( korra's grip on her tightening is the only warning she needs of the impending shift in their positions. she goes with it easily, not fighting. they spend so much time enveloped in each other's physicalities — whether they're making love or sparring — that asami can read intent into every shiver of muscle in korra's body, know every resultant twitch like a whalesong coded into her genetics.
they are in perfect balance. it must be an avatar thing.
asami reaches up, feathers her fingers through korra's hair. she is playful and soft about it, like a gentle breeze, and she dabs her thumb against korra's nose as she pulls back for the mock-bout of their oh-so-serious game. )
All right. You ready? Three, two, one... go.
( there are four hand positions. a closed fist for earth, an open palm for air. fire is the fingers drawn upwards like a flame, water is the palm turned down like the gentle surface of the ocean.
asami throws fire. it's always been the thing changing her life. )
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they are in perfect balance. it must be an avatar thing.
asami reaches up, feathers her fingers through korra's hair. she is playful and soft about it, like a gentle breeze, and she dabs her thumb against korra's nose as she pulls back for the mock-bout of their oh-so-serious game. )
All right. You ready? Three, two, one... go.
( there are four hand positions. a closed fist for earth, an open palm for air. fire is the fingers drawn upwards like a flame, water is the palm turned down like the gentle surface of the ocean.
asami throws fire. it's always been the thing changing her life. )