Thread: Kundalini Rising - An Adult ATLA/Legend of Korra Fanfiction

RE Kundalini Rising - ATLALegend of Korra Fanfiction Sorry this update took me so long everyone. Been really busy at work. Hope you enjoy it! Night fell on the mountain city of Omashu and lanterns surrounding the house and the grounds came to life, flickering on to bathe the ground in a warm flood of multi-colored lights. The various colors on the shades of the lanterns each represented a different attribute that was being wished on the twins. Forest green honesty, crimson integrity, fuchsia humility, yellow courtesy, deep blue harmony, white self-discipline, fiery orange perseverance and the stone gray of an indomitable spirit. By now, most guests had arrived and various musicians from around the slums had struck up a traditional tune embedded deep into the memetic legacy of their people. The music was sweeping and lively, but nobody was dancing. At parties like this, it was considered rude to dance before the child had made his or her appearance. Traditionally, the first dance at a child's 10th birthday was between the child and a family member or close family friend of the opposite gender. This first dance was different for boys and girls. In the case of a girl, her partner usually stepped forward to claim her hand. For boys, it was their job to choose their partner. This, however, was not as simple as it sounds. Stepping forward as a significant male figure in a girl's life could often be considered overly presumptuous. On the other hand, if the girl's father or a close uncle stepped forward, it would be an insult to her by implying that none other than those obligated by their position to care for her, or who already clearly represented a father figure, would be willing to step forward and take an active role in her protection and upbringing. In addition, if two men stepped forward at the same time, it was considered quite rude and generally ended badly. Similarly, if a boy chose his mother or another obvious matron, he was considered not bold or brave enough. Conversely, his choice implied that he was dedicated to protect and represent a significant part of the life of his partner for the first dance, so anyone too unfamiliar would also be a poor choice. These kinds of choices were often rather political in noble families. In less wealthy families, where most attendees were relatives, they were somewhat less stressful ordeals. However, in the special case of Myr and Hiko, there was indeed much fuss. If being honored twins wasn't enough, they were also the children of the beloved champion of the slums. Their first dance was guaranteed to be quite...interesting. One might ask why the people of Omashu would maintain such a complicated and potentially divisive ritual. After all, in such times where death and misfortune were commonplace, why add extra rules and sources of contention? Oddly enough, the ritual of the first dance, or Vija, as it is known to practitioners, became increasingly more important to people the rougher the world turned. But why? The answer to this is very simple and lies at the heart of the confusion of anyone who was not alive to experience this era. Traditions and rituals, rites of passage, these are some of the most important signals to people that they are indeed living in a civilized place of the world and that there is some semblance of structure and familiarity in the chaos that surrounds them. For the citizens of Omashu, this and other rituals were strong and necessary reminders that they were human in a world lacking humanity. Ong could already feel the tension in the air, a little ripple of excitement over the coming first dances. After all, according to his wife, a girl's first dance could be a touching and magical moment. He was still unconvinced that the stress that the tradition put on young boys and girls was quite worth it. The first dance generally took place around sunset, which, judging by the sun's position in the sky, gave Ong about twenty more minutes of being the center of the party. While Leah's duties as the woman of the house had apparently not ended with the arrival of guests, Ong's job had become sole host of the party and only available parent of the twins. Thus, he had spent most of the last hour or so accepting congratulations from the community and advice from older women. He was grateful, of course, for both, but it made him feel like he was on the job to be greeting and talking with such a large group of his constituency. Nevertheless, it made Ong happy to see so many of the faces of the slums gathered peacefully, enjoying each other's company, unified. For a moment at least, everyone could celebrate together without fear tainting their thoughts or despair filling their eyes. Despair, Ong had come to realize, was the truest terror of humanity in this day and age. It was the ultimate mind killer, the disappearance of hope. Hope, however foolish it sometimes was, was mankind's greatest triumph. It makes us human. ...and then he realizes it wasn't a feather duster, it was an actual iguana-parrot! Ong tuned back in on the punchline of one of Nepa's oft-repeated jokes. There was assorted laughter from the small group who was sitting with them around one of the cooking fires. Nepa, you keep telling that joke and it gets funnier every time. said one of Nepa's brother's sarcastically. Nepa huffed and waved him off. Yeah, and I'll keep telling it until the day one of you sad suckers can figure out what an iguana-parrot is! he countered. The joke was apparently one that Nepa had come across in an old children's book that he'd found in one of his elderly relative's attic, although nobody quite understood it. Ong smiled and disentangled himself from the group to continue making his rounds about the party. As it was, he was fairly certain he would hear that joke at least a few more times before the night was over. Bending over a large flagon of a sweet wine-like drink, he poured himself a glass. The sun was essentially down, therefore this wasn't exactly day drinking. At least, that's what Ong told himself so that he didn't feel guilty. It was a party, after all. As he poured, he noticed a soft, high-pitched tune weaving its way through the music already being played. He glanced around at the party guests and then the musicians, but no explanation was to be had. Ong decided that he'd most likely imagined the sound. However, as he lifted his glass to his lips, a man standing against one of the nearest houses to the property caught his eye. The man's face was etched deep with shadow. The light from the nearest lamps just barely illuminated him. From what Ong could see, his skin was paler than most people in these parts. His lips held the shape of an O, and it appeared as though it had been he who was whistling, again and again the same simple tune reached Ong's ears. Despite his jovial tune, the man's face was solemn and unchanging. He was a little too far away to tell, but from where Ong stood it looked as though the man were staring straight back at him. Yeah he's been there for about 30 minutes now Ong started at the voice by his shoulder. Vilak, a father of seven who was very active in the community, was standing by him. If you think he should be removed, you know you can just ask. he said. Vilak was a part of a nameless group of men who indirectly worked for Ong. There was no issue of compensation, they acted as his hands and were loyal to him because they knew that it was he who could keep their families and neighborhoods safe when they tottered on the brink of oblivion. Ong shook his head. He isn't hurting anybody. He looks new, and that would make sense, since he doesn't look much like any Omashunite I've ever seen. Just keep an eye out. Vilak seemed unsatisfied with the answer, but if he was, he didn't say anything, simply nodding softly and re-joining the party. Ong downed his glass and poured another, following Vilak back to the group he was sitting with, which was comprised of his wife, children and a few of their neighbors. One and TWO and one and TWO and... Hiko counted off the steps as he moved around the small space of his bedroom. He was practicing the Vija with determination evident on his knitted brow. Each move was followed quickly by another, creating space, and then filling it with his movements. All of the people of his culture knew the dance, that is, everyone over ten. It had been handed down to them from ages past, its original meaning now forgotten and written over. You know, if you keep practicing right before the dance, you're just more likely to mess up. Myr called from his bed. She was sitting still, trying not to mess up her outfit or temporary tattoos. Her grandmother would have a fit if she did before everyone saw her and she danced her Vija. I just want to get it right. said Hiko, stopping and facing her. What, you're not nervous? he asked, raising an eyebrow. Myr shrugged. Yeah...I mean of course I am, she admitted, shaking her head. but I'm more worried about who's going to come forward for me, not about the dance. That's easy...just go with the flow of the music! her face twisted with visible discomfort at the thought of standing there waiting for someone to come take her hand. Hiko huffed. Dad's the council man, someone will come for you. he assured her. Yeah, well whatever. she muttered obviously not so convinced of this fact herself. Anyway, you're much too rigid, it's not like a series of moves that you have to be in at a certain time. The dance is more like...a glass cup. You have to fill the shape with whatever you want. Mama says that, anyway. It helped. she explained. Hiko made a face and sat by the window, where they could glimpse a small sliver of the party. There are a lot of people... he muttered. Myr nodded. Mhm. Hiko looked over at her. She was a gentle girl. He could see the stress of the dance was really bothering his sister. Someone is going to step forward for you, I promise. he said, a little unsure of how to best comfort her. Once they do, you'll be great. You're a better dancer anyway. he added. Myr nodded slowly. You really promise that? she asked. Yes, I mean...of course they will. Don't you have any ideas who it might be? he asked. I don't really know who I'm going to choose yet. I probably should...right? Myr sat up straight on his bed, putting on the serene look the local monks always bore and crossing her legs. When the mud in your mind settles, the water will be clear. When the time comes to see, open your eyes. she said in a raspy old man's voice. Hiko laughed and smiled. Yeah, I'll just close my eyes and spin in a circle. The first girl I see is dancing with me! he said. They both laughed and began to relax. Their peace was short-lived though, as is the case with all things warm and comforting in the world they lived in. Soon after their laughter died down, their grandmother came to the door. Come children, the sun has set. she said, smiling at them. Hiko exchanged glances with his sister and walked to the door with confidence. He had to set an example. Be brave. It was just a dance. Even though Myr was technically a few minutes older than he was, he felt like he had to be her big brother. She was scrappy from time to time, but mostly she was quiet and avoided confrontation. Hiko was the opposite, a typical pre-adolescent boy. They were led through the small house to a back door that would lead to the grounds on which the party was being held. Suddenly nerves gripped Hiko. He had forgotten whom he was going to choose! How did the dance go again? Oh no, the lights from the lanterns were so bright! Myr smile gracefully, blushing at the applause that accompanied their appearance. The women all chattered noisily about her clothing and family markings and how beautiful she was, of course. She had been the first out the door after her grandmother, who presented her. Then came Hiko. Hiko held his chin up and did his best to hide any anxiety as he strode forward to stand next to his grandma. Everyone clapped as they stood, awkwardly looking out at their family and friends. Most children of the slums attended small schools in the houses of one of the women in the community who served as a teacher, so Myr and Hiko didn't have a huge host of friends, but from what Hiko could see, a few of their peers were at the party, too. Leah smiled at her children and nodded approvingly as Ong tried to quiet everyone down. He was met with limited success. Following tradition, the first dance was to be right after the child's appearance. It had been decided that Myr would go first because she was eldest, and the musicians were ready to play. Eventually the attendees settled down, everyone anticipating the dances to come. There was a moment of almost silence, and then the musicians began to play. The melody was melancholy. Sweet at points, but filled with the ache and the resilience that was so characteristic of Omashu. Hiko was lead back a few paces by his grandmother to give Myr a little space as the song began. The Vija was a deliberate, flowing melody which the musicians embellished upon according to their whims such that any one person's song was a little different than anyone else's. Myr's song filled the air with a soaring tune as the musicians picked up the pace. The sense of expectation grew toward a maddening crescendo. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife, everyone dying to see who would step forward, and at the same time, nobody brave enough to step up yet. More than 25 seconds of the song passed, Myr closed her eyes. Usually someone stepped forward by now to claim the birthday girl's hand in her first dance. Leah's hand grasped Ong's. It was okay, she kept telling herself. Of course it was going to be a little longer because of the position her daughter was born into. 35 seconds passed, the musicians played on. Myr's heart started pounding. She'd had nightmares about this the whole week before. Nobody was going to step forward. Everyone was too afraid of offending her or her family. Her dad and uncles would not dishonor her. Nobody was going to take her hand she was going to stand here, alone. Hiko made a face as he watched his sister. What was wrong with everyone?! Wouldn't somebody come forward to devote himself to her first dance? He'd made a promise that someone was going to take her hand. A million times he imagined seeing someone's foot move forward from the semi-circle that surrounded the dance floor. His fists clenched. Myr felt a tear roll down her cheek. It felt like the song had been going on forever. Nobody wanted her. Nobody would choose her. Around her there were small whispers lacing the air with poison. This was unprecedented. She felt ready to run off the dance floor in shame when suddenly she felt a hand wrap around hers, firm and confident but sweaty too. It spun her expertly into the first steps of the dance and she almost tripped with surprise as she moved to complete the first step of the dance. Her eyes blinked open and she squeezed the hand in hers, following the arm up to meet the eyes of her partner. She gasped as she found her same deep green eyes looking back, the eyes of her twin brother.