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mortemscintilla) wrote2012-07-13 12:13 am
mortemscintilla) wrote2012-07-13 12:13 am
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[This is probably the longest they've gone without having sex since he moved in.
It's an idle thought that occurs to Korra as she lies on her side, staring out the window and counting the stars as she tries to fall asleep. Not since the carnival.
She slips a hand under her shirt, stroking the soft skin of her breasts. And then, from out of nowhere, she remembers Carla. She squeezes her eyes shut but there's no blocking out the memories. She'd been that woman's sex doll. She'd always feared & dreaded the idea that she was just a sex doll for Hei, and then the City actually really and truly made her one for a complete stranger. She'd thought she was okay with that, that after killing Chekov and being shot, she had made her peace with the reality that her mind and her body were never fully hers to control. It's the first time the City has meddled with her sex life, but it's hardly the worst violation of her mind and her body that she's suffered here. The problem isn't the sex with Carla.
The problem is the realization that Carla had treated her the way Hei does. She's in love with someone who treats her like a pet with sexy benefits. How fucking pathetic is that?
Stop it just shut up just shut up just SHUT UP! She thinks about how disappointed Master Katara would be. How Tenzin would worry. How her parents would look at each other and ask What did we do wrong? This isn't supposed to happen to people like her. She comes from a loving family, with parents who respect and adore one another. She's supposed to be strong and confident. She's the fucking Avatar.
You’re nothing. It's Amon's voice... yet somehow, it also sounds like Aang. (I’ll never believe that, Hei had told her, but how is she supposed to believe anything he says?) Tears press against her eyes and she covers her mouth to keep from screaming. She can't control her thoughts anymore than she could control her body during those curses. Weak. Pathetic. Helpless. A disappointment.
Tears trickle down her cheeks, and she wishes she had trained harder earlier. That Hei wasn't being so distant so she could fuck him into exhaustion. She hates this part of the night, being left alone with nothing but your thoughts as you wait for sleep to fall. She knows she hates it, but she'd done nothing to prepare for it tonight. (And even if she had, that'd only be running away from her problems. There's no way for her to win.)
She doesn't so much breathe as occasionally choke in air; her vision swims with tears and the effort to keep from sobbing. (Ridiculous in and of itself -- one moment she'd been perfectly content, counting the stars to fall asleep, and one little thought later and she can't breathe for crying.)
At least Jinora isn't here. The last thing she needs is for the younger girl to see her like this. Jinora still thinks Korra can save the world. She doesn't know how monstrously incapable Korra is of even saving herself.
A needle of revulsion stabs her and the dam breaks. She curls up in fetal position as she's overtaken by sobs.]
It's an idle thought that occurs to Korra as she lies on her side, staring out the window and counting the stars as she tries to fall asleep. Not since the carnival.
She slips a hand under her shirt, stroking the soft skin of her breasts. And then, from out of nowhere, she remembers Carla. She squeezes her eyes shut but there's no blocking out the memories. She'd been that woman's sex doll. She'd always feared & dreaded the idea that she was just a sex doll for Hei, and then the City actually really and truly made her one for a complete stranger. She'd thought she was okay with that, that after killing Chekov and being shot, she had made her peace with the reality that her mind and her body were never fully hers to control. It's the first time the City has meddled with her sex life, but it's hardly the worst violation of her mind and her body that she's suffered here. The problem isn't the sex with Carla.
The problem is the realization that Carla had treated her the way Hei does. She's in love with someone who treats her like a pet with sexy benefits. How fucking pathetic is that?
Stop it just shut up just shut up just SHUT UP! She thinks about how disappointed Master Katara would be. How Tenzin would worry. How her parents would look at each other and ask What did we do wrong? This isn't supposed to happen to people like her. She comes from a loving family, with parents who respect and adore one another. She's supposed to be strong and confident. She's the fucking Avatar.
You’re nothing. It's Amon's voice... yet somehow, it also sounds like Aang. (I’ll never believe that, Hei had told her, but how is she supposed to believe anything he says?) Tears press against her eyes and she covers her mouth to keep from screaming. She can't control her thoughts anymore than she could control her body during those curses. Weak. Pathetic. Helpless. A disappointment.
Tears trickle down her cheeks, and she wishes she had trained harder earlier. That Hei wasn't being so distant so she could fuck him into exhaustion. She hates this part of the night, being left alone with nothing but your thoughts as you wait for sleep to fall. She knows she hates it, but she'd done nothing to prepare for it tonight. (And even if she had, that'd only be running away from her problems. There's no way for her to win.)
She doesn't so much breathe as occasionally choke in air; her vision swims with tears and the effort to keep from sobbing. (Ridiculous in and of itself -- one moment she'd been perfectly content, counting the stars to fall asleep, and one little thought later and she can't breathe for crying.)
At least Jinora isn't here. The last thing she needs is for the younger girl to see her like this. Jinora still thinks Korra can save the world. She doesn't know how monstrously incapable Korra is of even saving herself.
A needle of revulsion stabs her and the dam breaks. She curls up in fetal position as she's overtaken by sobs.]
[ He can't sleep. Might as well walk. Nothing makes sense anymore; his mind is always clattering away to the discordant tune of You fucking idiot. What will you do now? All those sharp recriminations flitting through the darkness at the back of his head aren't new. He's always been able to feel them there. He'd just never cared to reach in and grab them. And damn it, he doesn't want to do it now. Not when it is so completely useless to know what those tremulous shudders of emotion -- for Yin -- for Korra -- actually are. Not when they serve no purpose, and instead make him long for things he can't ever have. ]
[ It's not something he can push aside. Disorientation and confusion stoppers him. He's taken to avoiding the same public spots as Yin, with the force of a repellant magnet. For the past few nights he's also found work that'll keep him from going to bed when Korra does. During the day he keeps his distance as best he can without making it too obvious -- even as he can feel the unarticulated tension building up between them. Each time Korra's worked herself up to question the cause of his coolness, he's rebuffed her with either silence or a bristling remark, and there the matter has rested for another few days. ]
[ It isn't going to rest, though. That is the trouble. ]
[ The City needs a 24-hour gym downtown. Needs a 24-hour something. Hei drifts down the sidewalk toward the Beach House. He's not looking forward to being cooped up again. He almost misses the days in Heaven's War: sleeping in an open field under the stars, no walls, no roof. No pressure. Except he needs to check up on Pai. Needs to -- fuck it. Needs to come to a decision on what to do. About Korra. About Yin. There's nothing touching or star-crossed about what he feels for either of them. If anything, they're better off without him. He should just cut them loose. Plain and simple. ]
[ As if it's that easy. ]
[ The Beach House is dim, slumbering, as Hei lets himself in the front door. Tiptoe, so he doesn't wake anyone. Just wants to steal upstairs, into Pai's room, stretch out on the bed next to her, without yanking down the coverlet or taking off his coat and shoes. Sleep is so elusive. Even now it flirts with him so softly. It may not come at all. May cling close to Korra and Pai, terrible, capricious beast. He wishes he could snatch it into the palm of his hand. To get away, from ... everything. Hei heads upstairs. Turns the doorknob to Pai's room, a thin pencil of light falling from the hallway to melt in a white stripe across her sleeping face. That's when he hears something -- a gentle susurration. ]
[ Crying. ]
[ Frowning, Hei narrows the source to Korra's room. At the threshold, he hesitates. This isn't his problem. She's entitled her privacy. If their positions were reversed, he'd hate to be caught out like a sniveling baby. But even as he thinks it, his hand gives the knob a slow turn, letting the door open half an inch. Enough to let a slat of light spill in through the crack, to see into the dark of the shuttered room. ]
[ It's not something he can push aside. Disorientation and confusion stoppers him. He's taken to avoiding the same public spots as Yin, with the force of a repellant magnet. For the past few nights he's also found work that'll keep him from going to bed when Korra does. During the day he keeps his distance as best he can without making it too obvious -- even as he can feel the unarticulated tension building up between them. Each time Korra's worked herself up to question the cause of his coolness, he's rebuffed her with either silence or a bristling remark, and there the matter has rested for another few days. ]
[ It isn't going to rest, though. That is the trouble. ]
[ The City needs a 24-hour gym downtown. Needs a 24-hour something. Hei drifts down the sidewalk toward the Beach House. He's not looking forward to being cooped up again. He almost misses the days in Heaven's War: sleeping in an open field under the stars, no walls, no roof. No pressure. Except he needs to check up on Pai. Needs to -- fuck it. Needs to come to a decision on what to do. About Korra. About Yin. There's nothing touching or star-crossed about what he feels for either of them. If anything, they're better off without him. He should just cut them loose. Plain and simple. ]
[ As if it's that easy. ]
[ The Beach House is dim, slumbering, as Hei lets himself in the front door. Tiptoe, so he doesn't wake anyone. Just wants to steal upstairs, into Pai's room, stretch out on the bed next to her, without yanking down the coverlet or taking off his coat and shoes. Sleep is so elusive. Even now it flirts with him so softly. It may not come at all. May cling close to Korra and Pai, terrible, capricious beast. He wishes he could snatch it into the palm of his hand. To get away, from ... everything. Hei heads upstairs. Turns the doorknob to Pai's room, a thin pencil of light falling from the hallway to melt in a white stripe across her sleeping face. That's when he hears something -- a gentle susurration. ]
[ Crying. ]
[ Frowning, Hei narrows the source to Korra's room. At the threshold, he hesitates. This isn't his problem. She's entitled her privacy. If their positions were reversed, he'd hate to be caught out like a sniveling baby. But even as he thinks it, his hand gives the knob a slow turn, letting the door open half an inch. Enough to let a slat of light spill in through the crack, to see into the dark of the shuttered room. ]
[Stopping isn't an option. Korra can no more stop crying right now than she can bend fire, though she tries. Every attempt to hold back tears results in an ugly choking sound that hurts her throat, and she doesn't have the breath to tell him to leave. She curls up into the smallest ball she possibly can and buries her face in her pillow. He hates crying; maybe he'll just leave to avoid dealing with it. (The same stupid part of her that loves him hopes he'll stay and prove the wiser part of her wrong.)]
[ In the early days, after Heaven's War, something had left a stain on Hei's brain the size of a wolf's paw print. Like a mind-scar: occipital with spreading veins to parietal, temporal lobes. Dead black meat. It's as if love, sympathy, softness ... they were all beyond him. They lived in the black spot. Some nights, he'd woken howling odd places in twisted bodily positions, never knowing why. He'd seen guests on daytime talk shows. Emotion-torn faces crumbling apart under studio lights. Comprehension had eluded him. It had taken years for that psychic scar-tissue to heal. Sometimes, he still feels less human than robot. Something that simply records images, collects weaknesses, unleashes attacks, with all the perfect detachment of a machine. ]
[ But at the sound of Korra's crying -- the sight -- something in him gives off a sharp resentful twinge. He doesn't know what's upset her -- (nightmare? brewing on the rag? bad memories? his recent coldness? fresh traumas?) -- but he can't leave her to get on with it, as he'd resolved. Instead, on a breath, he slips into the room, shutting the door behind him. Sidles closer, then carefully kneels on the floor by her bed. He doesn't touch, just looks up into her face, half-hidden by her tangled hair and the pillow, his own palely uncertain. ]
...Korra...
[ It's almost voiceless, more an undifferentiated sound than a reassurance. ]
[ But at the sound of Korra's crying -- the sight -- something in him gives off a sharp resentful twinge. He doesn't know what's upset her -- (nightmare? brewing on the rag? bad memories? his recent coldness? fresh traumas?) -- but he can't leave her to get on with it, as he'd resolved. Instead, on a breath, he slips into the room, shutting the door behind him. Sidles closer, then carefully kneels on the floor by her bed. He doesn't touch, just looks up into her face, half-hidden by her tangled hair and the pillow, his own palely uncertain. ]
...Korra...
[ It's almost voiceless, more an undifferentiated sound than a reassurance. ]
[She hates when his voice takes that tone, like he's lost about what to do. She hates the knee-jerk instinct to reassure him and pretend everything's all right so he doesn't have to try, when the truth is nothing is all right and she shouldn't want to reassure him when she's the one bleeding from her eyes. She shakes her head, not even sure herself what she's trying to say with the gesture, and completely hides her face in pillow.]
[ Hei is cautious; Korra is honest. She is a prismatic rainbow of emotion; he's a monochrome of grays and blacks and blues. That's how it's always been with them. ]
[ He's often found himself trapped in difficult emotional waters with other people. But he can tread water. He can employ conversational strategies; he can reshape his expression and his words into careful facsimiles of softness. But here, he's frozen. As his silence lengthens, as he feels it lengthen, a panic rises in him -- he should have embraced her instantly. The longer it takes, the more she'll understand what a hollowed-out creature he is. Yet he can't get his lips to move. Can't find the words. Him. Always so glib, yet now ... He can't see Korra's face after she hides it. But a snapshot exists in his memory only as a tangle of emotional drives. Her face is his own face. The face of everyone he's ever damaged. ]
Korra... [ His voice is thick and blocky. His muscles feel the same, as he reaches for her. One hand, cool and dry, settles against her sloping shoulder. Gently, he shakes her. ] Tell me what's wrong?
[ He's often found himself trapped in difficult emotional waters with other people. But he can tread water. He can employ conversational strategies; he can reshape his expression and his words into careful facsimiles of softness. But here, he's frozen. As his silence lengthens, as he feels it lengthen, a panic rises in him -- he should have embraced her instantly. The longer it takes, the more she'll understand what a hollowed-out creature he is. Yet he can't get his lips to move. Can't find the words. Him. Always so glib, yet now ... He can't see Korra's face after she hides it. But a snapshot exists in his memory only as a tangle of emotional drives. Her face is his own face. The face of everyone he's ever damaged. ]
Korra... [ His voice is thick and blocky. His muscles feel the same, as he reaches for her. One hand, cool and dry, settles against her sloping shoulder. Gently, he shakes her. ] Tell me what's wrong?
[How is she supposed to tell you what's wrong when she can't even breathe? When the problem is... the problem isn't him. The problem is what she's accepted from him. She's the one who's basically told him that this is okay. This is her fault. She's not even strong enough to shake off his hand.]
Korra.
[ There's a tension rippling faintly, dangerously in his tone. It's not impatience. But he's not sure if it's fear, either, simply because he doesn't know the colour that emotion bleeds. Gently, his hand traces Korra's neck. The wild thrum of her heartbeat in his fingertips. This shimmer of something familiar in the air -- futility, self-loathing. It's ephemeral, but it's all there. Korra laid open like one of those Dali women with the chest of drawers where her guts should be. His rummaging hands inside. In that choking smog of tears, he's not sure what his mind's fingers close upon. But it makes something soften and slacken inside him, all at once. ]
[ The mattress creaks as he climbs into the bed, his weight shifting it. Carefully, he fits himself against her, gathering her in close, warm and solid yet so tremulous, her scent salty with tears. He smoothes a hand down her back, rocking her just slightly, a lulling motion like a wave. ]
Come on. [ His tone is steely but somehow quieter, private, pleading, held back with an audible restraint. ] Say something.
[ There's a tension rippling faintly, dangerously in his tone. It's not impatience. But he's not sure if it's fear, either, simply because he doesn't know the colour that emotion bleeds. Gently, his hand traces Korra's neck. The wild thrum of her heartbeat in his fingertips. This shimmer of something familiar in the air -- futility, self-loathing. It's ephemeral, but it's all there. Korra laid open like one of those Dali women with the chest of drawers where her guts should be. His rummaging hands inside. In that choking smog of tears, he's not sure what his mind's fingers close upon. But it makes something soften and slacken inside him, all at once. ]
[ The mattress creaks as he climbs into the bed, his weight shifting it. Carefully, he fits himself against her, gathering her in close, warm and solid yet so tremulous, her scent salty with tears. He smoothes a hand down her back, rocking her just slightly, a lulling motion like a wave. ]
Come on. [ His tone is steely but somehow quieter, private, pleading, held back with an audible restraint. ] Say something.
Edited 2014-02-16 04:53 (UTC)
[ The words -- I can't -- are muffled by her bubbling sobs. His first instinct, the usual one, is to grab her by the hair. Haul her up and shake her. Knock it off. Tell me what's going on? But no. Not that way. With Amber, maybe -- she could take matter-of-fact violence as well as she could dish it out. But not Korra. He squeezes her closer with one arm instead. Slips the other hand between damp hair and a wet pillowcase. Takes her chin, tipping her head up to look at her, all swimming eyes and downturned mouth. ]
[ Genty, he presses his lips to her forehead. Warm and moist, the skin triggers some chemical storm in his nerves. Suddenly, his voice is tight. ]
I can't know what I'm supposed to do. Not unless you tell me.
[ As if what's bothering her is as simple as an enemy to be chopped down. ]
[ Genty, he presses his lips to her forehead. Warm and moist, the skin triggers some chemical storm in his nerves. Suddenly, his voice is tight. ]
I can't know what I'm supposed to do. Not unless you tell me.
[ As if what's bothering her is as simple as an enemy to be chopped down. ]
[She shudders and wraps her arms around his waist. The kiss, the tightness in his voice that could almost be concern, it's not soothing, but it feeds something dark & hungry inside her. She digs her fingers into his back and tries to breathe.]
Just...hold me. Please. [It's stupid and pathetic and the only thing she wants.]
Just...hold me. Please. [It's stupid and pathetic and the only thing she wants.]
[ It is stupid. The sharp-eyed, red-mawed predator in him knows that. It occurs to him, what he usually manages to overlook, how much she allows herself to need him. How little he has to do or say to keep her on his string. But then she has her string too, and he is on it. ]
[ He is on it. ]
[ Hei lets his eyes slip shut. Exhales, then gathers her in tight. Arms and legs wrapped around her, her head tucked beneath his chin. Rocking her slowly, a languid rhythm as if to draw the last of tension out of her as if by a mysterious charm. He can feel her body quivering with woe, sobs rising up like bubbles in thick mud. Such an immense rill of anguish breaking through from her depths; it's practically a geyser. He wonders what caused it. Wonders why he envies her, even as he tries to console her. But that's easy. The depths of emotion available to Korra, the luxury of feeling so intensely -- it seems just out of his reach, though he tries. ]
[ Smoothing her hair, he kisses her wet eyes, the lashes gummed together with tears. ]
Sssh.
[ Soothing words; careful questions -- none of that will cut it. Not now. Not until she's calmed down. ]
[ He is on it. ]
[ Hei lets his eyes slip shut. Exhales, then gathers her in tight. Arms and legs wrapped around her, her head tucked beneath his chin. Rocking her slowly, a languid rhythm as if to draw the last of tension out of her as if by a mysterious charm. He can feel her body quivering with woe, sobs rising up like bubbles in thick mud. Such an immense rill of anguish breaking through from her depths; it's practically a geyser. He wonders what caused it. Wonders why he envies her, even as he tries to console her. But that's easy. The depths of emotion available to Korra, the luxury of feeling so intensely -- it seems just out of his reach, though he tries. ]
[ Smoothing her hair, he kisses her wet eyes, the lashes gummed together with tears. ]
Sssh.
[ Soothing words; careful questions -- none of that will cut it. Not now. Not until she's calmed down. ]
[She's not sure how long it takes to run out of tears; by the end, her body is limp and boneless, her muscles quivering with exhaustion. Her breathing is thready & weak. If she knew how he envied the intensity of her feelings, she'd tell him it wasn't worth it. She remembers the numbness she felt after killing Chekov, and a part of her misses it. It would be so much easier than the loathing and disgust she feels.]
[When Korra wakes up the next morning, she feels momentarily hopeful that the illness of the last night had just been some kind of really sucky dream. She doesn't feel queasy anymore -- that's a good sign. Smiling a little, she tries to roll over --
Ugh. Okay. That was a mistake. Her vision swims and she groans. Seriously. She is never eating carnival food again.]
Ugh. Okay. That was a mistake. Her vision swims and she groans. Seriously. She is never eating carnival food again.]
[ He's been up for a while. ]
[ Outdoors, carrying out mundane tasks, he blinks with a drowsiness that comes from inverting day for night. Showers, does his katas, picks up a package from the Underground, checks in on Yin, contacts Mao, visits the cafe, heads to the Beach House, then whips up breakfast for Pai and Jinora. There is a sleepy-eyed tiff about bacon and scrambled eggs vs. fruit smoothies, before he gets the girls to settle on a compromise of hot cereal with apple butter and raisins. Leaving Jinora to burrow into her cave of books, he convinces Pai to jog with him. She resists sparring out in the woods -- he tries to get her going a couple of times, dancing around her, punching the air, coaxing dryly C'mon, try to get a hit in, but instead they end up covering ground like during Heaven's War's strafes, as if to dispel Pai's muzziness after the long daylight weeks shut indoors. ]
[ Walking back alone to the safehouse in the nearly-noontime sun, he carries a bag of muffins and two strawberry soy smoothies. Lets himself in, closing the door quickly to keep the chilled air outside. He puts the heavy bag down quietly, then pokes his head into the bedroom. Seeing Korra stir, he blinks, ]
You're up.
[ He'd ask How do you feel? But her expression is charmingly eloquent. ]
[ Outdoors, carrying out mundane tasks, he blinks with a drowsiness that comes from inverting day for night. Showers, does his katas, picks up a package from the Underground, checks in on Yin, contacts Mao, visits the cafe, heads to the Beach House, then whips up breakfast for Pai and Jinora. There is a sleepy-eyed tiff about bacon and scrambled eggs vs. fruit smoothies, before he gets the girls to settle on a compromise of hot cereal with apple butter and raisins. Leaving Jinora to burrow into her cave of books, he convinces Pai to jog with him. She resists sparring out in the woods -- he tries to get her going a couple of times, dancing around her, punching the air, coaxing dryly C'mon, try to get a hit in, but instead they end up covering ground like during Heaven's War's strafes, as if to dispel Pai's muzziness after the long daylight weeks shut indoors. ]
[ Walking back alone to the safehouse in the nearly-noontime sun, he carries a bag of muffins and two strawberry soy smoothies. Lets himself in, closing the door quickly to keep the chilled air outside. He puts the heavy bag down quietly, then pokes his head into the bedroom. Seeing Korra stir, he blinks, ]
You're up.
[ He'd ask How do you feel? But her expression is charmingly eloquent. ]
Edited 2014-02-22 00:10 (UTC)
[She's been up for awhile, thanks. Or, conscious. Maybe? She's not sure. After that first getting up and her vision swimming, she'd put her head back down on the pillow, and she's not sure whether she fell back asleep or if she just spaced out for awhile. But she sits up when she hears Hei coming up the stairs.]
Yeah. What time is it?
Yeah. What time is it?
[ Hei glances at the red digital numbers on the bedside clock. ]
Quarter past eleven.
[ Stepping into the room, he kneels by the futon. Lays a hand on her forehead, as matter-of-factly as if assessing the warmth of a teapot. Late morning sunlight streams through the skylight overhead, broomstick-thin rays falling across them. In the bright light, his gaze skims carefully across her face. ]
Hungry?
Quarter past eleven.
[ Stepping into the room, he kneels by the futon. Lays a hand on her forehead, as matter-of-factly as if assessing the warmth of a teapot. Late morning sunlight streams through the skylight overhead, broomstick-thin rays falling across them. In the bright light, his gaze skims carefully across her face. ]
Hungry?
[Did her face just go green? She feels like her face just went green.]
No. Noooooooooooooo.
No. Noooooooooooooo.
[ More like a quirky shade of puce, actually. He pauses, then loops a strand of hair behind her ear, letting his fingertips rest at the warm pulsepoint of her jaw. Since he's returned to the City, it feels like his hands have softened, become more careful and defensive, as though, numbed from years of slitting throats and wielding the knives, the feeling is slowly resuming in them. Every texture is subtly different. ]
A hot bath, then. And something to drink.
[ Seeing himself, he could almost laugh in scorn. When did he become Korra's glorified babysitter? Or the world's biggest damn goodie two shoes? Except he likes taking care of her, and really where is the shame in that? Someone like him who's lost all hope suddenly lands a bright-burning miracle like Korra, of course you do everything you can think of -- smart or stupid -- to hang on to her. ]
[ Besottedness is a state of being which garners his most profound contempt -- but also his profoundest understanding. ]
A hot bath, then. And something to drink.
[ Seeing himself, he could almost laugh in scorn. When did he become Korra's glorified babysitter? Or the world's biggest damn goodie two shoes? Except he likes taking care of her, and really where is the shame in that? Someone like him who's lost all hope suddenly lands a bright-burning miracle like Korra, of course you do everything you can think of -- smart or stupid -- to hang on to her. ]
[ Besottedness is a state of being which garners his most profound contempt -- but also his profoundest understanding. ]
[She smiles a little as he brushes her hair back, completely unaware of how pleased she looks at the little gesture of affection.]
That sounds good.
[She carefully pushes herself off of the bed. She hasn't felt this weak since she was shot.]
That sounds good.
[She carefully pushes herself off of the bed. She hasn't felt this weak since she was shot.]
[ Rising, he averts his gaze, embarrassed at his own fussing, but not quite in time to miss Korra's almost equally pleased look. His intention was to let her shuffle off to the bathroom alone. But when she rises, wobbly as a newborn colt, he touches the small of her back. Just briefly -- steadying -- but coming from Hei it's as possessive as passing an arm around her. He pads with her into the bathroom, the tiles cool beneath his bare feet. Ignores the shower -- and, let's be honest, all the proper bath etiquette -- in favor of the deep rickety cypress-wood tub at the corner. It's shaped incongruously like a soup bowl, and he fills it hot almost to the point of searing. ]
[ Handing Korra in, he returns with a tray of tea a few minutes later. Sets it on the raised wooden ledge before settling adjacent to it. Drumming his fingers idly against the leg of his jeans, he teases, ]
One little stomach bug, and you're getting star treatment.
[ Handing Korra in, he returns with a tray of tea a few minutes later. Sets it on the raised wooden ledge before settling adjacent to it. Drumming his fingers idly against the leg of his jeans, he teases, ]
One little stomach bug, and you're getting star treatment.
[Okay no seriously why does he always make the water so hot? Was he a dragon in another life? Is that his deep dark secret, his dragon-ness? As he prepares the tea, she adds some cold water to bring the temperature down to a human level.
Geez.]
I didn't ask you to baby me. [She makes a face at his teasing.]
Geez.]
I didn't ask you to baby me. [She makes a face at his teasing.]
[ For God's sake, Korra. You're the Avatar. That's one-quarter a firebender. Where is thy sting? ]
[ The pads of his fingers skim along the base of her neck; he looks at her upside-down, tendrils of steam wafting between them, the pitch of his smile partways between indulgent and offended. ]
This isn't babying. [ Almost playfully, he flicks water at her face. ] This is making sure you don't smell like an old fermenting vat.
[ The pads of his fingers skim along the base of her neck; he looks at her upside-down, tendrils of steam wafting between them, the pitch of his smile partways between indulgent and offended. ]
This isn't babying. [ Almost playfully, he flicks water at her face. ] This is making sure you don't smell like an old fermenting vat.
[She comes from the South Pole. Cold is her natural habitat. She swats at the water and sends a little flying back at him.]
And the tea?
And the tea?
[ All the more reason to soak in blissful, therapeutic, muscle-wringing warmth. Hot baths are probably a rarity in her frozen circle of Hell. ]
[ He makes a face as the water droplets splatter across his face. Daubs them off with his sleeve, then dips his head, twisting to kiss her on the mouth -- a brief clumsy peck to show she doesn't really smell like a fermenting vat. Edging back, he strokes the damp, soft tufts of hair at the nape of her neck. ]
That's poison.
[ The Naturally is implied. ]
[ He makes a face as the water droplets splatter across his face. Daubs them off with his sleeve, then dips his head, twisting to kiss her on the mouth -- a brief clumsy peck to show she doesn't really smell like a fermenting vat. Edging back, he strokes the damp, soft tufts of hair at the nape of her neck. ]
That's poison.
[ The Naturally is implied. ]
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