date posted: 2024-03-25
summary: "You know nothing about me, Avatar."
word count: 2,264 words
content warnings: prison setting
notes: korra visits kuvira in prison. pre-ruins of the empire, post-series. korrasami is not mentioned and i don't really want them to be broken up but this is korvira so you decide all of that for me. title from nightwood by djuna barnes.
The earth huffs as it grunts open by Korra's hand.
"How nice of you to visit, Avatar," Kuvira greets. Korra doesn't grant her the grace of a reply just yet. She walks forward, fists curled at her sides, intimidating.
The woman is perched against the wall, one leg bent, foot to the wall, her arms crossed. Kuvira's hair is down, part of it messily braided, still, but loose, falling to the sides unfinished and coarse. Korra studies her for a moment, her taut posture, her mocking tone.
Kuvira seems to take her silence as a cue to continue.
"You want something from me, don't you?" She says, slowly, "am I to be another pawn in your game?"
"What game?" Korra says harshly.
"You tell me," Kuvira says, something sinister in her tone.
"I'm not playing at anything, Kuvira. I'm just here to see you."
"How lucky I am," Kuvira mocks.
"Cut it out, Kuvira," she says, threatening, her voice rising.
"What, am I getting to you?" Kuvira says, tilting her head to the side, grinning.
Korra didn't realize how close she was until she caught Kuvira by the shoulder and slammed her against the wall, debris cracking and dust falling with the force of it.
The sound of Kuvira's chains rattling shook Korra; she briefly closed her eyes tightly, trying to force away unbidden thoughts of that day, of those visions, that tormented her for so long. That she still doesn't have full control over.
Kuvira had turned her head slowly, hair knocked out of its careful, precise bun, falling to her shoulders when she hit the ground, messy with knots and spikes poking out from the skirmish. Korra's lip trembled as that head turned slowly, as that white glow of her eyes stabbed into Korra, her face stern and angry and pale and unforgiving.
Korra held Kuvira against the wall like that, one hand on her shoulder, pushing her back into the wall. She knew she could dislocate Kuvira's shoulder this way, could do worse.
"What's the matter, Avatar?" Kuvira jeered, smirking back at her.
"Nothing," Korra said sternly, punctuating her word with another slam back into the wall. Kuvira grunted at the slam, and Korra's almost entirely sure that it was involuntary. Some part of Korra roared at that, at the control in her fist, how she could crush Kuvira with just a little bit more power.
Korra's grip loosened. Kuvira fell to the floor with a huff. It would take a trained eye to notice Kuvira's shaken look before she covered it up with another smirk, looking up at Korra, as she looked back down at the woman before her, chained.
"You know," Korra starts, sighing, "I told you once, that I would've done anything to feel in control," she says, reluctantly. Kuvira tilts her head up more.
"Go on," she says slowly, her voice slightly hoarse.
Don't tell me what to do, a part of Korra wants to say. Instead, her gaze shifts to the floor, just barely catching how Kuvira's hands fold in her lap, the chains discordantly jangling as she subtly moves.
The chains were heavy and tight on Korra. The cuffs had dug into her wrists, scratching and sweaty, and that's all Korra remembers before she lost control.
Korra knelt down, one hand on her knee. She looked Kuvira in the eye, biting her tongue before she said something she didn't mean.
A moment passes between them, quiet and tense, the last sound in the fortified cell being the groaning scuff of Korra's shoes against the platinum ground as she knelt down.
"I told you I know what it feels like to be afraid," she says, her voice stony.
"You know nothing about me, Avatar."
"No," Korra says, quietly, "I do," and she pauses, glancing down at Kuvira's folded hands, how calloused they are from years of neglect, of war, internal and outward, commanded so carefully by Kuvira, but rough and hurt all the same. She continues.
"I know what it's like to be in your place. Trapped."
"You can't be serious, Avatar," Kuvira scoffs, incredulous. "You did nothing to be imprisoned the way I am."
"I did, apparently, when the Red Lotus captured me," Korra immediately says, and immediately regrets it, and knows she will regret the words that follow. "I did enough to anger them enough to do that to me," she says quietly.
Korra lets her words hang between them, like a rope in the breeze, fibers sticking out uncombed and unkempt, but only seen with a close eye.
"Don't force me into making you feel better," Kuvira says after a moment, stern.
"I'm not," Korra says, "I just…" she pauses. "I just want you to know that you're not alone."
"Cut the crap," Kuvira says, taunting, "you don't mean any of this."
"Then you don't know me well enough."
Kuvira blinks, jaw slackening. Korra continues.
"When I visited Zaheer," she says, solemn, "I was able to let go of a lot."
Kuvira quietly nods for her to continue.
"I was hoping to give you that opportunity," Korra says, "to let go of what happened. To move forward."
Kuvira scans her, wary. "You're trying to convince me to plead guilty."
Korra's fist tightens. "I'm not trying to convince you of anything. I'm trying to get through to you," she says, gritting her teeth. Kuvira tilts her head up, grinning.
"Seems like I'm getting to you more than you're getting through to me, Avatar," Kuvira says, and at that, Korra lunges forward, her hair jutting forward with the movement, the force of it, as she seizes Kuvira by the same shoulder again, the same hand gripping the same place, enough to bruise, slamming Kuvira into the wall again, Korra's knee digging into the reinforced ground as she leaned forward, close enough to feel Kuvira's breath on her face.
Korra stares at her, breathing heavily, waiting for Kuvira to collect herself. Instead, Kuvira laughs, the sound discordant and harsh, twisting into something almost manic.
"Oh, Avatar," Kuvira starts, "you make today a day to remember."
"What do you mean?" Korra grunts out.
"I mean," Kuvira says, "that this is a joke of a visit. Your problem is that you don't know when to give up."
Korra studies the woman before her, with her threatening sneer, and, if she weren't so close to her right now, Korra would admire how headstrong she is, even while chained up, her hair disheveled and coarse, the prison uniform scraggly and rough under Korra's grip on her shoulder.
Korra looks down, unwittingly leaning a hand on Kuvira's knee, jutting out to the side in a half-crossed position, now, bonier than Korra remembers, but still with a modicum of bulk, framing Kuvira's always tightened, always secured facade.
"In the Spirit World, I said how I would've done anything to be in control," Korra says, "to feel in control." The words slowly slip out of her, reluctant.
Kuvira, stilled by Korra's light touch on her knee more than the grip on her shoulder, doesn't wait to reply.
"You said that already, Avatar."
"I know. Let me finish," she says, annoyed.
Korra sighs, heavy and burdened. "I still feel that way, now. And seeing you like this," she pauses, a thumb unwittingly brushing around Kuvira's knee, making her jump, briefly, "makes me feel bad for you, more than anything."
"I don't want your fucking pity, Avatar," Kuvira bites back. Korra closes her eyes.
"I know," she repeats. She stills her thumb, lets it dig into Kuvira's knee, bruising.
"I think," she starts, quietly, "we're too alike."
Kuvira's expression is one of skepticism, and briefly cracks into another smirk, ready to taunt, but Korra continues before she can.
"I've seen too much of myself to ever get through to you. And now, like this," she says, hand releasing Kuvira to gesture at her condition, "it's like looking into a mirror, and I don't like it."
"You don't have to be here, Avatar," Kuvira reminds her. Korra nods.
"I don't," she agrees. "But I want to be here, to give you another chance."
"What if I don't want another chance? What if I'd rather rot here for the rest of my days?" Kuvira jeers. Korra shakes her head, gazing at the ground, sliding up to Kuvira's loosely crossed legs, her hand dropping to her side.
Korra leans back on her feet, her knees still digging into the floor; an uncomfortable position.
"You and I both know that's not true," she concludes.
The tension between them doesn't let up; it's almost suffocating, Korra thinks. But she lets her words hang in that tense air, too close to Kuvira for comfort.
But, she thinks, this closeness isn't uncomfortable enough for her to leave.
Korra clears her throat, blinking. "The more you try to drive me away, Kuvira," she starts, "the more I'll be here, trying to help."
"Oh, joy," Kuvira rolls her eyes, "I have more of this to look forward to."
"Yep," Korra agrees, looking Kuvira in the eye, certain, "you're not getting rid of me anytime soon."
"You're too kind," Kuvira says, mocking, "how grateful I should be, to be given these chances by the almighty Avatar?"
Korra smirks, this time. She slides a hand up Kuvira's arm, to her shoulder, and Kuvira's arm jerks, briefly, jumping at the touch, the chains rocking with the sound too much for comfort. Korra holds her there, and looks at her.
Kuvira looks back, reluctant, her nose scrunching in frustration, nostrils flaring. Korra's other hand, still on her knee, meets Kuvira's folded hands, digging a thumb in between them, holding her, as gently as she can manage.
Korra thinks about all those times she saw herself slouched like that, cuffs digging into her, chains heavy as she dragged them with her, her expression unchanging in its quiet anger.
She looks at Kuvira's lap, brushes her thumb delicately against Kuvira's thick, rough skin, patchy and worn.
"I think," she starts, "that me visiting you, like this, will help you more than you think."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Looking at you is like looking into a mirror," she starts, "like if I never got better. If I still saw myself like that, chained up, and poisoned, and–" Korra stops, realizing how her voice has risen in pitch, as the vision comes to mind, almost startling her, but she wrestles it back.
She huffs. "I want to help you, even if you don't want my help. And I'll keep coming back, as much as you hate it."
Kuvira studies her, suspicious. "And if I refuse your visits?"
"You can do that," Korra recognizes. "But you'll know that I was here. That would count for something."
Kuvira, abruptly, slouches against the wall, her head knocking back against the brick with a slight thump. Korra, looking down at the woman's lap again, at her thumb on her hand, hears Kuvira sigh, weakly.
She glances up to see Kuvira's head tilted upward, a reluctant, weary smile pulling at her.
"You know, Avatar," she says, with more warmth in it than Korra's heard from her before, "you really have a way of charming people."
"What?" Korra replies, incredulous.
"I mean," Kuvira starts, "you make forgiveness look easy," she says, ominously, and then Korra hears her chains rattling, and her hand rises, and cups the back of Korra's head, and pushes her close, closer, and their lips meet.
Kuvira, in this moment, is less demanding than Korra ever would've imagined. She kisses her gently, but still takes control, pushing Korra's head closer with her hand, and Korra, reluctantly, leans into the kiss. Kuvira's lips are cracked and dry, but still hot, as Korra kisses her back.
Eventually, Korra carefully pries herself away, leaning back, sighing loudly, unwittingly. Kuvira chuckles.
"That good?" Kuvira says, and for a moment, Korra is wordless.
Korra quickly wrestles herself under control, back straightening.
"You said something about forgiveness," she says.
Kuvira almost looks stricken, momentarily, as Korra slides over what passed between them.
"I did," she says, collecting herself, looking stern.
Korra clears her throat again, and remembers how hot Kuvira was against her lips.
"I think," she says, "you can forgive me, in time." Korra rises to her feet, and heads towards the door, ready to bend the earth open.
"Avatar," Kuvira says, then, with Korra's back to her, "I have nothing to forgive you for."
"Maybe," Korra says lightly, stopping in her tracks, briefly. "But in time, I think you'll see how alike we are. And in that time," her fists relax, having tightened as she stood, "you'll forgive yourself."
Kuvira scoffs from behind her. "I told you, I don't plan on pleading guilty."
Korra starts walking slowly, then pauses, looking over her shoulder at the other woman, her chains slack and loose, Kuvira still slouched against the wall, her head leaned back.
"However you plead," Korra begins, "I'll still be coming back here, for you." Korra turns back towards the wall in front of her, about to bend it open.
"I'm sure I'll see you again soon enough, Avatar?" Kuvira says, mocking, but it's undercut by the heaviness in her tone.
With a flick of her hands, slightly shifting her weight backward, the earth bends and opens for her. Korra walks forward, and looks behind her, at Kuvira's chains, then looks back, sees the guards book-ending the sides of the small cavern between the first and second door.
Korra walks into the created door frame. She doesn't look behind her.
"Korra," she says. "Just call me Korra."