mortemscintilla | IC Contact

[ Work on apologies. On kindness. On being human. There's an entire laundry list. His expression may be unreadable, but hers isn't. Fading from happily startled to deflated, like he's said something wrong (You did). She's got so many tells, this girl. But they're not simple and one-dimensional -- more like a complex weather system. You can read them, but you can't control them. ]

[ His gaze softens. It's subtle but it happens in degrees slow enough for her to map out. ]

Two days now. [ re: I meant to return it sooner. ] I thought you'd feel better if you had it back.

[Two days. Well, that's better than two months. She wonders what prompted him to go back for it. Did he see her post about Naga? Was he trying to comfort her? (Coincidence doesn't occur to her. You could say it's because she's still self-centered, but his phrasing certainly didn't help.)

She holds it more tightly against her chest.]

I didn't think I'd ever see it again.

[ That's the problem with words, isn't it? Too many distortions, misunderstandings and misconceptions. People hear only what they want to hear. Still, like white-lies, there are some misconstruals that he can let sit between them. She clutches the coat like it's something precious, and he decides he's done Something Right. ]

[ Notably dry, he says, ]

Be glad I didn't return it as it was. Something was building a nest in there.

[Not the problem of words. Silence and touch are just as easily misinterpreted. All types of communication are riddled with flaws. It's the problem of being human -- even when you're not fully so.]

Really? [She frowns, confused.] It's pretty early for nest building, isn't it? [Seasons here are a lot different than in the South Pole, which means the animals behave a lot differently too, but still, it doesn't make sense for an animal to start building a nest in the midst of winter.

Figure of speech, what?]

[ Hei's still more comfortable with bodies than with words. What's that saying? Words are like loaded pistols. He'd prefer the efficiency and finality of an actual weapon. You're far less likely to step wrong with a gun than with a remark. ]

[ Case in fucking point. This. ]

[ For a moment, his eyebrows crawl into his hairline. Jesus, Korra. What is he supposed to do with you? ] It's just a phrase. [ It's these moments where she reminds him impossibly of her child-self. Of Pai as a child. The girl could make his head spin by asking why the grass was green or if demons could steal your bellybutton or would butterflies live in your tummy if you ate caterpillars. Questions he used to be pretty good at answering. Back when he was a different person. ]

[ Shaking it off, he gives her a pointed look, ] Anyway, the only nest right now is your hair. [ Where did he put that goddamn hair dryer? ]

[What? It was a legitimate question. Just be glad it isn't closer to spring, otherwise she would've asked if you made sure to move the nest to somewhere safe. Nests are a lot of work to build.]

Oh. Thanks.

[She raises her hand self-consciously when he mentions her hair. It's pretty gnarly, and still heavy with water. Without her waterbending, she's taken to just letting it air dry.]

I didn't want to use your comb.

[ He ... would have no idea what to say to that. It'd be like conversing with a flower-child. A violent one. ]

I have a spare. [ Spare combs. Spare soaps. Spare toothbrushes. Semper paratus, as always. It beats the alternative of admitting it's not the first time a stranger's long hair have gotten tangled in his combs. He exits to retrieve a wide-toothed brush and set it on the sink, next to -- oh, there it is (this was beginning to feel like a scavenger hunt) -- the elusive hairdryer. Returns to hook a thumb in the direction of bathroom, to let her know the requisites are there. In this state of casual dishabille, engaged in quotidian tasks, the illusion that's created -- like they're two normal people -- is so three-dimensional and convincing, that he can almost forget their unique circumstances, or the zombies roaming the streets below. ]

[ Almost. ]

[ Try not to fry the hairdryer, Korra. ]

[She nods and heads back to the bathroom, leaving her jacket on the table.

There's a comb and a... hairdrier? That's what they're called, right? Asami had used one, but Korra never had the patience for them. Why sit still for fifteen minutes doing something that would happen naturally?

She spends some time working through the knots in her hair, then reconsiders the hairdrier. It is pretty cold out... She picks the device up and examines it critically. Flips the switch to turn it on and nearly drops it as her arm is hit with loud hot air.]

Wah!

[She quickly turns it off. Yeah, no, she'll just let it dry itself. She tucks her front two hairpieces in her pocket and pulls her hair back into a simple ponytail before returning to the kitchen.]

How long will my clothes take?

[It's more curiosity than impatience, although it would be nice to wear more than a towel. She doesn't walk around this naked at home, much less at another person's place.]

[ If it's any consolation, Hei can't remember when he let anyone wander around his flat, post-coitus. Usually the girls were ushered out of motel rooms, or paid for and vacated. He didn't let them hang around. Didn't want them to. It was an affront to his distance and privacy. He's no more accustomed than Korra is to this routine receipt of routine courtesy. ]

[ Dimly, he listens to her wrestle with the bit of technology -- Winner of Round I: Hairdryer. Prowls around the kitchen, hungry for a good lashing of something salty, meaty, greasy. But even after devouring four cold slices of pizza, his appetite hasn't settled. At length, a tangerine in the fruit-bowl suffices. He's on the stool, breaking the peel with his thumbs, a sharp citric aroma filling the space, when Korra returns. ]

Hm? [ A distant voice says she'll catch a cold wandering around in a towel. He ignores it. ] Give it five more minutes. [ He drops pieces of peel onto a plate. Digs his fingers into the fruit, pulling it into sections. After a pause, he reaches, matter-of-factly, not quite looking at her, to draw her onto his leg. Offers her a slice, thinking No one needs to know I let her sit in my lap and fed her oranges. ]

[ He ought to invest in getting a pet. ]

[Korra's too surprised to even make a sound of surprise. She lets him settle her on his lap, and takes the proffered tangerine slice.]

Thank you.

[What.

Is.

This.

She's not complaining. He's solid and warm and he smells nice. But it's confusing, too. His displays of what could be considered affection are rare. She's not entirely sure what to do with this.

Enjoy it?

She bites into the slice, blushing a little.]

[ He's not sure affection is the proper word. Its connotations -- warmth, tenderness, kindness -- are tangential in Hei's life. The moments where he'd unbent enough to offer them were mostly to achieve a calculated goal. But indulgent doesn't fit either. Their little fling is lopsided in many aspects, but that makes it sound like he regards her as a child -- or at least someone needing care and attention. ]

[ (Is that really too far off from how you treat her?) The implication is disturbing. As is the knowledge that Pai's absence has left parts of himself dispersed so far away, he has to snatch at echoes to fill the void. He tries to push it aside. ]

[ Thinking bad. Fruits tasty. ]

[ Quietly, he feeds her, and himself, with sticky slices. His fingertips smell strongly of orange as he touches her chin. Wryly, he says, ] Next time you let me tickle your tonsillectomy scar [ if her world has tonsillectomies -- or understands that euphemism ] it's a good idea to leave the clothes off. [ Face it. Damp hair and the scent of a stranger's detergent are as much a giveaway as stains. ]

[Children aren't the only people who need care and attention. Everybody does (otherwise they become hard, bitter people like you, Hei). That's what people have family and pets and friends and lovers. In different ways, to varying degrees, everybody needs to feel valued.

She's still a little tense with confusion, but little by little, she settles back against him, letting him feed her. It seems to be a thing with him.

His comment is met with a blank look.]

Huh?

[That....made absolutely no sense to her.]

[ Hard and bitter -- but that's just a byproduct of a life where softness is a liability. While it's true that everyone (even monsters) need lovingconcern, it's equally true you can survive without it. Or if you are loved, there's no guarantee you won't become a monster anyway. Besides: love? Has a short shelf life. He's learnt to subsist on a far more meager gruel. The skills and mindsets that keep him alive in his profession only cause problems in the civilian world. By now, he's used to living in his own head. ]

[ It's certainly not like he traverses continents playing violins for his own ass all the time. At least, not often. ]

[ He doesn't bother to hide his amusement at her blank look. Popping the last slice into his mouth, he murmurs, ] Nothing. [ Mouth tangy with juice, he leans in to kiss her. It's short but sweet, a parting seal. Breaking away, he gently nudges her off as the dryer alarm goes off. ] Your clothes are done.

[Korra would play them for him, if she knew how. Or just...care. She knows how to care.

She harrumphs in irritation at his amused look, but the kiss proves an effective distraction, short as it is. When the dryer signals its end, she slides off his lap reluctantly.

But hey, at least her clothes are warm. She drops the towel and quickly shimmies into them, enjoying their heat with a little hum of contentment.]

Thanks again.

[ If she cared, he wouldn't know what to do with it. Or, more truthfully, he would know. Habit and training would demand he take advantage of such a bright-red target laid out before him. If he couldn't bring himself to do that, he'd be forced to shut himself off. Withdraw, because any vulnerability is equated with strings and scorekeepng in his world. Caring is just another way to use people. An illusion and a suspension of logic. ]

[ He lets her pull her clothes on, absently wiping his hands on a napkin. In perhaps the most familiar pattern in his disjointed time in the City, he sees her to the door. The curl at the edge of his mouth isn't a smile. But it's a quiet and soft facsimile, matching the dim play of shadows and light. Fingering the collar of her shirt, he says, ] Head home fast. Stay away from dark corners. [ It's Stay safe in another vocabulary. Locked up in his head, it's often easy for him to forget a physical end of the spectrum that doesn't deal with pain and violence. Her visits, the tiny fragments of normalcy she brings, are a refreshing time-out. ]

[The last thing she does is shrug on her jacket. The weight of it is both familiar and not. Hopefully no one will comment on its sudden appearamce, though that doesn't occur to Korra at this moment.

She follows him to the door and lingers, rolling her eyes a little at his words.]

Yes, Dad.

[The ghouls don't scare her. What she's capable of does.

She stands on tiptoe to kiss him quickly.]

See ya.

[ Dad? Ew. Don't play that game with him. ]

[ He watches her leave, then shuts the door behind her, the warm imprint of his kiss still on his mouth. He's heavy-limbed and played out enough. Maybe he'll actually sleep through the night this time. Might not even dream anything too terrible -- but that's asking for too much. ]

[ (He really, really should invest in getting a pet.) ]

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