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

[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. ]

[alittlebent]

[It's dizzying how she can be so angry with him and then, just like that, everything is fine again. But she doesn't think too deeply about it.]

Or we could just go. It's not like he can stop us. [He wouldn't be happy about it, but Korra's long since begun to chafe under his constant supervision. Doing something despite Tenzin's wishes doesn't sound bad to her at all.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ The lack of warning between bickering and bliss, the shift without sign, or understandable symptom, never ceases to amaze Hei; the ease with which they slip back and forth between the two is sometimes frightening. But that's the way it is with them -- like a tropical storm. What makes it bearable, what makes it good, is that when the foul weather passes, it leaves something brilliant in its wake. ]

[ His face is solemn, despite the hint of irrepressible humor on his face. ]

What? Right now?

[ Not that he minds, but he can tell it's fuelled as much by a sense of childish rebellion as it is by a need to breathe on Korra's part. Tenzin may not take his disapproval out on her later, but Hei suffers no illusions that the man will begin viewing him as Public Enemy No. 1. ]

[alittlebent]

[She almost says Maybe another time, but she can hear Tenzin shouting for her and there's a sudden burst of resentment. She gets that she was missing for months and now he's paranoid, but his concern is smothering.]

Yeah. Why not? [Besides, assuming they didn't get into another explosive argument, spending time with him might help ease the ache inside she can't identify.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ A part of Hei recognizes that he shouldn't be encouraging this behavior. Not if he wants to get on Tenzin's good side (does the man even have one?). But Korra's presence fills him with a cloying bittersweetness, like dark chocolate seeped in alcohol. The idea of slipping away for a while, unencumbered by plans and schedules and the stagnant routines of the island -- getting lost, staying lost -- it is so hideously tempting. ]

[ There's a beat, before Hei thumbs his books shut, setting them neatly aside. ]

All right.

[ Hopefully they won't send out a search party. ]

[alittlebent]

[You should at least tell Tenzin where you’re going, a part of her thinks, but that would give him the chance to say "no." And then they'd fight, and she's tired of fighting, and she's tired of reporting to him like she isn't someone who lived for a year and a half without adult supervision.

So she just reaches out for his hand.]

Come on. I think the ferry's leaving soon.

[mortemscintilla]

[ Hei wonders if it feels like a doll's house to her -- trying to fit into the neat little cubbyholes of her usual girly, daughterly life. As if she hasn't spent the past year by herself, making her own choices for better or worse, smearing blood on her hands, dropping in and out of jail cells, rubbing shoulders with killers, engaging in risky sex in twice as risque venues. Now here she is, buzzing like a honeybee trapped in a tin can. It's how Pai must've felt, he realizes, when she'd been tossed back to the City. Going from escape velocities and glorious bloodbaths to careful schedules in suffocating suburbia. No wonder she'd been miserable. ]

[ He doesn't say any of that, though. Just threads his fingers through Korra's. ]

[ It feels both juvenile and naughty, slipping off the island and onto a boat. The sun has slid across the sky to hang above the blue-green columns of skyscrapers -- a study of sharp angles and clean lines. To the north the Silk Road Bridge is bent against the sky, pale sunlight winking off its spine. As they near the city, approaching the dock, the boat splashes through waves shimmering with chemical rainbows -- like any industrial town, there will be dumpsites near the waterline, and old poisons always bubbling up. ]

[ Stepping off the gangplank, the air crisply salted in his lungs, Hei glances at Korra. ]

Pick a direction.

[alittlebent]

[They don't talk much on the boat ride over, which is kind of nice. It feels like the only thing she's done more than meditate since coming home has been talking, telling the same stories over and over again. It's nice to just sit on the boat, listen to the waves, and simply be. It's almost disappointing when they reach the shore, like a return to reality. Everybody in Republic City knows what she looks like, who she is. She instinctively takes out her ponytail, her hairpieces, and even her armband, and shoves them in her pocket. Maybe it'll help, maybe it won't, but it's the best disguise she has right now.

He asks his question and she closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and then points in a random direction.]

That way.

[mortemscintilla]

[ Korra points in the direction of the marketplace, and Hei hitches a shoulder in agreement. There's a blink as she lets her hair tumble loose, and slips off the signature armband, before it dawns: Oh. Right. While Hei operates on security through obscurity, he recognizes that it's not so simple for Korra. In this city, she's iconic. Like a rock star or a high paid athlete, with all those people wanting to know her, basking in her presence, jockeying for her attention, an explosion of media flashbulbs, newspaper articles and radio shows erupting in her wake. It is discomfiting, alarming. In some ways, he supposes there are benefits to the remoteness of Air Temple Island, and the privacy it offers. ]

[ Still, privacy is one thing. Isolation is another. ]

[ Slipping her arm through his, he takes her at a steady clip through the streets. All around them, the buildings shoot up in jigsaw columns, the tips of golden spires and the wings of the swallowtail roofs standing out sharply against the edgeless blue. In contrast, the market is close and hot-packed -- stuffed to the brim with brilliant colors. The stalls -- selling everything from bootlegged rice wine to spices to fruits to fresh fish to antiques to clothes -- are having volume wars as the faded cotton awnings flap in the breeze. It reminds Hei of the Ameyoko alley in Tokyo. He plunges into the warren of stalls, heading for the heart of the market, Korra's hand in his. Among the jostling pedestrians, hidden by the hypnotic barrage of sensory stimuli, it's easier to blend in. Fans of stick-incense in rich jewel colors flash past, replaced by highly polished bronze statuettes and burners that gleam as the sunlight strikes them. Kimonos and scarves of every multicolor hue and weave drift by and over them. ]

[ Stopping at a particularly chock-full stall, Hei glances at Korra. ]

You'll need a disguise.

[alittlebent]

[She's already wearing a fake mustache.]

Like this?

[mortemscintilla]

[ He blinks, blank-faced. ]

Not unless you're aiming for the post-op ladyboy look.

[ He fingers the silk weaves on the rack full of scarves. Putters around, choosing from pink to pale green to midnight blue, until he settles on a bright red number with gold and silver embroidered paisleys in the Fire Nation style. In addition, he buys a dark, wide-brimmed hat with a bright sprig of carnations pinned to the base, and two plain metal hairpins. The harried-looking stall owner seems mightily relieved to be selling something to him after having to put up with his obsessive pawing of her merchandise. Turning to Korra, Hei gestures, ]

Turn around. I'll pin your hair up.

[ Face it. With, or without the distinctive triple-ponytail combination, she's pretty easy to recognize. ]

[alittlebent]

You're no fun. [Half-hearted grumble as she puts the mustache away. Not even a smile? Tough crowd. She makes a little face at the hat he picks up, but lets him do what he will with her hair. He's the master of disguise, after all.]

[mortemscintilla]

That's why I keep you around.

[ It's quiet and dry, but there's a dim spark of amusement in Hei's eyes. Korra can't see it, of course. But the old woman at the stall -- short and stocky with a dark, high-cheekboned face -- watches them with an unabashed humor. Or is it satire? Hei has a feeling she already knows all about who Korra is, and what they're trying to accomplish. ]

[ Pinning Korra's hair in a tight updo, he leaves a few dark waves floating around her shoulders. Settles the hat on her head, angled rakishly so her face is bisected by the line of shade made by the brim. Unfurling the red scarf he drapes it around her neck, cool silk on warm skin. Almost playfully, he holds each end, sliding it ticklishly back and forth over her nape before he ties it in a neat knot. The woman at the stall cackles, saying something in the sharp city dialect, but as Hei's listens to the words, he begins to pick up the nuances in the tones and pronunciation that make this speech pattern similar to the Wu dialect of Shanghai and the more standard Mandarin back in his world. ]

[ Then he realizes she's saying, That's how boys in my village would declare themselves to a girl. ]

[ Trying not to blanch, he edges back. Clearing his throat, he gestures Korra to a small mirror hanging on the awning. ]

Well?

[alittlebent]

[Korra, for whom the City dialect is quite familiar (if not native), has already gone gray. Why would you say things like that?!]

Yeah. Looks great. Let's go. [She doesn't want to stick around to hear whatever raunchy comment the woman clearly looks ready to make.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ Hastily, Hei pays the old woman for the goods. It's not money from his chores at the Air Temple. He's helped out there, however possible -- kitchen duty, guard-duty, gardening, cleaning. But, being on sufferance, and barely tolerated by Tenzin, he knows he doesn't have a right to refuse. At least until he's on his two feet. Instead, he's managed to earn steady cash at the power plants -- sometimes a little extra since wielding electricity doesn't have jack shit to do with his qi reserves. The foreman and workers were nonplussed -- even hostile -- at first, largely because of his strange accent and his bizarre style of 'bending.' On Hei's part, exposing his ability for something besides wetwork had felt like breaking open the seal to a Murphy's Box -- anticipating anything and everything to go wrong. After years at playing at a helpless civilian, the idea of exposing even a fraction of his true nature seemed incongruous. ]

[ Still, for all its dopplering reverbs of deja vu, Korra's world isn't his. The rules are different. ]

[ Slipping his hand into hers, he guides her away from the stalls. Drifts through the maze of crowds and colors, until a faint waft of fried buns greets them nearby. His stomach clamors, almost on cue. ]

...Meat...

[ By his tone, it might be manna from heaven. ]

[alittlebent]

Meat. [Her voice overlaps with his, and she looks at him with a wry, slightly abashed smile.

But no time for embarrassment! FOOD! She tugs him (or is tugged) to the stall.]

5 buns please!

[mortemscintilla]

[ Hei glances at Korra, then just as quickly jerks his gaze away, two red flags splashed across his cheekbones. He does, however, agree. Now isn't the time for embarrassment. He lets her steer him to the stall, where the pot of baozi releases a rich scent of beef and ginger, adding another texture to the sensory richness piled up in the marketplace. When Korra says 5 buns, he snorts, an eyebrow quirked. Fishing into his pockets, he hands the oily-faced vendor a small clump of yuan. ]

I'll have three egg pancakes, eight fried-dough strips, a bowl of coconut milk congee, ten of those steamed pork buns and a cup of noodles with none of the salty peanuts.

[ The vendor, slack-jawed, stares at him. Hei stares back, blinks, then remembers what he's missing. ]

Oh. And a tall glass of mango shake.

[ Feeeeeed. Him. ]

[alittlebent]

He'll eat it all. Trust me. And a cup of lychee juice, please!

[It takes her a moment to register the yuan that Hei had given the man, and to remember the money that he'd used to pay for her disguise.]

Where are you getting the money for all this? [Not knowing, of course, about his factory work. Hey, his state of employment hasn't exactly been high priority in the times they've seen each other recently.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ While the vendor assembles their breakfast, the plumes of steam and sizzling snaps from the wok muffling his mutters of Kids these days smoking too much of the hard stuff, Hei plucks two sticks of fatty pork smeared in sweet chili sauce to tide himself over. ]

[ At Korra's words, he tears into the stick, stops mid-chew, then swallows. Somehow, the question seems strange. Perhaps because she'd never asked where his cash flowed to and from in the City -- although it was clear the cafe didn't supplement all of it. It was fed by investments in the Underground -- the murkier the better. Compared to the lattice of networks there, or the half-dozen or so private accounts back home, all loaded with slush funds or skimmed budgets from Syndicate ops, Republic City is surreal for him. Like starting from scratch. ]

[ Still, it's not too bad. To get enough sleep, to explore new territories, to learn the language, to establish contacts: these are the sorts of things he doesn't neglect to do here. Compared to the curses of the City, or the fugitive pressures at home, it's a cake walk. And the factory work, well ... it's monotonous and dirty. But if it lets him lie in on a weekday morning and get up when he damn well chooses (all right, to be fair, it's habitual for Hei to get up with the first rays of sunlight) then he counts himself as lucky. ]

[ Tearing with gusto into another piece of sweet grilled pork, he says, ]

Nothing illegal.

[ Not yet, anyway. (Give him a month.) ]

[alittlebent]

Well good, because that would be awkward.

[Even though she worked to pay rent in the City, Korra hadn't yet developed a sense of what jobs paid how much. As far as she knew, his job at the café did cover everything. Nor had she really thought too hard about it, since there were plenty of other things to think about.

Here, the money is just a reminder that she really has no idea what he does with his time here, other than study the books Jinora gives him and help out some with chores.]

I just didn't know you had a job.

[mortemscintilla]

Only if you get caught.

[ A quip, almost, as his lips quirk at the edges. But his tone is solemn. He may be a civilian in Republic City. But Hei still has the sensibilities of a Contractor. He still believes in maintaining a front of dependable, hard-working respectability -- restaurant jobs, factory work, dockwork, clerkships, book-keeping -- while accessing his real liquid income from several belowground channels. No matter which strange new environment he finds himself in, he's rarely hard-up for long. ]

[ Anyway, often, during his treks across the city, he's seen sooty-faced, haggard men and women trudging down the street on their way to the factories. Poor ugly bastards and frumpy old biddies, almost all of them non-benders: they spend their daylight hours drudging in the scalding heat for next to nothing, then come home to screaming wives and too many brats to feed, or drunken husbands who knock them from one wall to the other. If this is what it means to be 'upright', and what Hei specializes in is 'illegal'... ]

[ Well, what did God -- or whoever's up there -- give you brains for, if not to save you from senseless donkey-work? ]

[ He doesn't say that to Korra, of course. He just reaches out, gently looping a strand of her hair around his finger, watching the dark of it glitter in the sunlight. ]

It's factory work. Nothing too exciting.

[ He's fortunate he managed to get it at all, owing to his ability to 'bend.' If he'd been sweet, simple Li, he wouldn't have been so blessed. ]

[alittlebent]

[It takes her a moment to make the connection.]

Oh. [His power would look kind of like lightning bending wouldn't it? She tilts her head curiously as she thinks. She's never thought much about his power before -- has gone out of her way to not think about it, honestly, considering how they first met and the associations with Amon. But now she feels...not safe, exactly, but like it has another side. It's not just a deadly weapon. It's multi-faceted, like Hei.]

Can you do fire too, or just electricity?

[mortemscintilla]

Just electricity.

[ Some men at the factory have offered to show Hei -- assuming (correctly?) that he had no teachers to refine his 'fire-bending', and that his precise but somewhat narrow-scoped expertise on lighting-bending is the result of lack of opportunities -- how to expand his style at choice dojos. Others have suggested healers who'll be able to unblock whatever chakra they assume is interfering with his being a full-fledged fire-bender. Hei's told them, politely, that he'll think about it. But the truth is, all of this stuff is so implausible to him. Even here. Hei is a dismal pragmatist. Sweat, money, blood and lies in the real world: these are the things he understands and can wrap his head around. In his homeworld, he'd had more pressing dangers to deal with than the shadowy, undefined threat posed by stoppered spirituality. ]

[ But, again, the rules are different here. Ignorance in any sphere is a dangerous thing. One stupid move against a stronger opponent could put him in a coma. Or kill him. Which is why -- out-of-depth as the spiritualism of Korra's world leaves him -- he understands it's important to keep an open mind. ]

Xing. She was the one who could -- [ He breaks off, his gaze going unfocused, realizing it's the first time since their separation that he's mentioned Pai. In absent third person. In past-tense. An ache constricts his chest; he has to cough to breathe. ] She could do things with her powers I've never seen.

[ He almost adds, Because she was smart enough to accept her abilities as a part of her nature. Unlike me. I used them as a trump card, for fear of over-reliance. ]

[alittlebent]

That's so weird. [The words are out of her mouth before she considers the context, and she flinches before lightly bumping his shoulder in apology.] I mean, I've never heard of a firebender who could bend lightning but not fire. [She almost says I mean, I know you’re not a firebender, but remembers where they are and keeps her mouth shut on that regard.] During the Hundred Years War, only the Fire National royals knew how to bend lightning. It's a very advanced, specialized technique, but it all comes from the same source.

[mortemscintilla]

[ Her words aren't insulting, and he certainly doesn't perceive them as such. Instead he hitches a shoulder, his voice pitched low over the clamor of the marketplace. ]

Maybe that means I need to try different techniques. [ Pai's power has a range of different uses, after all. From matter transmutation to molecular oscillation, destruction to healing, intangibility to creation. But even after inheriting her ability, Hei has been able to grasp only the tip of its coldly-glittering iceberg. He doesn't have his sister's effortless talent to channel her energies at the flip of a switch. For Hei, it's always been a matter of intense concentration and focus, on shutting off the enormous honeycomb of thought-processes in his brain. ]

[ Keeping his gaze averted from Korra, he chews open-mouthed on the skewered meat, letting the cooling air in. ]

Still. It's not that different where I'm from. Everything is made up of four elements. Carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, nitrogen. It corresponds with earth, fire, air and water.

[ A pause, as he mulls over the similarities between benders and Contractors -- the biophoton emissions versus the concept of inner light. Dryly, he says, ]

Maybe I'm just lacking a good teacher to show me how it's done.