She Can't See

chapter sixteen

I have to see her.

Another hallway filled with useless, empty rooms that didn't give Korra what she was looking for. She huffed under her breath in frustration when she closed the door to the last room. She then shook her head softly and tried to jog her memory of where Opal had said the art room was located. It had to be a form of pure, unforgiving tortue for this house to be so large yet not have a few maps of the place posted in every corridor. Her feet picked themselves up again, footsteps mostly quiet as they shuffled across the polished wood.

I have to tell her.

It's been exactly fourteen minutes since Korra sent a text to what was only supposed to be looked at as a best friend. The message read 'where are you right now?' but so far, there still hasn't been a reply. It was by the sixth minute that Korra figured she wouldn't be getting one, which meant that Asami couldn't have been on her phone. For a moment, Korra didn't want to disturb Asami in any way, but after a swarm of flashes from their previous night clouded her mind, all consciousness was long gone.

She thought about the way that it felt to finally discover what her own self had been hiding from her for so long - for well over a decade. When she breathed those words out loud that told the tale that she just wasn't able to read before. 'You stick, Sato.' When she realized and settled with the fact that gratitude couldn't even come close to what she truly felt. That what she truly felt was something much stronger than she could have ever imagined it to be - and it was the best thing in the entire universe, without a doubt. It was also something that needed to be shared. Not with Kuvira or Opal. Not with Mako or Bolin. Not with either of her parents or closest family-friends. Not with any of her co-workers from the Acolytes Gym.

She has to know.

Two hours since Korra woke up to the best feeling she'd ever experienced sitting on her chest, ready for its first full day of its existence being known and welcomed happily. A warm, soft, fluttery, electrifying feeling that scratches all of the itches.

One more hallway, and just by walking down it, Korra could tell that the woman she was looking for was there. But mainly it was because of the faint smell of paint that was drifting in the air. Korra walked to the end of the hallway and peaked into large, glass double doors. One was partially open while the other was shut in place. And just as she had suspected, Asami was there.

Asami.

Asami was sitting at a high stool in the middle of the room, her entire body and mind clearly completely captivated and focused on whatever she was scribbling into her famous sketchbook. Her perfectly trimmed brows were knitted together in concentration, forming delicate lines in between them.

Her hair was placed neatly in a low bun with a noticeable strand tucked behind her ear, one that probably slipped out every time Asami leaned down and it bothered her shitless. Korra couldn't see them all too well, but she could tell from the quiet sounds of the pencil running across the paper that Asami was being gentle with her lead, as she was with everything else in her life; gentle. Suddenly, a small part of her plump, pink lips was pulled back by her teeth. Korra's eyes went wide and her cheeks lit up with a forceful amount of heat, so she decided to look away for a moment to collect herself, and began to pay attention to the other aspects of Asami's current environment.

Next to the heiress and her stool was a tall easel with a medium sized canvas on it. It was colorless now, but there was clearly a drawing in the making there. The paint that Korra had smelled to lead her here was on a small cart beside the easel.

Korra studied every single part of this scene. She wished that she had the same skill level of art as her best friend, because if she did, this would definitely be something that she would make a mural out of. It was just that beautiful.