The sky is a flashy shade of blue with the whirring of machines illuminating the open environment. The world comes alive with the roar of engines and the acrid smell of gasoline.
"Birdie!" shouts the flailing, four-year-old Arja in her mother's arms. She points at a plane taking its test flight. It's been three years without a strong Equalist presence in Republic City. Amon fled, and his followers faced persecution. While the Avatar asked for amnesty, fought for it when the Council refused to listen to her (excluding Tenzin, and Tarrlok slept rather discontentedly on the couch those nights).
Eventually, with the threat of retaliation and the revoking of the Avatar's support and potential aid should the threats come to fruition, the Council members relented. Amon's followers dispersed into the streets, the gaps in the seams.
In the increasing tumult between benders and nonbenders, worse than ever, Asami and Korra worked alongside each other to help them. There are so many interest groups to appease, so many enemies to make.
"Neat, aren't they?" Asami removes her gloves and takes off her goggles. "I found the schematics in my father's old workshop."
"Wonderful," Tarrlok says dismissively. The Sato girl shakes her head.
"Hey, Councilman," Korra says, bouncing Arja as she rocks lightly, "you think we have a budding pilot in our future?" Asami laughs, but Tarrlok finds no inkling of amusement in that prospect. Yes, they know of their daughter's fascination with flying. She plays with her fingers now, distractedly pushing them together and spinning them as if imagining a heated battle.
Tarrlok's pushing past forty now, and he can do without the heart problems or an increased chance of stroke. "Absolutely not." His muscles tighten just being near those obscenely fast racing cars the Sato girl (well, woman) owns. Planes? No, out of the question. He's lenient, but he'd rather not lose his family a second time.
"You can't keep her grounded forever," Korra says.
Asami clasps her hands together. "They're safe, but I understand why you'd want to be careful." Her smile doesn't reach her eyes. While Asami adores the infant and enjoys Korra's company, she can't forget the suspicions, the snide remarks from Councilman Tarrlok. It still haunts her, people doubting her intentions.
Arja stretches her arms out and emits chicken-pig noises. Korra lifts her into the air and starts spinning in dizzy half-circles.
"Don't fall! There's an incline there—" Tarrlok rubs his forehead and sighs. He can't keep up with his wife or daughter. If he could, he'd frolic (or something a tad more dignified) along with them.
Though he's trained extensively over the years, resorting to a desk job has somewhat softened his physical resolve-or so his wife says when she pokes his belly. It really isn't that bad. She once joked that he talks enough to lose a bunch of weight; if only that were the case.