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leetoltreatex2024-10-04 09:32 pm
shadaras) wrote in leetoltreatex2024-10-04 09:32 pm
[Legend of Korra] blood keeps pumping, heart keeps beating
for luckyzukky
Rated T for discussion of death/transformation/body horror.
Length: 1.1k
The Avatar died.
The Avatar lives.
The Avatar cycle is—
Broken?
It is hard to tell, the scholars say. It hasn’t been long enough to tell if the Avatar Spirit has found a new home in a child of the Earth Kingdom.
In the meantime, Avatar Korra remains. She is alive, or close enough that her intimates will not say otherwise, and she still wields all four elements with ease.
Her death was not publicised, of course; it would have shaken the world to know that Zaheer’s plans had succeeded. Instead, Korra is said to have been badly injured and in need of healing. She is recuperating in the same Southern Water Tribe enclave where she grew up, as far as the public needs to know.
None of what the public knows is precisely false, though the framing certainly isn’t the truth.
Korra is in that enclave. It is one of the only places she can be contained while she—and those who love her—work to understand what happened to her and what she is now capable of.
She was badly injured. The mercury Zaheer poisoned her with ate through her veins—both physical and spiritual—and hollowed her out until all that remained was a shell filled with—
Well, that is the question, isn’t it?
The being calls herself Korra. She has Korra’s memories, Korra’s body, Korra’s voice.
She d not have Korra's self-control.
Tenzin sits across the table from Suyin.
Steam rises from the teapot between them. Their empty cups are untouched; the steeping leaves are waiting for one of them to make the first move.
“So,” Tenzin says at last, when Suyin’s patience outlasts his. “Korra.”
Suyin grimaces. It’s a delicate expression compared to her half-sister’s, and Tenzin has cause to see Lin’s expressions far more often. “She is… changed.”
Tenzin nods. That’s obvious to everyone who has ever known her. She is no longer awkward, nor full of the impetuousness Tenzin so often bemoaned. She is driven, horrifyingly so, and violence comes too easily to her hands. Preventing her from killing Zaheer had been… difficult.
Spiritual energy blazes constantly from her eyes. It could be the Avatar state. It looks the same. But Tenzin is uneasy about it in a way he never was about the Avatar state itself.
He pours the tea. The liquid sound is too loud in this little room. “When you bent the mercury out of her—”
“Her heart was not beating.” Suyin sipped her tea, elegant as ever. “Which is strange, because she was still moving.”
Tenzin does not pick up his own teacup. “How many people know about this?”
“Those who were there may know. Katara certainly does.” Suyin tilted her head. “I don’t see any need to inform anyone until we understand what has happened.”
“We may never understand.”
Suyin set her teacup down silently and met his eyes. “We will understand enough to know whether or not she is a threat.”
“Can she recover from this illness?” Senna asks Katara for the third time that day.
Katara sighs and pats her shoulder. “She is not precisely ill.” Korra is certainly not well. “What Zaheer did fundamentally transformed her.”
The longer Korra has been at the Enclave, the more evidence of those changes Katara has found. It’s not merely the psychological aspects—impulsive violence, an unsettling disregard for her own well-being, an alien morality—but the physical. Metal lingers in her bones. Her blood responds sluggishly to Katara’s call. Her heart beats, her lungs fill, but it is through conscious effort now. Katara has watched Korra’s body go still as stone when she stops thinking about acting like a human being. It’s… eerie, to say the least.
For Senna, Katara tries to be kind. Tonraq was there when they recovered Korra; he has not asked questions beyond “Can we help her?”. Senna has only seen the aftermath of her daughter’s torment. Katara says, “We are doing our best to help Korra. By being here and reminding her of her family, you are doing all you can.”
“It doesn’t feel like enough.” Senna slumps into a chair.
Katara doesn’t have answers for her. But she knows, “It never does.”
“I’m fine,” Korra snaps.
She is, physically. She’s never been better. Her body has always been an extension of herself, but now there’s no separation between thought and action. Whatever she wills, she does. Thought becomes action. Korra knows the people around her think that’s dangerous, but Korra doesn’t see it that way.
She’s simply become power incarnate.
Asami raises her hands. “Alright, alright. No need to blaze like that.” Her fingers flick to her eyes, a reminder that Korra no longer has any separation between spirit and body, and that her overflowing spiritual energy emanates from her eyes. “I haven’t seen you in months, Korra. I just wanted to know…” She trails off. Korra can already hear the thoughts in her mind, the same words echoing through everyone’s head: Are the stories true?
“What do you think?” Korra asks in return. Asami startles. “Am I everything you’ve dreamed of?”
Asami meets her eyes, which most people are too scared to do. They think she'll take it as a challenge. That they’ll get hurt. That her lack of control—a joke; she's perfectly in control of herself, even if they can't understand that—will become their lack of control. Asami says, “No.”
Time slows. Korra’s heart stops beating. Asami stays put, hands open, eyes firm, lips still moving.
“I could never have dreamed of you,” Asami says, and time restarts, and Korra moves.
She grabs Asami, pins her to the wall, and this is when everyone else would freak out. Korra waits for it, the scent of fear and the instinctive struggle against her, and prepares herself for disappointment.
Asami doesn't react the way she expects.
Asami grabs her, hands tight in her hair, and drags her into the kiss Korra was already beginning.
Asami tastes like lightning.
Korra drinks her in, greedy, and Asami moans into her mouth. Her body is attuned to Korra’s now, Asami’s spirit urging Korra on while Asami’s body is otherwise occupied, and Korra makes no effort to resist the pull.
Her bending finds the moisture of their clothes and the metal clasps and undoes all the bindings, then whips them away in a gust of air so that nothing is between their skin. The scars on Korra’s body, Raava’s patterns etched into her skin by mercury, blaze with light. Asami stares at her, eyes wide, unflinching, and says, “You’re beautiful.”
She is hiding nothing from Korra. Any fear that Asami feels is transformed into desire. Korra kisses her again, simply to savor the sensation, and then cups Asami’s face in her palms “Let me have you,” she whispers.
“Yes,” Asami says, even as Korra’s power starts blurring the edges of their bodies, skin itself no longer a barrier when the spirit is willing.
Korra breathes Asami in, and Asami’s pleasure becomes her own.
She transcended mortality thanks to Zaheer.
She will pass that gift on to Asami now.
luckyzukkyRated T for discussion of death/transformation/body horror.
Length: 1.1k
The Avatar died.
The Avatar lives.
The Avatar cycle is—
Broken?
It is hard to tell, the scholars say. It hasn’t been long enough to tell if the Avatar Spirit has found a new home in a child of the Earth Kingdom.
In the meantime, Avatar Korra remains. She is alive, or close enough that her intimates will not say otherwise, and she still wields all four elements with ease.
Her death was not publicised, of course; it would have shaken the world to know that Zaheer’s plans had succeeded. Instead, Korra is said to have been badly injured and in need of healing. She is recuperating in the same Southern Water Tribe enclave where she grew up, as far as the public needs to know.
None of what the public knows is precisely false, though the framing certainly isn’t the truth.
Korra is in that enclave. It is one of the only places she can be contained while she—and those who love her—work to understand what happened to her and what she is now capable of.
She was badly injured. The mercury Zaheer poisoned her with ate through her veins—both physical and spiritual—and hollowed her out until all that remained was a shell filled with—
Well, that is the question, isn’t it?
The being calls herself Korra. She has Korra’s memories, Korra’s body, Korra’s voice.
She d not have Korra's self-control.
Tenzin sits across the table from Suyin.
Steam rises from the teapot between them. Their empty cups are untouched; the steeping leaves are waiting for one of them to make the first move.
“So,” Tenzin says at last, when Suyin’s patience outlasts his. “Korra.”
Suyin grimaces. It’s a delicate expression compared to her half-sister’s, and Tenzin has cause to see Lin’s expressions far more often. “She is… changed.”
Tenzin nods. That’s obvious to everyone who has ever known her. She is no longer awkward, nor full of the impetuousness Tenzin so often bemoaned. She is driven, horrifyingly so, and violence comes too easily to her hands. Preventing her from killing Zaheer had been… difficult.
Spiritual energy blazes constantly from her eyes. It could be the Avatar state. It looks the same. But Tenzin is uneasy about it in a way he never was about the Avatar state itself.
He pours the tea. The liquid sound is too loud in this little room. “When you bent the mercury out of her—”
“Her heart was not beating.” Suyin sipped her tea, elegant as ever. “Which is strange, because she was still moving.”
Tenzin does not pick up his own teacup. “How many people know about this?”
“Those who were there may know. Katara certainly does.” Suyin tilted her head. “I don’t see any need to inform anyone until we understand what has happened.”
“We may never understand.”
Suyin set her teacup down silently and met his eyes. “We will understand enough to know whether or not she is a threat.”
“Can she recover from this illness?” Senna asks Katara for the third time that day.
Katara sighs and pats her shoulder. “She is not precisely ill.” Korra is certainly not well. “What Zaheer did fundamentally transformed her.”
The longer Korra has been at the Enclave, the more evidence of those changes Katara has found. It’s not merely the psychological aspects—impulsive violence, an unsettling disregard for her own well-being, an alien morality—but the physical. Metal lingers in her bones. Her blood responds sluggishly to Katara’s call. Her heart beats, her lungs fill, but it is through conscious effort now. Katara has watched Korra’s body go still as stone when she stops thinking about acting like a human being. It’s… eerie, to say the least.
For Senna, Katara tries to be kind. Tonraq was there when they recovered Korra; he has not asked questions beyond “Can we help her?”. Senna has only seen the aftermath of her daughter’s torment. Katara says, “We are doing our best to help Korra. By being here and reminding her of her family, you are doing all you can.”
“It doesn’t feel like enough.” Senna slumps into a chair.
Katara doesn’t have answers for her. But she knows, “It never does.”
“I’m fine,” Korra snaps.
She is, physically. She’s never been better. Her body has always been an extension of herself, but now there’s no separation between thought and action. Whatever she wills, she does. Thought becomes action. Korra knows the people around her think that’s dangerous, but Korra doesn’t see it that way.
She’s simply become power incarnate.
Asami raises her hands. “Alright, alright. No need to blaze like that.” Her fingers flick to her eyes, a reminder that Korra no longer has any separation between spirit and body, and that her overflowing spiritual energy emanates from her eyes. “I haven’t seen you in months, Korra. I just wanted to know…” She trails off. Korra can already hear the thoughts in her mind, the same words echoing through everyone’s head: Are the stories true?
“What do you think?” Korra asks in return. Asami startles. “Am I everything you’ve dreamed of?”
Asami meets her eyes, which most people are too scared to do. They think she'll take it as a challenge. That they’ll get hurt. That her lack of control—a joke; she's perfectly in control of herself, even if they can't understand that—will become their lack of control. Asami says, “No.”
Time slows. Korra’s heart stops beating. Asami stays put, hands open, eyes firm, lips still moving.
“I could never have dreamed of you,” Asami says, and time restarts, and Korra moves.
She grabs Asami, pins her to the wall, and this is when everyone else would freak out. Korra waits for it, the scent of fear and the instinctive struggle against her, and prepares herself for disappointment.
Asami doesn't react the way she expects.
Asami grabs her, hands tight in her hair, and drags her into the kiss Korra was already beginning.
Asami tastes like lightning.
Korra drinks her in, greedy, and Asami moans into her mouth. Her body is attuned to Korra’s now, Asami’s spirit urging Korra on while Asami’s body is otherwise occupied, and Korra makes no effort to resist the pull.
Her bending finds the moisture of their clothes and the metal clasps and undoes all the bindings, then whips them away in a gust of air so that nothing is between their skin. The scars on Korra’s body, Raava’s patterns etched into her skin by mercury, blaze with light. Asami stares at her, eyes wide, unflinching, and says, “You’re beautiful.”
She is hiding nothing from Korra. Any fear that Asami feels is transformed into desire. Korra kisses her again, simply to savor the sensation, and then cups Asami’s face in her palms “Let me have you,” she whispers.
“Yes,” Asami says, even as Korra’s power starts blurring the edges of their bodies, skin itself no longer a barrier when the spirit is willing.
Korra breathes Asami in, and Asami’s pleasure becomes her own.
She transcended mortality thanks to Zaheer.
She will pass that gift on to Asami now.
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