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

The meeting, dysfunctional and discordant, seemed to be spiraling further into an abysmal haze of labyrinthine proportions. Cynicism and suspicion derived from the arches of the other mare, Korra, and Lena didn’t know how to assuage the contemptuous glares. Worry postured from Mauja’s stare, and Lena didn’t know how to soothe his concern. Bewildering and awkward, the junctures had taken turns from panic and upheaval to an addled gathering of confused and contrasting, divergent souls. Her eyes kindled that sense of composure, but her mind rattled in the glade of slush and ice. From one to the other, they had managed to compose several different conversations, molding and mixing but never focused on the whole, segmented variants of disassembled unity. Pledged together amongst the Edge’s slate, but otherwise, tattered and broken, separated convictions. Korra, warrior and combatant, Mauja, sovereign and glacial, and Lena, honeyed, regal, but vaguely unimportant in the schemes of shadows and duels, a stranger in the midst of machinations. She was heart and they were might, and even in her wildest, whimsical fantasies, she felt like she couldn’t reach them. She was silly, brave but foolish, and they were beasts of the barbarian realm, strong in all aspects of life; she’d been pushed aside from humanity too long ago to ever truly feel such grandeur, to ever be that ever-reaching pinnacle of fortitude. Her strength came from perseverance, overcoming the shambles of a treacherous childhood, but they were real, tangible thresholds of supremacy. In their palace, she was naught. It was the trace of an epiphany, a showcase of her fragility amongst the truly magnificent and formidable. She could restrain her youthful glow, she could control and subdue her alluring, beguiling compassion and benevolence, but then, what would she be? She almost thought to hang her head in shame for allowing the matters to get out of hand, for accidently ignoring her monarch’s query, for racing into the air of frigidity and expecting it to melt and adhere to her wholesome smile and melodic tracings. However, her cranium remained where it was, still seemingly serene, tranquil, despite the distrust and anxiety woven towards her sienna frame. She could do this; lull and relieve.

Lena derived another wide smile for the glacier King, painted it across her lips in an alluring, graceful finesse, assuring the withered stance of her composition was for the Amazon’s sake, hoping he would accept this as an answer. She hadn’t meant to ensconce him in a bout of apprehension and unease, and perhaps, if there were any gift she could grant, it would be the ability to mollify his tension. Softly, her voice crept into the air, melodious croons of seraphic blessings. “Attempting to escape the heat.” In response to the other, the soldieress who seemed to hush her own stinging barbs, for the potential was there, in the distrustful gaze and harsh grate of her voice, she bowed her head, acknowledging the meeting was well-placed, despite each misgiving toiling from their layered entities. However, something similar plagued all of them.

“Perhaps we could find a way to remedy the warmth?”

Then, perhaps in a bout of that restrained exuberance, tired of being tied to the sweeping indulgences of other’s opinions and thoughts, she bent her crown low to the ground. Posturing her horn amongst the glade of prosperous, cool slush, she swiped the candid sword against its melting prowess, watched as a small missile of snow was launched into their small crowd. She renewed the same movements and motions for herself, tossing the cold substance behind her, to land precariously on her spine and ensue an inviting shiver against the murky, molten haze. A small torrent of laughter bubbled from her throat, encouraging, entreating, attempting to let go of the boundaries and composure they’d set before them. Mauja wouldn’t have to worry and Korra wouldn’t have to distrust. Maybe, in this way, they could interact as a silly, unfettered group, instead of detached threads of tension – or, they would continue to think less of her, inane and ignorant, witless and vacuous. But she wanted them together, not apart.