There is love in your body but you can't hold it in,
It pours from your eyes and spills from your skin,
Tenderest touch leaves the darkest of marks,
And the kindest of kisses break the hardest of hearts

Tension rattled the air, festering in the boughs of heat and the chaotic, frenzied throng of confusion. It twisted in calamitous knots, gnarled and feverish, rankling, startling, and befuddling, coursing along in pervading waves of shambled, disorderly collisions; flames of discord. Lena refused to be disturbed and discomposed by the frenetic imbalances of so many astray meetings; her sienna eyes took in each confused feature, each grating, sibilant growl, each severe glare tossed amongst the distorted slush. The wolf’s abrupt departure, the raspy tone of the mare, the almost apologetic worry postured by the frosty sovereign, and the seething, stiffened posture at her arrival. In her childhood, she would have cowered under that rigid composition, that savage stare, that threatening, warrior prowess that Lena could not contain or hold in her own body. Where she was made of silk, wind and tranquility, the other femme was steel, scythes and dominance – no one would ever taunt, torment and plague such a fierce individual. She considered it an admirable quality, to be able to escape from the tides of threats and tribulations, to raise one’s blade and shirk the dangerous ebb and flow of life. By the webbing of scars and burns upon this Amazon, she’d done it before, and would commit the same acts again. She was sword and shield: for protection, for displays of strength, to melt into the battlefield amongst her fellow warriors and blend into the ferocious threshold of war.

But even in her appreciation of the gruff mare, the sylph read the atmosphere, tasted the acidic potency of her arrival, realizing that her presence was somehow unwelcome, undesired. Even Mauja seemed ruffled, disturbed by too many entities and essences in the glacial threshold. She’d felt it all before, the scowls, the frowns, the tempestuous eyes searing and scorching at her approach, the sinking, reeling feeling in her stomach when she was discarded over and over, the silent ragdoll, the vacant, useless child. To escape the forlorn, flee from the desolation, she’d smiled and laughed against water, molded into earth and became poetic isolation – yet, was she doomed here as well? It was discomforting, left her just as bewildered as the others, lost in the transfixing glow of rushed, frantic, hectic and wild assemblies; but she so wanted to show them that she was not something to be tossed and thrown away, that she was useful, dependable, persevering, and valiant. What would it take for others to cease pushing her into shadows?

Any exuberance she may have mustered before the fray was gone, vanished and vanquished. This was no place for the elated or vivacious. Still bright, still genuine, she composed herself into lithe chords, lissome, soft motions, not threatening, not untamed, not foolish. Her light, serene movements pulled her away from the monarch’s side, blending into the glare of the other femme, Korra, Mauja had called her, and her virtuous heart beat silken hymns in her chest, nervous to be judged by this durable, domineering mare (would she rip her apart, limb by limb and throw her over the side of the steppe?) and cold, calculating King (was he disappointed too, had she fallen too far?). But her own vicious form of strength won over, durable and majestic, the graceful, elegant sinew gliding closer to the scarred one, maintaining a safe distance, non-threatening, gentle, tender. Honeyed eyes looked upon the Amazon and shown only beneficence, displayed the nimble caress of a dauntless soul. Even her smile, at times overly generous, postured in airy regard, not too luminescent or beaming. She bent her crown downwards in a respectful gesture, breathed the mare’s name in welcoming stature. “Korra.” She paused, those regal, dulcet tones softening the tension, attempting to restore serenity where it had been torn and fragmented. “A beautiful name for a strong being.”