Summary: More than his voice, his touch, his eyes...after years apart, only the scent of him still haunts her. After all, it was the only thing that he didn't mask.
"Nothing revives the past so completely as a smell that was once associated with it."
- Vladimir Nabokov
[. Perfume .]
It happened again.
This time it was on the streets of Goaling at a food vendor. She had been drawn to the stall not because its oily wares were especially attractive. Quite the opposite in fact. It won her patronage simply because the crudely painted sign boasted a full stomach's serving for only two yuans. Considering the lightness of her purse after several, unplanned weeks on the road, the decision was made for her.
She watched apathetically as the vendor threw a few pieces at what might have once passed for fresh meat onto the wok. The fat screamed when it hit, inspiring spurts of boiling sesame oil on a hunt for blood. Korra automatically reached to brush her long wolf-tails out of harm's way only to realize they were no longer a hindrance. The newly hacked hair was going to take a while to get used to.
Then the spices were added.
A sprinkle of curry leaves, cumin seeds, fresh turmeric, ginger, garlic and chilli.
The combination was not only familiar, it had once been a staple. A long time ago. In a pop-up kitchen corner that comprised of a single, propane burner, one pan, one knife and an lacquered box - the most ornate item in the entire space - filled with tiny glass jars. In that attic apartment, condiments were stored with the same reverence as ancestral tablets.
In a sense, they sort of were an equivalent; the recipe being one of the only thing that remained of the brothers' long departed, Earth Kingdom father.
"Spirits, take it easy!" He reached over her shoulder and snatched the shaker away before she could do any more damage. "You do know these are fire flakes, right? Are you trying to kill us?"
Korra rolled her eyes as she continued to toss the wok's contents with a flick of her wrist. Just like he had, begrudgingly, taught her after she bullied her way into helping with dinner for once. "Will you calm down? I only put a little. Besides, I thought all firebenders liked it spicy?"
"We also like our esophaguses unmelted." The flakes were nestled back into their designated spot, part of a seemingly non-sensical but strict order that he would never explain to anyone. Not even his little brother. "Not to mention, those groceries cost me two hours at the power plant. You owe me if they prove to be inedible."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Relax, Captain Cranky. I promise I'll eat the whole lot myself if you guys can't handle it."
She had never regretted any words more. Bolin hadn't been been able to stop laughing the entire time he poured a steady stream of yak's milk down her throat in a desperate attempt to quell the burning.
In a blink, it was the gone. The sweltering attic from the Republic City of three years ago melted into the chilly Earth Kingdom streets. The vendor clicked his fingers impatiently, one hand open while the other held a grease stained, paper box just out of reach.
She shook her head. "Sorry. Thanks." Two yuans were fished out of the bottom of her backpack and pressed into his palm in exchange for the food and a pair of toothpick thin chopsticks. While scouting for the most shadowed bench in the park, praying that the refurbished hair and clothes were still enough to conceal her identity, the meal tugged at her nostrils. When she opened the box, a burst of steam blurred her vision and transported her to an entirely new setting.
Another kitchen in another city apartment from years past. Still relatively spartan, but cozier and better equipped. There was a permanent gas oven this time and not one but two woks. As well as a pot containing rice. Even a ladle. Still, despite these upgrades, the menu remained at a frustrating standstill.
"Curry. Again? Seriously?" Though his back was to her and his body hid the stove top, that unmistakable, imposing odor had assaulted her from all the way down the hall. Immediately upon entering, she flopped to the couch and whimpered like a child denied one last story before bedtime. "I thought we were going to Narook's tonight?"
There was a long pause before he answered. It had become habit to carefully edit his thoughts before verbalizing. The necessity of this was both appreciated and yet so very depressing.
"I thought eating in would be...nicer," he explained succinctly.
The other, unspoken reasons could not help but float to her mind then. The last time they dined out, two weeks ago, an equalist supporter had smashed a heavy, ceramic plate over her head. A trip to the emergency room was as murderous towards romance as it could get. When it wasn't blatant enemies, it was the press with their blinding camera flashes and biting personal questions until they were forced to part ways to escape both the mob and the embarrassment.
Yes, she decided. A night in would indeed be nice. If only because the likelihood of permanent mental and/or physical injury was significantly lower.
Settling in, she watched, riveted, as he stirred the spices - curry leaves, cumin seeds, turmeric, ginger, chili, garlic - and the heavily scented steam summoned droplets of sweat to appear on the back of his neck. There was a sudden urge to reach out with her tongue and taste the salty tang of his skin, which hadn't been sampled in far too long for either of their liking.
She scrambled to the edge of the sofa and leaned over the arm to get a better look. "Please at least tell me you're adding some sort of protein this time? I've been stuck with the boring old airbenders all week and no matter how much they try to convince me otherwise, broccoli rolled in wheat cakes is still. Freakin'. Broccoli."
Those beautifully sculpted shoulders of his started to vibrate.
"Stop laughing. This is serious! I need my MEAT, Mako!"
Only then did he look back at her, brows raised in half teasing, half question. His amber eyes showcasing their once constant flame. She returned the silent challenge with a sideways, salacious grin.
The stinging scent of the curry burning to charcoal would always bring to mind the weight of him pressed against her as they toppled to the couch. The zest of his tongue. The bite of his desperate fingers.
All at once sweet and burning and bitter and all around delectable.
On the streets of Goaling, Korra tossed the still full, steaming box into a trash across the parkway.
She wasn't hungry anymore.
It happened again.
This time, at as inconvenient a moment as could come.
After several wonderful yet delicate weeks of dating, Asami had finally asked her to a special dinner at the Four Elements. The true intention was made clear in the hand-written invitation, which formally stated that not only would they be dining in a private suite, but the Avatar should expect to spend the night. Korra prepared for the evening more than she had prepared for any battle. Her one and only dress was sent for pressing, an entirely new set of modern undergarments ordered to replace her bindings, - "they'll drive him wild" the sales lady had guaranteed. Ha! - she even visited a salon for the first time in her life to ensure her hair was trimmed evenly. As a final touch, every inch of skin was saturated with that scentless, moisturizing shea butter that was one of the many thoughtful, impromptu gift Asami had showered upon her recently.
This last romantic hurdle had to pass not only smoothly, but flawlessly. For everything up to that point had been so natural. Within the concealing myst of the Spirit World, confessions long pent up had been expressed without any tarnishing judgment. They had kissed for the first time under a glowing, jeweled tree in Xin-Wei's water cave and it was so beautiful, so relieving, that tears had actually gathered under her lashes.
Mako had always made her feel floating, terrifyingly undone and out of control, like smoke in the wind. With Asami, she felt tethered, stable and strong, like finding hearth and home at long last.
As she pinned her hair into its chignon that night, her nerves were alight with equal parts eagerness and determination. Tonight would be an especially significant stepping stone for both women, glossing over the shadows of more casual liaisons past. This would work.
They had to work.
Mere friendship would never again be satisfying. Besides, anatomy alone did not determine success in the physical expression of love. Far from it in fact. She knew from experience that it had mainly to do with hands and breath and lips and enthusiasm.
All of which they immediately demonstrated as the first course lobster-crab bisque grew cold on the dining room table.
"Korra…" Asami was whispering, her voice falling somewhere deep and intimate, as the sheer sleeves of her dress were dragged down her shoulders. The Avatar bit at the newly exposed skin, causing her to gasp deliciously. Painted nails bunched up her fur-trimmed skirt, finding and expertly unhooking the garters Korra had spent so long trying to figure out.
It was only then that she noticed.
In the midst of trapping a lace edge between her teeth, Korra froze. Another memory assaulted her.
"What do you think you are doing?" she accused, snatching his wrist out of her locker.
Mako's eyes widened, as if caught planting a terrorist's device. Not having much of a choice based on how she was clawing at his fingers, he eventually opened his hand to reveal the bundle within.
"Sorry," he muttered, though his tone conveyed that he wasn't really. Not at all. More annoyed at being caught than anything. "I didn't want to bother you."
"Bother me? Or insult me?"
He gestured to the innocuous pile of sticks tied with twine resting within his palm. "It helps absorb odors. All the teams share the player's box lockers and with a bunch of guys piling their sweat-soaked suits on top of yours, I didn't want you to feel-" he trailed off, eyes shifting sideways. Korra had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. "Never mind. I-It was stupid."
It had been one week since she joined the Fire Ferrets. Though during practice he acted as if he was doing her a favor by letting her participate, this was the first instance that proved the theory: he was actually terrified that she would leave him and his brother in the dust. To her, pro-bending was technically a mere hobby. For him it was a roof over their heads, food on the table and surviving for just one more night.
If he thought that a little male body odor would get her to quit, then he really had yet to understand her.
Determined to be on par and as rough n' tumble as the rest of the guys in the league, Korra let the incident slide. That didn't mean that, every time she got within an inch of his uniform during matches, she wasn't distracted by the fresh wave of cinnamon that attacked her senses.
Months later, that same scent permeated his officer's uniform after he returned from a long shift working the beat. Beyond the sweat and dirt and smoke, she'd reach out for the spice, for it was proof that some things would never become tainted.
No matter how crazy things got.
"What is it? What's wrong?"
In the present, Korra was once again made aware of the half-dressed woman quivering below her. Her vivid green eyes, once hooded with passion, where now wide and bright with genuine concern.
"Sorry," she muttered, pushing sweat soaked bangs off her forehead and desperately trying to regain the weeks of momentum that had led to this. "It-It's nothing."
She leaned down to press languid kisses along her neck which made her sigh contentedly, as usual. But also as usual, Asami wasn't fooled. "You can tell me, you know?"
Of course Korra knew. She could tell her anything and it would be met with advice and support rather than critique and question. It was the very reason they had ended up entangled like this. There was nothing more unarguably enticing than having someone witness your true self, at both the best and very, very worst, and still see something worth holding on to.
She vowed then and there that she would never hide again. Not from her. She would fight ten thousand evils if only for the chance to make her happy.
"It's your perfume," Korra admitted hesitantly, praying to the Spirits that the mood could still be salvaged. "The cinnamon. Mako...he used to-"
"Oh! Right." Asami's blush deepened and she immediately reached toward the bedside table to tap a matching, burning stick of incense to death. "I'm so sorry! It's new. I didn't think...of course he used to- I'm such a fool!"
"No, no! It's fine. Really. It doesn't matter."
And it didn't. Once the memory had a label, she was quickly able to catalogue it deep in the dusty vestibules of her brain and concentrate on the task at hand.
Being with Asami proved to be not much different from the most invigorating times she had been with a man. Right off the bat, it was established that there would be no shortcuts, nothing close to the semi public, speed runs that had been Korra and Mako's band-aid speciality in the final weeks as their emotional connection shrivelled. Always the entrepreneur, Asami inspired and directed the finest performance from all those she partnered with. Luckily, Korra had always prided herself on a job over-the-top done.
The next day, hand-in-hand in public for the first time, the two women went shopping for a new, signature scent. They selected an expensive, cucumber-orange blossom concoction that was undeniably refreshing but much too sweet for Korra's typical taste. The best thing about it, which Asami was surely aware, was that it didn't remind either of them of anything.
"You're kidding, right?" Korra asked as she tossed a fistful of clothing from her rucksack to the hamper. Unraveling the ribbon that kept her braids in place overnight, Asami's reflection revealed her perfectly manicured brows were furrowed.
"No. Why would I be kidding?"
"Because." Slamming the drawer of their shared dresser closed with her hip, she turned to glare directly, arms crossed over her chest. "I just got back for one thing. And, come on...it's," there was no avoiding the word "...awkward! Okay?"
"Huh. I wouldn't have pegged you for being close-minded." After coiling and replacing the ribbon in its designated box, she grabbed her brush to smooth the resulting waterfall of dark, wavy hair. The deftness of her movements proved that she had neither the time nor desire to deal with her partner's unfounded issues. "It's just dinner, Korra. I thought we were all going to try to remain friends, no?"
"Well, yeah. But-"
"And being friends means seeing each other once in a blue moon, does it not?" Hair sorted, she leaned forward to apply the standard coat of burgundy lipstick.
"I guess. It's just-"
"And don't you chat with him on the phone sometimes, anyway?" There was a barely discernible accusation in her voice as she snapped the case of her lipstick closed and moved onto the eyeshadow. It was applied with the usual efficiency gleaned from years of practice, but something about her stance that morning made it look like war paint. In response, Korra immediately switched to the defensive.
"That's for work, Asami. He's head detective. I doubt I can stretch comments about the weather and lack of gang activity throughout Kwong's eighteen courses. And I don't want to! Spirits, I just wanted ONE day to relax. Is that so much to ask?"
"Look, it's been a rough few weeks for both of us. I, for one, could use a night out and I haven't seen Mako in over a year. So I'm going. You can stay home if it's that torturous a concept for you."
A few sweeps of mascara, a spritz of the perfume they bought together those many moons ago, and Asami's toilette was complete. Korra could only stand silently and let the remnant spray waft over her. Cucumber & Orange Blossom. Of course, she was reminded of that first, revitalizing night and how she had vowed to make her happy. No matter what evils she may have to face.
As Asami laced up her high-heeled boots, Korra noted that her determined expression mirrored that of a soldier strapping on armor. Today she was due back at City Hall to continue fighting for the required permits to rebuild a key production facility. It was agonizingly slow, bureaucratic nonsense that, despite best efforts, Korra knew was starting to look hopeless. Still, always the head cheerleader for her company in addition to one hundred other roles, Asami pushed forward. She punched her fists through her blazer's sleeves, pulled her hair free, adjusted the cuffs and for once didn't bother hiding how tired she was with the whole routine. It served as an additional hint to Korra of how fragile she, them, everything was.
So...Dinner with Mako.
Trapped in close quarters with the only person on the planet who had intimate knowledge of them both.
Spirits, it was like a radio soap drama waiting to happen. The reunion probably would be fictionalized to such a degree once the press got wind.
She supposed it could always be worse.
Prince Wu could have been in town and insisted on making it a menage-a-quatre.
"Fine." Throwing her hands in the air, Korra yielded. "I'll go. But tell Kwong no more than four courses. I want to be out before dawn this time."
Without daring to question, a smile instantly broke out onto Asami's lips as she leapt into her arms, peppering her forehead, nose and lips with burgundy stained kisses. "Thank you! It'll be such fun! I promise you, you won't regret it!"
Korra regretted it the second she walked in the door.
After running the gauntlet of paparazzi outside, praying not to trip on the low heels Asami had bought her in a spurt of wishful thinking, the Avatar was escorted to a table already vibrating with laughter. Asami and Mako were nestled in a dark, private booth at the back of the restaurant, side by side instead of face to face as would be expected. If one didn't know any better, this could have been a tableau from a glamorous date night five years passed.
"Sorry I'm late," she said unnaturally loudly by way of introduction. The giggles didn't relent half as quickly as she would have liked.
"Korra! Hi!" Asami swallowed her remaining chuckles with a sip of wine as Korra settled into the seat being offered by the host. It was a single, hard-backed chair facing the cushioned booth. Becoming the third wheel hadn't been a legitimate concern until that very moment. "Mako was just telling me the most hilarious story about this string of burglaries that- oh, you tell it better!"
"It's not that funny." Mako said sheepishly. He gave Korra a brief smirk in greeting, allowing only a glimmer of the those haunting, amber eyes before reverting to his fingers twirling the stem of his glass. "Just this guy was stealing only people's left shoes and- wait, no. Korra should sit here." He stood swiftly, revealing the same suit Asami had bought him years ago but with an actual silk cravat instead of a ratty scarf, and made his way behind Korra.
"No. No. Really, it's fine."
"Please." He leaned over her shoulder a little as he pulled back the chair, close enough that some foreign musk started tickling her nose. "I insist."
Seeing no other choice, Korra relinquished her seat and slid in next to Asami. Instantly, the tension dissolved as a lingering kiss of welcome was pressed to her cheek. Across the table, Mako smiled. Only Korra could tell that it was slightly forced.
They drank. They ate. They drank some more. Within three hours and four courses, it was just like the good old days of team Avatar. Except for one thing missing.
"Where's Bolin, by the way?" Korra asked while taking a hearty swig from her fourth, possibly fifth - sixth? - glass of wine. It didn't matter. She was marinating in fine, kindred spirits. "He's usually my scapegoat from becoming labelled the drunk one."
Mako smirked. "Oh, I'm sure he's in an equal if not more inebriated state on Ember Island."
"Ember Island?" Asami repeated while gesturing for the waiter to bring them another bottle. "And he didn't invite us? What a shame."
"Considering he's on his honeymoon, I do not believe anyone else was welcome."
Both Korra and Asami nearly choked in surprise.
It was explained that Bolin and Opal had spontaneously eloped a couple of weeks previously. They had tied the knot whilst on a standard inspection through a small Earth Kingdom town, the only witnesses being a cadet named Chi and Pabu. Considering both bride and groom were in their uniforms at the time, the fire-ferret was the most fashionably dressed among them.
Apparently, it had been perfect.
"Which reminds me." Mako drained his glass. It was only his third but still much more than he usually dared to indulge. The jubilant atmosphere immediately dimmed. "I had a reason for asking you both here tonight. I had a, umm...a question. A favor, actually."
Korra was still trying to locate her tongue when Asami, always the more decisive, leaned forward and covered his hand with hers. "Anything."
He took a deep, seemingly pained breath. "So. I...I decided to try again. Try seeing someone, that is. Dating, that is. So I'm dating. Someone."
"That's great, Mako!" After supportively patting his hand, the heiress wisely slunk hers back into the darkness of the booth. "She's a lucky girl."
"Yes. I mean-I hope. She is wonderful. Her name is Tali and it's going really well so far. It's...easy, for once."
As her brain finally caught up to the conversation, a scoff automatically escaped Korra's throat. This earned her an elbow in the ribs from Asami and a glare from Mako. Both very much deserved. "Sorry," she muttered beneath the rim of her glass. "Congrats. So what's the favor?"
Emboldened by her rudeness, if only because it was expected, he shot to the point. "I want you two to meet her. She's a little, understandably, intimidated by my history. I want her to see and understand that we're all friends."
She almost scoffed again, but managed to convert it to a laugh this time. Too late, she realized that laughing wasn't any more appropriate and Asami pinched her under the table this time in a failed attempt at subtlety.
"Yes, of course! We'd be honored to meet her, Mako."
"Yes, of course," Korra parroted through a wince. "Honored."
The check arrived. Both Asami and Mako squabbled over who would pay until a suddenly impatient Korra hurled a handful of loose yuans onto the table in violent interruption. She was already, gracelessly stumbling towards the exit before they could react.
Propriety was the least of her concerns at that moment. It was too damn hot in that pretentious watering hole. Also, most importantly, she was feeling quite nauseated. Probably from too much wine.
She ran out into the street, blissfully cleared of the press considering the late hour, and took several, deep gulps of smoky, midnight air.
For reasons she didn't quite understand, it was becoming harder and harder to breathe.
"Korra?" A scorching palm was placed on her back before she could stop it. At the close distance, she smelled it again. Cinnamon, underneath it all. But fighting with something else this time. Something sharp and overpowering like fancy cheese but flowery. Feeling on the verge of vomiting, she immediately wind-whipped his hand away.
"Don't-Don't touch me," she mumbled, taking a shaky step back. Mako increased the distance with his hands up, his expression a familiar mask of shock and annoyance.
"Asami's paying," he explained with a nod towards the door. "She asked me to check on you."
"I'm fine. Obviously."
Mako didn't argue. After an eternal beat of charged silence, she couldn't help but comment on the new acquisition.
"You're wearing cologne," she said.
It sounded like an accusation.
Instinctively, Mako slid a few fingers down his left cheek as if searching for tangible evidence. "Right. It's aftershave, actually. Tali bought it for me."
"Of course she did." Another deep breath and it overpowered her again.
Freesia and aloe and maybe a hint of mint. All around too complex and too much. She felt suffocated as another memory ripped free of its restraints and scrambled towards the surface.
"Did you do this for me?"
'Of course not!' was what she had planned to say, but wasn't allowed the chance. His thumbs were already pulling at her bottom lip, opening her up before sealing his own on top.
When Asami had begged to test some new cosmetic samples against her dark skin, mainly as a distraction as she was still restlessly awaiting Varrick's final contracts, Korra had thought she was doing the heiress a favor. Turns out it was quite the opposite.
She melted into the kiss, hands rising to thread through his hair, the awkwardness of the reveal dissipating as she summoned an alter-ego to match her new face; one of those glamorous mover-star heroines from the posters surrounding the arena. A fearless dame who loosened men's knees with nothing more than a wink. It was enough to make her forget that just a few short hours ago they had been screaming at each other.
That didn't matter. Not then. Not when he looked at her like that; both starstruck and ravenous. He could have revealed a secret life as an equalist spy and she'd still beg him not to stop. A voice in the back of her mind reminded her that such blind surrender was far from healthy. Another, louder voice spouted his inarguably flawless statistics when it came to these encounters. It had been an especially stressful few days travelling back to the City from the South Pole. She needed this. Needed him.
After nearly a minute, Korra eventually noticed that he wasn't kissing her back. Not entirely.
More than not, he was biting her.
"Ow! Mako! What the-" She forcefully pushed him away, pressing fingertips against her now tender lips. "What are you doing?"
Instead of answering, his fingers were on her mouth again, scratching at the sticky plum-colored wax.
"You don't need all this stuff," he insisted with a sigh. "You know that, right? You're so much more beautiful - more you - without it."
"Yeah, well tell that to the other, million judgemental jerks in this city."
Korra remembered feeling like a hideous turtle-duckling lost amidst a city of swans-loons. Practically every article about her always mentioned her 'simplicity', her refusal to conform, and it was never clear whether it was with praise or an insult.
She remembered, long ago, struggling to feel beautiful.
"And that smell." Mako was wrinkling his nose. "What is that?"
Ex mover-star Korra shrugged. "Some perfume with a stupid name. Ecstasy? Ectoplasm? I don't remember."
"For the record, I'm not a fan of perfumes. They're just a man-made mask to avoid underlying stink."
"Wow. So I stink too, huh? You really need to work on your skills, Mister Ladykiller."
"No. That's not- What trying to I'm say is-" He groaned in frustration while brushing away the final traces of lipstick and then yanked her by the waist down onto the cot with him. She wanted to struggle just to spite him, but the summer heat had rendered her lazy, especially when he nuzzled her neck. "What I meant is that nothing beats Korra smell."
"And what does Korra smell consist of? Can I trademark it?" she asked through a chuckle.
"Well, it's mostly sweat from training." His fingers danced across the still damp hairs at back of her neck. "It's a little bit of sandalwood from the temple incense". They ventured down her back, over her stomach and then onto her knuckles, clenched into the fabric of her pants. "It's plain soap. Dirt. Smoke. It's this, sometimes." His palm pressed with purpose against the apex of her thighs and she gasped. "It's just you. It's all I could ever want."
"Spirits..." she breathed, finding it difficult to dredge up a coherent retort as his fingers dug into her hips and pulled her more forcefully against him. Beneath the stink of the perfume sample - which, yes, she could admit now was rather unpleasant - the air started to absorb an entirely new aroma as they slid against one another. The stench of human bodies, of breath, sweat and other fluids, individually disgusting out of context, but here - with him - it all symphoniously mixed to create something...intoxicating.
That was the first time they had the gall to sneak into the temple baths together. If only to refresh the olfactory canvas and start all over again. Which they did.
On the streets of Republic City, Korra slapped a hand to her forehead, aiming to physically banish the scene from her head.
Instead, a headache took root beneath her palm.
Recognizing the necessity for more space, Mako stepped into the street to summon one of the sato-cabs streaking past. The wind picked up and again that damn aftershave invaded her nostrils to the point where she could not suppress a moan.
"I thought you didn't like perfume," she slurred while waving at the air in front of her face. "You said- you told me, once...all it does is-is mask an underlying stink."
"Yes, well." He let his arm fall as a satomobile pulled out of traffic and headed toward them. "I suppose some things change, Korra. But other things..."
For the first time that night, he looked directly at her. The unspoken ending to his sentence immediately became clear as those fire-filled eyes burned down into her very core, destroying what remained of logic in their wake.
Some things were for always.
They stared at each other for what could have been a minute, could have been an hour. Long pent-up appetites breaking free left, right and center until she was drowning in feeling, electricity surging throughout the network of their veins.
She took a step closer.
With a surprising lack of hesitation, he matched it.
Soon they were toe-to-toe, his lips still a respectful distance away and yet pulling at her. Like magnets.
At this close range, he smelled overwhelmingly like wind. Like freedom.
Only the boisterous arrival of Asami with an escort of what appeared to be the entirety of Kwong's staff forced an end to it all. Whatever it was. They split apart as if lightning had touched down between their feet.
Immediately, Korra launched herself into the waiting sato-cab while her partner, as usual, doled out proper goodbyes and thanks in both their names before joining.
By the fortune of the Spirits, she didn't throw up until after they were at the doorstep of their townhouse.
Mako never called to arrange the meeting with his girlfriend. Neither Korra nor Asami ever inquired.
Some scents, for the good of everyone within range, needed to stay bottled.
Author's Note: I got some review flack on for acknowledging that Korrasami is a legit pairing, and that inspired me to try to explore their relationship even further. Sorry(not sorry) if anyone is offended. Still, Makorra is my OTP and I will continue to enjoy dissecting their tumultuous coupling. I hope you readers aren't as depressed as I am. I have another fic in the works which is post Book One and happy. Looking forward to posting it. Review/comments = love. Many thanks.