Everything seems to fail with the loss of her bending. Her strength, her voice, her sense of time and direction - they all short out like a tired fuse.
With minor physical injuries, Korra is swiftly discharged from hospital and immediately her presence is requested by both the Chief of Police and the President. Lin thinks that given a night's rest her memory might serve her a little better; it doesn't. Korra says even less this time in the face of the woman's relentless questioning.
Next is a visit to City Hall on Raiko's insistence. Every word that comes out of his mouth she can predict with almost complete accuracy. Promises to find the Equalists, to bring them to justice, and a reassurance that the machine will be recovered and her bending with it. That's all well and good, but Raiko doesn't personally have a hand in making any of those things actually happen. And of course his portion of blame in the whole disaster is masterfully shifted around to fall anywhere but on him.
Shirking the cameras waiting outside City Hall, Korra leaves the place feeling despondent. But she has been in this dreadful place before, and vows to never again consider her life worthless enough to be forfeited. Still, it is a difficult choice to make, to square her shoulders and not sink waist deep into the pit of misery. It's been a few years since the day which found her perched atop the cliffs, peering down into the icy sea. Korra promises herself she's going to try.
Air Temple Island and its host greet her earnestly. The children embrace Korra long and hard and their parents offer her a warm welcome. And their sympathies. What has happened to her is no secret here, nor anywhere if Republic City's media has had anything to do with it, Korra imagines. Varrick's handful of sufficiently encouraged reporters were, for him, for them all, in the wrong place at the right time. This is the scoop of the decade and nothing could persuade them otherwise.
Tenzin is first to offer Korra his condolences. She sits tiredly in front of him, nodding and humming merely for the sake of it than in actual agreement. She accepts his offer to meditate with her, more for peace of mind than anything else. It's tricky for Korra to get anywhere close to that state however when the man's words are echoing inside her head.
Every action and consequence, great and small, does not take place without reason. Without reason? What could she possibly have done to deserve this?
Naga doesn't seem to have an answer to her questions, the old girl watching Korra with one beady black eye closed while she rests her head on her paws. And she is getting old, in polar bear dog years at least. Moves about less and very much likes her rest. Korra scratches her behind the ears as Naga closes her other eye and frowns, just a little. It's inevitable, isn't it? Naga has enjoyed a long and healthy life. Korra has just never been able to imagine her not by her side.
Jinora and Ikki bake her a cake to cheer her up - well, mostly Jinora, according to the girl. Ikki can't keep her mouth shut long enough to help out for more than a minute at a time. Jinora's words.
Korra is grateful right up until the moment she bites into her first slice. Then, while smiling politely, she considers that perhaps the girls should leave the cooking to their mother - who happens to specially prepare Korra a homely meal with all the flavour and smells of her own mother's kitchen. Korra can hardly believe her eyes when Pema sits her down before the assortment of plates and bowls. She would devour the spread with gusto, but for the fact that her silent dejection has robbed Korra of her appetite.
Meelo, with his handsome little brother in tow, catches her alone and proceeds to march Korra around the island while putting her through a set of improvised drills. He reasons that if his uncle could be a badass even when he was a nonbender then there's no reason she can't be. His words.
Korra decides to humour him. The physical workout does help keep her mind focused for a little while. She even manages, to her own great surprise, to make it through the airbending gates. Meelo tells her she moves just like an airbender. Her shaved head makes her look just like one, too! Rohan is more sensitive than his older brother. He simply offers Korra a hug when the upturned curve of her mouth fades away and she lifts the hood of her jacket again.
All of this does not take place within a single day, but over the course of several. Korra spends her mornings, afternoons and sometimes evenings on Air Temple Island, but without fail she spends the nights sleeping on Lin's couch.
The Chief is aware of the arrangement - in fact, it turns out to be convenient for Lin, who for the last few days has had to make her bed in her office. Demanding that security be increased around the Avatar, it makes things much easier that Korra occupies a building that is already under heavy, careful scrutiny. Lin doesn't have to redistribute already thinly stretched resources to ensure her protection. Not to mention it helps to have a trustworthy set of eyes on Kuvira. The woman has been held under house arrest indefinitely since the incident, her platinumbending sessions seemingly put on hold. She isn't optimistic about being granted the opportunity to teach again.
"I'm sure this is just temporary," Korra says early on, "Lin can't spare the metalbenders at the moment."
"I doubt that. I was given my chance and nothing came of it. Nothing good."
"Don't start blaming yourself for what happened to me. It wasn't your fault."
"Others will likely perceive that I am part of the chain reaction that led up to it," Kuvira replies.
"Well I don't," Korra tells her firmly.
Kuvira says little about the matter afterwards but she does talk about other things, mostly to fill the silences Korra leaves behind. She tells her of the life she lived before being heralded as the Great Uniter, and the one lived thereafter. Kuvira describes her fondness for dance and the company of her troupe, and then of her appreciation for strategy and the complexity of politics. She has no love for the latter; there are many difficult, necessary lessons to learn. Instead, Kuvira appreciates most the spirit of the moment, the thrill of conquest and the heat of battle. Korra understands those things, but then she is the only one who can look at Kuvira and see a human being, not a monster. And similarly, to the woman she is no enigma.
Kuvira understands her.
"Further reports are coming in of more civilian kidnappings. The Equalists are running rampant through our city and leaving men and women discarded in the streets, their bending stripped away. Chief of Police Lin Beifong will be coming forward in the morning to issue a statement of reassurance. However, with the numbers constantly on the rise - and even our esteemed Avatar among them - one can only wonder how, if at all reassured, the public will be."
Sitting on a stool, Korra reaches out and switches off the radio before it can issue another word. She shades her eyes with a hand afterwards, her elbow resting on the kitchen counter. The Equalists are the reason Lin hasn't been sleeping in her own apartment lately, swiping people off the streets left and right in their dozens. It's the Revolution all over again, otherwise innocent benders brought before a masked fraud to be purged. Except this time Korra is first in line, and everyone seems to have made it their business to ensure she never forgets it.
"What's wrong?" Kuvira asks, standing opposite her attending to their dinner.
"All those people are suffering and they have no one to look to for help," Korra moans, the words briefly stuck in her throat. "That should be me. I should be doing something."
"Do you know where to find the Equalists?" Kuvira asks, her back to Korra as she stirs the contents of a small pot.
"I...no."
"Even if you did, do you have the resources necessary to bring them to heel? Manpower? Equipment?"
"I've never led a personal army, Kuvira."
"That doesn't answer my question," the woman simply replies.
Korra throws up her hands in sheer frustration. "I don't, okay? But that isn't the point!"
"Which is what?"
"That I'm the Avatar," she says in earnest, though the conviction in her voice swiftly fades away, "and I feel so...so powerless."
Kuvira sharply tapping her cooking utensil against the rim of the pot fills the quiet in the wake of Korra's words. She retrieves its lid from the side and reaches down to adjust one of the gas cooker's knobs once the pot is covered. Afterwards, she turns to Korra.
"Come with me."
Her eyes are questioning, but Kuvira says nothing more and steps out of the kitchen. All but curious, Korra slips off her stool to follow her. The woman turns after leading her into the apartment's guest room, facing Korra as she places herself at the edge of the bed. "Sit," Kuvira instructs, indicating the space between her knees. Korra is more than a little confused by this point, and her brow arches as Kuvira gestures to the floor.
"Why, exactly?"
"I'd like to help you relax," Kuvira answers simply.
Korra hesitates for a long moment, pulling the flesh of her lip between her teeth. The plain expression Kuvira wears does not falter to offer any sort of encouragement, but her palms are upturned and open. "Alright," Korra eventually relents.
Her nervousness is evident in the way she brings herself to sit between Kuvira's legs, wrapping her arms around her knees and pulling them in towards her chest. She stiffens slightly when the woman's hands settle on her shoulders. "I'm not going to hurt you," Kuvira tells her, fingers sliding across the fabric of her top. Korra pushes out a breath and tries to let the almost instinctive tension dissipate from her body. It's just that this sort of touch is intimately familiar to her, and right now she would rather not dwell on those thoughts.
Kuvira begins applying pressure, pushing firm fingertips into her muscles. The woman doesn't say a word but Korra nevertheless finds herself closing her eyes, dropping her arms to the sides of her body. Her head hangs forward as Kuvira's hands move up to work at the back of her neck, Korra slowly swaying forward with the rhythm of her ministrations. Her knees serve as an impromptu buffer for her brow and Korra can almost feel herself becoming lighter as Kuvira's fingers climb up from between her shoulder blades to her nape.
"You're good at this," she murmurs softly, breaking the peaceable quiet that settles over them.
"I've had many opportunities to practice."
"On who?"
"My fiancé," Kuvira replies. "Or perhaps I should say, ex-fiancé."
"I'm sorry..."
"You shouldn't be. It is a fate I earned."
Korra cracks open an eye. "But don't you...don't you still have feelings for him?"
There is no response.
"Kuvira?"
"I choose not to long after the things I have lost. I have no right to, when I was the one to throw it away."
"He was devoted to you. Maybe -"
"I have received no word from him, from anyone, since my incarceration began."
"Suyin probably -"
"I don't want to talk about her." Kuvira's hands pause, and then their contact fades away. "You were the only one to visit me, Korra. You, and the guards."
There's something in her voice that makes Korra lift her head, like a thorn stubbornly hooked into tender flesh. "Kuvira?" she says again, turning to look over her shoulder.
"Lie on the bed," she instructs her tonelessly, "I can work better that way."
Korra recognises dismissal when she hears it. Whatever it is, like the mother of her once fiancé, Kuvira won't discuss it.
"No, facing up," the woman tells her when Korra moves to lie down on her front, propping her chin up on the back of her hands. The mattress depresses further as Kuvira climbs onto the bed, placing herself on her knees at Korra's side. "Give me your hands," she says, which are now folded neatly atop Korra's stomach after shuffling into a comfortable position, resting her head amongst the pillows. She does so, without thinking, and Kuvira takes hold of them.
Lifting her arms, Korra feels the cool kiss of the bed's headrest against her wrists, silver bars laced together into an elegant, curving pattern. It is only when she looks up and meets the woman's gaze that something unsettling creeps along her skin. Kuvira's eyes are as cold as the day Korra walks into her cell to find her broken free of her chains and sitting quietly in wait. And that's when she hears the wrenching screech of metal.
"Hey," Korra says with an uncertain smile, "um, Kuvira?"
She doesn't answer as she lifts and swings a knee over her body, afterwards positioning herself above Korra's hips.
"Hey," she says again, "what are you doing?"
"You said you felt powerless," Kuvira tells her, and pulls a sharp gasp from Korra's lips as she drops her weight down onto her, "but believe me, you don't know what it really means to be."
"What? What are you talking about?"
Kuvira says nothing. There's a fierce intensity in her gaze as it slowly falls to Korra's chest. She starts to breathe faster underneath the woman's piercing scrutiny. Korra tugs at her arms and winces aloud, the mangled bars of the headrest coiled tightly around her wrists.
"Kuvira, please let me go." Only days before was she rendered helpless with her hands wrapped painfully around the back of a chair. "I'm not comfortable with this - whatever it is you're doing."
The woman regards her with a frosty gaze. "You'll learn to like it."
Korra blinks. Before she can even think to reply, however, Kuvira reaches down to take her top in the grip of both hands. And then with one violent motion, she tears it open.