Word count: ~1700
Summary: Avatars must always be familiar with death, but whether they choose to go quietly is another whole matter in itself. Makorra.
Author Note: This fic based off the villanelle by Dylan Thomas by the same name so all credit goes to his great poem for that (and you should totally read). I don’t usually use songs or poems to structure a fic but the idea of “dying of the light” and Korra being the fighter she is seemed like a fun jumping off point.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
For the first time since the Harmonic Convergence, Korra began to feel the life flow out of her. She felt her energy begin to ebb and her vision waned as lights flitted in front of her eyes. A few dusty streams of amber streetlight came down through the twisted canopy above. The weight of the rubble was unbelievably crushing. Experimentally she wiggled her toes and clenched her fists. Her right leg wouldn’t respond and a sharp pain ran up her left arm.
He’d made up his mind. He had to do it. But despite his grip on the edge of the desk, his hands shook. He nearly lost his balance as he reached to his coat pocket and drew out the photo. Staring at the slightly crumpled square, he ran his thumb tenderly over their smiling faces. How long it seemed since either of them had looked so happy."No. Stop it."He flattened the photo on the desktop in front of him, gritting his teeth. He was laboring just to breathe. His mind was racing furiously, the past several months coming in a blur. His fists ignited in a burst of flame. He mechanically took his aim over the picture. He hesitated."Do it. DO IT!" He commanded himself. He couldn’t keep it any longer. It was slowly burning a hole in his already sore heart. But it’s not easy to destroy the last object that ties you to what you love most in the world. But he HAD to do it."JUST DO IT!" He silently screamed at himself.BANG. His fists hit the desk. Hot tears squeezed from his eyes and fell on the photo. His shoulders shook with tension and emotion.He couldn’t do it."I’m sorry, Korra."
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