[ Hei has punctuality carved into his bones; the meticulous type that makes grandfather clocks seem sloppy. The sky is darkening to evening when he arrives at Yin's place. Something flutters in his gut that's shaky and self-conscious. Hei is so unused to the sensation that it takes him a moment to pin it down. Anxiety. Not now, he thinks irritably, and is somewhat reassured to find a familiar core of calm in him. A resignation which overrides everything. Yin said it was fine if he came over, and that drowns out how something in his chest clamors with ugly reminders of the curse -- of cornering her like a rabbit, of sinking his teeth into her neck, of the convoluted dreams where he repeats that action, with cruel accuracy, over and over. ]
[ Shaking it off, he stops at Yin's door. He can easily let himself in with the extra key in his coat pocket. Instead he knocks, not timid but precise -- a series of sharp raps. ]
voice;
[ Shaking it off, he stops at Yin's door. He can easily let himself in with the extra key in his coat pocket. Instead he knocks, not timid but precise -- a series of sharp raps. ]