[ A name is just a name. Deja vu flickers. Strange, how his life acts as tunnels crafted from looping möbius strips. Everything Amber had said to him, that he's said to Korra, she echoes back at him now. Existence is fucking uncanny. Dimly, he wonders if this -- the conversation, the news of the baby -- is the Point. That instant in time, measurable in seconds, that acts as the hinge for everything you've ever done. Everything feeds into that moment: your backlog of experience and behaviors determine how you enter that moment and how you'll walk away from it afterwards. Every way you've ever been hurt, every grievance nursed, every secret fear, those moments where you've stood up or stepped down and all the love in your body -- it all matters when you reach the Point. It is all brought to bear. ]
[ And you'll look back in the aftermath, trying to piece together how A met B. Except the threads are tangled, yet the links exist in ways you can't even imagine. It's a matter of debts to be repaid. Balance. ]
[ He doesn't want to look at her. Not when his flesh goes hot and cold at her very proximity. Except her pleading voice is like a hook in the vitals. He flicks a glance around her face, reading her, his own face held deliberately inexpressive. Except there is something in his eyes. Soft, tentative, full of hope and the prescience of bitter disappointment. Everything that is hard, glinting, sharp Bk201 for the moment stripped away -- leaving someone unrecognizably tired and raw behind. ]
[ In a different voice, almost a whisper, ]
You can't keep this baby. There are a million reasons not to. You've just got your life on track. Don't throw it away. I've seen you nearly die once already. And it made me crazier than usual. [ He laughs, sort of. It is the kind of noiseless sibilation you can mistake for something else. Like a man's throat being cut. ] I'm not so strong as you, I guess. Or so brave.
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Date: 2015-02-16 01:56 am (UTC)[ And you'll look back in the aftermath, trying to piece together how A met B. Except the threads are tangled, yet the links exist in ways you can't even imagine. It's a matter of debts to be repaid. Balance. ]
[ He doesn't want to look at her. Not when his flesh goes hot and cold at her very proximity. Except her pleading voice is like a hook in the vitals. He flicks a glance around her face, reading her, his own face held deliberately inexpressive. Except there is something in his eyes. Soft, tentative, full of hope and the prescience of bitter disappointment. Everything that is hard, glinting, sharp Bk201 for the moment stripped away -- leaving someone unrecognizably tired and raw behind. ]
[ In a different voice, almost a whisper, ]
You can't keep this baby. There are a million reasons not to. You've just got your life on track. Don't throw it away. I've seen you nearly die once already. And it made me crazier than usual. [ He laughs, sort of. It is the kind of noiseless sibilation you can mistake for something else. Like a man's throat being cut. ] I'm not so strong as you, I guess. Or so brave.