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Nisha is not going to cry. She's not. She's spent so much of today crying like a baby, and it's not going to happen again. She's handling this! She's got it under control. She's the Avatar and she- she can do this. She licks her lips and digs her fingers deeper into Ruhi's fur, and she doesn't look back even as Ellora grows smaller and smaller behind her.
Nisha has a plan, and it's going to be okay.
(Just because they feel like being mean, her hands refuse to stop shaking. It's rude. It's really rude, and they're bad, and she hates them.)
The desert whips past them, and Nisha stays tucked close against Ruhi's back. Weeks ago, Nisha had teased Pavi about her goggles. Here, now, she wishes she had her own. The hood of her cape keeps getting dislodged by the wind, and sand keeps blasting into her eyes.
(It doesn't count as crying, she decides, if there's something in your eyes.)
The world passes in a blur, but Nisha still manages to get them where they need to go, because she is handling this. The familiar rock formations twist up and up and up into the sky, and Nisha nudges Ruhi with her knees until at last they're there. She nearly stumbles with how quickly she gets off, tripping over a stupid pebble that should know better. Her breathing keeps tumbling out of her in harsh, desperate pants.
Remember your breathing, Karthik had told her, and it's like it's grown a mind of its own ever since.
Nisha is not thinking about that.
She forces her lungs to work with her, forces her breath to come in, and then out. She puts her stupid shaking hand against the door of Pavi's old desert home, and sticks her ear against the door.
Pavi is good at this. The earth speaks to Pavi, whispers about big secret catacombs and tells her jokes that Nisha can't compare with. If Pavi were here, she'd be able to slide her ear against the door and know if someone was waiting inside.
For Nisha, the rock is just rock, and what lays beyond is a mystery.
It's stupid, but she almost doesn't want to open it. If she doesn't open it, it's still possible that there's someone in there, which means it won't just be Ruhi and Nisha alone. She presses her ear against the door harder, hard enough that it hurts. She imagines it: Pavi popping her head out from her pile of blankets, because she had wanted to say goodbye to her friends before going to the Eastern Outskirts. Jae, excessively checking his survival plan and crouching down to give her a hug, exasperated and relieved and kind like always. She'd even take Hamka and his ridiculous moustache.
Nisha closes her eyes. When she opens the door, maybe Karthik will be there, miraculously escaping capture and racing ahead of her on a giant tornado to find her, to tell her everything can just go back to normal and be okay again.
Ruhi nudges against her side, rumbling. "I'm not stalling," Nisha tells him, and he bats at her face with his tail. "Okay, okay- fine."
Nisha takes a deep breath. She plants herself, and her form is perfect. She swings open the door and-
Nobody. Nobody is here.
(It's not crying, Nisha decides, if you waterbend the tears away before they fall.)
Her breath rattles in, and her breath rattles out. Her lungs aren't working right, all of the sudden. She's pretty sure nine year olds can't get heart attacks, but Nisha has always been special, so maybe today's just that sort of day. She squeezes her eyes shut and opens them, but no one appears.
Which is fine. Because Nisha can handle this. She can. She can.
Ruhi is bumping into her, wrapping her in a fluffy ball of cat fur, but she shoves him away. "I- I gotta close the door. Ruhi, stop. We've got to close the door."
Bodies aren't supposed to feel so distant from your brain. Maybe it's part of the heart attack. The bending moves come easy, but her hands and feet are disconnected from her and strange. She watches her hand form into a fist, her foot stomp down and slide. The twisted door way slides close and the stars black out.
"Okay," Nisha whispers. "Okay, okay, okay." She licks her lips. She steps deeper into Pavi's hideout, and then makes herself sit down at the little table. There's a candle in the middle, and she lights it with her stupid shaking hands. None of Pavi's friends are left; Luster, Mica, Orlo, Professor Fingles, and all the rest are tucked away in their shared bedroom.
Which is fine. Nisha doesn't need Pavi's silly rock friends.
It's very dark, and very quiet.
…. Maybe she can make her own.
Ruhi is curled up in a little ball in the sleeping corner, watching her a little judgementally. Nisha ignores him and rises to her feet, searching for a stone that's a good size and shape. It's slim pickings inside, but she finds a couple of pebbles in the corner, which is fine. It works. She'll make it work. She also finds something that might actually be a very dead branch, but that's fine. It looks like it's waving.
Then she just carves out a chunk from the floor. Beggars can't be choosers.
It's okay. Pavi will understand.
She sets up the rocks on the tables. She doesn't have ink to draw their faces on, but she takes a tiny dabble of water from Pavi's stash and makes a muddy sand pile. The pebbles get big eyes and big grins, the branch-thing gets long hair and a silly expression, and her floor boulder gets a beard and a nice smile.
They sit on the table. Nisha licks her lips. They taste of salt and dust.
"Uh, hello," she says. The rocks say nothing. She clears her throat. Pavi always makes this look so easy, makes it so easy to play along. "My name is Nisha, and that's Ruhi. What, uh, what are your names?"
Nothing.
Nisha curls her hands into fists. She pries her mouth open, and it's like a waterfall of questions falls out. "What's your favourite food? What's your favourite colour? Do you like to play tag? Do you like cat monkeys? Have you ever been to the ocean?"
No response.
She presses her fists to her eyes. It doesn't count as crying, she decides, if you stay perfectly still while you do it. Wetness presses and presses against the palms of her hands, and then slips through. "Please talk to me."
But not even stupid rocks want to talk to her. They just keep saying nothing, and she supposes that she should just be relieved they're not running away and screaming.
This was a dumb idea. This was such a dumb idea. Her skin feels too tight, and her heart is too fast inside her chest, and she stands up with something bad and angry trying to explode out of her. "Fine. Fine! Don't talk to me! Leave me alone! I hate you!" she says, and it feels good, so she keeps saying it. "I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!"
She throws the rocks at the wall. No bending; just her hard breath in her throat and her hands gripping, pulling, heaving. There's a terrific SMASH when she throws the boulder, and the pebbles bounce like tiny firecracker sparks. It feels good, lets her breathe finally, and she stands in the aftermath with her shoulders back, hands on her hips.
There. There. Take that.
Ruhi mews.
His fur is all puffed up, and he's pressed back against the wall. He's watching her with big green eyes.
He's scared. Nisha scared him.
Her hands fall to her sides. She looks, again, at all her friends on the ground, the chips taken from their once-smooth sides. She feels very cold. Everything the White Lotus guys had said was right.
Nisha really is just like Korra, after all.
A bad Avatar. Dangerous. A calamity waiting to happen.
"'M sorry. I'm sorry. I'm r-really, really sorry. I du- didn't mean to. I'm sorry."
(Maybe it's good that Pavi is gone. It means Nisha can't hurt her, too.)
She picks up her rock friends, battered and bruised though they may be, and drags them with her to Ruhi's side. Ruhi, at least, forgives her, lets her bury her face against his side. He's warm, and he's soft, and starts licking at Nisha's ears in a way she usually whines about. Tonight, she just lets it happen.
She piles the rocks so that they're facing her, chipped smiles and all, and tucks them against her sides and under her chin. She leans against Nisha's flank and breathes around the rattling of her lungs.
Maybe Nisha is even worse than Korra: Korra, at least, was never a liar.
Nisha's been crying all night, and the tears just keep coming.