[ The train rattles along at its leisurely pace, settling into stations along the way, waiting for passengers to board and depart, easing forward again with its musical tinkling of chin-chin. Korra's hand is a soft warm curl in his. It seems so small and delicate, the individual bones pressing out like webs, that it's easy to forget the power she wields at those fingertips. ]
[ Easy to forget a lot of things -- but never completely. ]
[ Following her gaze to the little girl, who is now occupied with singing to herself and kicking her tiny red-shoed feet, it's not difficult to guess the train of her thoughts. It's strange; in the wake of the miscarriage, Hei remembers someone -- Su Yin, maybe Tenzin -- had warned him he might become more aware of parents with infants. It's true that he'd felt, in public places, like they were fucking everywhere: walking babies in strollers, holding them in their arms, gazing at their small, red-mottled, half-monkey faces with such crippling devotion. But it hadn't stirred any sense of ruefulness in him. ]
[ The only time -- months after the disaster -- that he'd felt the actual wave of loss crest, was at a supermarket. There, as he'd silently grumbled to himself over the rising cost of fresh vegetables, he'd been ambushed in the middle of the shampoo aisle by a woman singing a familiar nursery-rhyme about radishes to her wispy-haired toddler. At least, it had sounded like the nursery rhyme from his homeworld, in the brief snatches he'd heard, before a flood of queasiness blindsided him. He'd wanted to storm out of the store, because he was suddenly sick with a bitter misery, to find somewhere quiet and dark where he could calm down. Instead he'd held onto the edge of the shelf in front of the Varri-Dye display, forcing his face back into a rigid mask of order, and hoping no one he knew would happen along. ]
[ He'd never wanted a damn baby. Still doesn't. But fighting Contractors was nothing to losing one. ]
[ Gently, he unbuttons his gaze from the little girl, who has gone quiet, watching him with her small round face so solemn in its frame of squiggly hair. He's reminded, uncomfortably, that unless he assumes 'Li's false air of bonhomie, children are wary of him. Maybe it's because they sense things adults have learned to suppress. ]
[ It's a relief when they finally roll to their stop. He hasn't even realized how tightly he's been gripping Korra's hand, fingers twined in a cramp of something like anxious need. Slowly, they exit the tram. Edged by a dark fringe of mountains, the hot spring resort holds the eye-bruising shade of a courtesan's jewelry box. Arterial red, braided with dizzying shades of gold, in typical Fire Nation style. Even from the entrance, the air holds the thick aroma of sulfur. ]
[ In a quiet but normal-sounding voice, he says, ]
I'm thinking a dip before dinner? It's bad to swim on a full stomach.
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Date: 2014-11-19 12:36 am (UTC)[ Easy to forget a lot of things -- but never completely. ]
[ Following her gaze to the little girl, who is now occupied with singing to herself and kicking her tiny red-shoed feet, it's not difficult to guess the train of her thoughts. It's strange; in the wake of the miscarriage, Hei remembers someone -- Su Yin, maybe Tenzin -- had warned him he might become more aware of parents with infants. It's true that he'd felt, in public places, like they were fucking everywhere: walking babies in strollers, holding them in their arms, gazing at their small, red-mottled, half-monkey faces with such crippling devotion. But it hadn't stirred any sense of ruefulness in him. ]
[ The only time -- months after the disaster -- that he'd felt the actual wave of loss crest, was at a supermarket. There, as he'd silently grumbled to himself over the rising cost of fresh vegetables, he'd been ambushed in the middle of the shampoo aisle by a woman singing a familiar nursery-rhyme about radishes to her wispy-haired toddler. At least, it had sounded like the nursery rhyme from his homeworld, in the brief snatches he'd heard, before a flood of queasiness blindsided him. He'd wanted to storm out of the store, because he was suddenly sick with a bitter misery, to find somewhere quiet and dark where he could calm down. Instead he'd held onto the edge of the shelf in front of the Varri-Dye display, forcing his face back into a rigid mask of order, and hoping no one he knew would happen along. ]
[ He'd never wanted a damn baby. Still doesn't. But fighting Contractors was nothing to losing one. ]
[ Gently, he unbuttons his gaze from the little girl, who has gone quiet, watching him with her small round face so solemn in its frame of squiggly hair. He's reminded, uncomfortably, that unless he assumes 'Li's false air of bonhomie, children are wary of him. Maybe it's because they sense things adults have learned to suppress. ]
[ It's a relief when they finally roll to their stop. He hasn't even realized how tightly he's been gripping Korra's hand, fingers twined in a cramp of something like anxious need. Slowly, they exit the tram. Edged by a dark fringe of mountains, the hot spring resort holds the eye-bruising shade of a courtesan's jewelry box. Arterial red, braided with dizzying shades of gold, in typical Fire Nation style. Even from the entrance, the air holds the thick aroma of sulfur. ]
[ In a quiet but normal-sounding voice, he says, ]
I'm thinking a dip before dinner? It's bad to swim on a full stomach.