Setting: after the City

[anatural]

THE GIST
When the door out ofpoly_chromatic is finished, Korra invites Hei to join her in her world. He brings a few other people along with him.

CHARACTERS
Korra | anatural
Jinora | bookbending
Hei | mortemscintilla
Yin | moonlitrequiem
Mao | maoser

Comments

>3

[mortemscintilla]

[ Hei has been a spy for a long time. It's reflex for him to read between the lines. Something big is brewing on the horizon. It's hangs in the air like a sour stench; it's there in the furtive glances between Tenzin and Korra's friends; it's there in the sort of rigid routine Korra is expected to keep here, a tautness that would make clocks look relaxed. Somehow it doesn't surprise Hei. It's seems written in the stars that he'll trade one war-torn world for another. He's been doing his own frequent, unobtrusive scans through the city for tidbits of news, for scuttlebutt on the latest movers and shakers. He lies low, and it's easy -- big cities swallow you whole, swallow your thoughts until all that's left is narrow-scoped awareness of the Now. There's so many things he needs to get a handle on anyway. The economy, the politics, the sociopsychological norms, the technology; everything you need to be familiar with when blending in is (was) your bread and butter. ]

[ Still, in his scant moments with Korra... Hei worries. ]

[ It's odd. In most ways, he's forgotten what worry is. He's had almost nothing else in his quarter-century alive, enough that it's become white-noise. A background buzz, easily ignored. He's learnt to carve out exits where there are none, to shoulder his way into dangerous terrains, to slither into different roles. Whatever allowed him to survive. Until now. Being in a world so different ... it re-introduces him to apprehension. He worries about Yin's safety. He worries about that damn cat. Most of all, he worries about Korra. Too quickly, he's come to understand her role in this world. To the ordinary crowd. it's as if she's the sort of creature who isn't human at all. They don't seem to see her as made out of the same ever-failing parts that other people are cobbled together from. He'd had inklings in the City of what The Avatar meant. But it is nothing to the reality that she is viewed as a tiny god, cast down to earth as if for penance among the fallen. ]

[ Hei knows better. ]

[ She's still so young. So damn vulnerable -- emotionally more than physically. Just because everything is relatively quiet right now doesn't mean there's no apocalypse around the corner. A million things could happen to take her away. From the world. From ... him. It's not the same fear he had for Pai. That was always immediate, pragmatic -- (can I feed her enough? do we have enough supplies? is she somewhere I can watch over her?) This is something else, warped and dark and formless. On some level, he knows he still sees her as an asset. Perhaps now, more than ever, since she's his most solid link in this new world. For that reason alone, he needs to keep Korra alive. Not just alive, but thriving. ]

[ Hearing footsteps, he blinks, abandoning his reverie. Korra is there, the sunlight making a lush corona of black-gold around her head. Hei hesitates, then says, in his halting vocabulary, ]

You're ... out early.

[alittlebent]

[She smiles a little as she settles across from him. Not cuddling up; she feels self-conscious these days about being affectionate with him where other people can see. Mako's made no secret of his resentment, even if he is dating Asami, and Tenzin seems to channel his confusion and uncertainty and those months of fear into a distrust of him. (It...probably doesn't help that he caught them half-naked that one time, and Korra had once again cursed Hei's tendency to strip her before undressing himself.)]

No, this is pretty standard Air Temple hours. Usually I'm meditating with Tenzin in his favorite spot. I thought I'd try something new today.

[She looks down at the books surrounding him.]

Let me guess -- you got these from Jinora.

[mortemscintilla]

[ He accepts her distance without rancour. As it is, they don't have a hope in hell of any real privacy here. Hei is far from modest -- the cramped atmosphere back in Heaven's War inured him to tame things like creaking cots and muffled grunts, condoms littered haphazardly on the floor and bodies silhouetted by lamplit tents, and wilder things like the circle jerks and bukkake brawls and pulling trains and body shots. Post-combat jack were a commonality; put a bunch of boys and girls together, and stress needed to be relieved. ]

[ Even so, he's one to value privacy, because in his former line of work any semblance of it you can snatch is precious. ]

[ Here, as a general rule, Hei follows the sentiment strictly. He stays mild in the face of Mako's brittle resentment -- because you'd have to be crazy not to miss Korra, even if you let her go. He's polite but not abrasively solicitous whenever Tenzin fixes his sharp gaze on him, or when he, or sometimes Pema, lean across the tea things on the low table to subject him to a rigorous interrogation, often alarming in its nosy specificity. Hei can't afford to be irritated. These people -- all of them -- are Korra's inner circle, and are as anxious for her as Hei might be for Pai. So he ignores scowls and sniggers of the White Lotus guards, is mindful of Korra's schedules and takes a greater note of prying eyes, not because there's something to hide but because some things? You have to learn how to keep. ]

[ Behind Korra, to the north side of the island, Aang's statue rises biblical and emerald against the sun; on the south side, skyscrapers rise in silvery pillars against the blue canvas of sky, framing the golden jewel box of the pro-bending arena. But Hei ignores the pretty view, in favor of the girl in front of him. ]

That girl is a walking encyclopedia.

[ His diction is formal -- like all polyglots, he segues into subtly different personalities according to the language -- but his wry admiration is sincere. ]

[alittlebent]

[If Korra knew how invasive their questions were, she would have some very harsh words for them. A part of her was raring for a fight, but since that argument with Tenzin after he caught them together, the others have been careful not to give her any excuse.]

A walk encyclopedia who loves her romances. [The words may be a bit of a jumble to him, since she speaks at a native's speed.] Have you read the one about the volcano yet?

[mortemscintilla]

[ Hei prefers to keep those matters to himself. Tempting as it is to drive a wedge between Korra and her family -- what better way to gather her close, to isolate her? -- that isn't Hei's game. Nor is he stupid. These people have powers -- of emotion and old loyalty and sheer familiarity -- that he can't touch. Part of him almost expects her to tire of him, sooner or later, once it sinks in that without the shared language, they don't have much in common besides an animalistic hankering for what's in the others' pants. He also recognizes that for all Tenzin's dislike of him, the man is making a shrewd effort not to antagonize him. He understands that if he were to abuse Hei to Korra, in her current frame of mind, he'd only drive her further into Hei's arms. ]

[ It's the sort of domestic squabbling and family politics Hei has no tolerance for. But for Korra's sake, he tries. Whatever direction their affair swoops -- or spirals -- toward, he's grateful she's allowed him here. Grateful that, in this colorful and chaotic place, he has a chance to step away from the shadow of his past. (He doesn't kid himself into believing that cloud will ever dissipate. But here, it might be able to lift reasonably high.) ]

[ It takes a moment to decipher Korra's words. (Here she seems to speak at double-speed, the phrases running together.) But once he's parsed her meaning, he says, ]

I have. [ A faint cringe. ] I think I prefer the Secret Tunnel song.

[alittlebent]

Just don't start singing it.

[The gongs sound, a call to meditation for the acolytes, and a reminder that Korra should be meditating herself. But she doesn't move. She's been meditating endlessly for weeks now, and her head hurts like she's been banging it against a brick wall. She's not ready to call it a quits, but she wants a break from it. And she misses Hei. Going from seeing each other every day, touching each other every day, to barely stealing a few moments together a week is kind of an adjustment. She's paid her meditation dues. She's allowed to have this.]

Did you figure out what to do with that computer thing your cat needs?

[mortemscintilla]

Will they throw me off the island if I do?

[ He ignores the resonating gongs, the notes going bronze as they hum in the air. Glances toward the coast, where a flock of migrating -- gargoyles? no -- cat-owls keep such perfect pace with the slow waves as to appear frozen in place, pinned like moths to the backdrop of sky. He knows all about Korra's rigorous meditation routines. Has overheard Tenzin's lectures, all endless didactic emphasis -- You must block all outside distractions. Feel nothing in order to experience everything. Set aside all material thoughts. Focus on the blah blah blah. ]

[ He understands a stunning skein of spirituality runs through the fabric of Korra's homeworld. But it sounds abysmally nu-age guru to a skeptic like Hei. Maybe, eventually, he'll change his tune. But for now he still maintains the boundaries and prejudices of his technological world. (Even so, he can't help but sense a certain desperation in the way Tenzin harangues Korra. It seems rooted in something much deeper than the pall of uncertainty that hovers in the atmosphere, palpable in the whispers of, The Avatar still can't bend the four elements. Somehow, Tenzin's exasperated concern is almost ... personal.) ]

[ Shaking it off, he focuses on Korra's question, ]

Mm. [ A nod, before he drops his gaze, stirring a page on his book with convincing idleness. ] It just needed electricity. And this place [ an error of verbiage: he calls it land instead of city ] has that.

[ It is, in fact, more industrialized than he'd anticipated. He can only assume Korra's hinkiness with machinery was related to the isolated compound she grew up in, and the hermetic nature of the Southern Water Tribe in general. ]

[alittlebent]

Good. Good. [She stalls a little. Consciously or not, mentioning Yin's cat makes a perfect transition to the subject of Yin, but she's still nervous. Yin said it wasn't an issue anymore, but he'd invited her to come with them and hadn't told Korra. And she hasn't exactly been available... Argh. Korra can't even put her finger on what she's scared of, except Mako & Asami got back together while she was gone and he'd made no promises and she's really fucking sick of love triangles.]

How's Yin settling in?

[mortemscintilla]

[ If Hei senses the conversation is building up to something, he doesn't let on. Even so, the linear quality of the questions makes him pause. Korra isn't one to ask How's the cat? and How's Yin? Not because she's too self-absorbed to care, but because if she's concerned, she'll check on both parties herself. He wonders what she's thinking about right now. Wonders what that unsteady, cliff-edge air of anxiety at her fringes is rooted in. (It's true he's made her no promises. But love doesn't mean promises and sweet nothings of yours-always-forever to him. It means loyalty, and a level of trust, because those things are infinitely more useful in a sharp-toothed world that tears apart anything soft.) ]

[ He hesitates, then sets the book aside. Leans forward, hands interlaced in his lap, to regard Korra's face. His own remains mild. ]

She's quiet. [ Quieter than usual, if truth be told, but he hasn't exactly had opportunities to have a Serious Talk with her. ] But she seems to be adjusting. The languages aren't a problem for her.

[ Largely because of her programming, but he has no intention of saying that. ]

[alittlebent]

[If only love were that simple to explain for her. She loves him, but she doesn't trust him. Not like that. Too many people have left her and changed their minds about her. It leaves her feeling shaky and fragile. (Not that she admits it, especially to herself.)]

I'm glad. [She takes a breath.] Why didn't you tell me you invited her?

[mortemscintilla]

[ If Hei could read her mind, he'd understand. He knows love can change you the way the sea changes the shorelines. In his instance it had made him into a monster, for Pai, only to have him shuck fragments of that steel-barbed shell, moment by moment, for Korra. For her it is different. She's learned disappointment from being in love. Learned insecurity and resentment. And yet somehow in the midst of those harsh lessons, she's allowed herself to stay with him. It makes him want to do everything he can to make her glad. But he's so terrible at it. His expertise lies in the opposite direction -- in misery, deception and death. ]

[ Why didn't you tell me you invited her? There's a beat, but to Hei's credit, he doesn't frown or look uneasy. Why hadn't he told Korra about Yin? That was simple. Because he was afraid what the collision of his two worlds, his two selves -- work and play -- would mean. He'd been a abashed by his feelings for Yin -- and by the realization that she might've wanted something more than friendship from him. So he'd tried to play the whole thing down. After all, things were crazy enough without having to navigate through a warped triangle. His intentions for Yin were clear-cut -- protect her, keep her alive. But that wasn't the case with his intentions for Korra. Still isn't. He has no point of reference for what they are doing. Their relationship -- this fragile and slow-moving anomaly -- isn't something that can survive in the pressures of reality for long. And he still can't bring himself to tell Korra how much he cares about her when there is so little to show for it. So he'd stayed silent, right until the last moment, when it was too late for her to turn Yin away. ]

[ However, he recognizes he can't do that now. ]

I wasn't -- [ He licks his lips, gaze flickering away for a moment. Finally, (simply), ] I wasn't sure you'd agree to it.

[alittlebent]

[Thinking about it, there's no possible answer to that question that could have made her happy. Or even just not hurt. But that one in particular touches on a recurring problem between them.]

So you didn't even give me a choice. [Her guts twist painfully, and a part of her wishes she hadn't brought it up because her mood hadn't been entirely terrible before but now she's sick with anger.] It's my world. [She doesn't say home. Too much has happened for anything to feel like home. Regardless, it's a bone-deep part of her.] You can't keep treating me like some obstacle to be worked around. I have the right to choose.

[She would have said yes. That's not the part that hurts the most by far, but it adds an extra sting. She likes Yin. Yin is her friend. And knowing that the other girl is from Hei's world, and knowing how awful his world is, of course she would have let her come here to be safe. Without question.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ Hei watches her blue stare harden, and it's like the transition from sky to sea, throwing off the tenuous equilibrium of her face. When she speaks there is a bitter kind of anger in her voice. He feels something roil in him -- chagrin, apology -- but his body is pinned in place. For a moment he's outside of himself, unable to believe his own lack of emotion. Part of him -- a very large part -- wishes he'd cower like a Nazi war criminal brought to justice. But there is no cringing, no contrition. He knows his expression is one of a man who's stumbled across a mildly taxing quandary in a math book, and is just as mildly intrigued in formulating a solution. ]

[ It's true, he didn't consider her feelings. Didn't care to give her a choice. Not out of spite, but because he's so used to being Mr. Unilateral Decision. To preemptively maneuvering himself around obstructions, so he doesn't have to waste time tackling them head-on. But he can't keep doing that. He understands it, even as he doesn't know how to implement it. It's one thing to be intellectually aware of what sharing and cooperation entail. It's completely another to do it. He's had no practice at being an actual, well-meaning human being. In letting the kindness flow seamlessly instead of in jerky stops and starts. ]

[ Hei takes a breath, exhales slowly. When he speaks, his voice is quiet. ]

I know you do. But ... on the off-chance you refused, I couldn't risk it. Yes, that sounds awful. But it's one thing to let your friend come along on someone's say-so. It's another if your friend is counting on you and has nowhere else to go.

[ And I've never trusted anyone's kindness to last. That, he doesn't say. ]

[alittlebent]

On the off-chance... Yin is my friend! What kind of person do you think I am? And that's not even the point. If it was that important to you, you could have told me you wouldn't come without her. You could have gone somewhere else if I was really as horrible as you seem to think I am. But you can't not talk to me.

[Who knows how much of that Hei actually catches; she's too upset to moderate her language. (There may also be a small, childish sense of if he’s not going to be mindful of my feelings, why should I be mindful of him?)]

[mortemscintilla]

[ Korra's voice is a current of heat in the air. Hei breathes out slowly, feeling like there are grey swirls of smoke blooming in the space between them. Her words are a wash-in-wash-out of noise, too blurred together. They tumble untidily past his ears into the space of his brain, so he needs a moment to untangle them, like a clump of sonic wires. Part of him knows the smart thing would be to apologize -- or pretend to. Pretty lies beat the tedious truth each and every time. But he's unwilling to treat her that way anymore. Granted, omission is just as bad as manipulation. But she needs to understand that he doesn't know how to operate on the brash honesty Korra wears with the same blitheness as her skin. ]

[ In a voice that's as careful as it is halting, ]

I don't think you're horrible. And I know I should have told you. But -- [ His brow creases, lip bit. ] You have to understand. I couldn't take her back home. They're all dead -- everyone we knew there. I as good as led them to their deaths. I didn't want ... I had to take her somewhere completely different. But also where people like us [ strange how easy that word comes: us ] wouldn't be hunted. Your world was -- is -- the best option. If I told you, I would have been pressuring you. And if I said I wouldn't go without Yin, it would've sounded like an ultimatum.

[ He lets off a tired breath, cutting his gaze away. ]

Besides. You have a million reasons to be suspicious of me. I didn't want to make things any harder than they already were.

[alittlebent]

An ultimatum would have been better than this. [At least with an ultimatum, she would've had a say in the matter. It's not like she had invited him to come here because she couldn't live without him.] I just --

[The gong sounds again, signaling the end of morning meditations and the start of breakfast. She stands up, not even angry anymore, just sad. It's not even an emotion; it's more like a leech on her back.]

I have to meditate. Tell Pema I'll eat breakfast later.

[mortemscintilla]

Korra --

[ The gong cuts him off, bright and thrumming through the air. In its wake, he watches something in Korra diffuse, a quiet sadness seeping across her face. When she gets up, he's prepared to nod and let her go. But he also realizes that it's impossible to want so desperately for them to have something better than endless bickering and mistrust when he is always carrying the resignation of that scenario's impossibility inside him. He wants to be honest with her, yes, but he cannot give up the control that being honest entails. He has to stop constructing rules for himself, and clinging to them doggedly because, without them, he fears the whole of his existence will collapse in chaos. ]

[ Reaching out, he curls his fingers lightly around her wrist. Not restraint, but a clear sign that he's not yet ready for her to go. ]

[ Gently, but with a directness that cuts to the quick of her insecurities: ]

If you think I brought Yin here because there's something going on between us, it isn't true.

[ It's a half-truth: his feelings for Yin encompass considerably beyond what one feels for a teammate. But he has no intention of screwing things up by acting on those feelings. That's as much for Yin's sake and Korra's -- as it is for his own sanity. ]

[alittlebent]

[One of them, anyway. She's got insecurities to spare. She doesn't jerk her wrist away, but she doesn't seem soothed by it.]

I know. She told me. [She says it as though that had never been an issue for her, even though it very much had been. It just pales in comparison to that issue of choice.]

I've been telling her for months that she should confess to the guy that she liked. She never mentioned that he was seeing someone else. Did she even know about us, or was that how she found out too? Because that's cruel.

[mortemscintilla]

[ Because that's cruel. For a moment Hei feels a bristle of irritation, but he smoothes it over, reminding himself she's not out of line. Lightly, his thumb strokes the juncture of veins at her wrist -- but it's more contemplative than caressing. In the bright sunlight, Korra has the same oval-boned face as a lot of Water Tribe women he's seen in Republic City -- a startling contrast of dark skin and blue, blue eyes. But the difference is in everything going on under that surface, nuances expressed in the smallest movements and dilations, like a secret code only he can parse. Despite the charged atmosphere, the awkward conversation, he thinks it's so good just to be this close to her, to see the blue coins of light glinting in each of her eyes. ]

[ After a beat, he slots his fingers through hers. Keeps his gaze on the interlaced digits, light on dark, when he speaks, ]

She's known for a while.

[ What Hei didn't realize -- not until it was too late -- was that she had feelings for him that were entirely removed from Doll-like limitations. Feelings that, if circumstances were different, if he weren't so taken with Korra, he might've allowed to develop into something stronger. Might have reciprocated. ]

[ His voice is logy, as if his throat is packed in wool. ] I'm sorry I didn't tell you about her. [ It was operational necessity, fine. But Korra had earned at least a fraction of trust. She deserved it, whatever his reservations. ]

[alittlebent]

[She thaws a little at the apology, signaling her forgiveness with a gentle squeeze of his hand. The sadness is still there, leeching away at her energy, but she tells herself that at least they're all safe. However she feels about how Yin came along, she's glad that the other girl isn't alone or somewhere dangerous. (Besides, Pema seems to adore her.)]

I don't want any more secrets like that.

[mortemscintilla]

[ She squeezes his hand, and there's a sudden looseness of the locked feeling in his chest, like a cork being popped. It's a quiet print of warm lips when he kisses the center of her palm, curling his fingers in a light squeeze around hers before letting go. ]

There won't be.

[ At least not where another girl is concerned. Monogamy is, in many ways, an impractical concept for Hei. Somewhere deep in most people's hearts lies a forlorn belief that they alone should be enough for the person they love. Consequently, they keep getting hurt. Because no one, alone, is ever enough for anyone else. And even if no one strays physically, they'll stray mentally, or cyberwise, or whatever other way their guilt ridden brains can manage it. ]

[ Still, if Hei can choose a path that will offer Korra the least amount of disappointment and heartbreak, he'll take it. ]

[ As to other secrets, well. Most she's too young and sheltered to even comprehend. Others she'd never be able to accept without wrenching away from him in horror. Those, he'll do his best to protect her from. But at the end of the day, secrets are your armor and leverage. Abandon them and you're at the mercy of the elements. ]

[alittlebent]

[Notice how she said like that. She knows better than to think Hei will never keep a secret from her ever again. But she doesn't want more secrets that will deprive her of the ability to choose. She doesn't want to feel like she's not a person to him.]

Try not to hog all the food at breakfast. [The smile she offers him is a little weak but wholly sincere.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ She is a person to him. A terrible, beautiful, wonderful, profoundly aggravating person. No one can quite torment him like Korra. But it's also true that it's not always possible to 'see' the person you want as they see themselves. It's difficult to translate the interior to the exterior or vice versa. It's two different channels of reality. But Hei has been trained to peek in and see, at least as far as he can, what other people are seeing on that Other channel. It doesn't always fully translate, but it can inform him. It can give him a little more data than he has at his disposal if he doesn't look at all. ]

[ So he tucks this conversation carefully away, his brain buzzing through its programming before it returns him to homeostasis. The smile he offers her is more solid, albeit restrained. ]

I'd hog less of it if I got omelette or congee once in a while.

[ A man needs protein, okay? ]

[alittlebent]

[That gets a little chuckle out of her.]

You're telling me. I'd forgotten how strictly vegetarian the food here is. [Meat. Oh how she misses meat. Meatbuns. Seal jerky. Chicken skewers. Mmmmmm.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ Hei's lips twitch, not at the laughable quality of the food here so much as the warmth that Korra's chuckle sparks in his belly. In the distance, he can see a handful of air acolytes, their robes splotches of red and orange, drifting down the stone pavilion pathway. Keeping his gaze averted, he focuses on Korra, pitching his voice low. ]

We should head to the city. Sometime when Tenzin's distracted. Put a dent in the restaurants' meat supply.

[ In the short time he's been here, he's already homed in on several of the nicer eateries. ]