under the stars

[anatural]

WHO: Korra & Hei
WHAT: Their first night in the Spirit World and their first chance for an actual reunion. (nsfw)

[They trek for hours without saying anything, over terrain that varies with neither rhyme nor reason. Sometimes in a desert, other times in a forest, other times across a plain that seems to stretch for miles until suddenly a mountain appears. Hei doesn't ask why they're going the direction they are, for which Korra is grateful because she doesn't know the answer. She doesn't know anything. They're walking not to get anywhere in particular, but to give Korra a chance to figure out what to do, because she can't think while standing still.

Where would Raava have gone? Is there some way she can communicate with the light spirit? Is there anyone in the Spirit World who doesn't completely despise her?

Evening starts to fall, offering no answers, only a reminder that her body is human and, like it or not, needs rest. Luckily(?) they're in a forest. Plenty of material to make camp with.]

We should stop here for the night. [She has to cough a little mid-sentence; her voice rough from disuse.]

Comments

[anatural]

Hnn. [Well, it's better than last time she said it at least. No recoil, and he's not leaving again. It's really the best outcome that could be expected. (A small part of her still wished he'd say the words back, and a smaller part wondered if her mistake with Bolin is the reason he doesn't. Irrational, yes, but since when does a fear have to be rational?)

She forces the turmoil aside and makes herself draw comfort from his touch. It's tempting to try & get another round out of him, recapture the glow that his sudden interrogation had destroyed, but he's right. If they're only going to have a week to find Raava, they need to focus all of their energies on that.

She nuzzles closer to him and closes her eyes, hoping that sleep comes soon.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ He wishes he could tell her that his reticence has nothing to do with her ill-fated fling. As far as he's concerned, that's irrelevant. But he can focus on nothing but the warm clasp of their bridged bodies. Smoothing Korra's hair as she drowses, he enjoys its soft tickle, the electrifying way it rubs across his palm. All of her seems to have gotten inside him the same way; her fierce little spirit dances behind the bars of his ribs, sparking him, possessing him. In reply, it's as if his entire body is a secret he can only tell her here, in those slipping moments between wakefulness and sleep, where there is nothing close to sane or rational. No need for careful tactics, no need to pull punches. He can hone her edge and she can bleed against his. ]

[ But not to death. He hopes, in time, she'll learn how not to bleed to death because of him. ]