[ It hasn't destroyed his capacity for hope. But it has left him with the same fast-twitch recoil someone develops when shielding a seeping wound. He is afraid, quite simply. Afraid the pregnancy will end as disastrously as the first one. Afraid the baby will upend the precarious scales of equilibrium he's achieved with Korra -- a sort of uneasy truce, a teetering contentment. A few connections, wired to his brain, spark off a suggestion: Maybe he's emotionally flatlined as a defense mechanism? He's wary of the pregnancy disgorging unhappiness and trauma instead of joy -- so he's shut himself off completely. Maybe that's why he's taking everything day by day, hour by hour, because the future is so imponderable, the changes it bodes so immense. ]
[ He doesn't know. He tries to focus on nothing but Korra, the shadowy waves of hair at once sleek and wild around her head, her gaze the dreamy blue of a frosted skylight at dawn. Against his will, the interior of his own eyes takes on a softer glow. ]
[ Reaching out, he plucks a rosy quid of prawn from her plate. Pops it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully, before he murmurs, both offhand and tentative, ]
Have you considered a nanny? Once the baby's here, there'll be so much work. And we're both pretty busy anyway.
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2015-02-28 02:58 am (UTC)[ He doesn't know. He tries to focus on nothing but Korra, the shadowy waves of hair at once sleek and wild around her head, her gaze the dreamy blue of a frosted skylight at dawn. Against his will, the interior of his own eyes takes on a softer glow. ]
[ Reaching out, he plucks a rosy quid of prawn from her plate. Pops it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully, before he murmurs, both offhand and tentative, ]
Have you considered a nanny? Once the baby's here, there'll be so much work. And we're both pretty busy anyway.