Ｈｅｉ (Ｌｉ Ｓｈｅｎｓｈｕｎｇ) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
mortemscintilla) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fuse_box2015-06-27 01:29 am
mortemscintilla) wrote in fuse_box2015-06-27 01:29 am
Entry tags:
It's my party
WHO: Korra & Hei
WHAT: Everything continues to be awkward and terrible. At least there is cake.
[ Tonraq's death had cast a pall over Mai's first birthday. But the second -- navigated by the traditional lunar calendar -- falls on a different day of the year, so there is no threat of celebrations and mourning crisscrossing. Korra isn't one for funeralizing anyway, Hei knows. Her father is gone, and she won't let him out of her heart and mind -- he'll always be with her as long as she's alive. But she needs to live, while remembering her existence is defined not just by death. There's loss, but there's also joy. Old sorrow, but new life, too. ]
[ At least, he figures those are her reasons for this little party. ]
[ Asami had phoned him the week earlier. She'd invited him to brunch at Kwong's, explaining that Korra and Mai would be there. I know you only see them once a week. Maybe it'll be nice to socialize a bit more. Aching to go see his daughter -- but wary of making Korra uncomfortable -- Hei reluctantly declined. In dreams, he saw Korra, Mai and Asami as if in a sumptuous watercolor painting. Imagined them at the restaurant, cozied under the multicolored glow of an expensive stained-glass lamp, sipping tea from colorful crockery. He dreamed, as sloppy brushstrokes filled out the scenery, that they were all relieved by his refusal. He saw Mai's face melting into blankness, a doll devoid of any recognition for him, before the dream shivered away like paper torn into soggy bits. ]
[ He tries not to think about it. Mostly, he keeps himself too busy to think. He's moved out of the dump he'd rented, to the forty-sixth floor of one of the twin high-rises that Future Industries has constructed downtown -- a sleek but affordable complex. He chooses a three-bedroom corner apartment. The place is bright, airy, larger than he needs so most of the rooms go unused. But he likes living on the top floor, with a glittering view of the city, above it all. Also, at the time he'd rented it, it was to his advantage to take a place that didn't fit the profile of what a loner, recently separated and with minimal needs, would take for an apartment. ]
[ (It wasn't his only reason -- sure. But it also wasn't the first time his wishful thinking had blurred so seamlessly with his operational instincts.) ]
[ He's still working with Future Industries. With -- not For. The quirky old tech he'd been assisting has freelanced into weapons manufacturing -- and Hei had resolved to go with him. The arms trade isn't his main interest, though. He's spent the months since returning from the Enterprise rebuilding and restructuring the network he'd left behind. In Republic City, the basis exists for a competitive, free market of intelligence. The police force needs it, the President's entourage need it, as do the Earth Kingdom, the Fire Nation, the Water tribes. The means to access terrorist cells, to infiltrate the dens of well-connected kingpins, to assassinate political rivals, to create elite military units. ]
[ He is working toward developing his own private op. Hell, ever since the furor in the Earth Kingdom, there are new outfits springing up all over, the equivalent of Halliburton and Blackwater and K-Crucible, and it's hard to tell where the governments end and the shady private sector begins. Buyers have got their choice of which faction to gather intelligence, manpower, artillery -- or cannon fodder -- from. Hei intends to make sure his product is better than best. ]
[ (He knows, if Amber were here, she'd be laughing at how his life is playing out.) ]
[ A few nights before the big day, his phone rings late, while he is in bed, his eyes getting heavy over a book. This time it is Korra, inviting him to Mai's birthday. Not a huge celebration -- just a small intimate gathering. Startled, Hei agrees -- before he can think twice about how stupid and heartbroken this will leave him once he's there. He doesn't want to socialize with Korra's friends -- or be reminded of the life he'd tossed away. Doubts, too, that he'll get much private daddy-daughter time with Mai. But it will be enough to see her. She's growing, little by little. He doesn't want her to have no concrete childhood memories of her father beyond their one-hour playtime on Fridays. ]
[ When he first approaches the Beach House, he thinks it has caught fire, but the vapor wafting out of the windows is sweet incense. Something stops him from just knocking on the door; maybe the bright undercurrents of people in the air. Peering through the window, he watches Korra bustle around, her gestures elegant and formalized, like a medieval dance, with a whole host of partners. Tenzin, Pema and the Air Babies. Jinora and Kai. Asami. Mako. Bolin and Opal. And in their midst, impossibly small, the glowy sparkle in her eyes outshining everything in the room, is Mai. ]
WHAT: Everything continues to be awkward and terrible. At least there is cake.
[ Tonraq's death had cast a pall over Mai's first birthday. But the second -- navigated by the traditional lunar calendar -- falls on a different day of the year, so there is no threat of celebrations and mourning crisscrossing. Korra isn't one for funeralizing anyway, Hei knows. Her father is gone, and she won't let him out of her heart and mind -- he'll always be with her as long as she's alive. But she needs to live, while remembering her existence is defined not just by death. There's loss, but there's also joy. Old sorrow, but new life, too. ]
[ At least, he figures those are her reasons for this little party. ]
[ Asami had phoned him the week earlier. She'd invited him to brunch at Kwong's, explaining that Korra and Mai would be there. I know you only see them once a week. Maybe it'll be nice to socialize a bit more. Aching to go see his daughter -- but wary of making Korra uncomfortable -- Hei reluctantly declined. In dreams, he saw Korra, Mai and Asami as if in a sumptuous watercolor painting. Imagined them at the restaurant, cozied under the multicolored glow of an expensive stained-glass lamp, sipping tea from colorful crockery. He dreamed, as sloppy brushstrokes filled out the scenery, that they were all relieved by his refusal. He saw Mai's face melting into blankness, a doll devoid of any recognition for him, before the dream shivered away like paper torn into soggy bits. ]
[ He tries not to think about it. Mostly, he keeps himself too busy to think. He's moved out of the dump he'd rented, to the forty-sixth floor of one of the twin high-rises that Future Industries has constructed downtown -- a sleek but affordable complex. He chooses a three-bedroom corner apartment. The place is bright, airy, larger than he needs so most of the rooms go unused. But he likes living on the top floor, with a glittering view of the city, above it all. Also, at the time he'd rented it, it was to his advantage to take a place that didn't fit the profile of what a loner, recently separated and with minimal needs, would take for an apartment. ]
[ (It wasn't his only reason -- sure. But it also wasn't the first time his wishful thinking had blurred so seamlessly with his operational instincts.) ]
[ He's still working with Future Industries. With -- not For. The quirky old tech he'd been assisting has freelanced into weapons manufacturing -- and Hei had resolved to go with him. The arms trade isn't his main interest, though. He's spent the months since returning from the Enterprise rebuilding and restructuring the network he'd left behind. In Republic City, the basis exists for a competitive, free market of intelligence. The police force needs it, the President's entourage need it, as do the Earth Kingdom, the Fire Nation, the Water tribes. The means to access terrorist cells, to infiltrate the dens of well-connected kingpins, to assassinate political rivals, to create elite military units. ]
[ He is working toward developing his own private op. Hell, ever since the furor in the Earth Kingdom, there are new outfits springing up all over, the equivalent of Halliburton and Blackwater and K-Crucible, and it's hard to tell where the governments end and the shady private sector begins. Buyers have got their choice of which faction to gather intelligence, manpower, artillery -- or cannon fodder -- from. Hei intends to make sure his product is better than best. ]
[ (He knows, if Amber were here, she'd be laughing at how his life is playing out.) ]
[ A few nights before the big day, his phone rings late, while he is in bed, his eyes getting heavy over a book. This time it is Korra, inviting him to Mai's birthday. Not a huge celebration -- just a small intimate gathering. Startled, Hei agrees -- before he can think twice about how stupid and heartbroken this will leave him once he's there. He doesn't want to socialize with Korra's friends -- or be reminded of the life he'd tossed away. Doubts, too, that he'll get much private daddy-daughter time with Mai. But it will be enough to see her. She's growing, little by little. He doesn't want her to have no concrete childhood memories of her father beyond their one-hour playtime on Fridays. ]
[ When he first approaches the Beach House, he thinks it has caught fire, but the vapor wafting out of the windows is sweet incense. Something stops him from just knocking on the door; maybe the bright undercurrents of people in the air. Peering through the window, he watches Korra bustle around, her gestures elegant and formalized, like a medieval dance, with a whole host of partners. Tenzin, Pema and the Air Babies. Jinora and Kai. Asami. Mako. Bolin and Opal. And in their midst, impossibly small, the glowy sparkle in her eyes outshining everything in the room, is Mai. ]
[ For a minute Hei just stares at her, as if he is watching some mimed play. His daughter, and Korra -- his best beloveds -- right there on the other side of the glass. A strange object lesson -- of everything he'd almost had, and foolishly squandered. ]
no subject
Yeah. [She stands up and follows him to the dining table. The delicious smell of food is enough to soothe most of her disappointment, at least. She plops down at the table and immediately shoves one of the empanadas in her mouth, moaning as her tongue explodes with flavor.]
Oh man, this is so good.
no subject
[ He'd just been waiting, like a boy standing at a fence in twilight surrounded by snow and emptiness and silence, looking at a road down which no one ever came. ]
[ Quietly, ]
I've packed a few for you to take home. With date congee for Mai.
[ It sounds like a subtle prod for her to leave. Except nothing about his manner is unwelcome. Sitting across from her -- chewing with steady precision at his empanadas -- his gaze is completely benign, a hint of chemical wonder overlapped by something close to pure, human absorption. ]
no subject
[Korra wishes she wouldn't. Wishes she didn't have to. Wishes there was nothing to figure out.]
You can't fuck this up. You can't. I want you in our lives but you can't fuck this up.
[She's babbling and high but completely sincere.]
no subject
[ But that isn't the terrible part. Worst is that the whole time he's careening off after his sister -- Mai has been left all alone. Not just all alone, she's just forgotten, like no one knew she'd been born, that she was there. He can't explain it; it's just a chilling low-down vibration in his gut, that certainty of dreams. When he finally notices her screaming -- which he's been hearing and ignoring all the time he's stumbling around trying to find his sister -- when he goes to her, bereft of Pai, disoriented and lost, he finds she's blue and cold and motionless. She isn't ... ]
[ Forcibly, he shakes it off. He knows it's only a dream. But he keeps thinking about how he'd been so caught up in his own disconnection, so tethered to his awful past, that he'd failed Mai. He can't even describe the shame, it's like there's a sick deck of cards in his head, the memories being endlessly shuffled and dealt. He can't make it stop. Because he didn't do right by Mai -- or Korra. First he wronged her and then he wronged his own innocent child. ]
[ He lets off a wavery breath, purses his lips. His eyes are on Korra, but he seems to be looking far away. There is an old sadness in his eyes, a grief hammered so hard into him that it is just part of him by now, as if he'd been bored tired of the world. ]
[ Softly, ]
You and Mai ... You're the only people that mean anything to me. I know ... I keep making things terrible for you. I keep losing myself, over and over. And each time it gets worse. I want to do better. But -- [ He dips his gaze, exhales a sigh that is shaky and strangely self-conscious. ] Unless I'm absolutely certain I can be that person ... It's better if you keep me at an arm's length. We can't pick up where we left off. But we can take things step by step.
no subject
Step by step. She stands up.] I'll make that list for you. Do you have something I can write on?
no subject
[ Then Korra rises, and a disappointment claims him like vertigo. Being freed from her harrowing gaze feels like being dismissed at the last minute from some longed-for stage performance, yet gives him a measure of tired calmness that has nothing to do with the drugs bubbling through his veins. ]
[ Fetching a notepad from the bedroom, with a pen, he hands them to her. ]
Here.
no subject
When would be a good day to bring her over next week?
no subject
[ He handles the strip of paper delicately, as if it contains a valuable code to crack an enemy safe. The whole scene carries a tinge of underwater surreality; he fights to keep his eyes away from the dappled rain-shadows at the window. The pattern seems to fill his mind, turning his thoughts into a blur. ]
[ Except it's impossible to look at Korra, either. This close to her, his entire anatomy is like a sentinel vibrating at attention, attuned to every digestive grumble and pheromonal spike of her body. Helpless, he watches the resignation change her face; the trick of her eyes which made them glass darkly to indigo basalt; the way her mouth folds down. He wishes he could say something gentle, consolatory -- except the words hang limp and wet as dishrags in his brain. ]
[ Instead, quietly, ]
Thank you. For stopping by.
[ For giving me another chance at all. ]
no subject
no subject
[ Each time he thinks of how she came to be -- something so sweet borne out of his despair and bitterness -- and the knowledge of that improbable beginning is a source of awe, like nothing he's ever experienced. ]
[ Rain clatters wetly against the glass. Hei feels himself losing focus in that tinny noise as he gets the tupperware boxes of empanadas, and a sealed bowl of Mai's congee. The idea of Korra's departing, and him being left in the enormous empty apartment, builds a quesy onrush in his belly. He staves it off with a reminder that he'll have Mai to himself later this week. ]
I hope it's soon.
[ Both in reply to Korra's words, and a shy confession of the truth -- even as his face stays at its most unreadable, a distance constructed more for his sake than hers. ]
no subject
Soon.
[She flees.]