[ Naga's growl is a splatter of psychic backwash. Hei remembers, with arresting vividness, the night he killed her. Bridled with the longing to seize, take, break. And at the same time it seems disgusting to him, how he'd sunk his teeth into the animal's resistant skin, tasting the funk, sweat, the thick hairs, stringy muscle, tearing through it and -- ]
[ He shakes it off. Around him, the sky is so dark, clouds trembling at the edges of the horizon. He doesn't come closer. Even if Korra doesn't know who attacked her that night, Naga does. The knowledge leaves him feeling suddenly untethered, as unbalanced as anyone playing tug-of-war would be to find their opponent suddenly letting go of the rope. This is so idiotic. What's the point? What can he say to Korra? To him, Naga's just a damned animal. But Korra, like all isolated children, hinges so much more on her pet's presence. A lynchpin of familiarity. A constant companion. It's not too different, Hei knows, from how he regards Yin. A personification of bittersweet times. Now he's horribly murdered that animal, and he isn't going to be able to offer Korra any comfort. Saying sorry isn't his way. Tears and pleading aren't remorse. He's faked them enough times to know. ]
[ His whole reason for being here is just utterly selfish, anyway. ]
[ But instead of turning -- instead of running -- he slips his hands into his coat pockets. Hesitates, before marshaling his features into calm, expressionless order. ]
We need to talk.
[ Words that -- for him and Korra -- presage disaster. ]
October 30 \^^/
[ He shakes it off. Around him, the sky is so dark, clouds trembling at the edges of the horizon. He doesn't come closer. Even if Korra doesn't know who attacked her that night, Naga does. The knowledge leaves him feeling suddenly untethered, as unbalanced as anyone playing tug-of-war would be to find their opponent suddenly letting go of the rope. This is so idiotic. What's the point? What can he say to Korra? To him, Naga's just a damned animal. But Korra, like all isolated children, hinges so much more on her pet's presence. A lynchpin of familiarity. A constant companion. It's not too different, Hei knows, from how he regards Yin. A personification of bittersweet times. Now he's horribly murdered that animal, and he isn't going to be able to offer Korra any comfort. Saying sorry isn't his way. Tears and pleading aren't remorse. He's faked them enough times to know. ]
[ His whole reason for being here is just utterly selfish, anyway. ]
[ But instead of turning -- instead of running -- he slips his hands into his coat pockets. Hesitates, before marshaling his features into calm, expressionless order. ]
We need to talk.
[ Words that -- for him and Korra -- presage disaster. ]