I've been stuck in the valley of constant motion

[mortemscintilla]

 WHO: Yin & Hei
WHAT: Yet more awkwardz.

[ Hei doesn't do well with stagnation. But it's something he's been able to sideline during his time here. ]

[ Too much else to focus on: settling in, acclimating himself to the environment, learning the languages, absorbing the culture. In the beginning, he and Yin might as well be living in different cities. With the segregated domiciles at Air Temple Island, glimpses of her are few and far in between. Even then, their timings are so off that they might as well have dropped into different orbits. During the days he does chores at the island. During the nights, he works late shifts at the factories -- one of the many 'lightning-benders' trying to earn quick cash by supplying energy to the city. Commuting to there from his narrow dwellings at the island, it's possible to go for weeks without meeting Yin anywhere. Most of the times he sees her is between errands: when he's stretching out the sheets with raw-knuckled hands after a wash, bustling gleaming-faced in the steam and clamor of the kitchen, swabbing floors, doing scut work. (Perhaps if he washes and dries a million sheets and dirty dishes, whips up a million meals, he will finally make amends to Tenzin for his original crime -- sleeping with the Avatar). ]

[ Even so, at odd moments, something simmers through him -- a low-level restlessness. It's that feeling of not waiting but being on the precipice of something. (It's not nerves, it's not anxiety; it's aimlessness. He supposes everybody feels unprepared when they don't know where they're going.) He wants to see Yin. To have more than a desultory chat with her -- preferably when not peeling fruits to feed to the flying lemurs as part of his evening duties. This was not quite what he'd intended, when he'd chosen Korra over her. But that seems -- in Yin's silence, her coolness -- to be how she took it. ]

[ A fortnight remains before he departs from Air Temple Island -- to explore the territories beyond Republic City, and gain a better understanding of this new world. For that, it's necessary to see Yin. Whatever the rift between them, they're still teammates. And her safety is still one of his main priorities. ]

[ The evening sky darkens from pink to a pale purple as he approaches her spot -- a pool fringed with weeping willows. His shadow stretches in a long black slash, and his footsteps are cat-quiet. Even so, he's sure Yin will know he's there. ]

Comments

[moonlitrequiem]

[Part of the reason for their distance is the very things Hei was consumed with; Korra, factory work and chores. As for Yin, she has spent the majority of her time near this particular body of water.]

[It's one of the more peaceful areas, avoided by most of the island's inhabitants, and separates Yin from everyone else with it's lush green curtain. No matter what has occurred, she has kept watch, though she's careful when spying on Hei. If Korra enters the scene she cuts out at once and searches for something else to observe. Nothing and no one approaches the island she isn't aware of.]

[She's attempted to keep herself busy, filling her mind with the language, the culture, the people around her, but Yin finds herself incapable of going for long before a spark of color glimmers on the muted landscape of her mind. Memories of Hei will flicker in, disrupting the peace she's built.]

[This time it takes her a moment to realize it wasn't a thought - he's behind her.]

[She doesn't turn, doesn't speak, but yes, she's aware he's there. She tries to diminish her widened eyes quickly.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ When you get down to it, BK201 has experienced a lot of things. He remembers the first war-lesson that was stomped -- literally -- into his memory. (Letting your morals interfere with the weight of your wallet is an act of criminal unprofessionalism.) He remembers the stench after his first firefight -- the flyblown battlefield reek with its sweetness that is kissing cousin to a truly good smell -- barbecued pork, maybe -- a sensual similarity that makes it all the more sickening, overlying over subtle decay. He remembers hundreds of different cover stories, different aliases, sterile safe-houses and old flats smelling of mothballs and mildew. He remembers the night Heaven's Gate appeared, stars hurtling like blazing diamonds from the sky, and what it felt like to have a completely new species of mute fear juddering through his sinews; he remembers Pai vanishing in a wash of whiteness, like a sun-shard hurtled to the earth, and wondering if this is how the world was going to end, with a colossal bang. He remembers dying by quarter inches with every kill. He remembers meeting Korra, and an inarticulate part of him slowly coming back to life. ]

[ He also remembers the last time he was this breath-stoppingly hesitant. He was a lot younger then. ]

[ Dreamy lavender light hangs between the silky fronds of the willow tree. He shoulders through the gap as if crossing a curtain into an alternate void -- all tranquility and haunting, imperfect stillness. But he supposes that owes largely to Yin. When he speaks, his tone is a heavy sort of calm. ]

I need to talk to you.

[ In Tokyo, or here, Hei stays the same. Never mincing words. ]

[moonlitrequiem]

[With all of the changes she's made, and the progress Yin has experienced in the past couple of years, there's a contrast with how she handles Hei now the same way she would have back then.]

[Her feet stay in the still water, but she at least turns in his direction, expression vacant, ready to be filled with purpose.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ It's a jarring contrast, but it's also a reminder that this is the way friendships are built and torn apart. In tiny moments, in secrets shared or swallowed down. Since he's chosen Korra, he's aware that something has passed between him and Yin -- a subtle split, an inelegant falling away. Maybe it is necessary, maybe not, but it's happened. He knows they both sense it. ]

[ Even so, something shutters and falls closed in his expression. On anyone else, it might look like sadness, but Hei doesn't do emotionally compromised, he doesn't do blatant disappointment. Not in Yin, especially when she owes him nothing. Not in this. ]

[ He slips his hands into his pockets, regarding, not Yin, but the shimmering glow of the pool, pink sunlight falling along the ghostly wavering contours of the fish. ]

I'm leaving Air Temple Island in two weeks. There's too much of this place we don't know about. It's high time for a reconnaissance-run.

[ Terse and matter-of-fact, because that priority hasn't changed either. Hei hates being in the dark about anything. Hates feeling flat-footed. He needs to immerse himself in the intricacies of Korra's world, to let its history and present politics steep into him, if he's going to make the successful transition from newcomer to native. ]

[moonlitrequiem]

[Yin's own eyes are pointed, unseeing, at a spot near Hei's shoes, but her hand is still in the water. Her own expression is the same as it ever is, unyielding. Whatever she does feel, it's not going to surface any time soon.]

[She merely nods to his words. It's an indisputable fact, and she can keep an eye on Air Temple Island while he's gone. Although she anticipates he might have objectives for her in his absence. She waits patiently and silently for him to continue. That Yin anticipates at all, thinks of it at all, is thinking of Hei at all, proves she will never be able to revert completely to what she once was, immobile and empty.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ She nods, voiceless, almost lifeless -- and Hei tries to ignore a twinge. Guilt settles into his bones like lead. This is his fault, he knows. The way that spark of verve in Yin has extinguished. The way she's reverted back to her default mode, almost like an automaton that was experiencing glitches of emotion, but has since then flatlined to its factory setting. He wants to apologize, yet he also doesn't want to dredge the topic up. Why rub things in her face? He's already managed to misunderstand everything to do with her feelings for him, and culminated the whole blistering farrago by utterly failing to communicate that although he cares about her -- irrefutably, painfully -- he can never escape the sense that a relationship with Yin would be skewed, exploitative, a parody of every parasitic affair he's ever been involved in. ]

[ Except the thought that he's hurt her with the rejection, that she hates him or will always be indifferent to him, is nearly unbearable. It twists inside him like a poisonous snake. ]

[ Fighting it off, he focuses on the matters at hand. ]

I'm heading to the Hu Xin territories. Beyond the United Republic. It could be as long as ten months before I return. [ A beat, before his gaze slants directly to Yin. ] Send your observation specter out every two weeks. Just to let me know you're doing okay here. If I'm out of contact for longer than eight months, it means something's wrong. Start a surveillance scan if that happens.

[ The latter instruction is for emergencies only. Hei doesn't think he'll be in mortal danger. But he's too well-trained not to have a contingency plan. ]

[moonlitrequiem]

[She never wanted Hei to feel guilty, but the distance helps. Pushing her feelings so far beneath the surface keeps her capable of functioning as she should, like a Doll. But hate him, Yin could never do that. It's better, to her, he just focus on his needs and Korra. Meanwhile, she can do what she's best at and, hopefully, still be of some use to him.]

[When he says the length he's expected to be gone her eyes noticeably widen, and Yin looks up.]

[She's almost surprised he doesn't have any extra plans, but it's no shock of how little interaction she is to have with him. She's a Doll. She shouldn't care. It's not her business. But eventually the words form, her voice back to flat monotone without a hint of cadence:]

What about Korra? [Except, she's a Doll, she shouldn't be asking a question in the first place, let alone about someone as of yet not mentioned.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ What about Korra? The words tumble so smoothly from her it shocks him. Like it's a reminder that Yin isn't completely catatonic, because what ordinary Doll would ask about a third party with no practical relation to them? It makes him realize -- something he only understood peripherally before. That Korra and Yin seem to have formed a friendship that goes on quite apart from him. He has only a bird's eye view into it. He wonders if this glimmer of camaraderie is a universal thing -- girls befriending girls. It certainly seemed the case with Pai and Amber, who could be right up close yet still manage to shut him out. Always seeming to be talking about things he wasn't up on, and Pai would get exasperated whenever he asked questions. Always saying she'd told him already, accusing him of never listening in the first place. ]

[ He tries to put a strange sense of ... not skewed equilibrium but gnawing curiosity ... out of his mind. To Yin's question: ]

She'll be fine. She can take care of herself.

[ The tone is dismissive. It gives the impression he's largely indifferent to Korra. He's not. If anything, the fact that he's so certain of her transmits the level of faith he has in her. Korra is young, reckless, naive -- but one thing she isn't is helpless. Hei wouldn't be able to stomach her otherwise; he's attracted to competence, to someone who can go toe-to-toe with him. Not baggage that's little more than leverage against him. (Is that one more reason he'd been reluctant to take up with Yin? Because she's, to a large extent, dependant on him? Because he'd been afraid to be handed the heavy lynchpin of so much trust -- knowing he'd somehow screw it up? He tries not to think about it.) ]

[ When he speaks, it's quiet, something softening at the fringes of his cadence. ]

You should focus on yourself, Yin. Have you been off the island since we got here?

[moonlitrequiem]

[Yin knows he's right, but that wasn't what she meant. Yin's concern went deeper than her well-being into her thoughts of Hei leaving for so long. But as much confidence as Hei was displaying in her, Korra likely knew and was fine with it. Perhaps she had just as much confidence in him. A good match.]

[As for the island question, she nods her head.]

With Korra.

[mortemscintilla]

[ A good match? If he could read her mind, he'd snort. He and Korra are an often uneasy, but affectionate item. Still, they lack that indelible foundation of trust he shares with Yin. Only when he's fighting with Korra -- or fucking her -- does the shape of their relationship resolve into something which makes sense. He can't tell Yin that, though. Or admit that he has yet to drop the bombshell of his departure on Korra, because he doubts she'll take it in stride. Because she doesn't trust him to keep his word, to not flit off to greener pastures, into the arms of more suitable women. ]

[ Instead, he concentrates on Yin's reply. With Korra. It makes sense, all things considered. Maybe Korra feels responsible for the other girl. Maybe she's determined to play the good host. Either way, it's convenient, because it means Yin will have someone watching out for her. However, that's not enough for Hei. He doesn't want Yin to end up sequestered -- isolated. This isn't their homeworld; the usual rules don't apply. Without the threat of daily curses like in the City, or conflict from enemy organizations like at home, the risk quotient here is reassuringly low. Yin is free to explore the better parts of Republic City by herself. ]

What places did she show you?

[ It's a blanket curiosity. Knowing Korra, she concentrated on the tourist-y spots, instead of the markets, the shortcuts on the streets, the business-hubs, all of which are Hei's points of interest. ]

[moonlitrequiem]

[Yin likely wouldn't quite understand such intricacies, not unless she experienced them herself, and with a little more time. She's only begun to understand that she has feelings for Hei, let alone what they are, and friendship, and how that differs from those emotions.]

[When asked where she went, Yin lists much of what Hei expected, categorically. Yin pretty much has partial map of Republic City in her mind by now. Some blanks she filled in with her observer spirit, and isn't sure what those areas are referred as, but there are still areas yet unexplored, due to either time, or distance restraints.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ A secondhand map isn't, in Hei's estimation, the same as exploring the city yourself. Reality and theory are two different ends of the knowledge spectrum; the former is unpredictable enough to trump the latter. Times of day, days of the week, changes of season, changes of politics -- all can make for an area dramatically different from the one you've originally reconnoitered. ]

[ It's why he wants Yin to step beyond Air Temple Island's tranquil sphere. If he could afford it, he'd drape her in bubble-wrap and keep her untouched, sheltered, from the harsher elements of this world. But life doesn't work that way. She needs to immerse herself in the atmosphere, slip out of that brittle shell she's woven the past few weeks, something china-fine and knitted on silence and remoteness. He refuses to believe her recent passivity is the modus operandi of a Doll. Especially not after he's seen her act in ways that are shockingly, heartbreakingly human. ]

[ He doesn't mean to be curt, but there's a certain way in which he speaks, a way of looking at her that's flat and disapproving. ]

That's not good enough. You should be familiar with the city without a guide. Or your observation specter. [ A beat, then, gentler, ] I can take you for a visit right now. There's something I want to show you.

[moonlitrequiem]

[Her gaze falls completely to the floor. In this, Hei's right. But no one told her to explore the city in person, so she didn't consider it. Why hadn't she?]

[If nothing else, she has something to occupy her time for the next ten months.]

[She gives no words at all, but Yin does finally remove her hand from the water and stands to accompany him. Her movements are slow, but obvious that she's heard him and agreed.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ She rises, and it's practically an unvoiced assent. Before, it would've been effortlessly easy to reach out, curl his fingers through hers. Something he'd never have thought twice about. (A rarity in itself, since it's Hei's reflex to second-guess and overanalyze a gesture from every angle.) Now though ... Now everything seems to carry too much weight. Every small touch seems loaded with messages that could be misconstrued. In light of that, it's better to maintain a semblance of distance and neutrality. ]

[ He gestures Yin to follow him, down to the powdery white shores at the fringes of the island, where the ferry is moored at the salt-crisped dock. Gentle waves splash along the shore; he slips into one of the boats, before helping Yin in. ]

[ Ahead of them, a web of rainbow lights shape up into the outline of a city so different from the the one they've left behind -- yet not different at all. While the boat slices a path through the water, Hei breathes in the sea-scented air. Here, with Yin settled closeby, and an idle evening ahead, nowhere to go but out, it's easy to let a particular contentment seep into him. To feel, for a few deluded moments, as if he's where he's meant to be. ]

[moonlitrequiem]

[ Before Yin might have taken Hei's hand without question, but she maintains the same distance, only reaching once his back is turned, for a brief second before she lowers it once more. Head lowered, she follows. ]

[ She ignores every tingle his touch gives any portion of her body he has to touch to help her in. It's a necessity, nothing more. As Hei watches the approaching city, Yin sits, her head turned away. There is no point in delusions for her. Every second spent with him is just another reminder things have completely changed. To Yin, this might as well be business. ]

[mortemscintilla]

[ His current standing with Yin being what it is, Hei knows he shouldn't be surprised by her silence. Except, in his mind, there's the assertion that Yin should be forever Yin, a natural law, immutable. Sometimes aloof and lunar-moth mysterious, yes. Distant from him, no. It is like seeing a river run dry. A clock run backwards. ]

[ The near the city docks, the dying sunlight panting a honey-gold inlay on the slack water between the waves. The staggering aroma of diesel, sewage, fried food and rotted vegetation presages the clamor of the streets -- blurs of rickshaws, streaking shapes of satomobiles, shouts from vendors pushing laden carts, skirls of distant music from restaurants and clubs. ]

[ He hands Yin out of the boat, and they step onto the crowded street. Under an awning, by a pyramid of mangoes, he slants a look her way. When he speaks, his expression is both watchful and self-conscious, ]

I know you're upset with me. [ He doesn't need to elaborate what for. They both know. Quieter, he adds, ] I also hope you'll keep in mind, whatever happens here ... I'm still your partner. I'll do whatever I can to keep you safe.

[moonlitrequiem]

[ But to Yin, she's only as distant as he is, following his lead. ]

[ Her head is turned to the din of the city, until Hei speaks to her. Yin's eyes widen a fraction and she, firmly, shakes head. ]

I'm not upset with you. [ Everything else he says is just a fact to her. A necessity for a Contractor to keep the Doll alive. But their partnership had evolved beyond that anlong time ago, transcending the cold-hard logic of simple need. ]

I'm still your partner as well. [ Why else would she spend so much time with her body immersed in water since arriving? None of that changed, no matter how far she's withdrawn, and Yin refuses to let it. ]

[mortemscintilla]

[ How strange, that with Korra, this conversation might have veered sideways like a train sliding off its tracks. Devolving into a chaos of self-doubt, suspicion, recriminations, reassurances, and ultimately culminating into a messy quickie behind some alleyway, or in a tacky motel, because physicality is the best way they knit themselves together. Speech always threatens to fall askew. It's not the same with Yin. Her eyes glint a semaphore of patience and clarity, and he accepts her words as fact. Dimly, it makes him realize -- you can't have it all in a relationship. Constancy and trust versus the ability to thrill and stimulate -- these rarely dwell within the same person. So you take the best of what you can reasonably expect, make your choice and hold to it. It's why he'd been at a crossroads between Yin and Korra -- and why he'd ultimately chosen what he did. ]

[ After a beat, he reaches out. Touches her shoulder, just a light skim of fingertips. But his expression shutters into something honest, almost an intangible olive branch. ]

We're also friends.

[ As if that needs clarifying. (Perhaps it does. Neither of them are the type, after all. Or a better descriptor would be -- neither of them were the type. These days ... it's all too easy to wrench free from the formulaic prisons that once outlined their lives. Dolls don't feel. Contractors are always rational.) ]

[moonlitrequiem]

[ Friends. ]

[ It's something precious and rare, but the word gives Yin an unintentional pang. She turns away, eyes burning. What Hei mistook as upset with him was simple hurt. ]

[ Yin musters a nod of her head, not wanting to throw away his attempt. She has to reach back, because while it might cause pain, she wants to remain friends. It's what she wanted from the beginning, but was too inexperienced, too repressed to understand the outcome. ]

Friends. [ She repeats it in a small voice, but at least looks back at him when her eyes are dry. But she has to pull back again. Everything has to shut down again. It's the only way her mind can keep functioning in the way she feels is expected of her. ]

[mortemscintilla]

[ She turns her face away, and there's something in Hei's gaze, sparking dim but soft, before it fades. He's too well-trained not to read the distress she's telegraphing. Subtle as Yin is about these things, he knows her too well -- her moods, her kinetics, the shimmering flux of sub-rosa distress under her skin, as if she's caught between a wash of emotion and the instinct to impede the flood. He's been in that position before. Not often, because as a matter of basic survival he's developed a professional detachment to the frailties, grotesqueries, and fateful idiosyncrasies affecting the human psyche. Emotional scar tissue. That doesn't, however, mean he's impervious to its ache. ]

[ His palm rests a moment longer on her shoulder, fingers warm and light against the delicate slope. It's both steadying and comforting -- an implicit Yes. Friends. I promise -- without his having to say anything at all. He glances away then, and the glowing streetlights and multicolored blurs of traffic play geometric patterns across his profile. ]

[ When he speaks, the tone is businesslike again, but there's still a warmth at the fringes, ]

There's a flat not far from here. I'm planning to rent two rooms there. You not under obligation to move there if you're comfortable on Air Temple Island. But when you're in Republic City, think of it as a safehouse.

[ Granted, this new world is less dangerous than their own. But that's no reason to abandon precautions and contingencies. ]

[moonlitrequiem]

[It's a position she was hardly ever in, especially before the City. It's presence should be more alarming, but once it has passed she cares too little to consider that fact. Her expression is calmer, closed.]

[Yin takes in everything he says without comment, but even she understands this means Hei still intends to keep her in his life. She's still a part of it. For now, she's content to stay on Air Temple Island, but maybe later she will find a use for this flat, other than just a safe house.]