[ Yes, life is pain. There are facets of the world that are bigger than your wants. Your don't always own your choices. Reality is cruel and unrelenting. These are constants in Hei's existence, and he's profited from hard lessons. But just as it's true that 'normal people' inhabit a landscape that has little to do with truth, logic, or quotidian reality, he's aware he exists in a reality tunnel of his own. He doesn't know everything; his past experiences color his perceptions. Everyone falls into that pit from time to time. Believing their interpretations on life are what life truly is. ]
[ But he's never been one to wallow in a puddle of weltschmerz. Whatever atrocity that hits, he takes it into himself, takes a breath, and keeps going. ]
[ Maybe that's why he stays a moment longer with Korra, fingers drifting down the slope of her shoulder, pad of thumb making soothing whorls. They're both wreathed in silence, until he counts backwards from thirty, then sits up. Korra may feel the mattress shift, and hear a rustle, if not the sound of his footfalls, as he finds a pair of shorts to slip into. He's driven to the doorway partly by hunger, partly by habit; he usually gets up almost immediately after sex to shower -- precise and ritualistic. (He hadn't even noticed until one of his flings brought it to his attention. She told him watching him run off to bathe made her feel dirty. Like he was washing the mess away like a whore with a john. Hei had retorted, matter of factly, that she was a Contractor.) ]
[ (He didn't understand until later why she'd looked like he’d punched her in the face.) ]
[ At the doorframe, towel looped around his shoulders, he pauses to regard Korra. ] I know you won't listen. But I'm not going to let you sink into yourself. The curse and your head are making you believe things that aren't true. [ Cold, but a factual statement. ] There's no such thing as a person without dirty fingers or a single dirty deed. But you're no monster. [ She has no idea what a real monster looks like. If she did, she wouldn't be slumped in his bed, for one. ]
⊕ march 15th, late evening
[ But he's never been one to wallow in a puddle of weltschmerz. Whatever atrocity that hits, he takes it into himself, takes a breath, and keeps going. ]
[ Maybe that's why he stays a moment longer with Korra, fingers drifting down the slope of her shoulder, pad of thumb making soothing whorls. They're both wreathed in silence, until he counts backwards from thirty, then sits up. Korra may feel the mattress shift, and hear a rustle, if not the sound of his footfalls, as he finds a pair of shorts to slip into. He's driven to the doorway partly by hunger, partly by habit; he usually gets up almost immediately after sex to shower -- precise and ritualistic. (He hadn't even noticed until one of his flings brought it to his attention. She told him watching him run off to bathe made her feel dirty. Like he was washing the mess away like a whore with a john. Hei had retorted, matter of factly, that she was a Contractor.) ]
[ (He didn't understand until later why she'd looked like he’d punched her in the face.) ]
[ At the doorframe, towel looped around his shoulders, he pauses to regard Korra. ] I know you won't listen. But I'm not going to let you sink into yourself. The curse and your head are making you believe things that aren't true. [ Cold, but a factual statement. ] There's no such thing as a person without dirty fingers or a single dirty deed. But you're no monster. [ She has no idea what a real monster looks like. If she did, she wouldn't be slumped in his bed, for one. ]