call it our temporary crutch, hey

[unrestraint]

The problem with meditation, Korra thinks, is that there's absolutely no way to track progress. For weeks now, she's done her best to set aside a couple of hours each day to meditate. Sometimes, it's in the middle of her apartment. Other times, she treks out into the countryside, eager to feel the wind on her skin. But no matter where she goes, Korra feels herself dipping heavily in one direction or the other. Either she finds herself distracted by little itches she never noticed before... or she falls asleep.

Today, she falls asleep.


The air today is unusually still for this time of year. It drives the temperature of the Southern Arctic down, until most families are tucked away inside their houses, nursing fires and huddled together for warmth. With the arrival of her uncle and his family to the South Pole, it almost feels like the weather is being accommodating for the arrival, Korra watching skeptically as she sees her uncle roam through the streets with his never-changing expression. She knows, from watching her dad, that uncle's relationship with the family is a strained one.

Personally, she's always thought of her cousins as the most annoying part of these visits. They're just... kinda creepy. Even though Korra has never been one for staying still, she's doing her best to be a good girl today, glowering at her twin cousins as they simply stare from the other side of the house, whispering among themselves about how poor the South is in comparison to their home.

Korra wishes she could just throw sea prunes in their face.

"Korra," a voice calls out from the next room over. "Korra, it's Katara. I've got someone here to see you."

"Yes, Master Katara?" With a burst of fire underneath her hands, Korra leaps up onto her feet, eager for a chance to distance from her cousins. Smiling as she pushes open the door, Korra's expression fades when her eyes suddenly fix on a swath of red and yellow.

As she stares, Avatar Aang leans down slightly, smiling from cheek to cheek.

"Hello, Korra."


As Korra wakes, a burst of wind rises up around her, whirling and bringing her quickly to her feet. Clothes clinging to her in a cold sweat, Korra glances quickly around, first to the left, then to the right, her heart straining against her chest.

"Whoa," she says, before her shoulders slump slightly as she drops her face into her hands, massaging her eyes.

Comments

[perform_admirably]

"A dream," Spock murmurs, lifting his voice from where he stands nearby at the tree-line with animal stillness. The words sound as much like a question as they do a statement. Maybe it was one of his particular conceits to believe so, but not all dreams were just dreams. Not all were just the random function of a brain maintaining itself.

Sometimes they were more.

He nods toward Korra, almost apologeticly, only for approaching without warning to watch her in the first place. Privacy was a fundamental right. Eavesdropping wasn't a proper hobby.

"I was surveying," he explains, nodding to the equipment in the heavy pack over his shoulders.

[unrestraint]

Korra barely manages to suppress a squeak when she hears Spock's voice from behind her, tilting her head back until she loses balance and falls flat on her back. Which is... just great, considering what kind of impression Spock has of her to begin with. Surrendering to her apparent fate of making a fool of herself, Korra offers a lopsided grin and remains on the ground for a few seconds. She watches Spock walk closer, away from the treeline.

Once he's close enough that keeping his gaze is a strain, Korra airbends again, pushing herself away from the ground and landing lightly on her feet. A useful move, considering how often she lands herself in compromising positions.

"Hoping to find something you missed?" Korra asks, lifting both shoulders as she stands. "But uh, yeah, I was... definitely dreaming. Which is probably meditation taken a little further than it was actually meant to go."

[perform_admirably]

"Hoping to get a better idea of what the land out here holds, in general, both in terms of survivability and material resource." In case an already anxious situation becomes worse, but he doesn't put those darker considerations into words for Korra. There really isn't a need to communicate his own concerns, when he's already taking consideration for them. Not with her, at least.

She has more personal concerns.

Stepping forward, he hesitates briefly, watching her bend, as she calls it, with thoughtful curiosity before slipping the heavy pack off of his shoulders and setting it down to rest. It should be sufficient to communicate that he won't just walk past, now that he's stumbled upon her.

"More that meditation is a state of mindfulness, not a state of drowsiness," he says. "You should be concentrated enough on the task of 'being' that you aren't falling asleep."

[unrestraint]

"Well, that's... grim," says Korra, arching a brow and shifting uncomfortably. She can't think of any reason to try and dissuade Spock from taking a fair account of what the broader area has to offer, though. Even though Korra's had plenty of time to get used to the conveniences afforded by the city, she remembers the greater considerations that the Southern Water Tribe had to make, and how they'd been subject to a lot of chance, year by year.

She shouldn't count on Darrow to be this stable forever.

As Spock approaches, Korra crosses her arms loosely over her chest. Being around him still makes her nervous after their previous arguments, but she wants to trust him. And wants to learn.

"Yeah, my master used to tell me that I needed to clear my mind of thoughts and worldly concerns," confirms Korra with a nod. "But I always get distracted by something. I don't know how to make my mind just stop and... meditate. What am I supposed to focus on being?"

[perform_admirably]

"By the numbers, the universe is a grim place," Spock says simply, to explain his precautions.

Setting his things down nearby, he makes his way finally to Korra's side, before sitting down beside her on the ground and folding his legs easily over one another until his posture nearly mirrors hers, if somehow stiffer.

"Simply being. Clearing your mind of distractions may not be an ideal exercise for you to begin with. You should try instead to focus single-mindedly on a single thing. Focus on your heartbeat, your breathing. Focus on the sound of the wind across your ears, if that's easier. But focus. Don't clear your mind. Give it only one purpose."

[unrestraint]

Korra's lips part to protest. She hates the idea of going by the numbers, because there's so much that can't be quantified, so much out in the world that she considers priceless. It feels unfair to try to dial it down to something as plain as weighing both sides of a scale.

But maybe, she reminds herself, she should feel more for the fact that Spock doesn't seem to be able to turn his thoughts in the direction she can. Which feels... sad, really.

Korra presses her lips shut, watching as Spock takes a seat across from her.

"Master Tenzin told me to focus on the sound of my breathing. My mind still went elsewhere, but. I'll try," Korra says quietly, before taking in a deep breath and rolling back her shoulders, her posture straight as she sits and lets her mind unwind. Only a second later does she realize she has a question, one that she whispers out of deference. "Uhh. So. If I'm trying to meditate to connect to someone, should I be thinking about that the whole time?"

[perform_admirably]

"I don't know," Spock tells her honestly, switching his dark eyes to peer at her in the side of his vision, face relaxed. One of his brows rises thoughtfully.

"I've never tried to meditate to connect to anyone, aside from myself. There are reasons for this, related to the way of life on my home-world. I wouldn't want you to think that I was passing judgment on the very idea. Do you feel closer to that person when you try to meditate on them?"

[unrestraint]

"Well... in some ways, it would be connecting to myself," Korra shares, sitting up straighter and reaching her hands out to wrap around her ankles, pulling them close. Spock's been understanding so far, giving no indication that he's impatient with her.

Maybe, she thinks, they're starting to learn each other a little more.

"I don't know whether or not you remember, but uh. The Avatar is constantly being reborn. It's the same soul, I guess, that cycles through the nations, through the different kinds of bending. I know that connecting with those past lives is supposed to be something I can do. I just think of them as different people, I guess, because they lived different lives and had different personalities. They're all also me, though, at the same time. It's weird."

[perform_admirably]

"'Weird' is not the word I would use to describe it," Spock said, with his typical assured serenity. He turned his head to peer at Korra, dark eyes surveying in their curiosity. It pressed, but gently, as he had no intention of upsetting Korra. That would be counter to his purpose, and would not be helpful to Korra's reason for being out here.

He clutched at his folded knees with his palms.

"Everything in the universe has only ever been an iteration of something else. The material that makes up your body was once something else. When you eat a piece of fruit, that fruit becomes a part of you, yet you are not made of fruit. The material has been worked into something else."

[unrestraint]

Korra sits up straight, trying to ignore the itch on her scalp. Which might not actually be real, but in the wake of all this thinking, it's an impulse that makes her fingers twitch. And probably draws her away from the calm she was trying so hard for a moment ago. Spock has that sort of effect.

Instead, she mirrors his pose, reaching for her knees and keeping her balance.

"But you don't... remember any of that. And you don't take in the awareness that the food had. Or — unless you do," stammers Korra, wincing as she holds a hand up, not wanting to presume too much about Spock's abilities. "I'm just saying, no one else really gets reincarnated in the same way in my world. At least, not that I've heard of. And since the only person I could have turned to for advice on that is the one I can't seem to reach, well. It makes me feel a little lost sometimes."

[perform_admirably]

"Does it matter?" Spock asks Korra, raising a brow in her direction, though his tone remains passive and unemotive.

"That you think that there is something that sets you apart from the rest of the universe. It doesn't matter to the universe. All of the insecurities you have are insecurities that are based on your position in society, with regards to other people. It doesn't matter if anyone else 'gets' you. That shouldn't stop you from figuring out how to get in tune with yourself. The ground that I'm sitting on doesn't know that I am half-Vulcan and half-Human, and it doesn't care. If I abandon that conceit, I may find better results. And so should you. You aren't lost to begin with."

[unrestraint]

Korra's brow furrows deeply, though not out of anger, nor frustration. Instead, her gaze grows distant as she tries to concentrate on Spock's explanation. There are some things which sound ridiculous in retrospect, when shared in his plain and unyielding tone. He's right. It doesn't really matter if anyone gets her, but... isn't she just being realistic? It's hard for her to forge a path in the direction of something she isn't naturally strong in.

Or maybe she's just getting in the way of her own success.

She smiles hesitantly, glancing up for only a moment. "Do you abandon that conceit?" she jokes lightly, before folding her hands together on her lap again and closing her eyes, breathing deeply, in and out. In and out.

"You're right. I'm not lost. I'm just... one part of the world," she murmurs, taking in another breath and rolling back her shoulders.

[perform_admirably]

"When I'm capable of it," Spock allows, closing his own eyes again. She is doing her very best to take his offered opinions as what they are, merely well-intentioned advice. He won't expect any more of her, not because she can't be more, but because it would disrespect that she can come to her conclusions and her strengths on her own time, in her own way.

He won't claim to be perfect at these things himself. For he isn't any more than she is.