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It takes a while for Korra to work up the courage to ask for help. She's never been particularly good at doing so — she'd rather continue running headfirst into that wall, trying to break down barriers through brute force. And until she left the South Pole, usually the strategy worked. There was very little that she couldn't accomplish with a little extra effort and a stubborn streak.
Letting herself lean on another person is a practice. Sometimes it's the easiest thing in the world, finding her shoulders pressed up behind Mako's, or balancing herself on the passenger seat of a Satomobile with Asami at the wheel. In situations like those, it feels like people coming together to create a greater whole, stronger than any of them in isolation, seeking the same end goal.
Asking for help towards her own recovery feels like weakness. Selfish, too. But there's reason enough to throw aside the guilt and shame now, with the Purge just looming around the corner. Korra's done her best to reach out, asking people what their plans are, making sure that most of her friends have somewhere safe to go and that those who are choosing to stay outside have some way to reach her if they need. It's a start. But she knows that to make the most impact, she has to heal herself.
It's what finds her at Ellie's doorstep today, her eyes skating across the architecture as she delays knocking on the front door. Tries to remind herself that Ellie doesn't view Korra as an imposition. Tries to remind herself that Korra would do the same for any friend of hers.
Maybe it's okay to be a little selfish if it's in the pursuit of a greater goal.
"Okay, Korra," she breathes to herself, shaking her arms out a couple of times before pulling her shoulders back. "You can do this."
She raises her hand and raps her knuckles against the door, clear and firm.
Letting herself lean on another person is a practice. Sometimes it's the easiest thing in the world, finding her shoulders pressed up behind Mako's, or balancing herself on the passenger seat of a Satomobile with Asami at the wheel. In situations like those, it feels like people coming together to create a greater whole, stronger than any of them in isolation, seeking the same end goal.
Asking for help towards her own recovery feels like weakness. Selfish, too. But there's reason enough to throw aside the guilt and shame now, with the Purge just looming around the corner. Korra's done her best to reach out, asking people what their plans are, making sure that most of her friends have somewhere safe to go and that those who are choosing to stay outside have some way to reach her if they need. It's a start. But she knows that to make the most impact, she has to heal herself.
It's what finds her at Ellie's doorstep today, her eyes skating across the architecture as she delays knocking on the front door. Tries to remind herself that Ellie doesn't view Korra as an imposition. Tries to remind herself that Korra would do the same for any friend of hers.
Maybe it's okay to be a little selfish if it's in the pursuit of a greater goal.
"Okay, Korra," she breathes to herself, shaking her arms out a couple of times before pulling her shoulders back. "You can do this."
She raises her hand and raps her knuckles against the door, clear and firm.
With the Purge mere days away, Korra's trying her best to figure out a plan of action to help keep the peace for those twenty-four hours. While she's capable of working in isolation, Korra's found that she tends to feel more comfortable as part of a group, where everyone's able to bring their unique talents and skills to the table, complementing one another with different perspectives and abilities.
The last time an entire city was under attack, Korra needed just about all the help she could get. Republic City was a place that seemed to invite turmoil, a place that was so rich in diversity but equally as powerful in its divisiveness. People had different philosophies and beliefs, different ways that they chose to live their life, and while most were able to get by with mutual respect, the moment someone thought they deserved more was... well, usually the moment Korra had to step in.
Spirits. Air nomads. Her friends. Korra's learned over the past few years that there's no help that she should feel above seeking, and when days go by and Naga's own anxiety seems to heighten with that of her human's, Korra wonders if she should be encouraging animals to get involved as well. Sometimes their intuition picks up on moods and instincts far faster than Korra could manage.
And there's one person she wants to discuss the idea with above anyone else.
They're here as part of a normal playdate between their animals, Korra bringing along a few of the shinier shells from the beach to appease Newt's Niffler, but Korra doesn't wait too long before jumping right to the more pressing topic on her mind.
"So... do you already have plans in place for the end of the month?" Korra asks, glancing over at Newt. In the background, Naga's tickling the Niffler, her giant nose buried against fur and tail whipping around in anticipation.
The last time an entire city was under attack, Korra needed just about all the help she could get. Republic City was a place that seemed to invite turmoil, a place that was so rich in diversity but equally as powerful in its divisiveness. People had different philosophies and beliefs, different ways that they chose to live their life, and while most were able to get by with mutual respect, the moment someone thought they deserved more was... well, usually the moment Korra had to step in.
Spirits. Air nomads. Her friends. Korra's learned over the past few years that there's no help that she should feel above seeking, and when days go by and Naga's own anxiety seems to heighten with that of her human's, Korra wonders if she should be encouraging animals to get involved as well. Sometimes their intuition picks up on moods and instincts far faster than Korra could manage.
And there's one person she wants to discuss the idea with above anyone else.
They're here as part of a normal playdate between their animals, Korra bringing along a few of the shinier shells from the beach to appease Newt's Niffler, but Korra doesn't wait too long before jumping right to the more pressing topic on her mind.
"So... do you already have plans in place for the end of the month?" Korra asks, glancing over at Newt. In the background, Naga's tickling the Niffler, her giant nose buried against fur and tail whipping around in anticipation.
In all the time that Korra's been in Darrow, she's pretty sure that her nerves have never felt quite so frayed. Hearing announcements about the upcoming Purge all over the news, on the radio, even in advertisements at the movers — it serves as a constant reminder of the terror that's about to come, and how utterly unequipped Korra feels to stop it. She doesn't understand how the majority of a city can be okay with this. She doesn't understand how they feel that it's acceptable for people to get away with anything, even if it is only for one night.
That it's okay for people to steal. Cheat. Murder.
The only saving grace about the whole situation is that Korra herself wouldn't get in trouble for whatever lengths she might have to go to in order to protect everyone. If she breaks a few buildings, upends several cars, none of that billing will arrive on her doorstep.
So that means she needs to train, and brainstorm, and figure out a plan for everything.
Of course, there's only so long that one can think in isolation, and it's for that reason that Korra decides to still move on ahead with her lessons. Her reading's come a long way under Aurora's tutelage, and most of the time she's able to get through all daily errands without literacy being a problem. (Paying bills is still hard sometimes, but if there's any confusion, it can generally be taken care of with a call.)
These days, spending time with Aurora is more a matter of friendship than anything else. She's taken the time to plan out a picnic for today, out in the countryside where bonfires are permitted this time of year. The weather's gotten colder, but the skies are often still blue, and the air fresh and brisk. Korra hopes it isn't too much of an imposition for them to spend time eating outdoors. Her firebending skills are fine-tuned enough for her to adjust the temperature with the small bonfires she's strategically built in a circle, warming their backs from behind.
"Hey," she waves when Aurora arrives. "I hope this place wasn't too hard to find."
That it's okay for people to steal. Cheat. Murder.
The only saving grace about the whole situation is that Korra herself wouldn't get in trouble for whatever lengths she might have to go to in order to protect everyone. If she breaks a few buildings, upends several cars, none of that billing will arrive on her doorstep.
So that means she needs to train, and brainstorm, and figure out a plan for everything.
Of course, there's only so long that one can think in isolation, and it's for that reason that Korra decides to still move on ahead with her lessons. Her reading's come a long way under Aurora's tutelage, and most of the time she's able to get through all daily errands without literacy being a problem. (Paying bills is still hard sometimes, but if there's any confusion, it can generally be taken care of with a call.)
These days, spending time with Aurora is more a matter of friendship than anything else. She's taken the time to plan out a picnic for today, out in the countryside where bonfires are permitted this time of year. The weather's gotten colder, but the skies are often still blue, and the air fresh and brisk. Korra hopes it isn't too much of an imposition for them to spend time eating outdoors. Her firebending skills are fine-tuned enough for her to adjust the temperature with the small bonfires she's strategically built in a circle, warming their backs from behind.
"Hey," she waves when Aurora arrives. "I hope this place wasn't too hard to find."
Having a personal tutor isn't a new thing for Korra. If anything, it's comforting in its familiarity. Ever since she discovered that she was the Avatar, Korra's been kept separate from the rest of her village, and from the rest of the broader population. Hidden away, behind group after group of guards, leaving her with no other option than to listen to the people who lectured and taught her day after day, lesson after lesson.
Admittedly, most of her lessons weren't this sedentary. It's unusual for Korra to stay seated for very long — meditation was one of the hardest things that she had to learn in her twenty-some years — and so after too many unsuccessful trips to the library, Korra's asked Aurora for the two of them to study outside, with the fresh air around them and gentle breezes whispering between tree branches.
The park doesn't entirely cut them off from the city, but it's the nearest thing next to spending hours heading out to the countryside. There are plenty of benches, and the weather's still warm and sunny. Korra sits under the shade of the largest tree in the park, having arrived early, not wanting to let Aurora down. She knows that Aurora's doing this as a favor to Korra, and she doesn't plan on taking that for granted.
By her side, Naga yawns, tail lazily swishing from side to side in anticipation of a friend arriving. Korra's taken the initiative in letting Aurora know that her polar bear dog will be in attendance, but if the rest of Darrow's population is any indication, 'polar bear dog' might not mean much to Aurora.
Though it'll definitely mean something after today.
Admittedly, most of her lessons weren't this sedentary. It's unusual for Korra to stay seated for very long — meditation was one of the hardest things that she had to learn in her twenty-some years — and so after too many unsuccessful trips to the library, Korra's asked Aurora for the two of them to study outside, with the fresh air around them and gentle breezes whispering between tree branches.
The park doesn't entirely cut them off from the city, but it's the nearest thing next to spending hours heading out to the countryside. There are plenty of benches, and the weather's still warm and sunny. Korra sits under the shade of the largest tree in the park, having arrived early, not wanting to let Aurora down. She knows that Aurora's doing this as a favor to Korra, and she doesn't plan on taking that for granted.
By her side, Naga yawns, tail lazily swishing from side to side in anticipation of a friend arriving. Korra's taken the initiative in letting Aurora know that her polar bear dog will be in attendance, but if the rest of Darrow's population is any indication, 'polar bear dog' might not mean much to Aurora.
Though it'll definitely mean something after today.
There's nothing that quite explains why the thought lingers in Korra's mind. Darrow — not the city, but the person. A rebel rising above an oppressive system. A rebel unafraid of backlash, whose station makes it so that there's so little for him to lose. Darrow, a person who by birth really had no right to anything, but built himself up from the ashes his family oversaw, rising to the top.
He could stay there, if he wanted. He could have reaped the benefits of his new station, camouflaged, tucked away among the elite. But he didn't, and Korra finds herself wishing that she could meet this man. Talk to him. Ask from where that bravery stems, and what he does when faced with imminent death. Or how he doesn't buckle under the weight of countless people relying on him to break out of slavery.
It's heavy, and by comparison, the blue skies and idle chatter of the city of the same name feel false. Shallow. Like it's yet another blanket pulled over people's eyes, encouraging them not to question the status quo.
Korra can't sit still in her apartment. Can't content herself while riding Naga's saddle, heavy steps reverberating through the forest. So instead, she pulls out her phone, leaves a voice message, figures that she needs to piece together more of the puzzle. Not that she'll necessary ever meet Darrow, or see the stretches of Mars.
But maybe she'll find her own answers.
She waits outside a barbecue restaurant. There's no way of knowing whether or not it's Cassius' type of food, but if their bodies still have some amount of commonality between them, Korra figures that it can't hurt a guy that big to have a bit of meat in his stomach.
He could stay there, if he wanted. He could have reaped the benefits of his new station, camouflaged, tucked away among the elite. But he didn't, and Korra finds herself wishing that she could meet this man. Talk to him. Ask from where that bravery stems, and what he does when faced with imminent death. Or how he doesn't buckle under the weight of countless people relying on him to break out of slavery.
It's heavy, and by comparison, the blue skies and idle chatter of the city of the same name feel false. Shallow. Like it's yet another blanket pulled over people's eyes, encouraging them not to question the status quo.
Korra can't sit still in her apartment. Can't content herself while riding Naga's saddle, heavy steps reverberating through the forest. So instead, she pulls out her phone, leaves a voice message, figures that she needs to piece together more of the puzzle. Not that she'll necessary ever meet Darrow, or see the stretches of Mars.
But maybe she'll find her own answers.
She waits outside a barbecue restaurant. There's no way of knowing whether or not it's Cassius' type of food, but if their bodies still have some amount of commonality between them, Korra figures that it can't hurt a guy that big to have a bit of meat in his stomach.
Sometimes, Korra wonders if there's a limit to how effective meditation can be. If after a certain point, trying to meditate borders more on mind-numbing than anything else.
Because that's definitely how life in the city has felt as of late.
There isn't a second of the day that goes by without Korra attempting some type of self-reflection. Even when she treats herself by paying for a few hours at the gym, every punch is punctuated with figuring out why she's holding back, every kick makes her wonder how much metal there is lingering by her bones. When she walks back home, it's always with the slight haze of distraction, wondering what her place is in Darrow. Wondering when she'll be able to get back home.
It's still a when, and not an if in her mind, but her actions don't always reflect that.
Today, she's come out to the countryside yet again, hoping that the fresh air might do her some good. But while Naga tolerated those first few weeks of deep meditation, the polar bear dog doesn't seem as willing to let Korra go nowadays. When Korra tries to settle by the bank of a brook, focusing on the sound of the bubbling water, Naga decides she's not having any of it — and does her best to drop her oversized frame into the water, splashing it all over Korra's shirt.
"Hey!" Korra protests, an irritated look briefly flickering over her face before she bursts into laughter. Naga howls, then dips her tail in the water and whips it in Korra's direction. Korra stops the water with a raise of her palm, bending it right back from where it came, which makes Naga's tongue loll out in happiness.
"Okay, okay. You're right. All work and no play makes Korra a dull Avatar," she admits, before bending more water out of the brook and getting ready to take aim.
Because that's definitely how life in the city has felt as of late.
There isn't a second of the day that goes by without Korra attempting some type of self-reflection. Even when she treats herself by paying for a few hours at the gym, every punch is punctuated with figuring out why she's holding back, every kick makes her wonder how much metal there is lingering by her bones. When she walks back home, it's always with the slight haze of distraction, wondering what her place is in Darrow. Wondering when she'll be able to get back home.
It's still a when, and not an if in her mind, but her actions don't always reflect that.
Today, she's come out to the countryside yet again, hoping that the fresh air might do her some good. But while Naga tolerated those first few weeks of deep meditation, the polar bear dog doesn't seem as willing to let Korra go nowadays. When Korra tries to settle by the bank of a brook, focusing on the sound of the bubbling water, Naga decides she's not having any of it — and does her best to drop her oversized frame into the water, splashing it all over Korra's shirt.
"Hey!" Korra protests, an irritated look briefly flickering over her face before she bursts into laughter. Naga howls, then dips her tail in the water and whips it in Korra's direction. Korra stops the water with a raise of her palm, bending it right back from where it came, which makes Naga's tongue loll out in happiness.
"Okay, okay. You're right. All work and no play makes Korra a dull Avatar," she admits, before bending more water out of the brook and getting ready to take aim.
thought without learning is perilous
May. 17th, 2017 10:58 amWith an abundance of spare time on her hands, Korra finds herself venturing out to the countryside frequently these days. It's a little less crowded there, a little less hectic — years ago, she might have even called it boring, but these days it's hard to concentrate with conversations and noises constantly thrumming around her ears. The speed and density of people in the city becomes overwhelming after a while, and Korra finds herself rushing to the trees just to breathe.
It's hard to determine what progress means when there's nothing physical to fight. Even when Korra finds herself skating along the water, or punching holes into the earth, somehow she always finds herself turned back towards the center of the city. It reminds her of all the stories of the Fog of Lost Souls, a place in the Spirit World that she's never been to personally, but that she knows has claimed many individuals for all of eternity.
The prospect feels suffocating, sometimes.
Today, she listens to the wind as she sits, nestled among roots and branches in the forest. With her eyes closed, Korra tries to smooth out the fears she feels coursing through her veins. She recalls the visions she's been having of herself — a darker, more violent Korra, uncontrolled by morals and hellbent on destroying anything weak in her path (even if that means Korra herself). What's been causing them?
She's not real. There's no way that's me. It's got to be in my head, but I don't understand why I'm seeing it.
A rustle from the side causes Korra to open her eyes, startled as she gets to her feet. Though the trees in the distance are still and unmoving, those in her immediate vicinity are swirling.
"Hello? Who's there?" she asks, trying to focus her senses. It doesn't feel like a normal wind so much as a burst of energy. Spiritual energy, even.
It's hard to determine what progress means when there's nothing physical to fight. Even when Korra finds herself skating along the water, or punching holes into the earth, somehow she always finds herself turned back towards the center of the city. It reminds her of all the stories of the Fog of Lost Souls, a place in the Spirit World that she's never been to personally, but that she knows has claimed many individuals for all of eternity.
The prospect feels suffocating, sometimes.
Today, she listens to the wind as she sits, nestled among roots and branches in the forest. With her eyes closed, Korra tries to smooth out the fears she feels coursing through her veins. She recalls the visions she's been having of herself — a darker, more violent Korra, uncontrolled by morals and hellbent on destroying anything weak in her path (even if that means Korra herself). What's been causing them?
She's not real. There's no way that's me. It's got to be in my head, but I don't understand why I'm seeing it.
A rustle from the side causes Korra to open her eyes, startled as she gets to her feet. Though the trees in the distance are still and unmoving, those in her immediate vicinity are swirling.
"Hello? Who's there?" she asks, trying to focus her senses. It doesn't feel like a normal wind so much as a burst of energy. Spiritual energy, even.
strength comes from an indomitable will
May. 17th, 2017 09:46 amIt's been almost two months without answers. Two months spent in a strange city, a city without bending, a city completely cut off from the spirits. A city where there are a handful of people who knew her, who loved her in a past life, and who had her vanish without warning.
Korra's learned over the past several years that it's usually worth searching for meaning in every experience. Even if not preordained, there are lessons to be learned from encounters, there's strength to be drawn from challenges. But Darrow is a city that stumps her. She's learned to stumble around, clumsy with its technology and lingo, distracted enough by the sharp learning curve that she's left a little bit of her original mission behind.
It gnaws at her, that soft and constant guilt, for abandoning her post as the Avatar. She tries to assuage that guilt by telling herself that if there were a reliable way to get back home, she would take it in a heartbeat. And that it's not like she hasn't been looking. It's not like she hasn't been trying. She's taken to the highest skies, swam and waterbended to the furthest reaches of the ocean. Dug tunnels underground until people yelled at her for endangering the city infrastructure.
Nothing's worked.
And so, while Korra hasn't exactly been the most thoughtful about self-care, she tries her hand at it now. Going to the gym has always been a comfort to her. Even without using her bending, the act of stretching her body to its physical limit has always been calming and reaffirming. Even if she were a non-bender, Korra's sure that she would still be able to make something of her two hands. The facilities are pretty impressive at this particular gym, with spaces made for parkour, and pretty hardy structures for practicing her punches.
She's at one of these bags now, throwing heavy, swinging kicks to the top of the punching stand. It's weighted heavily at the bottom to prevent falling over, but Korra does a pretty good job of hitting it near its limit. She grins when she finally manages to topple it, snickering to herself as she reaches down to set it back upright.
Korra's learned over the past several years that it's usually worth searching for meaning in every experience. Even if not preordained, there are lessons to be learned from encounters, there's strength to be drawn from challenges. But Darrow is a city that stumps her. She's learned to stumble around, clumsy with its technology and lingo, distracted enough by the sharp learning curve that she's left a little bit of her original mission behind.
It gnaws at her, that soft and constant guilt, for abandoning her post as the Avatar. She tries to assuage that guilt by telling herself that if there were a reliable way to get back home, she would take it in a heartbeat. And that it's not like she hasn't been looking. It's not like she hasn't been trying. She's taken to the highest skies, swam and waterbended to the furthest reaches of the ocean. Dug tunnels underground until people yelled at her for endangering the city infrastructure.
Nothing's worked.
And so, while Korra hasn't exactly been the most thoughtful about self-care, she tries her hand at it now. Going to the gym has always been a comfort to her. Even without using her bending, the act of stretching her body to its physical limit has always been calming and reaffirming. Even if she were a non-bender, Korra's sure that she would still be able to make something of her two hands. The facilities are pretty impressive at this particular gym, with spaces made for parkour, and pretty hardy structures for practicing her punches.
She's at one of these bags now, throwing heavy, swinging kicks to the top of the punching stand. It's weighted heavily at the bottom to prevent falling over, but Korra does a pretty good job of hitting it near its limit. She grins when she finally manages to topple it, snickering to herself as she reaches down to set it back upright.