Private Cold Metal, Warm Spirits

[Veyla Krinn]

Veyla listened without interrupting, her glass remaining cradled loosely between both hands while the faint condensation cooled her fingers as Korra spoke. When the other woman admitted the reason for staying was simply this shared moment between them, Veyla's expression softened just a fraction. Not out of surprise, but from a deep, quiet sense of recognition.

She glanced briefly around the cantina again, a movement born of ingrained habit rather than any immediate sense of caution, noting the few quiet tables and the pair of off-duty warriors arguing over something trivial near the bar. Beneath the floorboards, the low, rhythmic hum of Concordia's life continued its steady pulse, reminding her of the world moving on outside their small circle of light.

Then her attention returned to Korra, her voice dropping to a near-whisper.

"Conversations like that are rare because most people walk into a room already calculating exactly what the person across from them might want," she agreed quietly, her thumb brushing once along the rim of her glass before she took a small sip and let the warmth settle. "Or, more often than not, they are busy figuring out exactly what they can take for themselves."

A faint, knowing smile touched her mouth as she leaned back slightly in her chair, her posture relaxed yet fully attentive to the woman sitting opposite her. "It gets tiring after a while, navigating through the layers of what people aren't saying, and I've spent enough time around formal negotiations to recognize the exact moment a conversation turns into a transaction."

She let a small pause hang in the air, allowing the honesty of the moment to breathe.

"This one never took that turn, which probably means we both needed the reprieve more than we were willing to admit," she said, the corner of her mouth curving with a touch of quiet humor. Veyla lifted her glass toward Korra in a casual, almost absent-minded toast, the amber liquid catching the low light. "To a quiet cantina, a decent drink, and the luxury of a conversation that doesn't require a signed contract to be meaningful."

She tipped the glass back for another sip before setting it down with a soft clink against the scarred wood. "I'd say that's as good a reason as any to stay somewhere a little longer than you originally planned."

Korra Kast

 

[Korra Kast]

Korra's gaze lingered on Veyla for a moment after she finished, something thoughtful settling in her expression. Then she lifted her glass again, meeting the toast without hesitation.

"I'll drink to that," she said quietly. The clink this time was softer. Familiar. She took a slow sip, then rested her forearms back on the table, leaning in just enough to keep the space between them intentional.

"You're right about that shift," Korra added. "The moment a conversation turns into a transaction… you can feel it. Like a door closing." She tapped her fingers lightly once against the table.

A small pause, her eyes flicking briefly to the side before returning.

"Most of the time, I don't even notice how much I'm bracing for it," she admitted. "Until it doesn't happen." Her mouth curved faintly, something quieter than humor. "Guess that means I needed the reprieve more than I thought."

She leaned back again, exhaling through her nose, letting the weight of that settle instead of brushing past it. "Careful, though," Korra added after a beat, a hint of dry amusement returning. "You keep making good arguments like that, I might actually extend my stay."

Veyla Krinn

 

[Veyla Krinn]

Veyla didn't answer right away.

She let Korra's words settle in the space between them, not picking at them, not rushing to soften or redirect. Just letting them exist for what they were. Her gaze stayed on Korra, steady and attentive, the kind of quiet that didn't pressure but didn't drift either.

The corner of her mouth lifted slightly at the softer clink of the glasses, something small but genuine.

"That shift…" she echoed gently, "yeah. You don't always see it happen, but you feel it the second it does."

Her fingers traced lightly along the edge of her own glass, not distracted, just grounding the thought.

"Like something that was open suddenly isn't anymore," she added. "And everything after that has to work harder than it should."

Her gaze softened a fraction when Korra admitted she hadn't realized how much she'd been bracing.

"That makes sense," Veyla said quietly. "You get used to expecting it, so you start preparing for it without thinking."

A small pause, not heavy, just honest.

"So when it doesn't happen, it feels different in a way you don't have a name for yet."

She leaned back slightly, mirroring Korra's ease without copying it, letting the moment remain relaxed rather than turning it into something more pointed.

At the hint of amusement, Veyla's smile returned, a little more visible this time.

"I'll try not to make too strong a case, then," she said lightly. "Wouldn't want you blaming me for rearranging your plans."

A brief beat, then a quieter addition, simple, but meant.

"But if you do stay a little longer…I don't think anyone here would mind."

Korra Kast

 

[Korra Kast]

"Funny thing is," she said, voice low and even, "I don't think I'd mind either." She shifted in her seat, settling deeper, one arm draped loosely along the edge of the table now. The movement wasn't guarded anymore. "I've spent a long time making sure nothing rearranges my plans," Korra continued. "Keeps things clean. Predictable." A small pause. "Safe."

Her eyes flicked briefly to her glass, then back to Veyla. "But 'safe' starts to look a lot like empty after a while." There was no heaviness in the admission. Just clarity. She tapped her fingers lightly against the table once, then stilled them.

"So if I stay," Korra said, a hint of dry humor threading back in, "I'll make sure not to blame you for it." A beat. "Might even admit it was my idea." Her gaze held steady, something warmer sitting behind it now. "Besides," she added, lifting her glass slightly, "I've got a decent drink, a quiet night, and excellent company."

Veyla Krinn

 

[Veyla Krinn]

Veyla's gaze lingered on Korra for a moment after she finished, not intrusive, just present, taking in the shift in her tone more than the words themselves. There was something different in it now, something steadier, and she let that sit without trying to pull it apart.

The corner of her mouth lifted slightly as she reached for her glass, turning it once between her fingers before lifting it.

"Safe has its place," she said, her voice calm, unhurried. "But it's not meant to be where you stay."

She took a slow sip, then set the glass back down with a soft, quiet sound against the table.

"You spend enough time keeping everything predictable, it starts to feel less like control and more like… standing still," she continued, her tone thoughtful rather than pointed.

Her gaze met Korra's again, steady and open.

"Nothing wrong with wanting something that moves a little," she added.

At Korra's dry humor, Veyla's expression softened just a fraction more, the warmth there easy, unforced.

"I'll hold you to that," she said lightly. "If you stay, it's on you."

A small pause followed, not awkward, just letting the moment breathe.

"But for what it's worth," she went on, quieter now, "I think you'd find it's not as empty as you expect."

She lifted her glass slightly in return, not quite a toast this time, just an acknowledgment of where the conversation had settled.

"And the company doesn't get worse the longer you stick around."

Korra Kast

 

[Korra Kast]

Korra's eyes stayed on Veyla as the words settled between them, and for once she didn't seem in any hurry to look away. The faintest smile tugged at the corner of her mouth again—smaller this time, but more honest for it.

"Good," she said quietly. "Would've been disappointing if the company got worse after the second drink."

She lifted her glass in easy acknowledgment before taking another slow sip. When she set it down, her fingers stayed loosely wrapped around it, relaxed instead of ready.

"You're right about one thing," Korra continued after a moment. "Safe starts feeling too much like waiting. And I think I've spent enough years waiting for the next contract, the next departure, the next reason not to stop."

Her gaze drifted briefly toward the frosted cantina window, where Concordia's cold night pressed faintly against the glass.

"I don't know what 'staying' looks like for me yet," she admitted. "Maybe it's a few extra days. Maybe it's learning the names of the people behind the counter instead of just nodding at them on the way out." A faint breath of amusement. "Maybe it's letting myself come back to the same table twice."

Then Korra leaned back slightly, one brow lifting with quiet curiosity.

"So," she said, voice lighter again, "if I am staying a little longer… what does someone on Concordia actually do when they're not pretending to leave tomorrow?"

Veyla Krinn

 

[Veyla Krinn]

Veyla's quiet laugh came easier this time, softer and less guarded as she lifted her own glass slightly in return.

"Good to know the standards are holding after two drinks," she replied dryly.

She watched Korra as she spoke, noticing that while the tension hadn't vanished entirely, it no longer sat coiled beneath every movement like someone preparing to disappear the second the atmosphere shifted. There was a steadier weight to her posture now, looking less like survival and more like genuine consideration. The idea seemed to linger with Veyla for a moment—coming back to the same table twice and learning names instead of exits—because she knew better than most how difficult those small things could become once someone got used to living in constant motion.

Her gaze drifted briefly toward the frosted window and the cold Concordian night beyond it before settling back on Korra.

"That's probably how it starts," she said quietly. "Not with some dramatic decision, but just small things that stop feeling temporary."

A faint pause followed before the corner of her mouth lifted again at the question about Concordia, her expression warming with a trace of genuine amusement.

"Honestly? We're an armory and a forge pretending to be a civilization. Most days on Concordia involve somebody repairing armor, arguing over ship parts, or stubbornly insisting they can fix an engine that is very obviously about to explode."

Her fingers traced idly along the side of her glass as she leaned back slightly in her chair.

"The markets are worth wandering if you like handmade things, the forge district stays busy almost all night, and there is usually at least one training circle around if you enjoy watching people bruise each other philosophically. When the weather cooperates, the cliffs outside the city are actually peaceful. It is not peaceful in the polished Core World sense, because Concordia doesn't really know how to be polished, but it is honest."

Her emerald eyes met Korra's again, and after taking a small sip of her drink, she added with a touch more humor:

"Though if you stay long enough, someone will eventually hand you a hydrospanner and pretend that makes you responsible for helping repair something. That part seems entirely unavoidable."

Korra Kast

 

[Korra Kast]

Korra barked out a short laugh at that—an actual laugh this time, brief but genuine enough to turn a couple heads before the cantina returned to its business. "An armory and a forge pretending to be a civilization," she repeated, shaking her head. "That might be the most Mandalorian description of a place I've ever heard."

She took another drink, still smiling faintly. "And here I thought the dangerous part of staying would be emotional attachment." Her tone carried a dry amusement. "Turns out it's being tricked into unpaid repair work."

Korra leaned back in her chair, looking toward the frosted window for a moment as she imagined it. The forge district. Markets. People arguing over parts they absolutely should have replaced months ago. Training circles. Cliffs overlooking the frozen landscape. For the first time that evening, she found herself picturing it not as a visitor passing through, but as someone who might actually spend time there.

"So if I wander these markets, visit the forge district, and somehow survive being volunteered for repair duty..." Her eyes met Veyla's, warm with quiet amusement. "What part of Concordia would you show someone first?"

Veyla Krinn

 

[Veyla Krinn]

Veyla considered the question over the rim of her glass, a faint smile lingering at the corner of her mouth. It wasn't often people asked what she would show them; most visitors arrived with their own agendas, their destinations already marked out before they ever set foot on Concordia.

"The forge district is probably the obvious answer," she admitted, her gaze drifting briefly toward the cantina window and the frozen darkness beyond. "Not because it's the most impressive thing on Concordia, but because it tells you who we are faster than anything else. You'll find people arguing over techniques older than some governments, armorers refusing to admit they're wrong even when they obviously are, and at least three separate clans insisting their way of doing something is the only sensible approach."

The dry amusement in her voice suggested she had witnessed every bit of it firsthand.

"It's surprisingly educational."

She took a slow drink, her expression softening into something more thoughtful as she set her glass down.

"After that, probably the cliffs. Most people picture Concordia as nothing but frozen rock and military outposts. They're not entirely wrong, but they miss the scale of it. The cliffs overlook valleys that seem to go on forever. On clear nights, you can see settlements scattered across the snowfields and watch ships moving between them."

Her eyes settled back on Korra, reflecting a quiet depth.

"It's quiet up there. Not empty. Just...quiet."

For a moment, Veyla looked almost surprised by her own admission. A faint, self-aware laugh escaped her as she rolled the glass lightly between her palms.

"Actually, I spent a great deal of effort pretending I didn't appreciate any of Concordia when I was younger. Turns out the place is harder to leave behind than I thought."

Her smile widened slightly, warm and inviting.

"So if you stayed long enough, I'd show you the forge district first because it's what people expect. And then I'd take you to the cliffs, because it's where Concordia actually makes sense."

Korra Kast

 

[Korra Kast]

Korra listened with the same quiet attention she'd given Veyla all evening, her expression settling into something thoughtful as the woman spoke about her home.

When Veyla mentioned the forge district, the corner of Korra's mouth lifted. "I can already hear those arguments." She counted them off on her fingers with exaggerated seriousness.

"'My grandfather forged it this way.'"

A second finger.

"'Your grandfather was wrong.'"

A third.

"'We've been doing it this way for three hundred years.'" She shrugged.

"And somehow they're all convinced they're the reasonable one." The thought drew another quiet laugh from her. But when Veyla spoke about the cliffs, Korra's smile faded into something calmer. She noticed the change in Veyla's voice. The way it had become less descriptive and more... personal.

"That's the place you were really talking about," Korra said softly. There was no triumph in the observation. Just recognition. "You answered my question the moment you said, 'It's quiet up there.'"

Her eyes met Veyla's. "I don't think you were describing the cliffs." The words were gentle, offered without pressing. "I think you were describing what they give you." A comfortable silence settled between them before Korra looked toward the frosted window herself. "I've seen places like that," she murmured. "Not many. Places where you stop hearing everything you've been carrying for a little while."

When she looked back, there was warmth in her expression that hadn't been there when she'd first walked into the cantina.

Veyla Krinn

 

[Veyla Krinn]

Veyla found herself smiling as Korra spoke. It wasn't often someone listened closely enough to hear what she hadn't intended to say aloud.

She finished the last of her drink, letting the silence settle comfortably between them before setting the empty glass on the table.

"I think you're right." There was no hesitation in admitting it. "The cliffs have always been where I go when I need to think...or stop thinking." A quiet chuckle followed. "Depends on the day."

When the server wandered close enough to notice the empty glasses, Veyla offered a polite shake of her head.

"I'm alright, thank you."

As the server moved on, she rested an elbow on the table, considering Korra for a moment before speaking again.

"If you've got a little more time..." she began, "I'd be happy to show you around."

A faint smile returned.

"We could start in the forge district." Amusement touched her eyes. "You can hear those arguments for yourself instead of taking my word for it."

She laughed softly before continuing.

"Then, if you don't mind a bit of a walk..." Her gaze drifted briefly toward the window before returning to Korra. "I'd like to show you those cliffs."

Her expression softened.

"Pictures never really do them justice."

Korra Kast

 

[Korra Kast]

Korra glanced down at her own empty glass before giving it a small, absent turn against the tabletop. She noticed the server waiting expectantly, then offered the same shake of her head. "I'm good. Thanks." Once the server moved away, the quiet settled over the table again. She looked back at Veyla. For a moment, she said nothing.

The invitation wasn't complicated. There was no contract to negotiate, no mission briefing hidden beneath polite conversation, no expectation beyond shared company. Somehow, that made it feel more significant than most offers she'd received in years.

A slow smile found its way onto her face. "I'd like that." The answer came simply, without qualifiers. "I don't think I've ever had someone offer to show me a place just because they wanted me to see it." She stood from her chair, gathering her helmet from where it rested beside her and tucking it beneath one arm.

Veyla Krinn

 

[Veyla Krinn]

Veyla rose from her chair, fastening her helmet to her belt rather than putting it on. A small smile lingered as Korra accepted the invitation.

"There's a first time for everything."

She adjusted the cuffs of her gloves before giving a slight tilt of her head toward the door.

"Whenever you're ready."

There was no urgency in her voice. The forge district had stood for generations, and the cliffs would still be waiting when they arrived. Some places were worth taking the long way to.

Holding the door open as they stepped out into the crisp Concordian air, Veyla glanced toward the streets leading deeper into the city.

"The forges aren't far." A faint grin touched her lips. "You'll probably hear them before you see them."

Korra Kast

 

[Korra Kast]

Korra stepped through the doorway, the cold immediately biting through the warmth she'd accumulated inside. She drew in a slow breath, watching it fog briefly in front of her before disappearing into the night. She adjusted the strap of her helmet beneath her arm and glanced down the street.

Then she heard it. The distant, rhythmic clang of metal against metal carried through the cold air, punctuated by the low roar of furnaces somewhere deeper in the city. Korra's mouth curved into a grin. "Well," she said, falling into step beside Veyla, "you weren't exaggerating."

Another metallic clang echoed through the streets. She glanced sideways at Veyla. "Although I suppose I should've expected a Mandalorian forge district to announce itself before we even get there."

Her boots crunched against the frost-covered pavement as they walked, her pace deliberately unhurried. She looked around as they moved, taking in the architecture, the scattered lights, the occasional armored figure passing through the streets.

"This is different from what I'm used to," she admitted. "Most places I've worked have people rushing everywhere. Ships coming and going, comms constantly chirping, someone always yelling about a deadline."

Veyla Krinn

 

[Veyla Krinn]

Veyla fell into step beside Korra, seemingly unbothered by the cold as they left the warmth of the cantina behind. The forge district was still several streets away, but there was little mistaking where they were headed. Every few moments another hammer joined the distant chorus, sometimes a single heavy strike and sometimes a rapid series that echoed between the buildings. Above the rooftops, faint columns of steam and smoke disappeared into the dark Concordian sky.

"You learn to sleep through it," Veyla said with a quiet laugh. "Eventually you notice when it stops more than when it starts." She glanced toward Korra as they continued down the frost-covered street. "We're not much better about deadlines, though. Tell a smith you need something tomorrow and you'll probably hear a few words you weren't expecting. The difference is that most of the yelling around here is usually directed at metal."

The streets gradually changed around them as they walked. Homes and small businesses gave way to broader workshops built from dark stone and reinforced metal, their doors large enough to accommodate machinery and shipments of raw material. Warm orange light escaped through high windows, contrasting sharply against the cold blue darkness outside. Some forges had already gone quiet for the evening, while others showed no indication that their occupants intended to stop anytime soon. Veyla offered a nod to a passing smith who recognized her, receiving one in return before continuing onward.

"I think that's part of why I like it," she admitted after a moment, considering Korra's description of the places she was accustomed to. "There's always work to do here, but the work has its own pace. You can't shout at metal until it heats faster, and rushing a piece because someone wants it immediately is a good way to ruin it. Eventually you learn that some things take as long as they take." There was a hint of fondness in her expression as she looked ahead. "That doesn't stop people from trying to argue otherwise, of course."

Another few minutes brought them farther from the busiest portion of the district, where the workshops became slightly more spread apart and the clang of competing hammers less overwhelming. Veyla finally slowed before one of them. It wasn't the largest forge they had passed, nor the most elaborate, but it was clearly well maintained. A broad reinforced door occupied the front beneath a pair of high windows, while the chimney above still released the faint remnants of heat from work earlier in the day.

She stopped at the entrance and looked toward Korra with a small smile.

"This one's mine."

There was a different quality to those three words than there had been when Veyla pointed out anything else along their walk. Quiet pride, perhaps, but also something more personal. She opened the door and stepped inside, reaching for the lights before gesturing for Korra to follow. The forge was cold compared to what it would be during a day's work, though residual warmth still lingered within the stone. Hammers and tongs hung neatly in their places, metals were organized along racks, and the scarred surfaces of the anvil and workbenches spoke more clearly of years of use than any decoration could have.

Veyla glanced around the familiar space before looking back toward her guest.

"Welcome to the quieter half of my life."

Korra Kast

 

[Korra Kast]

Korra stepped through the doorway and immediately slowed.

She had expected a forge. Heat, noise, sparks, tools scattered across workbenches. Instead, she found something almost peaceful. The lingering warmth in the stone, the organized racks of metal, the worn anvil sitting beneath the lights—it all spoke of a place that had been used, cared for, and returned to over and over again.

Her eyes moved across the room, taking in the details before finally settling on Veyla. "Your forge." There was something different in Korra's voice now. Less teasing. More appreciation.

She stepped farther inside, boots making a quiet sound against the floor. Korra glanced over her shoulder at Veyla, a faint smile forming. "And before you say anything, yes, I noticed everything is actually organized."

She pointed toward the racks. "That alone tells me you're probably not one of the people who gets into those arguments you mentioned. Or you're the person who wins them." Her smile widened slightly.

Korra moved toward the anvil, stopping a respectful distance away. She looked at the worn surface, the marks accumulated from countless pieces of work. "How long have you had this place?" She looked back at Veyla. "And what do you actually make here?" Her expression softened with genuine curiosity. "Armor? Weapons? Repairs?"

Veyla Krinn

 

[Veyla Krinn]

Veyla closed the door behind them, shutting out most of the cold and leaving the forge wrapped in its familiar quiet. Korra's comment about the organization earned a soft laugh as she moved farther into the room, her gaze following the other woman's toward the racks. "Organization doesn't keep me out of arguments. It just means I know exactly where the hammer is when someone insists they're right." The humor lingered in her expression as she joined Korra near the anvil, resting one hand against its edge.

"I've had this place for a while now, though some of what's in here is older than that." Her fingers brushed absently over the worn steel beneath her palm. There were things she had replaced over the years and others she had deliberately kept, even when newer equipment might have been easier to use. "My parents taught me the craft. They did quite a bit of armor work, but I never delved very deeply into that side of it myself. I know enough to repair armor and maintain my own beskar'gam, but if you wanted a completely new set made from the ground up, I'd send you to someone who specializes in it."

She stepped away from the anvil and crossed toward one of the workbenches, where several unfinished pieces rested alongside more familiar tools. "Weapons are mostly what I make. Blades, spears, knives, whatever happens to interest me or gives me a reason to try something different. Repairs too, when they're needed." There was an unmistakable fondness in the way she looked around the forge now that Korra had asked about it. This was more than a workshop Veyla happened to own. It was one of the few places where she could set aside everything expected of her elsewhere and lose herself in the simple process of turning raw material into something useful.

Her attention returned to Korra, and a small smile touched her lips. "I suppose my parents gave me the foundation and I chose the part of it that suited me." She gestured toward the forge around them before adding, "If you're curious, I can show you some of what I've made before we head for the cliffs. It'll make considerably more sense than me standing here trying to describe all of it."

Korra Kast

 

[Korra Kast]

Korra's expression brightened with genuine interest. She moved closer to the workbench, her attention immediately drawn to the unfinished pieces resting there. She didn't reach for anything, but she leaned in enough to examine the craftsmanship from where she stood.

"Blades and spears and blasters make more sense to me anyway. Something you can hold, use, maintain." She glanced toward Veyla. "Ships are the same way. You learn every part of them because eventually something breaks in the middle of nowhere and you're the only person around who can fix it."

Her fingers briefly tapped against the edge of the workbench. "I like that your parents taught you the craft, but you still made it your own." Korra looked around the forge again, taking in the tools and half-finished projects with renewed appreciation.

She looked back to Veyla, a small smile appearing. "So show me. Start with the one you're most proud of." A beat passed before Korra added, with a teasing edge, "And don't give me the modest answer."

Veyla Krinn

 

[Veyla Krinn]

Veyla's eyebrows rose at the instruction, and a quiet laugh escaped her as she folded her arms. "No modest answers?" she repeated, considering the challenge for a moment before giving a small nod. "All right. You asked for it."

She crossed the forge toward a rack set apart from the pieces intended for customers or future projects. Her hand passed over several weapons before settling around the familiar shaft of her own pike. Veyla lifted it free with the ease of someone who had performed the motion thousands of times, turning back toward Korra with the weapon held comfortably at her side. There was no hesitation in her choice, and perhaps that was the clearest indication that Korra had succeeded in preventing the modest answer.

"This." Veyla brought the pike around and laid it carefully across the workbench between them, angling it so Korra could see the details without needing to handle it unless she wanted to. "I've made prettier things, and I've probably made a few that were more technically difficult, but if you're asking what I'm most proud of, it's this one." Her fingers moved along the haft as she spoke, tracing the places where function had dictated the design rather than decoration. Everything about it had been built around Veyla herself, from its balance and reach to the placement of her hands and the way the weapon moved when brought around her body.

A small smile touched her lips as she looked down at it. "I made it for myself, which is harder than it sounds. When you're making something for another person, you listen to what they want and build around them. With this, I had to be considerably more critical because I knew every little thing that bothered me about the weapons I'd carried before." She shifted the pike slightly, showing Korra another section of the construction. "The balance took me three attempts before I was satisfied. The first was too far forward, the second felt good until I actually fought with it, and this was the one where everything finally came together."

There was pride in her expression now, and this time Veyla made no effort to hide it. Korra had specifically forbidden that, after all. "I've repaired it more times than I can count since then, changed a few things as I've changed, and replaced pieces when they wore out. I suppose that's another reason I chose it." Her gaze lifted from the weapon to Korra. "It isn't something I made, put on a rack, and admired afterward. I've trusted my life to it. If I made a mistake somewhere, I was going to be the one who discovered it at the worst possible moment."

Veyla gave the pike an affectionate pat before straightening again. "So there you go. No modesty." The corner of her mouth turned upward. "My best work is the weapon I carry."

Korra Kast

 

[Korra Kast]

Korra studied the pike in silence for several seconds.

Not just the weapon itself, but the way Veyla handled it. The familiarity in the movement. The little adjustments of her hands. The fact that every part of its construction had clearly been considered with a purpose. A slow smile spread across Korra's face. She stepped closer to the workbench, leaning slightly to get a better look at the weapon without touching it.

"You know what I like about it?" Her eyes flicked toward Veyla. "You didn't make it to impress anyone." Korra gestured toward the pike. "You made it because you knew exactly what you needed. Then you tested it until it stopped being a weapon you made and became your weapon."

She nodded toward the three attempts Veyla had described. "Three tries on the balance. Then you kept changing it as you changed. That's not just craftsmanship. That's knowing yourself well enough to admit when something isn't working."

"I respect that." Korra finally looked back at Veyla, her expression carrying a little more warmth. "And for the record, I don't think the fact that it's practical makes it any less impressive. Anyone can make something pretty."

She tapped one finger lightly against the workbench. "Making something you can trust with your life is different."

Veyla Krinn