[ The Please feels as if something small and hard has hit him in the small of the back, a pebble sharply flung. He shivers to his finger's ends, and represses it in the same breath. ]
[ For all his games -- the roughness and the mind-frags and the hot things on skin -- Hei is never all that comfortable with real closeness. Not that he's a coward -- he keeps the vigil. He doesn't harrumph and walk off like a lot of men, doesn't pretend like it isn't happening. But he keeps his distance, because this sort of pain is something he knows about intimately, and has never liked. Part of him can't help but think -- It's so fucked up. Korra, asking a killer for comfort. The same one who'd slaughtered her pet. Eerie, how you get so used to having somebody in your life, so comfortable with what little they have to offer, that no matter how lacking, or how jacked up it is, you don't know how to let it go. ]
[ It doesn't matter. He's selfish, and he'll snatch anything warm -- no matter how damaged or storm-tossed -- to consume for himself. Exhausted, confused, steeped in a peculiar self-loathing of his own. But selfish, first and foremost. ]
[ She looks so small and fragile, against Naga's massive whiteness. He approaches her sideways, leery of the animal's reaction. Hesitates, for just a moment, before closing the gap between them, wrapping his arms tight around her. The sky is dark, moonless, and Hei buries his face in Korra's thick, sweet-smelling hair, swaying a bit as if they're together on a dancefloor at the Crazy Mongoose, the night's crowd disintegrating to nothing around them. He doesn't talk. He just absorbs the tenuous tenderness in himself, and hopes it won't break too soon. ]
no subject
[ For all his games -- the roughness and the mind-frags and the hot things on skin -- Hei is never all that comfortable with real closeness. Not that he's a coward -- he keeps the vigil. He doesn't harrumph and walk off like a lot of men, doesn't pretend like it isn't happening. But he keeps his distance, because this sort of pain is something he knows about intimately, and has never liked. Part of him can't help but think -- It's so fucked up. Korra, asking a killer for comfort. The same one who'd slaughtered her pet. Eerie, how you get so used to having somebody in your life, so comfortable with what little they have to offer, that no matter how lacking, or how jacked up it is, you don't know how to let it go. ]
[ It doesn't matter. He's selfish, and he'll snatch anything warm -- no matter how damaged or storm-tossed -- to consume for himself. Exhausted, confused, steeped in a peculiar self-loathing of his own. But selfish, first and foremost. ]
[ She looks so small and fragile, against Naga's massive whiteness. He approaches her sideways, leery of the animal's reaction. Hesitates, for just a moment, before closing the gap between them, wrapping his arms tight around her. The sky is dark, moonless, and Hei buries his face in Korra's thick, sweet-smelling hair, swaying a bit as if they're together on a dancefloor at the Crazy Mongoose, the night's crowd disintegrating to nothing around them. He doesn't talk. He just absorbs the tenuous tenderness in himself, and hopes it won't break too soon. ]