mortemscintilla | IC Contact

[ Hei feels Korra's whole body flex, coming off the futon. Not an orgasm -- too soon for that. Something else. At the sound of her Owwww, a flare of concern spreads out, overlapping his arousal. Did he nick her with his teeth? Or press too hard with his fingers? Swallowing, he draws back, wiping his mouth with the smeared fingers of his right hand. With the left he cradles her face, the pad of his thumb stroking the rise of her cheekbone. Watching her face, he's suffused with both a tension and a tenderness. ]

[ His voice is quiet, almost slurred, as he asks, ]

You okay?

Y-yeah. [She manages to sit up, but the effort hurts.] I did something to my back. [If she had her waterbending, this wouldn't be a problem at all. She knows all about healing muscles strains with waterbending. But that's not an option anymore.

She's trying not to resent it. Be resilient, as Chekov had told her. But the dull throbbing seems to taunt her.]

[ Great timing, Hei wants to say -- but doesn't. ]

[ Instead he scrubs a hand through his hair, regarding her with mild curiosity but no hint of irritation. That might've been why she was here in the first place -- a pulled muscle, or maybe she threw out her back and needed a rest. He doesn't know, and didn't think to check. Too late to offer half-assed Sorry's now. Instead, with a rueful shake of his head, he rises to his feet. Scoops up his boxers, slipping them on, before padding barefoot to the kitchen space. Korra will hear some rummaging and cluttering, before he returns with an ice-pack and a strip of pills. The latter, he offers to Korra. ]

I didn't know.

[ Muttered as he settles crosslegged behind her -- not an excuse or apology, just a simple statement. ]

[She gives him a slightly confused, dry look at that remark.] It only just happened. [She quickly turns her attention to the strip of pills in her hand. Questions and insecurities bubble up in the back of her mind, but she staunchly ignores them. Too much pain, not enough energy to deal with them right now.]

How many am I supposed to take?

[ Hei can feel an unease pool the silence between him and Korra. To dispel it, he clears his throat, and says, ] Two. [ At least, that's the dose that works for him. His voice is calm, but he's gripping his own knees so tightly they ache. Disappointment and frustration are two black eels splashing in a viscid stream inside him, tangling ferociously around each other with needle-teeth flashing. With effort, he sweeps them aside -- like Korra's hair, gathered away from her shoulder as he trails a single finger down her spine. Not seductive, but almost scientific. ]

Tell me where it hurts,

[ he says, and hefts the ice-pack. Other sentences dance at the tip of his tongue. I missed you and I'm glad to see you, but he swallows them down, slams the gates on the emotions tethered to each one. As it is, he's wrestling with a sensation of being dangerously unsettled -- exposed -- and unable to put a bead on why. ]

Thanks. [She pops two of the little pills out and swallows them dry. She then puts her hand to her lower back, just about her tailbone.] Right here.

[She may not be able to sense his disappointment, but she can imagine it. She feels it too. Intellectually, she knows that you can't push your body as hard as she's been pushing it without consequence, but the timing makes it feel like a deliberate betrayal. It's hard not to resent.]

[ Gaze dipped, Hei applies the ice pack where directed. There's a flicker of amusement at the fact that she's just turned her back on an assassin, and what it says about her survival instincts. But Hei has stopped considering the arrangement between them in such static terms. She's shown her back, fine, but if BK201 wants someone dead it doesn't matter if they're facing him or not. Hell, it probably doesn't matter if they've got a gun pointed at his head. And he doesn't want to kill Korra, sees no reason for it, ( not anymore or not right now?) so she's not going to die. It's just pain-relief he's aiming for. ]

[ Stretching out a crick in his own neck, Hei brings his face alongside hers, so he can see into the corner of her eye. ]

When was the last time you took a break from training?

[ Dry, but also a touch reproving. He doesn't hide the fact that he's been monitoring her activities. At this point, it's understood fact. ]

[She didn't so much "turn her back" as let him go around it. And, let's face it, she's left herself in much more vulnerable positions with him than this. She hisses at the cold touch against her skin.]

I didn't train today. [She elbows him lightly. The stalking probably should bother her, but mostly it just makes her roll her eyes.]

[ So there is a God, Hei thinks, but doesn't say. He keeps the ice pack in place. Chilly on his fingers -- and against the plane of Korra's back. Skin nicked here and there from old scars, but not webbed by shrapnel and blades like his, the smooth muscles underneath it, toned but not war-hardened -- that's not what Hei focuses on. It's not why he likes Korra. Not that her body leaves anything to be desired from a purely aesthetic standpoint. Not quite a beautiful woman yet, or just a pretty girl, except ... except for something. It doesn't really matter what that something is; what Hei likes is Korra’s natural except. ]

You need to reorient your strategy. [ His tone seems to suggest he's discussing tactical maneuvers. In a way, he is. He knows how driven Korra is to get her bending back. He also knows that his attack, Naga's death ... all that has only fueled her incentive. But determination isn't always enough. Sometimes you've got to recode your whole system of understanding -- your habits and beliefs -- in order to up-level the actions you take. Success is about creating new windows and doorways. Not about beating a whole into the wall with your skull. ]

What's that supposed to mean?

[Beating holes into walls have always worked for her before. ...in that it's the only thing she's ever tried.]

[ Hei stays crosslegged behind her, rubbing her back with an open palm. The other keeps the ice at the dip of her spine. He knows all about pushing; it's how you make it in the field. How you stay on top, ten steps ahead of everyone and six feet above the ground. But he's self-aware enough to understand his own limits and shortcomings, to acknowledge how they correlate with the success or failure of his objectives. Korra is as driven as he is, but she doesn't always know when to call it quits. Partly, he thinks, because of her history. Mistakes and breaks are things she can't afford, because she's always had responsibility to be something close to god-like on her shoulders. ]

[ Quietly, he says, ]

Willpower is great while it lasts. But by its nature, it's a limited commodity. If you want your bending back, you need to consider trying something new.

[ Unless she wants to risk burnout. Or a more debilitating physical injury. ]

[Whatever drugs he gave her are good. Between them and the ice pack, she can already feel the pain fading. She still doesn't want to move too much, but less pain is always a good thing.]

If you're going to suggest meditation, I've been trying that.

[ Semper paratus. The maxim by which Hei navigates his daily life. No surprise that it extends to the drugs in his cabinet. At Korra's remark, he shakes his head. His argument is less about meditation or the competency of her reflexes (he's fought with her enough times to know those) and more about Korra's complete inability to know when to say when. ]

Not meditation. [ It's seldom ever worked for him; it's against his nature to be passive. You can sit like a fucking buddha, but that passivity will be skin deep. Inside you'll still be in a turmoil, still be boiling, a volcano that can erupt at any moment. Or worse -- you'll be frozen. You need movement to create a flow; a rhythm. After activity, rest and stillness follows. It's that simple. A balance. Similarly, you can't find a balance by staying constantly in motion. That's no better than a whirlwind. Just formless, self-destructive chaos. ]

[ To Korra, he says, ] You need some sort of guidance. Not a schedule, but at least a framework, set by a shifu. I can't help you with that -- but there has to be someone in the City who can.

[She carefully, hesitantly leans back into his hands. A distant part of her is kind of amazed how they can go from having sex to talking about spiritual growth.]

There's no one left here from my world. [Who else would know what to do?]

[ Not so amazing, when you consider Hei's background. Sex loses its glamor when it's crafted to get closer to marks, to seal business deals or break them -- and though he's shared a bed with plenty for recreation, in between, it's rarely with anyone he actually respected, let alone liked. His experiences have pushed him beyond any semblance of intimacy and into the walking equivalent of Second Life skins. Body parts on show, but mind shut off like white-noise. Positions and posturing, but no sparkage. He's grateful it's not like that with Korra. She's a warm place to hide, but also, somehow, an embodied grace period. He's always conscious of being on Lover Mode with her, of time melting both slower and faster and more saturated than regular time. Absorbed by stupid little details: the soft brush of her hair, her skin, the conversations and kisses that come from her mouth. ]

[ He finds an unexpected pleasure in gathering her in, in smoothing a palm up her back, in counting her eyelashes. His voice is thoughtful when he says, ]

It doesn't matter. The bending forms from your world ... they're similar to certain martial arts forms in mine. Probably similar to those in others' worlds too. The main thing is finding a teacher with a style that suits you.

[Thinking about teachers just makes her miss Tenzin and JInora with a sudden, fierce ache. She takes a deep breath and ignores it; she's gotten very good at that.]

How? Put out an ad on the network? [Blerch. The idea of posting herself publicly again, trying to explain what she's looking for to complete strangers, makes her feel queasy.]

[ He notices the deep breath, but doesn't remark on it. Instead he clasps his free arm loosely around her, one hand starfished on her belly, a mix of casual and possessive. The other hand keeps the ice in place, condensation dripping off its surface. The note of unease in her tone is startling -- but not very, considering what she's been through. His fingers drum idly against the warm curve of her stomach as he says, ]

It's a start. If anyone offers, I'll look into their backgrounds. Make sure they're who they say they are.

[ It's not entirely altruistic. It's also his way of checking the barometer of certain Citizen's abilities, and what their areas of expertise are. ]

[She leans just a little more into him, and tries to turn her neck to look at him without twisting her back.]

Who would lie about being a spiritual teacher?

[ When she leans in, he uncrosses his legs, wrapping them around her so she's settled against his chest. He lets his chin rest on her shoulder, absorbing her warmth and the aroma of her skin. ]

Who would lie about being a student who loves to cook?

[ Wry and matter-of-fact. Hei knows too many consummate liars -- and is one himself -- to take anyone at face value. (Part of him is amazed Korra still can, after the Rowena fiasco. ]

Am I supposed to understand what that means?

[ Hei glances at Korra and tries not to quirk a smile, settling instead for winding his arm around her waist and squeezing hard. She smells wonderful to him, of summery outdoors and the faint dew of sleep. Gathering her in tighter, he presses his face to her hair, murmuring, ]

Just that not everyone is who they say they are. And not everyone has pure intentions. It's no reason to hide under a rock and avoid all humanity. [ Fuck knows, that's worked out so fetchingly for him. ] But it's better to be careful.

[She wraps her arms around his, one hand gripping his elbow, the other lacing their fingers together.]

You're one to talk.

[She may be hiding in her Beach House, but he hides every day behind that idiot "Li" mask.]

[ Honesty is a dead sport in Hei's profession. Nothing more than a cover for a lie. Korra isn't like that, and perhaps that's what he finds so attractive. Refreshing, really, when he's been surrounded by schemers and cut-throats and gameplayers for so long. He's wrapped himself up in deception, hidden behind mask after mask, lie after lie, yet there's so little deceitful about her. She tries to hide her weak-spots, but not from him. Concurrently, he knows what Korra sees, and who Korra thinks she is curled against. He is locked inside his own body, unreachable, yet Korra is coming close to him inch by inch. ]

[ There are few he can say that about. Too few. ]

[ Eyes slipping shut, he takes a drowsy whiff of her hair, its scent augmenting his ruefulness but comforting him too. Kisses along her jaw and neck, not a demand for anything, but for the simple contact. ]

I am. That's the thing. [ More quietly, ] Don't hole yourself up because you think that's the only way to get stronger. Or because your pride thinks you have to grub along like a reptile. [ Don't be me, in other words. ] They're mighty survivors. But they die alone and crippled for a reason.

[Pretty sure I'm going to die that way anyway. Almost everyone she's known -- both from her world and from here -- has left. She's been almost crippled. She's even died once. (It's hard to get motivated to make new friends. Easier to stick with Chekov, who if he leaves, she can tell herself "He's better off without me," or Hei, "I'm better off without him." She doesn't think these things consciously, of course. It'd be too depressing and embarrassing to admit that, even to yourself.)]

You can take the ice pack off now. [Her skin is reaching the point of so cold it burns. She turns her head and, if his mouth happens to be close enough, she'll steal a kiss. Not necessarily to change the subject or move things forward, but just because it feels nice.]

[ Hei knows she's better off without him. Ordinarily he handles things with a chilling clarity, given the shifting, ambiguous world he lives in. But with Korra, his mind is a mess. Part of him is always keyed up, spilling over with reasons he should keep away from her -- with questions demanding to be asked, resentments to be aired, grey areas to be cleared up. But his body shares none of his mind's ambivalence. Desire is constant -- and comes with a large dose of confusion, because she wants him despite his cruel behavior and vacillating status -- and because he wants her too. The thing that bothers him is Is Korra getting to me? And something else bothers him even more: He's starting to entertain the probably stupid notion that he might be getting to her. Not to mention the skin-crawling comprehension that one of them is behaving like an idiot, and he's afraid he knows which one of them it is. ]

[ Unless it's both of us? ]

[ He doesn't think about it. Not now. Instead he sets the ice pack aside. He wants to ask if she feels better, but she's leaning in, and her mouth is right there to feed on. The kiss is soft, openmouthed, but it makes something hum and stroke chords in him. Only in moments like these, he feels, does the shape of their relationship resolve into something which makes sense. ]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject