#cheating the spirits

[savageleeinactive]

I now want a Maury pic of CtS. We have Fire Nation style and Water Tribe style.

[savageleeinactive]

Why won't my daddy love me?

Except with Zuko it's his dad-by-raising and with Arja it's her biological one.

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Completion [Cheating the Spirits 20/20!]

Summary: His eyes are gray and light, like hers, and something strikes her.

Rating: no warnings

Pairings: Korrlok

Word count: 827

Note: And it's done. *sob* I don't know if I'm glad or not. It just feels like suddenly, with the closing, I still want to dwell in the story, even though I was running out of ideas before. I would like to thank the dedicated readers who put up with my erratic updates. Porridge and happy cows for you all. :)

----

And so, Arja's childhood was not perfect. She stumbled, she fell. She never recovered from her inability to bend properly, mostly due to an extinguished part of her spirit. Now, it doesn't matter, not really. It's actually a blessing, that dwindling potential.

As dour as she is, she had her parents to kiss her bruises. Despite Arja's reticence, she stepped out of her home and now lives miles away, glancing at a sky as blue as her mother's belated betrothal necklace. Tian, her old dog, passed from old age, but she now has companions, maybe friends if she squints hard. She was an unexpected child, and sometimes it hadn't been easy, but she's content.

When the Equalists fell, the man who was Amon was not someone renowned or easily recognized. It was as if he emerged from the shadows, someone with a past of nothing. Her father is like that, his secrets encased in a thick shroud.

Best not to dwell on the past.

For hours at a time, her father would leave and journey somewhere in the evening, and she soon learned where he went, though he ensured that his business there was clandestine.

The city wondered how this man stole those people's bending, why it was just gone forever, as empty as this cruel stranger was. If he wasn't chosen by the spirits, this fraud with an unmarked face, then who was he? And how, just how? He was a freak, a demon, something against all nature.

Whoever he was, he refused to speak to anyone—not the courts, not the press—as if the fall from his pedestal had rendered him mute. He was no longer the impassioned and enigmatic leader of a group of fervent terrorists.

Arja caught fragments of a perturbing conversation between her mom and dad.

“He can easily kill them all without moving his arms,” Tarrlok says, perplexed, “and yet he hasn't.”

Her father knew all these details, spoke without this cold edge about an enemy; that was when she realized that, oh man—he's a bloodbender, just like me, just like Dad.

A year ago, she returned to the city briefly to visit her parents. She hugged them both, and then ventured to accomplish an uncertain task.

“Who are you? My uncle?”

When he looks at her, face tilted down, his eyes are gray and light, like hers, and something strikes her. Her heart squeezes so tightly in her chest. She always wondered why her eyes were this watery color when her parents both had pretty eyes, blue and vivid. Maybe her paternal grandmother or grandfather had those eyes, and that trait skipped her father and came straight down to her.

His voice is deep and like gravel, and he says, “I am nothing.”

The streets of Ba Sing Se bustle, the population flourishing now more than ever, though maybe not quite as hectic as the United Republic. Arja crosses her arms and extinguishes the butt of a cigar. Her mother's side had always been open, full of love and brimming with full, happy encounters. Her great uncle, Chief Unalaq, once crafted her a bracelet with carved, glimmering stones shaped like seal-whales.

“No, tell me who you really are. Are we family?”

Her father's side, well. Her forehead creases. She received the letter a week ago. Something so mundane for a man as grand as her dad, all penned unsteadily yet firmly in her mother's handwriting. A heart attack.

He straightens, mouth slackened. “You have a family. Enjoy it.”

She sifts through the luggage, making sure everything is precise, just so. She canceled all appointments, any test flights. She'll leave in the afternoon.

“Answer my question,” Arja says, and he scrutinizes her, an indistinguishable slant in his visage, as if the direction of a river has changed. She can feel her face warm up as he searches, searches for something intangible. She touches the bracelet on her right wrist instinctively. Her great-uncle said he dipped it in the well, the sight near Yue's grave. It was meant to imbue people with good fortune.

Her parents are both strong, formidable people, though they had their stresses, especially back when she was younger. Juggling a family was hard with so many duties, though they had help.

After he's done, his shoulders tense, and there's the slightest shift in his blank expression as he opens his mouth to speak.

It's enough—for a family who had successfully refused to succumb and cheated the spirits.

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Sadness [Cheating the Spirits 19/20]

Summary: She believes that he'll force the consummation, and she's ready to fight.

Rating: T for imagined violence toward animals and talk about bumping fish fins

Pairings: Korrlok

Word count: 904

Note: It's here from the depths of the abyss—our tale about Tarrlok and Korra and their homicidal baby! So, I couldn't find what I had done for this chapter and thought it was lost forever. But, ah, here it is! Almost done with this story. The first scene was actually part of this one Amorralok fic I abandoned. Hope you guys like it. (Psst, porridge anon, I hope you enjoy it and honor the cows with plentiful lives.)

----

Korra's ignorant about many aspects of this new world, these new sets of expectations past when to punch and what to hit, but she's not so sheltered that she doesn't know what happens after this. His home is so . . . proper, like it can easily go on display, like nobody's ever really lived there. Doesn't he have family, at least?

She's so tense, so physically and emotionally exhausted that she thinks she'll rip off his suit buttons and stuff them in his eyes if he says one wrong word.

"I'm retiring to bed," Tarrlok notifies her, opening the door to his bedroom without ceremony. Throughout this whole ordeal, he barely even maintains that trademark smarminess.

"Wait, aren't we supposed to do an activity?"

"An activity," he repeats bluntly.

"You know," Korra says, tilting her head cheekily, "the dance of the weasel-snakes, the frog-fish with two fins?"

"It's prudent that we sleep in the same bed, since it would look troublesome if it got out that two newlyweds are so—removed after they learn the Avatar is pregnant." Tarrlok sighs. "I suppose after awhile there'll be rumors of my impotency later on, but I've been called worse." Korra snorts to herself.

Marriages arranged for political purposes may not be a strange custom in his tribe, but he hasn't been attuned to that part of his life so long. Since his brother's death, Tarrlok cared little for his surroundings then; he happily shed it for a world of new norms and mingling cultures. In his mind, this is not a real marriage. He has the power—he can ruin her and force her, take advantage of her loyalty to her role, no matter how powerful she is.

He's not Yakone. He's not Yakone. Not even Yakone resorted to tormenting the woman he cared for. She believes that he'll force the consummation, and she's ready to fight. There's sadness that he can be misconstrued as such a monster despite all attempts to purge himself from that legacy, and then there's pity for her, for someone else strangled by what the world insists is right, this need to lie or be shunned, no matter one's intentions.

Korra abruptly changes the topic. "Can Naga stay here too?"

“In the bed? Certainly not.”

“That's not what I meant.”

Tarrlok grimaces. "It would—is that thing even housebroken?"

"She, and she's not a thing," Korra bites back. She peers away, then say quietly, "I hate you." To consider this, it's actually quite funny; this isn't a disposition most couples have on their wedding night, but they just have to be different.

Tarrlok regards her sourly. "Avatar Korra, you should expect far more growing up in these future months."

The look she gives him is unlike anything he's ever seen, even when she slammed him into the wall. "I don't take orders from you. At least I'm not some slimy, cowardly creep."

"Well, I should at least expect that you'll pretend to have an affinity for slimy, cowardly creeps if you want this elaborate illusion to be even a bit effective."

They don't speak after that. What little possessions she had since coming to Republic City are still in boxes, unpacked, and it's a bother to retrieve anything. Sure, grunting and lifting things isn't exactly new, but there's this invisible weight more crippling than anything, a force she's never experienced before.

After the sickness, the flare of adrenaline and dread, her darker thoughts are disrupted by Tarrlok's loud snores. Perhaps months from now, she'd even see drool on his pillow.

Strange, he's almost human.

----

Arja has always known that Uncle Mako doesn't like her. No, he isn't rude, and he may not even dislike her, but he certainly doesn't take to her like Bolin, or even like Asami.

It's understandable. To some, she's spoiled beyond belief; they translate her lack of words to this pomposity on her part. She rarely makes friends, doesn't date. Part of her considers this to be good behavior. Well, she isn't killing anyone, anyway, and she never bends, never does anything remotely bothersome to others. She can; she can easily take every harasser, every bully and pull their guts out and turn them into jump ropes.

When she was younger, when she was sad, she imagined herself strangling a chicken-sow. That was before she knew, before Arja accrued this intense paranoia and receded to some clean part of her mind, a hollowed piece of gray.

And yet, though she is well-behaved, her parents are concerned; she doesn't take an interest in much. She'd like to fly, to feel that punch in the stomach, that rush. But she feels like a bird without wings, with no trajectory or method. So she sits alone, and the need gets harsher.

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Fools and Sages [sort of an epilogue for "Cheating the Spirits"?]

Summary: For Lantur, who wanted me to write the trope "celebratory kisses" for Korrlok. I can't really write kisses--or happiness, so here's some bittersweet reminiscing. :U (I'm so sorry.)

Rating: no major warnings

Pairing: Korrlok

Word count: 248

-

As the stresses of the day wane, Korra sips on her tea. Not the kind Tenzin (oh, how she misses him) and Pema would make, but the weirdly flavored ones Tarrlok likes. Oddly enough, she grew to have an affinity for them, though still not fond of the strong colognes he wore.

She's endured menopause, and her child is grown and living in the Earth Kingdom as a test pilot for some branched off Future Industries endeavors. It's not quite what she expected. Abruptly dispelling herself from the smothering confines of the White Lotus compound left her unprepared for life's cold facts. Sacrifice. Nonetheless, Avatar Korra regrets none of her life. If she's going to be alive for at least another century, she might as well be content.

Her husband's bones pop, and he complains about headaches. The dyes, lotions, and oils can only do so much with the onset of age, the cracks and wrinkles, the long hairs in the showers; at times, Tarrlok will have bouts of morose lassitude, but quickly smooth his hair back and plaster on a smile. He's retired, and Korra knows his past, that sadness hidden in the silk folds. They've both survived in their own ways.

So, on a quickly fading summer morning, she kisses him. While they probably won't ever have a golden anniversary—he'll be gone—these years have been golden. Even with the fights, the turmoil, the losses, they have a blessed life, and Korra is determined to celebrate that.

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Cheating the Spirits BONUS CHAPTER

One sunny day, Arja does as many toddlers do and poops in the bath tub. Tarrlok freaks out, sobs at the sight of sullied porcelain, and drinks himself into a stupor like a good dad.

Korra gets angry at her failed airbending training--except for that one day she nearly blew Arja into the ocean--and she joins him. Anyway, they continue this for years after they fail as parents continuously due to the awkward plagues of author neglect and irony.

So, after these bouts of shared despair, they die of cirrhosis because they drank so much, leaving Arja embittered because nobody loves her. But luckily, Noatak is there to fulfill the role of the emotionally incompetent father to his disgruntled bastard child, and they spend time hating each other like all good families do. Then Meelo farts in his face and he dies, leaving Arja to lead the Equalist revolution. 

In the end, Arja is alone and sad and has a huge headache, like I do right now. Don't say that I never update!

THE END

[savageleeinactive]

Confrontation (Cheating the Spirits)

Summary: Her blood runs cold.

Rating: T for Tarrlok getting his ass kicked

Pairings: none in this oneshot except hinted Amorra (well, I suppose being pregnant with his kid is more than hinting)

Word count: 646

——

On the streets, she hates seeing pieces of him in the people strolling past, that split second when her heartbeat picks up. Korra wraps in bundles of clothes and wishes that she didn't have to keep all of these secrets. Part of her knows that her job is to protect, but she always feels inadequate, and she wishes someone more Aang-like had gotten the job.

She rubs her eyes and her vision blurs for a second. She's intermittently too hot and too cold, hungry and nauseous.

And it's on such a day that Councilman Tarrlok decides to walk to work instead of driving, and he sees the young woman and just has to approach her. As if her day won't be trying enough.

“Avatar Korra, what a surprise to find you here,” Councilman Tarrlok says jovially, “and here I thought you'd be training at the air temple.”

Great.

Not even feigning friendliness, she says, “What are you doing here?”

Tarrlok laughs. “Can't I partake in a stroll every so often?”

“Yeah, might do you some good.”

“The Equalists have been emboldened by Beifong's incompetence. I still have the task force assembled, and it'd be an honor if you'd join me in the fight.”

Korra's words have an edge. “No, I'd rather not.”

As if surprised and personally affronted, he says, “Avatar Korra, I'm perplexed as to why you aren't accepting my offer. It would be exemplary work for you to undertake, especially with Amon escalating his threats against our city.”

(Our city?)

“I'm sick.”

“You look remarkably well to me.”

“With the—with everything, I need to train.”

“Is that not training?” Losing his patience, he says, “You've been inactive for awhile. It is your duty to the city to combat the Equalists. You can't just—”

“Leave—me—alone!” She storms away, leaving him standing there, stunned.

——

Regrettably, Tarrlok arrives at the air temple and finds her room while Tenzin isn't there. Official Council business, he told the guards. He leaves the door open and enters.

Korra jolts to her feet, closing her eyes and swallowing. Her hands clench into fists. "No, I'm not going to return to your stupid task force!"

"How did you know that was what I was going to inquire about?"

Dryly, Korra says, "Call it intuition. I see you aren't sending your assistant anymore. Not afraid to ruffle your own prissy hair anymore?"

“Actually,” he says with a smirk, “I've been notified that congratulations are in order.”

Her blood runs cold. “Get out.”

“As distasteful as it may sound, that could cause quite a scandal. It would be a shame for this to leak out into the newspapers.”

“Why are you doing this?” she replies quietly, catching the threat, trying to hide the fear in her eyes, the gleaming sadness.

And so he gives his proposal. A cover-up marriage.

“No,” she says, raising her voice, “you're doing this to control me. I'd rather be seen as a floozy than someone with bad enough tastes to resort to that. Get out!”

“Why, Korra, I—this isn't just about your reputation. Imagine how your child will be received. They will always be marked with sullied honor, the product of an Avatar's lack of inhibitions, a bastard.”

The floor jolts beneath him, propelling him off of the ground. He gasps as his back collides with the wall. Tarrlok collapses onto the floor, body wracked with pain.

Glowering, she says, “That's Avatar Korra to you, buster.”

"Your priorities are skewed, and augh—I-I think you ruptured something."

Korra puts her hand on her chin and tilts her head slyly, still unsmiling. "Oh man, Pema is gonna kill me when she sees this."

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Meanwhile in the Korrlok chatroom.

Sav: lee what is with this dead cow