#herculed

she  understands  the  frail  mortality  of  her  body , but  coaxes  the  immortal  within  in  gentle  waving  tongues . from  her  breath  breathes  the  fire  of  ancients , long  lived  beings  reborn  in  the  oasis  of  her  mind . she  calls  forth  her  divinity  like  it  is  part  of  her , and  in  truth  it  is , creating  gods  birth   in  universes  yet  unknown  which  whisper  her  very  name . she  could  rip  the  fabric  of  the  world  to  shreds  with  the  shrill  shrieking  of  her  shackled  soul , but  instead  sings  to  it’s  existence . she  is  atlas bound  to  pillar’d  sky , balancing  love  with  responsibility.

Despite her distance from the world below, she’d never do anything less than to etch the fine artistry within the archives of her mind ( artistry so great it deserved to be fully realized in filigree ) . As dear to her as those engravings in the winter ground would be, the nightly fall of gentle snow would erase it if only to encourage Korra to create more. Steadily, the abundance of ornate squiggles retain a finer fluidity & truly translate the enormity of her ethereal existence into a physical art form ( as detailed & beautiful as Sokka’s . ).

                            ❝ Man, that was ROUGH. How long was I down for? ❞

                    ❝ A pompadour, like mine?                           ----I think you’d have to cut your hair a lot more, first... ❞

                                                  ❛     I  thought  I  already  was...  where  have  I  been  all  this  time?     ❜

Here's Meg/Rapunzel.