[ Hei blinks at her, less surprise than weariness. Korra receives only flat silence in response, implying that the comment is really beneath answering; that Hei has had a long day and has run out of energy; that he will allow her to do whatever the fuck she pleases. ]
[ And really, it's better if she leaves. Her presence fills him with a strange sensation -- almost like dread, but also with an extraordinary excitement. All he can compare it to is being back in Heaven's War: knee-deep in marshy grass, and he can smell the enemy, smell their firepower on the breeze, as fear crawls like fire ants at the back of his throat and he thinks, I'm here to change things. I'm here to win. But all the while it's him who's changing, changing deep inside. ]
[ Soldiers deal with this change in different ways. Six years ago? Hei would have lit the pilot light of an LPO-50 flame-thrower, 50,000 BTUs of Contractor-cooking power, and laid down a scar of flame that'd turn a camp full of hostiles into roving, raving, Chinese firecrackers in an eyeblink. An acceptable catharsis. ]
[ But this isn't Heaven's War. And he isn't that soldier anymore. ]
[ He watches Korra prepare stomp off. Pretending fierce dismissal, but her rigid back betrays her. She won't turn around, he knows that. She'll keep going, dragging her steps through a swamp of unhappy self-recrimination. And strangely, it moves through Hei with a sensation like nausea. ]
[ He doesn't say anything. But after a moment, he falls into step with her. Because whatever his reservations, it isn't smart to let her wander through the Underground -- drunk and alone. (He'd ask himself why it's his concern at all. But that's one more thing he's unwilling to examine too closely.) ]
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Date: 2014-11-07 01:38 am (UTC)[ And really, it's better if she leaves. Her presence fills him with a strange sensation -- almost like dread, but also with an extraordinary excitement. All he can compare it to is being back in Heaven's War: knee-deep in marshy grass, and he can smell the enemy, smell their firepower on the breeze, as fear crawls like fire ants at the back of his throat and he thinks, I'm here to change things. I'm here to win. But all the while it's him who's changing, changing deep inside. ]
[ Soldiers deal with this change in different ways. Six years ago? Hei would have lit the pilot light of an LPO-50 flame-thrower, 50,000 BTUs of Contractor-cooking power, and laid down a scar of flame that'd turn a camp full of hostiles into roving, raving, Chinese firecrackers in an eyeblink. An acceptable catharsis. ]
[ But this isn't Heaven's War. And he isn't that soldier anymore. ]
[ He watches Korra prepare stomp off. Pretending fierce dismissal, but her rigid back betrays her. She won't turn around, he knows that. She'll keep going, dragging her steps through a swamp of unhappy self-recrimination. And strangely, it moves through Hei with a sensation like nausea. ]
[ He doesn't say anything. But after a moment, he falls into step with her. Because whatever his reservations, it isn't smart to let her wander through the Underground -- drunk and alone. (He'd ask himself why it's his concern at all. But that's one more thing he's unwilling to examine too closely.) ]