[Korra closes her device and pushes it aside as Bolin sits next to her, hating herself a little bit as he speaks. It's stupid, feeling so out of sorts over a doll. Of all the things going wrong in her life recently, not being attractive enough for Mako is the least of her concerns.]
Thanks, Bolin.
[His words help, but they don't touch on the real problem. She feels like a leaf, knocked about by even the slightest wind. She can be perfectly cheerful, and then the littlest thing will set her off into despair. Today it was the dolls; last night it had been the very non-Southern Water Tribe noodles. She hates feeling this...fragile.]
[And he hates seeing her this way. Maybe it's irrational, but he feels like it's his responsibility to make sure she settles in all right, since he arrived first. This place isn't home- won't ever be home, but it's what they've got to work with at the moment. He draws in a breath, lets it out slowly. Then he slings an arm across Korra's shoulders.]
All right. Out with it. Whatever's bothering you, I am ready and willing to lend an ear. [pause] No matter what it is. [even if it's about Mako]
[ He's placed Korra's apartment under surveillance. He's determined the layout, the floors, the stairways and exits. The past few days, he's carefully monitored the residents' ins and outs. He's waited until Korra's alone. He's calculated. He's double-guessed. He's triple-checked. ]
[ Now, he makes his move. ]
[ In the basement, he locates the meter of Korra's apartment. A choice electric-surge shorts out the power. In minutes, he's slipped out, and headed upstairs. He hasn't donned his mask or black bodysuit. He knows the art of concealment as well as any predator. On the off-chance that someone sees him, he needs to be innocuous. In a repairman's uniform, a billed cap shadowing his face, he crosses the fire-escape with ease. At Korra's place, a half-open window and a toolkit are his friends. Some minor tinkering, and he's slipped in, soundless and subtle. ]
[ Now to locate Korra. His intent is to bargain -- if necessary, threaten. Except control isn't asserted with empty words, but in degrees of severity. ]
[Korra had been curled up in a pile of blankets, trying vainly to warm herself as she idly browsed the network. That's how she spends most of her time these days. Dying hadn't just killed her -- it had robbed her of ambition. She doesn't have the energy or desire to do much of anything.
But when the lights go off, she sits up. There's no surge of adrenalin to make her jump, but somehow her senses still seem sharper. She forces herself to be aware of everything around her.
This isn't a storm or some kind of accident. She knows it's Hei. She's known all along that he wouldn't be satisfied with their network conversation. He had demanded an in-person confrontation, and he won't stop until he gets what he wants.
She shrugs off the blankets and moves them to a corner, out of the way. Her every motion is slow, deliberate, and silent. She listens for his arrival, waiting to attack.
She's lost her bending, her friend Bolin, her very life. She will not let him take anything else from her.]
[Chekov knocks on the door to Korra's apartment sometime on the twenty-eighth of December. He looks pleased with himself and the small box he has with him.
So it's not Christmas, but he couldn't wait until New Year's when he would normally hand out presents.]
[Korra's just gotten home from work and is not in a great mood. All she wants to do is take a shower and wash the filth of the Underground from her skin.
A knock on the door derails her. Neither Tohru or Jinora are around to answer it. Grumbling, she stomps over to open it.]
[ They throw that phrase around in newspapers, books and stupid Lynyrd Skynyrd songs, but few people are intimate with the actual scent. If they inhaled it, even once, Hei knows they'd never forget it. (Sulfur dioxide, methane, benzene derivatives and long chain hydrocarbons -- a detached part of his mind rattles the terms off, but they can't begin to describe the aroma in the air). He's taken to patrolling the check-points he's marked City-wide, trying to determine if the zombies have nests. Sometimes, coming into the outskirts of the Underground, he catches them. Holed up in a poured-concrete box of a warehouse. In a row of boarded-up storefronts. Or in a derelict walk-up or lot. Monsters. In groups or pairs, filling the air with their disgusting reek. ]
[ If he's feeling feisty, if the timing is right, he pauses to take them out. Except they're stubborn fuckers. They just refuse to die. (Maybe there really is no such thing as Twice-killed.) ]
[ Still, it's a good workout -- flashing blades, splattering muck, dismembered limbs. In the center of the melee, like the eye of a storm, he can forget how the stench makes his flesh crawl. Forget the snapshots of carcasses and blowflies popping in his mind, invading his dreams. Right now he's simply an extension of his blades. Engaged in a whirlwind dance with walking punch-bags. Live therapy. ]
[Korra's plan to lure them into the mountain is out the window. She's been running as fast as she can, stopping only to fight when one of them (usually Bolin, no surprise) gets distracted and goes after an easier victim. Running and fighting, fighting and running, have led her to the Underground rather than the outskirts of town.
Hei might feel the earth grumble beneath his feet as Bolin remembers he's an earthbender. If he's close enough, he'll see a column of earth throw Korra into the air. She uses the momentum to do a flip and blast him with a gust of wind. (She'd learned quickly to minimize the airbending -- Tenzin is still the airbending master. She had tried earlier to carry them all in a tornado of air, and Tenzin had nearly killed her with his counter attack. But as long as she doesn't use it, he seems to forget he can too.)
She hits the ground and has to duck quickly to ignore a fireball Mako sends her way; elbows Asami when the other girl grabs her with that damned gloved hand, managing to break contact before she can zap. They'll forget they have powers soon enough, revert to the grabbing and biting that has left little rips and tears on Korra's thick winter jacket. (Protect every inch of skin you can, Arthur had told her, and he'd been right.)
She straightens, ready to run, but they've got her surrounded. They close in on her -- Asami, Mako, Bolin, Tenzin -- and she almost chokes on the stench. This won't be pretty.]
[It takes Korra awhile to understand Miles' message -- his spelling gave her device's translation software some problems. And then it takes her awhile long to respond -- typing? So not her thing.]
Hi Miles. We actually have a lot of pepper in our apartment, so I think we are looking for a house. Do you want to accompany us? Jinora would love to have you.
[That's supposed to be "people" up there. Damn you, autocorrect!]
[ In the early morning, Korra will find an oddity on the beachhouse's porch. A tray overflowing with melting ice-blocks, each one glittering mightily as the sunlight strikes it. Each one containing a colorful flower. The pale pink of a peach bloom, its spiny tendrils extending from the ice. A morning-glory, the red petals like splashes of blood. Purple sprigs of pansies. Pale brambles and white stars of jasmine, mixed in with delicately-veined blue wolfsbane. ]
[ A large pink aster is knotted to the tray itself, its petals unfurled back around a darker pink ringing a yellow core. It gives off a rich scent of wet soil as if still in the ground. ]
[ There is no note. No sign of what the whole arrangement means. The sender is, himself, unsure what the flowers signify. But if he did, he'd tell you (with a blade held at his throat): Brambles for regrets. Pansies because I think of you. A morning glory for an unforeseen attachment, and wolfsbane for misanthropy. The jasmine is for sentiment, and the peach-blooms for being you. ]
[ The aster means: 'Please be patient. I'll think about it.' ]
[At the first opportunity, Chekov sneaks away from work to visit the beach house, hoping that Korra will be home. He has to tell her what Hei told him. (It doesn't occur to him that she may not appreciate his help.)
[Tohru sounds, as she usually does when she's not panicking or happy, worried.] Korra, maybe I'm just imaging things, but it seems you haven't been home much lately. Is everything all right? Are you sure I didn't do something this time?
Whatever it is, I can help. I can fix whatever I did. If it's not me, I can still try to make things better, [her voice trails off] somehow....
[Korra doesn't catch Tohru's message -- she usually "forgets" to bring her device with her when she goes out. But she returns to the beach house not long after Tohru sent it.]
[ The thought strobes into Hei's mind as he pads about the sunny flat in faded jeans and a T-shirt. What was he thinking? Offering Korra cooking lessons. On his day off. In his kitchen. It's like some kind of cosmic joke. Mechanically, he's assembled the ingredients for today's meal. Two large lobsters -- live -- in ice coolers. On the counter -- herbs, lemons, a plate of butter, for the sauce. Three pears and a bottle of red wine (already a quarter empty; there's a reason Hei prefers staying busy) for dessert. ]
[ Resting his elbows on the counter, Hei takes the spread in with the ridiculous sense of preparing a tea-party for Pai's dolls. He remembers perfectly well the last time he'd helped a woman cook dinner. It was in Beijing. He'd bought her lobster then too. Served it with pasta, angelic shrimp and glasses of white wine. Had sex with her until she was half-stoned from exhaustion. Then he'd cracked open her safe and taken off with her money, jewels and anything else that wasn't nailed down. She'd been a storm-port. An easy way to evade enemy surveillance until he could smuggle himself to a new city. ]
[ This is different. ]
[ Returning to the livingroom, Hei slumps on the couch. A paperback novel on the table, spine cracked as it sprawls facedown, vies for space with a juice glass smudged red with wine. Hei doesn't touch either. Just watches the sunlit dustmotes glittering through the slatted blinds. Vaguely, he knows why he's uncomfortable. He isn't pretending to be someone else. On assignments he's always undercover. Cover, that is the perfect word. Something you can hide behind. Something without which you feel naked. ]
[ This won't end well. ]
that awkward moment when I almost used my Bolin journal
[Forget about not ending well -- this isn't starting well. For one thing, it took Korra twenty minutes longer to get out of the beach house than she had wanted because Hamlet was teasing the sheep and Naga really didn't like the idea of Korra going somewhere without her.
There's a boy -- maybe 14 -- right outside of Li's building, feeding a freshly hatched dragon. He looks Korra up and down and leers knowingly at her. She clenches her fist instinctively, ready to knock that smirk off his face, but forces herself to release it. Instead, she hurries into the building, feeling no pride at her self-restraint, only a dirty, uncomfortable conviction that she's running away. Inside, she crosses paths with a middle-aged couple who both glare at her... and follow her. She almost thinks they're from the Underground, except they stop and go into the apartment next to Li's.
[ When Korra gets back from work, there should be, balanced on the sill of her bedroom window, a simple blue box. Inside it, wrapped in snowy-white layers of tissue, are ten silk/lace lingerie sets, each one a different style and shade. Blue. Red. White. Purple. Black. Some withcorsets. Some withprints and stockings. They're expensive stuff, meant to fit. But like all expensive stuff, when you put them on, they make you look like someone you don't recognize. (Perhaps don't want to recognize?) The last item in the box is. Well. A reminder that the sender is sort of a troll. ]
[ At the very bottom of the box is a plain card with an address. Not of a motel but a street near the Casino in the Underground. If the gift -- is it a gift? or is it a gag? -- displeases, here is where Korra can go to toss the box at the sender's head. ]
[Korra knows exactly who it's from, of course. Who else would deliver this kind of gift in such a way? She takes it as a good sign, that he's over whatever happened to him that weekend and is okay. (Well, as okay as he ever is. "Messed up" is his default state of being.)
When she opens the box, her first reaction is a kind of queasy hurt. Playing dress up with your sex doll, huh? She pulls each piece out, reluctantly admiring how beautiful they are but feeling like they're not really for her. They're intended for someone she doesn't want to be.
She's just about to shove them all back in the back and deal with that emotional crisis tomorrow when she reaches the bottom. She holds it up.]
You have got to be kidding me.
[Why would he -- how did he even find this? She can't help laughing, and just like that, the hurt is gone. You don't dress sex dolls in stupid, perfect animal sweatshirts. She glances at the address on the card. It only takes a moment for her to make her decision.
She quickly strips down and puts on the first blue number. Takes a moment to admire herself with shy, awkward pleasure before pulling on her jeans and sliding on the hoodie.
She should sleep, or at the very least shower, but instead she creeps down the stairs and heads back down to the Underground.]
[Jinora's going to wake Korra up extra early this morning. The airbender intends to propose some changes to their training now that she has had ample time to piece together her ideas (and gain Grandpa Aang's approval, in a way). Once of those changes will be rescheduling their sessions to a time Korra won't hate so much.
But Korra's not in her bed. What is in Korra's room is a box, and Jinora, being ten, is physically incapable of not looking inside. The girl pulls out clothing she can't readily identify, all of it lacy and fancy but very... scant. She holds up a purple bra and its matching panties and frowns. She's not completely naive. Maybe she can't name the pieces, but it doesn't take too long for Jinora to determine that these are sexy clothes.
She sits cross-legged on Korra's bed with the clothing items spread out around her and waits for the Avatar to get home.]
[Shoot shoot shoot shoot shoot SHOOOOOOOT she overslept! Korra very carefully opens the front door of the beach house, maybe 40 minutes after sunrise. For normal people, this wouldn't be a problem. But normal people don't train with Jinora.
No sign of Tohru or the Chief downstairs. That's good. Korra hadn't had time to clean herself up before booking it out of the hotel. Her hair looks like a rat's nest and her wrinkled hoodie covers up most of the bruises but a few tell-tale marks on her neck still manage to peek through. It's pretty obvious what she was up to for most of the previous night.
She creeps up the stairs, letting out a little sigh of relief when the Chief doesn't poke her head out of her room. If she can just make it to her bedroom, she'll be safe.
Except when she opens the door, Jinora's there.
Surrounded by her underwear.]
JINORA!!!!
[She quickly lowers her voice. The last thing she needs is to get Chief Bei Fong in here, asking what's going on. Once she's certain her screech didn't wake anyone up, she hisses at a much lower volume.]
[ Hei has never bailed anyone out of jail before. ]
[ Why would he? The Syndicate and the police are eternally at cross purposes. He's never sent any of his own enemies up the river. If you cross paths with BK201 -- or with the Syndicate itself -- you're generally eliminated, unless your usefulness outweighs your loss. The organization and its employees like to serve things cold. In a way, for Hei, this is one step up from confronting one of his own victims, post-mission. The closest he's come in that department is to interacting with marks as 'Li', while scheming to assassinate them behind-the-scenes as Hei. ]
[ Except what happened at the bar wasn't a mission. ]
[ Last night, after leaving the crime-scene, he'd retreated to his safe-house and spent a few sleepless hours on the training mat and the pommel horse. He'd glimpsed on his cameras that there were police in the bar's vicinity. And while he was reasonably sure there was no surveillance system in the bar itself, it seemed smarter to lie low. He'd had enough bullshit -- and close calls -- the past few weeks to last him decades. By the time he'd gotten word that Korra had been arrested for perpetrating the scuffle, Hei was ready to zap the neurons in his brain and knock himself out for a 24-hour nap. It was much better than facing his waking thoughts. ]
[ Instead he finds himself at the police station. Caught in the unenviable task of learning how bail works in a city with an ad hoc judicial system. Bleary-eyed and thin-lipped, in a black funnel-necked sweater and jeans, he looks nothing like 'Li' -- more like a tired parent driven from bed in the middle of the night by their party-crazed teenager. (It couldn't be less true. But confessing I'm Korra's partner-in-crime won't help either of their cases.) ]
[They had offered to call Chief Bei Fong to get her, and Korra had said no, there wasn't any point in waking her up. (She wanted to put off explaining exactly what happened for as long as possible. She and Jinora wouldn't worry; they were expecting her to be working until the wee hours of the night anyway.) So they put her in an empty cell, and Korra had settled down on the hard bed for a long night.
At least Chekov is okay.
She stares up at the ceiling, lost in thought. Her tongue worries at her chipped back tooth, poking at the unfamiliar edges. Her mind spins through the events of the night over and over again, an infinite loop that's getting her nowhere, just more miserable.
She's surprised when an officer unlocks the door, saying she's been bailed out, and a little pissed. Either Chekov's out of the hospital already, or they went against her wishes and called the Chief. The last thing she expects when she's escorted to the waiting area is to see Hei. Her expression darkens and her blood burns.]
[ It's the first time since -- well, the Bad Night -- that he's found himself thinking of Korra. Not that, in the past, Hei has gone out of his way to avoid thinking of her. Rather, Korra always stirs up extremely situational feelings. They bubble up when she's there; they fade when she isn't. Out of sight, out of mind. But recently -- on the tail end of the bar-fight -- he's assigned everything Korra-shaped to a separate box. On top, bold and red, is a label: Handle With Care. Because each memory has become a shard now, double-edged. Cutting him up inside with doubt, anger, self-disgust. Everything he should have done that night -- it blurs up with what he shouldn't have yet did, an avalanche of introspection so awful and muddled that it pierces all through him, a migraine of the whole body. ]
[ Better to lock it up until the ache fades. Better to give Korra -- and himself -- some space. ]
[ But today, peeling lychees in his sunlit kitchen, Hei sucks idly on a fingertip. As the taste hits his tongue, sense-memory stirs with a bright jolt. It's a sensation almost like surprise, only warmer. Rueful too, somehow. Like he's finally understood that it's stupid to continue expecting her to just get over it and sek him out, or to shelve her away until he's got free time again with nothing else to waste it on. Stupid and short-sighted and selfish to think that because there's no name for what they have, it's just as easy to forget the affair in its entirety. ]
[ That evening, Korra will receive an attachment. With it is a message. ]
Green tea jelly with lime and lychees. Tastetester needed.
[It is too early in the spring for it to be this hot. Korra and Naga, arctic animals, are trying to escape the heat by taking a swim. Since she's on call at the Welcome Center, Korra's device is on the beach. Korra can't hear it beep when Hei's message arrives, but Naga can. The polar bear dog stops, her hears perking up.]
What is it, girl?
[Naga points her snout to the device on the shore, and Korra quickly swims over to see what it is. She's surprised to see a message from Hei. She hasn't gone out of her way to avoid him since the handcuff curse, but the one or two times she's thought about contacting him, she quickly decided against it. That curse had put him in a foul mood, and refusing to let him intimidate her isn't the same thing as deliberately throwing herself into the path of his temper.
Impossible to read his mood in a text message. But the jelly looks interesting, and...well, it'd be nice to have another afternoon like the main lobsters.
[Chekov knows that Korra doesn't particularly like using her network device, but, given the random attacks on citizens, the City guard, hacked network, and general chaos outside, he thinks it's best not to go out more than is strictly necessary.]
Korra? Are you dying of boredom?
[He doesn't sound like someone who's staying home because of a violent rebellion, but.]
One oblong box wrapped in a plain paper of midnight blue, with a silver ribbon, containing a slinky blue dress. One smaller box, black velvet and rectangular, containing a sapphire bracelet. (It might be bugged, but sssh. Gifts, horses, mouths, etc. ) Attached on a separate sheet of paper are co-ordinates to a club in the Underground.
P. S. Clubs are either over air-conditioned or a hundred degrees. Wear deodorant. And bring a jacket along. ]
[When Korra arrives at the club, she's not in the dress he sent. No offence, Hei -- it's a beautiful dress, and she tried it on as soon as she opened the box. She had quickly discovered there was no way she could wear it in public. It's too short and tight; how on earth was he expecting her to dance in it? The only thing she can imagine doing in it is sneaking into a closet and dropping her underwear.
(She certainly wouldn't mind doing that. But she does actually want to dance tonight. And maybe remind him that she's not a doll to play dress up with.)
The dress gets hung up with care; the bracelet, still in its box, gets stuck in a drawer, and she heads down to the club in a t-shirt and jeans. Hope that dress wasn't your subtle way of saying this club has a dress code.]
[ Hei had watched, neutral-faced and distant-gazed, when Korra climbed onto Naga and departed. There was no impulse to follow her. Not right away, at any rate. An hour, maybe two, then he'd go looking. It wasn't because he was indifferent. It was simply that he understood the sporadic nature of anger and grief -- freak flashes of thunderstorm-tears and lightning-tempers. Sometimes it was better to let them happen elsewhere. Let her get on with it. He tried not to pay attention to the way something inside him twisted at her parting expression; he did not, under any circumstances, think about how he understood what having your agonies devalued was like. ]
[ But the truth is, he and Korra are both very serious students of her pain, though, like any 18 year old, she fancies herself alone in that particular school. ]
[ They just prefer to handle it differently. ]
[ It's about eighty minutes before he finally tracks her down. He doesn't step closer; doesn't call her name. Like he's done dozens of times before, he stays at the edge of the scene, waiting for a verbal or physical cue. ]
[Korra hadn't gone back to the Beach House -- she didn't want to explain to Mako, and that would be the first place Chekov or Hei would try to find her. She doesn't want to see either of them. She galloped with Naga deep into the forest, stopping only when they reached the Drowning Pool. While Naga slacked her thirst, Korra gave into wracking sobs.
By the time Hei finds them, Naga is curled up in a tight ball, enveloping Korra like a protective shell. She snarls at his approach.]
[ With Pai, the best gift the City's ever given him, snugly tucked up in bed, sleeping her placid sleep, and his rounds of the Underground completed, Hei lets the barred windows of his psyche open, bit by bit. He's spent the weeks since his flip-out trying to mentally paper over that evening with Korra. But every time he thinks of her, it's like a nail rusting away in his brain. The harder he attempts to forget about the whole debacle, the more vivid and present the memories become. He has no idea what she's doing to him, or he to her. (He doesn't even know who is the object and who is the subject or whether he remembers the difference properly). He only knows he can feel ... ]
[ That is all, realy. He can feel. ]
[ He feels, for the first time in years, like one complete person, not several versions thinned out and spread out, to be selected for their aptness to the situation. Not a particularly good complete person, but a real one, vivid, with all his selves melded into one, complicated, detailed Hei, making plans with Pai, sneaking glances at Yin, drifting in a cloud of pheromone-steeped ideas about Korra. It's surreal. It's terrifying. But terror, Hei knows, is no excuse to turn tail and run. Korra's words and expressions echo in his head, as the sensation of her body against his, his mouth on her mouth, echoes in his flesh. The way she looks at him when they fuck, you can't get that for the asking, not just anywhere. ]
[ At the Beach House, he climbs the wall slowly. Unsure of his right. He's well aware it's creepy -- sneaking into a girl's room at 3 AM like a burglar or a rapist. But he won't force it, if she wants him to go. He won't bother to hide it, either, exactly how much he's missed not just her, but a curious throb of homesickness, like when Pai or Yin are absent, but different. It's a novelty when Hei surprises himself, even more when it's because he thinks of Korra and feels like ... ]
[ It's not love, exactly. It's more like ... a possibility of it. Not what he had with Amber, but how could it be? He'd known Amber before he was formed (or broken?), when he was guileless, if not defenseless. Just a boy, in fact. That boy is long gone, so how can he expect a connection like that again? He wonders for a moment if that's good or bad, or what Pai would say if she knew, but he doesn't want to think about that. ]
[ Korra's room is dark, warm with the slow simmer of her sleep. Hei hovers at the window, his first instinct to withdraw. But in the next beat, he slips in -- soundless as a shadow. His hands curl into the sheets when he presses Korra gently into the mattress. His kisses have a burning edge of want and his hair trails down the sides of her sleeping face. He knows he shouldn't do this. It doesn't feel romantic -- like a fairytale kiss. It's grotesque -- like a scene from Cat's Eye; the evil troll sucking the life-force out of an innocent girl. She might wake up with a scream, or more likely, a punch. But he's already gone too far. He's never been one to deny himself. ]
[ There's a half-lidded softness to his gaze, when he draws back, whispering, ]
[ Several weeks later, Hei is forced to admit it. It's my fault Korra's stupid dog is dead. ]
[ He's tried to give her space, monitoring her intermittently from his safehouse. Tried to let the nights and days blend together, a phantasmagoric rill of insomnia and manic activity. He focuses on recuperating from his post-curse injuries. Spends time with Pai -- taking care of her, whisking her off on outings, cooking her favorite meals -- because she's one of the few people he can be easy with anymore. Someone who doesn't sling sugary dollops of comfort at him. Who lets him be, who grounds him with the anchor of her quiet, miraculous presence. He stays up late and gets up early and takes a lot of walks -- sometimes hand in hand with Pai, sometimes alone. He works double shifts at the cafes. He throws himself into grueling jiu-jitsu workouts. At first, he assumes he's having control issues not so different from what drives people with eating disorders. Then he thinks it's some kind of mortality-denial thing, because if you can do six hours of nonstop matwork in an airless room, it must mean you're invincible. But as the workouts grow more intense, resulting in a series of minor injuries, Hei realizes what's really going on. ]
[ He's trying to punish himself. ]
[ At nights, in the Underground, fighting enemies is one of the few times he gives Korra conscious thought. Sometimes one of the creatures might remind him of her -- a dancelike kick, a whoosh of momentum, a flash of angry eyes -- and he'll think, Oh. He tries to give no name to his both mistakes and desires. Let them be countless and faceless. Let them die an anonymous death. But one day, he does name them, and isn't surprised to find Korra's initials somewhere in both whirlpools. ]
[ It's late at night when he visits the Beach House. The starless sky, like a blank expression, matches the one on his face. But inside him, there's a fizzle as if from sparked fuses. Dread. Nervousness. Self-doubt. Since they've met, he's gnawed so many holes into Korra's life, corrosive as acid. She's forgiven him for so many wounds. But this one... ]
[ Hei isn't sure it's something you can forgive. ]
[Korra doesn't go out anymore. Since Naga returned to the Beach House, City!dead, Korra has resolved never to leave the polar bear dog's side, or to make her do anything she doesn't want to.
She's probably been fired from the Welcome Center at this point, but she doesn't care. Hasn't seen Chekov in longer than she can think of, doesn't care. Doesn't even go shopping anymore -- she hunts & fishes for their dinner, and now that she's dead, Naga doesn't need to eat anymore. It's amazing what a relief that is on the budget (and Korra hates herself for thinking that). She spends just enough time inside to feet the cats, and the rest of her time is outside with Naga. Naga no longer has any body warmth to share, but Korra still sleeps with her at night, so she has a thick quilt that she wraps around her.
Instead of the stupid nothings that used to occupy her time, Korra trains. She wakes up before dawn and doesn't sleep again until well after sunset. She runs through all her forms, pushing herself until she can hardly move and then some. And she spends endless hours meditating. She doesn't have any problems sitting still anymore, no matter how frustrated she gets.
She needs to access that state again. She needs that power. Naga died protecting her because she was weak. Korra refuses to let that happen again.
She's meditating on the beach, letting the sound of the waves wash away any extraneous thoughts. Naga is dozing a few feet away. She raises her head as Hei approaches.
She catches his scent on the wind and growls softly, and Korra immediately stops what she's doing.]
[Chekov hasn't so much as heard from Korra since the nineteenth when Naga died at the hands of the monster-that-was-Hei that came perilously close to killing Lucy. He had looked for her at the Welcome Center; going to the Beach House had seemed... too desperate, almost, because he's always the one seeking her out to talk about things.
And the monster ordeal needs to be talked about. Both Chekov and Lucy came close to dying that night and, had Korra come with him like he had asked, it wouldn't have been such a one-sided fight. Although he understands her connection to Naga and the need to grieve, that was not the time. Any of his other friends--Sulu, Ginny, Harry--would have set their feelings aside long enough to fight with him. They wouldn't have let him go after a monster alone.
Being friends with Korra involves a lot of being alone. Chekov hadn't realized that until he had a decent number of other friends, but now, in retrospect, their friendship seems remarkably one-sided. He was always the one to apologize or offer comfort when someone left the City. It was always him.
The final straw was the balloon curse. Chekov had needed friends on that day more than any other day in the City and Korra hadn't been around.
He deserves better. Maybe he is being selfish, but Chekov's other friends give as much as they take and he doesn't want to continue nursing along an ailing friendship that's all taking. It's with this thought in mind that he approaches the Beach House, looking for Korra and Naga.]
[It's one thing to declare to yourself, two-thirds asleep, that you have to save your best friend. But it's not that easy to figure out how to bring her back from the dead when you're awake. She's been meditating on the subject for days, but honestly? The only thing she can think about is how desperately, painfully sad she is. It doesn't leave room for much else in her life.
Naga looks up as Chekov approaches, and lets out a friendly wuff to alert Korra to his presence. At first she's irritated at the interruption, but when she sees Chekov, it turns into a tired but almost happy smile.]
[Chekov wants to work on communicating with Korra. He is also troubled. It only seems sensible to talk to Korra about what is troubling him.
Also, he wants to ask her if she knows what the vegetables that keep showing up in his messenger bag are called. They look like potatoes, but the shape is wrong and they're orange on the inside. He's tempted to try eating one. What are the odds that it'll kill him?
He makes his way to the beach house, looking outside for Korra and Naga.]
[ It's not too often that Hei plays hooky. But the manager at the cafe is being especially stroppy today, and Hei finds he has little patience for 'Li's meekness. He gets orders mixed up, he gets yelled at, he nearly slams a tray of fresh meringues on someone's head. He puts the irritability down to excess caffeine -- it makes it impossible to relax, even as he needs it to stay alert. But as the minutes jerk by towards the end of his shift, he feels his patience dissolving like rice paper. Is this necessary? There are enough pastries in the cafe to tide customers over until closing time. There's no reason for him to stick around. He abandons a cake half-iced, walking out as the manager shouts at his back, and goes straight into the orange evening sunshine, the sidewalk like marshmallow beneath his feet. ]
[ After checking in on Pai, he drifts to the Underground. He ought to shut himself away in his safehouse, finish tinkering with his latest bit of surveillance equipment -- (something to monitor the energy-levels in the air, to correspond the emissions to potential curses). What better way to settle his thoughts? To forget the whole dreary day? But damn it all, what is the solution that his brain proposes instead? -- Korra. ]
[ Hei grimaces. His mind has a history of suggesting illogical solutions. Sabotage. Aiding and abetting enemies. Killing useful assets. Playing guardian angel to Dolls. Too much eating, not enough sleeping. Trying to give his restless memories the silent treatment, when all they need to fester is silence, stillness. And now, the latest in line: Korra, of the dark hair and bright grin. Of the teen spirit and the blue eyes and, I'm the Avatar -- But fucks knows what that means! ]
[ For all that Korra does to him -- all the clutter and the confusion of being so distracted by her, so hinged upon her -- Hei can think of no better solution to all this mess than to be alone with her. On an outing. In a crowd. In a room with a locked door. Anything. ]
[ The text he sends her is short and to-the-point: ]
[Korra's gotten used to a certain pattern in her relationship with Hei. Infrequent visits. Hooking up maybe once or twice a month. It may not be her preferred way to do things, but it feels normal enough.
So his text, abrupt and bossy as it is, comes as a pleasant surprise. So even though she's tired (when isn't she tired these days?), she texts back]
Where should we meet?
[(She'd sass him a little in person, but typing still feels unnatural enough for her that she prefers to keep it simple.)]
[ When Hei jerks awake to the surface from a black hole of sleep, he opens his eyes to find that it is still dark. Floating in a void, his clock's digital numbers are feeble and flickering: zero five zero zero. He lies tangled in the bedclothes, confused, disoriented. Though he can see nothing in the blackness except the flickering clock, he's aware of Korra snoozing beside him, a warm landscape under the sheets. Wisps of her hair tickle his brow. Huffing, he swipes them off with the back of his hand. Except it doesn't feel like his hand. Smaller, finer-boned, the fingers spidery as they tangle in the hair. ]
[ Hair, which isn't Korra's. ]
[ Shit. Cautiously, Hei stretches his limbs; nothing feels painful, just different. He'd fallen asleep in a black T-shirt and snug gray Y-fronts. Now the former hangs off him in voluminous folds, while the latter is tight, the elastic cutting into his wider hipbones. Not this again. Scowling, he sits up. Runs his fingers through his tangled mass of hair. He's shorter, top-heavy, paler, but all ten fingers and toes are securely in place. He breathes deeply, sucking the clean air through his nostrils, keeping his spine straight. Outside the window, the predawn light casts a blue-gray penumbra, and he can hear the distant slosh of sea-waves beyond. ]
[ It's just a curse, he thinks, bleary-eyed but grim. Deal with it. It settles him, at least by degrees. Until he gets a better look at Korra. ]
[Who's voice is that? Still sleepy, she looks around to see who just said that. If she'd been wearing clothes, like Hei, she probably would have figured it out sooner. But her inclination to fall asleep right after sex means that she has no suddenly ill-fitting clothing to give the game away.
Her muscles, though. They feel different. And there's something stiff between her thighs. She looks down.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
❊ action
[Korra closes her device and pushes it aside as Bolin sits next to her, hating herself a little bit as he speaks. It's stupid, feeling so out of sorts over a doll. Of all the things going wrong in her life recently, not being attractive enough for Mako is the least of her concerns.]
Thanks, Bolin.
[His words help, but they don't touch on the real problem. She feels like a leaf, knocked about by even the slightest wind. She can be perfectly cheerful, and then the littlest thing will set her off into despair. Today it was the dolls; last night it had been the very non-Southern Water Tribe noodles. She hates feeling this...fragile.]
❊ action
All right. Out with it. Whatever's bothering you, I am ready and willing to lend an ear. [pause] No matter what it is. [even if it's about Mako]
❊ action
❊ action
❊ action
❊ action
❊ action
❊ action ...the icon seemed appropriate idk
❊ action
❊ action
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
no subject
Lychee cake
Because
He's sorry
Uguuuu~
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
Creeping creepers~
[ Now, he makes his move. ]
[ In the basement, he locates the meter of Korra's apartment. A choice electric-surge shorts out the power. In minutes, he's slipped out, and headed upstairs. He hasn't donned his mask or black bodysuit. He knows the art of concealment as well as any predator. On the off-chance that someone sees him, he needs to be innocuous. In a repairman's uniform, a billed cap shadowing his face, he crosses the fire-escape with ease. At Korra's place, a half-open window and a toolkit are his friends. Some minor tinkering, and he's slipped in, soundless and subtle. ]
[ Now to locate Korra. His intent is to bargain -- if necessary, threaten. Except control isn't asserted with empty words, but in degrees of severity. ]
[ He won't hesitate to use violence if he must. ]
oh my~
But when the lights go off, she sits up. There's no surge of adrenalin to make her jump, but somehow her senses still seem sharper. She forces herself to be aware of everything around her.
This isn't a storm or some kind of accident. She knows it's Hei. She's known all along that he wouldn't be satisfied with their network conversation. He had demanded an in-person confrontation, and he won't stop until he gets what he wants.
She shrugs off the blankets and moves them to a corner, out of the way. Her every motion is slow, deliberate, and silent. She listens for his arrival, waiting to attack.
She's lost her bending, her friend Bolin, her very life. She will not let him take anything else from her.]
>3<
>3<
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
action;
So it's not Christmas, but he couldn't wait until New Year's when he would normally hand out presents.]
action;
A knock on the door derails her. Neither Tohru or Jinora are around to answer it. Grumbling, she stomps over to open it.]
What?
action;
Re: action;
action;
action;
action;
Re: action;
action;
action;
...
...
...
...
...
Action;
[ They throw that phrase around in newspapers, books and stupid Lynyrd Skynyrd songs, but few people are intimate with the actual scent. If they inhaled it, even once, Hei knows they'd never forget it. (Sulfur dioxide, methane, benzene derivatives and long chain hydrocarbons -- a detached part of his mind rattles the terms off, but they can't begin to describe the aroma in the air). He's taken to patrolling the check-points he's marked City-wide, trying to determine if the zombies have nests. Sometimes, coming into the outskirts of the Underground, he catches them. Holed up in a poured-concrete box of a warehouse. In a row of boarded-up storefronts. Or in a derelict walk-up or lot. Monsters. In groups or pairs, filling the air with their disgusting reek. ]
[ If he's feeling feisty, if the timing is right, he pauses to take them out. Except they're stubborn fuckers. They just refuse to die. (Maybe there really is no such thing as Twice-killed.) ]
[ Still, it's a good workout -- flashing blades, splattering muck, dismembered limbs. In the center of the melee, like the eye of a storm, he can forget how the stench makes his flesh crawl. Forget the snapshots of carcasses and blowflies popping in his mind, invading his dreams. Right now he's simply an extension of his blades. Engaged in a whirlwind dance with walking punch-bags. Live therapy. ]
Action;
Hei might feel the earth grumble beneath his feet as Bolin remembers he's an earthbender. If he's close enough, he'll see a column of earth throw Korra into the air. She uses the momentum to do a flip and blast him with a gust of wind. (She'd learned quickly to minimize the airbending -- Tenzin is still the airbending master. She had tried earlier to carry them all in a tornado of air, and Tenzin had nearly killed her with his counter attack. But as long as she doesn't use it, he seems to forget he can too.)
She hits the ground and has to duck quickly to ignore a fireball Mako sends her way; elbows Asami when the other girl grabs her with that damned gloved hand, managing to break contact before she can zap. They'll forget they have powers soon enough, revert to the grabbing and biting that has left little rips and tears on Korra's thick winter jacket. (Protect every inch of skin you can, Arthur had told her, and he'd been right.)
She straightens, ready to run, but they've got her surrounded. They close in on her -- Asami, Mako, Bolin, Tenzin -- and she almost chokes on the stench. This won't be pretty.]
Action;
Action;
Action;
Action;
Action;
Action;
Action;
Action;
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
Text
my apartment is way 2 big now my roomie left the city. u and Jinora should come over. bring ur friend Naga 2.
Text
Hi Miles. We actually have a lot of pepper in our apartment, so I think we are looking for a house. Do you want to accompany us? Jinora would love to have you.
[That's supposed to be "people" up there. Damn you, autocorrect!]
Text
Text
Re: Text
Text
Re: Text
Text
Text
Text
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
Dated to early morning on the 20th
[ A large pink aster is knotted to the tray itself, its petals unfurled back around a darker pink ringing a yellow core. It gives off a rich scent of wet soil as if still in the ground. ]
[ There is no note. No sign of what the whole arrangement means. The sender is, himself, unsure what the flowers signify. But if he did, he'd tell you (with a blade held at his throat): Brambles for regrets. Pansies because I think of you. A morning glory for an unforeseen attachment, and wolfsbane for misanthropy. The jasmine is for sentiment, and the peach-blooms for being you. ]
[ The aster means: 'Please be patient. I'll think about it.' ]
action;
Pretty.
[Korra picks up the arrangement and carries it into the kitchen. Putting it on the table, she pokes around for a note, but nada, nothing.]
Hey Tohru, don't tell me you've got a secret boyfriend.
[Either that or the Chief...
She sneezes. Is somebody thinking about her? Another sneeze. Nope. Shoot, she better not be coming down with anything.]
action;
Re: action;
action;
action;
action;
action;
action;
action;
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
❊ February 20th
Pavel knocks.]
❊ February 20th
Oh, hey Chekov! Come on in!
❊ February 20th
❊ February 20th
❊ February 20th
❊ February 20th
❊ February 20th
❊ February 20th
❊ February 20th
❊ February 20th
...
...
...
...
...
...
voice;
Whatever it is, I can help. I can fix whatever I did. If it's not me, I can still try to make things better, [her voice trails off] somehow....
action;
Oh, hey Tohru.
Re: action;
action;
action;
action;
Re: action;
action;
action;
action;
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
Dated to Saturday Afternoon
[ The thought strobes into Hei's mind as he pads about the sunny flat in faded jeans and a T-shirt. What was he thinking? Offering Korra cooking lessons. On his day off. In his kitchen. It's like some kind of cosmic joke. Mechanically, he's assembled the ingredients for today's meal. Two large lobsters -- live -- in ice coolers. On the counter -- herbs, lemons, a plate of butter, for the sauce. Three pears and a bottle of red wine (already a quarter empty; there's a reason Hei prefers staying busy) for dessert. ]
[ Resting his elbows on the counter, Hei takes the spread in with the ridiculous sense of preparing a tea-party for Pai's dolls. He remembers perfectly well the last time he'd helped a woman cook dinner. It was in Beijing. He'd bought her lobster then too. Served it with pasta, angelic shrimp and glasses of white wine. Had sex with her until she was half-stoned from exhaustion. Then he'd cracked open her safe and taken off with her money, jewels and anything else that wasn't nailed down. She'd been a storm-port. An easy way to evade enemy surveillance until he could smuggle himself to a new city. ]
[ This is different. ]
[ Returning to the livingroom, Hei slumps on the couch. A paperback novel on the table, spine cracked as it sprawls facedown, vies for space with a juice glass smudged red with wine. Hei doesn't touch either. Just watches the sunlit dustmotes glittering through the slatted blinds. Vaguely, he knows why he's uncomfortable. He isn't pretending to be someone else. On assignments he's always undercover. Cover, that is the perfect word. Something you can hide behind. Something without which you feel naked. ]
[ This won't end well. ]
that awkward moment when I almost used my Bolin journal
There's a boy -- maybe 14 -- right outside of Li's building, feeding a freshly hatched dragon. He looks Korra up and down and leers knowingly at her. She clenches her fist instinctively, ready to knock that smirk off his face, but forces herself to release it. Instead, she hurries into the building, feeling no pride at her self-restraint, only a dirty, uncomfortable conviction that she's running away. Inside, she crosses paths with a middle-aged couple who both glare at her... and follow her. She almost thinks they're from the Underground, except they stop and go into the apartment next to Li's.
Oh. Oh.
Maybe she should have said her place.
Face burning, she taps on Li's door.]
SOB HEI WOULD BE SO CONFUSED xD
So would Bolin xD
poor bb x3
Bolin: /feels very awkward about this
Come cook with Li, Bolin >:3
Bolin: Okay! :D
Yeees! Come nom with uuuus~
Re: Yeees! Come nom with uuuus~
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
Delivery - Dated Friday Night<3
[ At the very bottom of the box is a plain card with an address. Not of a motel but a street near the Casino in the Underground. If the gift -- is it a gift? or is it a gag? -- displeases, here is where Korra can go to toss the box at the sender's head. ]
Delivery - Dated Friday Night<3
When she opens the box, her first reaction is a kind of queasy hurt. Playing dress up with your sex doll, huh? She pulls each piece out, reluctantly admiring how beautiful they are but feeling like they're not really for her. They're intended for someone she doesn't want to be.
She's just about to shove them all back in the back and deal with that emotional crisis tomorrow when she reaches the bottom. She holds it up.]
You have got to be kidding me.
[Why would he -- how did he even find this? She can't help laughing, and just like that, the hurt is gone. You don't dress sex dolls in stupid, perfect animal sweatshirts. She glances at the address on the card. It only takes a moment for her to make her decision.
She quickly strips down and puts on the first blue number. Takes a moment to admire herself with shy, awkward pleasure before pulling on her jeans and sliding on the hoodie.
She should sleep, or at the very least shower, but instead she creeps down the stairs and heads back down to the Underground.]
Delivery - Dated Friday Night<3
action;
action;
action;
action;
action;
action;
action;
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
action, April 20th (morning)
But Korra's not in her bed. What is in Korra's room is a box, and Jinora, being ten, is physically incapable of not looking inside. The girl pulls out clothing she can't readily identify, all of it lacy and fancy but very... scant. She holds up a purple bra and its matching panties and frowns. She's not completely naive. Maybe she can't name the pieces, but it doesn't take too long for Jinora to determine that these are sexy clothes.
She sits cross-legged on Korra's bed with the clothing items spread out around her and waits for the Avatar to get home.]
action, April 20th (morning)
No sign of Tohru or the Chief downstairs. That's good. Korra hadn't had time to clean herself up before booking it out of the hotel. Her hair looks like a rat's nest and her wrinkled hoodie covers up most of the bruises but a few tell-tale marks on her neck still manage to peek through. It's pretty obvious what she was up to for most of the previous night.
She creeps up the stairs, letting out a little sigh of relief when the Chief doesn't poke her head out of her room. If she can just make it to her bedroom, she'll be safe.
Except when she opens the door, Jinora's there.
Surrounded by her underwear.]
JINORA!!!!
[She quickly lowers her voice. The last thing she needs is to get Chief Bei Fong in here, asking what's going on. Once she's certain her screech didn't wake anyone up, she hisses at a much lower volume.]
What are you doing in here?!??!?!
action, April 20th (morning)
action, April 20th (morning)
action, April 20th (morning)
action, April 20th (morning)
action, April 20th (morning)
action, April 20th (morning)
action, April 20th (morning)
action, April 20th (morning)
...
...
no subject
[ Why would he? The Syndicate and the police are eternally at cross purposes. He's never sent any of his own enemies up the river. If you cross paths with BK201 -- or with the Syndicate itself -- you're generally eliminated, unless your usefulness outweighs your loss. The organization and its employees like to serve things cold. In a way, for Hei, this is one step up from confronting one of his own victims, post-mission. The closest he's come in that department is to interacting with marks as 'Li', while scheming to assassinate them behind-the-scenes as Hei. ]
[ Except what happened at the bar wasn't a mission. ]
[ Last night, after leaving the crime-scene, he'd retreated to his safe-house and spent a few sleepless hours on the training mat and the pommel horse. He'd glimpsed on his cameras that there were police in the bar's vicinity. And while he was reasonably sure there was no surveillance system in the bar itself, it seemed smarter to lie low. He'd had enough bullshit -- and close calls -- the past few weeks to last him decades. By the time he'd gotten word that Korra had been arrested for perpetrating the scuffle, Hei was ready to zap the neurons in his brain and knock himself out for a 24-hour nap. It was much better than facing his waking thoughts. ]
[ Instead he finds himself at the police station. Caught in the unenviable task of learning how bail works in a city with an ad hoc judicial system. Bleary-eyed and thin-lipped, in a black funnel-necked sweater and jeans, he looks nothing like 'Li' -- more like a tired parent driven from bed in the middle of the night by their party-crazed teenager. (It couldn't be less true. But confessing I'm Korra's partner-in-crime won't help either of their cases.) ]
no subject
At least Chekov is okay.
She stares up at the ceiling, lost in thought. Her tongue worries at her chipped back tooth, poking at the unfamiliar edges. Her mind spins through the events of the night over and over again, an infinite loop that's getting her nowhere, just more miserable.
She's surprised when an officer unlocks the door, saying she's been bailed out, and a little pissed. Either Chekov's out of the hospital already, or they went against her wishes and called the Chief. The last thing she expects when she's escorted to the waiting area is to see Hei. Her expression darkens and her blood burns.]
You.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
Dated to the Wee~Kend
[ Better to lock it up until the ache fades. Better to give Korra -- and himself -- some space. ]
[ But today, peeling lychees in his sunlit kitchen, Hei sucks idly on a fingertip. As the taste hits his tongue, sense-memory stirs with a bright jolt. It's a sensation almost like surprise, only warmer. Rueful too, somehow. Like he's finally understood that it's stupid to continue expecting her to just get over it and sek him out, or to shelve her away until he's got free time again with nothing else to waste it on. Stupid and short-sighted and selfish to think that because there's no name for what they have, it's just as easy to forget the affair in its entirety. ]
[ That evening, Korra will receive an attachment. With it is a message. ]
Green tea jelly with lime and lychees. Tastetester needed.
Interested?
sunday sunday?
What is it, girl?
[Naga points her snout to the device on the shore, and Korra quickly swims over to see what it is. She's surprised to see a message from Hei. She hasn't gone out of her way to avoid him since the handcuff curse, but the one or two times she's thought about contacting him, she quickly decided against it. That curse had put him in a foul mood, and refusing to let him intimidate her isn't the same thing as deliberately throwing herself into the path of his temper.
Impossible to read his mood in a text message. But the jelly looks interesting, and...well, it'd be nice to have another afternoon like the main lobsters.
She types back] Okay.
/sneaks
\o/
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
Sunday! \^^/
Re: Sunday! \^^/
Sunday! \^^/
Sunday! \^^/
Sunday! \^^/
Sunday! \^^/
Re: Sunday! \^^/
Sunday! \^^/
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
video;
Korra? Are you dying of boredom?
[He doesn't sound like someone who's staying home because of a violent rebellion, but.]
video;
She groans, half relief, half frustration.]
YESSSSS. [HAAAALP HEEEEEER.]
video;
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
voice
voice
Sure. [Why isn't he just knocking on her door?] What's wrong?
voice
action;
action;
action;
action;
Re: action;
Re: action;
action;
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
Pick a date! Any date! ... Oh wait. I mean "adult outing."
One oblong box wrapped in a plain paper of midnight blue, with a silver ribbon, containing a slinky blue dress. One smaller box, black velvet and rectangular, containing a sapphire bracelet. (It might be bugged, but sssh. Gifts, horses, mouths, etc. ) Attached on a separate sheet of paper are co-ordinates to a club in the Underground.
P. S. Clubs are either over air-conditioned or a hundred degrees. Wear deodorant. And bring a jacket along. ]
this date! i mean outing. wait, no, i mean date.
(She certainly wouldn't mind doing that. But she does actually want to dance tonight. And maybe remind him that she's not a doll to play dress up with.)
The dress gets hung up with care; the bracelet, still in its box, gets stuck in a drawer, and she heads down to the club in a t-shirt and jeans. Hope that dress wasn't your subtle way of saying this club has a dress code.]
daaate >3
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
Continued from the Beach Fiasco
[ But the truth is, he and Korra are both very serious students of her pain, though, like any 18 year old, she fancies herself alone in that particular school. ]
[ They just prefer to handle it differently. ]
[ It's about eighty minutes before he finally tracks her down. He doesn't step closer; doesn't call her name. Like he's done dozens of times before, he stays at the edge of the scene, waiting for a verbal or physical cue. ]
no subject
By the time Hei finds them, Naga is curled up in a tight ball, enveloping Korra like a protective shell. She snarls at his approach.]
Shhhhhhh, Naga.
[She doesn't acknowledge him.]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
Pick a daito!!! 1/2
[ With Pai, the best gift the City's ever given him, snugly tucked up in bed, sleeping her placid sleep, and his rounds of the Underground completed, Hei lets the barred windows of his psyche open, bit by bit. He's spent the weeks since his flip-out trying to mentally paper over that evening with Korra. But every time he thinks of her, it's like a nail rusting away in his brain. The harder he attempts to forget about the whole debacle, the more vivid and present the memories become. He has no idea what she's doing to him, or he to her. (He doesn't even know who is the object and who is the subject or whether he remembers the difference properly). He only knows he can feel ... ]
[ That is all, realy. He can feel. ]
[ He feels, for the first time in years, like one complete person, not several versions thinned out and spread out, to be selected for their aptness to the situation. Not a particularly good complete person, but a real one, vivid, with all his selves melded into one, complicated, detailed Hei, making plans with Pai, sneaking glances at Yin, drifting in a cloud of pheromone-steeped ideas about Korra. It's surreal. It's terrifying. But terror, Hei knows, is no excuse to turn tail and run. Korra's words and expressions echo in his head, as the sensation of her body against his, his mouth on her mouth, echoes in his flesh. The way she looks at him when they fuck, you can't get that for the asking, not just anywhere. ]
[ I have to talk to her. ]
no subject
[ It's not love, exactly. It's more like ... a possibility of it. Not what he had with Amber, but how could it be? He'd known Amber before he was formed (or broken?), when he was guileless, if not defenseless. Just a boy, in fact. That boy is long gone, so how can he expect a connection like that again? He wonders for a moment if that's good or bad, or what Pai would say if she knew, but he doesn't want to think about that. ]
[ Korra's room is dark, warm with the slow simmer of her sleep. Hei hovers at the window, his first instinct to withdraw. But in the next beat, he slips in -- soundless as a shadow. His hands curl into the sheets when he presses Korra gently into the mattress. His kisses have a burning edge of want and his hair trails down the sides of her sleeping face. He knows he shouldn't do this. It doesn't feel romantic -- like a fairytale kiss. It's grotesque -- like a scene from Cat's Eye; the evil troll sucking the life-force out of an innocent girl. She might wake up with a scream, or more likely, a punch. But he's already gone too far. He's never been one to deny himself. ]
[ There's a half-lidded softness to his gaze, when he draws back, whispering, ]
Korra...?
10/08
10/08
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
Pick a date!!! :3
[ He's tried to give her space, monitoring her intermittently from his safehouse. Tried to let the nights and days blend together, a phantasmagoric rill of insomnia and manic activity. He focuses on recuperating from his post-curse injuries. Spends time with Pai -- taking care of her, whisking her off on outings, cooking her favorite meals -- because she's one of the few people he can be easy with anymore. Someone who doesn't sling sugary dollops of comfort at him. Who lets him be, who grounds him with the anchor of her quiet, miraculous presence. He stays up late and gets up early and takes a lot of walks -- sometimes hand in hand with Pai, sometimes alone. He works double shifts at the cafes. He throws himself into grueling jiu-jitsu workouts. At first, he assumes he's having control issues not so different from what drives people with eating disorders. Then he thinks it's some kind of mortality-denial thing, because if you can do six hours of nonstop matwork in an airless room, it must mean you're invincible. But as the workouts grow more intense, resulting in a series of minor injuries, Hei realizes what's really going on. ]
[ He's trying to punish himself. ]
[ At nights, in the Underground, fighting enemies is one of the few times he gives Korra conscious thought. Sometimes one of the creatures might remind him of her -- a dancelike kick, a whoosh of momentum, a flash of angry eyes -- and he'll think, Oh. He tries to give no name to his both mistakes and desires. Let them be countless and faceless. Let them die an anonymous death. But one day, he does name them, and isn't surprised to find Korra's initials somewhere in both whirlpools. ]
[ It's late at night when he visits the Beach House. The starless sky, like a blank expression, matches the one on his face. But inside him, there's a fizzle as if from sparked fuses. Dread. Nervousness. Self-doubt. Since they've met, he's gnawed so many holes into Korra's life, corrosive as acid. She's forgiven him for so many wounds. But this one... ]
[ Hei isn't sure it's something you can forgive. ]
October 30?
She's probably been fired from the Welcome Center at this point, but she doesn't care. Hasn't seen Chekov in longer than she can think of, doesn't care. Doesn't even go shopping anymore -- she hunts & fishes for their dinner, and now that she's dead, Naga doesn't need to eat anymore. It's amazing what a relief that is on the budget (and Korra hates herself for thinking that). She spends just enough time inside to feet the cats, and the rest of her time is outside with Naga. Naga no longer has any body warmth to share, but Korra still sleeps with her at night, so she has a thick quilt that she wraps around her.
Instead of the stupid nothings that used to occupy her time, Korra trains. She wakes up before dawn and doesn't sleep again until well after sunset. She runs through all her forms, pushing herself until she can hardly move and then some. And she spends endless hours meditating. She doesn't have any problems sitting still anymore, no matter how frustrated she gets.
She needs to access that state again. She needs that power. Naga died protecting her because she was weak. Korra refuses to let that happen again.
She's meditating on the beach, letting the sound of the waves wash away any extraneous thoughts. Naga is dozing a few feet away. She raises her head as Hei approaches.
She catches his scent on the wind and growls softly, and Korra immediately stops what she's doing.]
What is it?
[Then she sees.]
Hei.
October 30 \^^/
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
November 1st, evening
And the monster ordeal needs to be talked about. Both Chekov and Lucy came close to dying that night and, had Korra come with him like he had asked, it wouldn't have been such a one-sided fight. Although he understands her connection to Naga and the need to grieve, that was not the time. Any of his other friends--Sulu, Ginny, Harry--would have set their feelings aside long enough to fight with him. They wouldn't have let him go after a monster alone.
Being friends with Korra involves a lot of being alone. Chekov hadn't realized that until he had a decent number of other friends, but now, in retrospect, their friendship seems remarkably one-sided. He was always the one to apologize or offer comfort when someone left the City. It was always him.
The final straw was the balloon curse. Chekov had needed friends on that day more than any other day in the City and Korra hadn't been around.
He deserves better. Maybe he is being selfish, but Chekov's other friends give as much as they take and he doesn't want to continue nursing along an ailing friendship that's all taking. It's with this thought in mind that he approaches the Beach House, looking for Korra and Naga.]
no subject
Naga looks up as Chekov approaches, and lets out a friendly wuff to alert Korra to his presence. At first she's irritated at the interruption, but when she sees Chekov, it turns into a tired but almost happy smile.]
Hey. It's been awhile.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
November 12th
Also, he wants to ask her if she knows what the vegetables that keep showing up in his messenger bag are called. They look like potatoes, but the shape is wrong and they're orange on the inside. He's tempted to try eating one. What are the odds that it'll kill him?
He makes his way to the beach house, looking outside for Korra and Naga.]
no subject
Instead, she's just outside with the animals, giving them some much needed TLC. She hadn't even realized how much she's been neglecting them.
Hamlet starts barking, and Korra looks up.]
Hey Chekov!
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
Pick a date! <3
[ After checking in on Pai, he drifts to the Underground. He ought to shut himself away in his safehouse, finish tinkering with his latest bit of surveillance equipment -- (something to monitor the energy-levels in the air, to correspond the emissions to potential curses). What better way to settle his thoughts? To forget the whole dreary day? But damn it all, what is the solution that his brain proposes instead? -- Korra. ]
[ Hei grimaces. His mind has a history of suggesting illogical solutions. Sabotage. Aiding and abetting enemies. Killing useful assets. Playing guardian angel to Dolls. Too much eating, not enough sleeping. Trying to give his restless memories the silent treatment, when all they need to fester is silence, stillness. And now, the latest in line: Korra, of the dark hair and bright grin. Of the teen spirit and the blue eyes and, I'm the Avatar -- But fucks knows what that means! ]
[ For all that Korra does to him -- all the clutter and the confusion of being so distracted by her, so hinged upon her -- Hei can think of no better solution to all this mess than to be alone with her. On an outing. In a crowd. In a room with a locked door. Anything. ]
[ The text he sends her is short and to-the-point: ]
Come to an outing in the Underground with me.
11th!
So his text, abrupt and bossy as it is, comes as a pleasant surprise. So even though she's tired (when isn't she tired these days?), she texts back]
Where should we meet?
[(She'd sass him a little in person, but typing still feels unnatural enough for her that she prefers to keep it simple.)]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
❊ Backdaaaated to Feb 8
[ Hair, which isn't Korra's. ]
[ Shit. Cautiously, Hei stretches his limbs; nothing feels painful, just different. He'd fallen asleep in a black T-shirt and snug gray Y-fronts. Now the former hangs off him in voluminous folds, while the latter is tight, the elastic cutting into his wider hipbones. Not this again. Scowling, he sits up. Runs his fingers through his tangled mass of hair. He's shorter, top-heavy, paler, but all ten fingers and toes are securely in place. He breathes deeply, sucking the clean air through his nostrils, keeping his spine straight. Outside the window, the predawn light casts a blue-gray penumbra, and he can hear the distant slosh of sea-waves beyond. ]
[ It's just a curse, he thinks, bleary-eyed but grim. Deal with it. It settles him, at least by degrees. Until he gets a better look at Korra. ]
What the -- ?!
no subject
What? What happened?
[Who's voice is that? Still sleepy, she looks around to see who just said that. If she'd been wearing clothes, like Hei, she probably would have figured it out sooner. But her inclination to fall asleep right after sex means that she has no suddenly ill-fitting clothing to give the game away.
Her muscles, though. They feel different. And there's something stiff between her thighs. She looks down.]
A curse?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...