all.
What does surprise her is Bolin. He's not staring at Asami like the rest of the men of the gala are. He's staring right at her. He has a glassy, faraway look in his eye and she almost wants to reach forward and snap her fingers in front of his face to see if he's still conscious. Before she can, he comes to life and gives her a grin.
"M'lady," he says and extends his arm.
She moves forward, thankful that he's given her the opportunity to lean on him, as her ribs are still tender. He's sturdy as ever. He holds her arm close to his body to keep her stable. She can feel the warm heat of his torso through the fabric of his clothing and hopes their proximity doesn't give away her pounding heart.
They meet Asami's father, and subsequently Korra, a few minutes later. Korra looks as beautiful as ever. She has a raw grace about her, a strength that is so radiant it makes the whole room glow.
As the conversation rolls on, it appears Korra has no prior knowledge of Asami. And it's a little uncomfortable watching the recognition show on her face. If the Avatar didn't distrust her so much she might have thought about approaching her about it. Mako doesn't seem all that perturbed. He either hasn't noticed Korra's discomfort, or doesn't care. Hana hopes it's the first.
She manages to catch Korra's eyes just briefly before she's pulled away. There's a soft moment of understanding there. Because Hana might be the only one in the whole group who caught just how hurt Korra looked watching Asami hang on Mako's arm. But the moment passes. Korra is swept off to talk to more dignitaries and Bolin takes the opportunity to squeeze Hana's hand once more.
"How are your ribs?" he asks.
"Better," she nods.
"Up for some dancing?"
He's grinning so widely it's impossible to say no to him. Though she's never been much of a dancer. In fact, she doesn't think she's ever danced a step in her life. But there's no arguing with that smile. She nods dumbly, at a loss, and lets him lead her away from Mako and Asami who seem grateful for the alone time anyway.
Once they're on the dance floor Bolin turns and places his massive palms on the lean dip of her waist. Her long arms fall over his monumental shoulders and as soon as they come together Bolin takes the lead and they sway as naturally as water through a stream. Like she's the river and he's the riverbed –they work in perfect harmony and she barely has to think about her feet under her as he guides them around the dance floor.
She leans close to him and her cheek presses against his chest. His breath catches there and she can feel it. It's the first time she's witnessed his bravado waver. Perhaps it's because they're so close. She has to crane her neck up to see him and if she were to look up their faces might touch.
He doesn't speak for a long while. They merely sway, bobbing about the dance floor like flower petals in a breeze.
"Neat party, huh?" he finally breaks the silence with a nervous laugh. His warm breath tickles her shoulder.
"It's very nice," she placates him.
"I've never been to anything this fancy before."
"Neither have I."
"Perks of being friends with the Avatar, I guess."
"Or trying to be friends with her," Hana adds with a little smirk into the fabric against his chest.
"Or that," he laughs.
Silence lulls again. The music is quiet enough where they can hear each other speak comfortably, but no one else is privy to their conversation. Hana takes the opportunity.
"Bolin?"
"Mmm?" he murmurs against the side of her head.
"The other night, you said something about knowing how it feels to not have anyone looking out for you…What did you mean?"
She feels him sigh. The air balloons his chest and then it releases. She's melts further into him with the motion. The music softens around them and for a brief second she forgets there are others around.
"Mako and I lost our parents to a firebender when we were kids. We lived on the streets most of our lives until we got into pro-bending," Bolin explains, "I mean, Mako always took good care of us and everything but there were always those times when it just felt like the whole world was out to get us, you know?"
Hana leans back from him to look in his eyes. They're full, adamant green. Full of sincerity. Full of maturity a first glance would deem him incapable of.
"I'm sorry," she murmurs.
He smiles handsomely down at her, "Don't be."
She settles back against his chest and they continue to sway. He smells crisp and masculine. The heat of the room and it combined make her sleepy. Her eyes flutter closed.
"How about you?" he asks all of a sudden, "How did you get involved with the Arai society, anyway?"
Her body tightens. It's an uncomfortable topic for her, one she doesn't divulge to just anyone. Her eyes open and she watches the feet of the dancing couple across from them. As soon as she searches for the words, she find they come fairly easy.
"My family wasn't very well off. So my father resorted to some pretty horrific acts to get money. He used his bending to terrorize people and get what he needed," she wet her red lips, "I decided I never wanted to become him, so I took the most opposite path I could as early on as I could. I even stopped bending for a while. I was alone for sometime and then eventually about the Arai through word of mouth."
Her body feels weightless as the words leave her. It's been a long time since she's opened up to someone like this. It feels nice. Bolin's hands flex at her waist and he brings her a little closer. They move as one being now, indivisible and whole.
"What about your mom?" he asks.
"She died when I was young, I don't remember her much. But I know she would have never stood for what my father turned into."
"Then I'm sure she's proud of you and what you're doing," he says and then chuckles, "And if it means anything, so am I. It takes guts to walk away from your family to do the right thing. If Republic City had more people like you in it I bet Mako and I would have grown up differently."
She looks up at him, stunned.
"It means a lot, actually," she manages.
Their feet stop moving. She stares up into his green eyes, so green, and wonders how he managed to grow up so full of light in streets so dark. He stares back at her softly. He has this way of looking at her like she's something that can be discovered over and over again. He understands her better than she understands herself, she decides. And they've only known each other a few days.
But that doesn't quiet the sudden, overwhelming urge to kiss him. It doesn't stop her face from moving closer. His mimics hers until they're so close she can feel his breath on her bottom lip. Inches away, slowly drawing closer -she thinks it just might happen and the weightless feeling in her stomach blossoms.
Then, all of a sudden, there's commotion. The music stops and the crowd breaks like cracking mud. Reporters with their notepads and flashing bulbs move forward through the dance floor to reach the grand staircase. One of them bumps into her so hard it knocks her away from Bolin. He manages to grab her and reign her back into the vice of his arms, but not before the hit grants her a sharp jolt of pain in her side.
"Hey! Watch where you're going!" Bolin calls out angrily, but his voice is lost in the discord.
Hana grimaces and stays with her shoulders pressed up against his chest, protected from the onslaught. The pain throbs, but it's not nearly as interesting as the group around the staircase where Korra stands beside a prominent looking man. He gives her a hearty shove forward and she scurries down a few steps into the hungry eyes of the press. The venue quiets.
"Uh oh," Bolin mutters from over her shoulder.
The Avatar looks frightened. There's a hollowness in her face Hana hadn't sensed the night before. Some kind of grey emptiness where light once was. Her pale blue eyes widen under the flashing lights and she stammers to answer the questions that fly at her like icy raindrops. She catches her words on a few of the questions, but there's nothing stable to hold onto. They are unrelenting. And behind her, the man in blue smirks just slyly enough that Hana wants to hit him.
The barrage continues for a few minutes until one question strikes a nerve. The Avatar's golden arms slam down at her sides and she quiets the voices with a commanding voice.
"If Republic City needs me, then I'll join Tarrlock's task force!"
Hana feels her face drain of color. The blood moves from her powdered cheeks to the pit of her stomach where it writhes angrily.
"No," she whispers.
She perhaps knows better than anyone in the room how damaging this will be. Amon will only be provoked by this news –whatever schemes he's developed will only come sooner. Before Republic City has had time to prepare for them. Before they've had time to truly fear for them.
And what of Korra? The task force can't protect her. Facing Amon head on is a terrifying and most likely unreliable strategy.
A pang of fear wells inside her. And then one of regret. Somewhere far away she hears Bolin asking if she's all right. He turns her around and she stares right through him. Her heart crinkles to dust.
She knows she has to leave him. And whatever fairytale joy he's given her –she has to forget.
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