[ Stars, science, sandwiches... Those are a single facet of Hei's camaraderie with Pavel. He hasn't had male friends who weren't also rivals -- latent threats to keep at an arm's length with predatory warnings and alpha-male posturings. Hunting buddies, sure -- if flies on a carcass are worthy of the term. But what Hei likes about Chekov is almost exactly what he likes about Korra. That youthful candor, that earnest goodwill, that never hardens into cynicism, no matter how many scars they both accrue, inside and out. It makes him marvel at how innocent a life someone has to lead for such a nature to remain credible and intact. It's baffling, but he respects them both for it, in alternating degrees of awe and bitterness. ]
[ Chekov is loyal. Chekov is honest. Chekov is smart. But he's a valued friend, nothing more, his every word and gesture reinforcing his role as a kid-brother in Hei's mental hierarchy. It's Korra who has him by the balls -- this powerful, yet attractively soft girl who has mysteriously bloomed under his touch, pristine even in proximity to his filth, like a lily unfurling out of compost. ]
[ He can't tell her that. Not without sounding like an inept idiot. When she sits down, he stays at a distance. The room seems warmed by her body and scent: so inviting, so fuzzily fragrant. In contrast, he can smell the cold stillness of the outdoors on himself, the fragments of dead black space still clinging like stardust to his skin and hair. ]
[ Quietly, ]
Think of it as ... roaming through solar systems. Almost like riding a train. Except you don't know where your stop is. Or if you'd recognize it if you saw it.
[ But each jump had brought him closer, or so he'd told himself, though the notion of near or far was as empty as the notion of time's passing. He'd kept focused on where it was he needed to go. Hadn't dared think of Korra, seeing her, touching her, except when alone. That was the only way he could carry on without feeling like his memories were leaking into the ether because of their sheer bright intensity. ]
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[ Chekov is loyal. Chekov is honest. Chekov is smart. But he's a valued friend, nothing more, his every word and gesture reinforcing his role as a kid-brother in Hei's mental hierarchy. It's Korra who has him by the balls -- this powerful, yet attractively soft girl who has mysteriously bloomed under his touch, pristine even in proximity to his filth, like a lily unfurling out of compost. ]
[ He can't tell her that. Not without sounding like an inept idiot. When she sits down, he stays at a distance. The room seems warmed by her body and scent: so inviting, so fuzzily fragrant. In contrast, he can smell the cold stillness of the outdoors on himself, the fragments of dead black space still clinging like stardust to his skin and hair. ]
[ Quietly, ]
Think of it as ... roaming through solar systems. Almost like riding a train. Except you don't know where your stop is. Or if you'd recognize it if you saw it.
[ But each jump had brought him closer, or so he'd told himself, though the notion of near or far was as empty as the notion of time's passing. He'd kept focused on where it was he needed to go. Hadn't dared think of Korra, seeing her, touching her, except when alone. That was the only way he could carry on without feeling like his memories were leaking into the ether because of their sheer bright intensity. ]