mortemscintilla | IC Contact

But why is it okay for us to both be City Dead? [She didn't like it, she didn't get how it would be okay, and she certainly couldn't understand her life had equal value. She didn't think of their lives in weight. Not until now.]

[ Hei exhales, scrubbing a hand through his hair. He feels empty inside, still and desolate. Half wants to open Yin up and crawl into her, to invade her sensorium, be in her mind. Show her how blurred and gray the world is in his eyes. Show her what he thinks about her. Hei deals with lives as currency and bargaining chips. But he also understands that there are many layers and variations to the word Alive. Looking at Yin, something curls dimly in his chest, a vague sort of feeling on the fringes of his awareness. (It's trust, maybe. He trusts her. Values her beyond her potential usefulness as an asset or ally.) ]

[ When he speaks, his expression is soft. Quiet. ]

Because it's just a word. It's your thoughts that make you Yin. Not labels slapped on you by the City.

[And it's the very words he says that make him Hei to her. It's those words that solidify her earlier determination and bring it back full-force. There's no longer any point in arguing it, debating it, or trying ti talk it out. There is no other option, no other possibility. When she looks up at him, her eyes are glassy, almost wet.]

I won't. [Anything else he could say would just make it worse. He might be cursed when he killed her, but he was asking her to harm him while she was in her right mind. She would have to watch, horrified, pained while she hurt him just to protect herself. There was no way to push her further, logic or not. It didn't matter anymore.]

[Hei did.]

[ Hei stares at Yin. Her eyes are glistening a little, though she isn't crying. Why would she be upset over something so matter-of-fact -- and operational necessity? It eludes him. Hei isn't intuitive so much as he is perceptive; but the results are the same. Not so when it comes to affections, though. He's an amateur at discerning signs of love -- or anything resembling it -- unless it's on-duty. Unless he's wearing a mask, playing an angle. Other people's minds and emotions baffle him, and he's found he's far more likely to step wrong with words than with weapons. ]

[ It's the same case here. I won't. Such a small statement -- but as enormous as a lock clicking shut. ]

[ Hei wants to argue with her. To impress upon her, the importance of defending herself. Because she matters to him -- matters enough for him to enforce her safety as a right, not a privilege. If he wanted to, he could lie, tug strings and yank levers in a play of complex emotional puppetry, to get the desired outcome. He could outright order her. But that's not fair to Yin. (And when did it start mattering to him, what's fair and what's not?) ]

[ He doesn't say that. His stare is cool, impenetrable, his face completely without expression. Half-turning to go, he says, ] Some things go beyond choice, Yin. You have to do them to survive. [ At the table by her doorway, he fishes a hand into his pocket. Sets down two brooches, heavy and glittering, with quiet clicks of metal on wood. ]

These aren't accessories, [ he says, by way of explanation, ] The one with the flower top is aerosolized hydrogen cyanide, three thousand parts per million. About what's delivered in a gas chamber. You spray it in an attacker's mouth, or even in his face, and he'll be dead in under thirty seconds. You don't have to worry about inhaling it. You don't breathe. [ Not cruel but factual. ] The second one is an explosive. Pull the pin, toss at the enemy. Make sure to give yourself time to get away.

[ His gaze dips to the sparkling weapons, then resettles on Yin. Quietly, ]

I know this isn't what you're trained for. Or what you want. But there'll come a time when none of that matters. Your only choice will be to act.

[Trained or not, Hei took an action she would otherwise be incapable of and simplified it, made it simple for such a slip of a girl to defend herself, there is no excuse. She doesn't even have to learn self-defense, just use an innocuous ornate item. Deceptively pretty, and they match with the majority of her small wardrobe. He's thorough.]

[But there's still a defiance in her. Still a large problem being overseen. She can agree in part and meet Hei half-way, because this is clearly something he wants. He didn't wait for Yin to agree with him before constructing these brooches. Not that he ever does.]

I won't if it's you. [There's a sliver of insistence in her tone. Her hair color, silvery and white, isn't just for the cold of snow, or the gentle shine of moonlight; it's a color that glints off steel.]

[ For Hei, forgiveness (or a semblance of it) is always more easily obtained than permission. Half the time, he doesn't bother with either. They're not what's relevant in the trajectory of his life. Safeguarding his assets -- and Yin is foremost among them, even if she overlaps into several other categories (partner -- anchor -- morality pet) -- is his main priority. For that, it's crucial to act, not waste time arguing. Hei isn't emotionless, but he's also not built the way most people are. If something -- moral or immoral --needs to be done, he'll carry out the task unflinchingly. Failure is not an option; it's a death sentence. ]

[ He watches Yin gather herself. Then she seems to grow still, steely. I won't if it's you. He opens his mouth to argue -- but the tactical side of him says there's no need. The City seldom curses him to stay in his true form. The last time, Yin hadn't even recognized him. If he attacks her again, there's an 80% possibility it'll be in the shape of something grotesque. If Yin defends herself against him in such a situation ... well. She doesn't need to know the truth. It's not a lie so much as a needful omission. ]

[ Calmly, ]

All right.

[ If you think that'll make a difference. She's too innocent to know the lengths rationalization can take you. Especially when you're faced with a difficult choice. ]

[Yin softens to that, a release of breath, a slope to her shoulders. Her never changing features relax. The argument is over. She does consider Hei might not look like himself, and if she can't recognize him - it terrifies her. Now it's about her irrational wants. But there's no point in debating that part of it. Cursed Hei won't be able to, or care to, alert her of the reality.]

[Only then does she accept the offered disguised weapons.]

[ Yin reaches for the weapons, and something loosens in Hei. It happens in degrees: his eyes half shuttering, the hard line of his mouth smoothing out. Her acceptance doesn't sweeten the atmosphere so much as quieten it. It's perceptible to him through the changes in the air (like, mysteriously, he's tuned to Yin's frequency, listening hard to the sonic emissions she radiates.) He knows he should leave now. Everything vital's been discussed. Done. Dusted. ]

[ But still, he stays, and the thought that blooms in his mind is sudden and sharp all at once -- he wants something out of this. (Wants Yin's safety, wants to see that soft look on her face blossom into something more peaceful; wants to see the evolution of it, to map out its trajectory and see where it leads.) It's a novel thing, to want; to know that that's in the cards, to know that his chest can still beat to the time of something fragile and slow. ]

[ He doesn't say any of that, though. Why would he? Instead he reaches out, blunt fingers curling around the slope of Yin's shoulder -- squeezing gently (Thank you? I'm sorry? I'll see you later?)-- before falling away. ]

[ Without a word, he turns and exits her flat. ]

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