Riot - [Avatar: The Last Airbender/The Legend of Korra]


A/N:  I don’t think this was quite what you had in mind, but…

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RIOT

Mostly it’s just the two of you, walking, walking.

That is your first memory:  her hand over yours, huge, and the flash of her armor in the sunlight, bronze like fish scales or sullen brown in shadow, the road and its fractures sweeping away from you both in a web too wide for you to know all of it.  Her strides are long and they tnk, tnk-tnk with her every step, but she doesn’t pull you.  She doesn’t have to.  Your little feet can’t keep up with her big ones alone so you tell the earth hello, carry me with Mama please and it likes you and it listens.  It sweeps you alongside her, pace for pace, dark baked pavement frothing up under you and you laugh, laugh and your shoulder brushes hers once in a while.  You look sideways then and catch her smiling, and her thumb digs a ditch of rough warmth in the seam of your knuckles.

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Lost - [The Legend of Korra]

A/N:  Three hundred words in three minutes again.  Hope you like it!  Also, spoilers for episode eight of Legend of Korra.

LOST

She moved, slow and slipping, tracing her hand over the wall of the pagoda’s tower.  The stone was wet and her fingers came away so.  She drew her hand into a fist:  felt the damp trickle in her palm, slick.  With a wince she smeared the skin dry on her hip and continued.

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Lineage - [The Legend of Korra]

A/N:  Wherein Lin Beifong proves she’s her mother’s daughter.  Happy Mother’s Day!

LINEAGE

“I could help you in Republic City!  With the uprising!  I could—”

“You could,” says her mother, but leaves her on the ice anyway.

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Truce - [The Legend of Korra]


A/N:  I don’t have any favorites right now!  But I do like Korra and strong friendships.  Who better than Chief Beifong to (eventually) give her one of those?
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TRUCE
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“What are you doing here?”

So asks Chief Lin Beifong as the city’s newest menace comes waltzing into her station the mere day after her destructive arrival.  Halting on the threshold, Korra blinks across the room at the older woman:  beams.  Splays her hands.  Her palms are brown as fresh parchment, the rough flesh there flashing in the cheery sunlight spilling through the doorway.

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