Raava Academy

A Rather Gay Saturday

It's a cool, dry morning, and I'm sat outside in the campus square - a large, open field, dead-centre of the building, surrounded by benches and tables.

I'm mesmerised, hunched over with my fingers laced together, watching as brightly glowing orange-yellow flames dance across the mesh of my metal waste bin. I emptied it as soon as I woke up at stupid-o-clock from yet another stupid damn dream, and my comfort pants are now squished into it, set alight, crackling loudly as they disintegrate. Silver metal burns to black, and the edges of the green fabric melt away, flaking into thin, dark ash, caught on the wind, flying away.

"This seems a tad... excessive," Raava says, interrupting my trance.

"The pants must burn," I reply, making my thought sound sincere. I'm feeling unsettled after the latest dream, or at least, the end of it. One thing's for sure - the dreams are getting worse. I can still taste their blood in my mouth, I still can still feel their flesh trapped beneath my fingernails. The thing is, I don't even know what they are, given that the dream was so abstract, but I at least have a suspicion about who I was.

"Raava, my recent nightmare. Was it about Kyoshi?" I ask, trying to visualise the few remnants I have of the worse parts of the dream, though I exclude rapping Mako.

"That is... correct. It seems you are connecting more fully to your past lives - perhaps you will soon be able to talk to them."

"Wait, I can do that?" I ask, suddenly excited at the thought. I wonder who I'd talk to first.

"Some avatars are able to, it depends on our bond, our connection, as well as their own nature."

"So if they're not spiritual, like me, they don't stand a chance?"

"Actually, I feel that you are very spiritual. You just lack con-"

"Yeah, confidence. I know," I think the words, sighing deeply out loud, my shoulders sagging as I stare at the ground. I eventually glance up to see that the fire's almost extinguished, and my pants have burnt into a pile of ash. I'll miss them.

"I wish I could help, but nothing I say will change how you feel."

"I know," I say, grateful for her honesty. It's true though, she could tell me I'm the most amazing Avatar in the universe and it wouldn't make me feel any differently about myself. I don't know how long I've had such crippling self-doubt. Maybe it's since Meyla died, although I already had counselling for that. And I mean, a lot of counselling. Man, I still miss her. I wonder what she'd say if she saw me out here, feeling sorry for myself like this, and over a few bad dreams, no less. She'd tell me to stop being lame. She'd convince me to go to the shop and grab a giant tub of ice cream, which we'd share, though she'd always take more.

"I am... sorry about your friend," Raava says, softly.

"You know about her?" I ask, idly twirling the rubber sole of my trainer into the pink and grey gravel beneath, noticing a couple of cigarette stumps buried beneath. Damn litter bugs.

"Yes. I do not see your thoughts without consent, Korra. But whilst we speak like this, I feel your memories as though they are my own. It feels like... she was a good friend."

"She was," I say, suddenly fighting back tears. I don't want to get into this again, not now. Maybe it's best to change the subject, at least whilst I have Raava's attention. "So. My dream. What was Kyoshi doing? I mean, who was she fighting... and why? It seemed like a pretty close fight."

"It was very close," Raava says, apparently accepting my sudden change of topic, "and I know you have many questions, but I would rather you speak to her, when the time comes."