[ Once upon a time, Hei thought the same thing. That people could move beyond their pasts. That he could overcome the darker facets of his nature. Be more than the iceman, the Reaper. The killer inside him who'd been running his life and was constantly, insidiously trying to regain his position in the driver's seat of his psyche. When he came to Republic City, he'd wanted to be done with all that, out of the life, free of the past, the killer deliquesced, deceased. ]
[ Except that's easier said than done. ]
[ After the war between the Water Tribes ... after the deaths, the chaos, the machinations, he'd realized something. How was he going to get out of the life while Korra was such an important figure in this world? How -- while her very position demanded that he stay vigilant for threats to her life. When every negative opinion or threat to the Avatar was constantly, insidiously cuing and inciting his latent killer-instincts? And why should he even want to, when her devotion to her role made it clear she was as much Avatar as she was Korra -- which meant that nothing in their lives could be simple. ]
[ Hei doesn't know. He's not sure if he's rationalizing or justifying. All he knows is that he loves Korra. That he wants to keep her safe. To do that, he has to peel back his layers of docility. Bare the sharp edges. No one is giving prizes for good behavior. Not here, not in his world, not anywhere. You want to protect something, you have to take risks, and the survivors are the ones who don't balk at getting their hands bloody. Maybe it would be nice if life was another way. ]
[ But it is how it is. ]
[ That night, he isn't surprised when Korra doesn't return. Refusing to let sadness (loneliness) catch up with him and kick him flat, he flees the empty house and seeks out a dim, bottled, greasy-wooded bar. He dives into the mix of alcohol and bitterness, a slowly-blossoming train wreck. Getting into a brawl with three fire-benders isn't part of the plan. But once he gets started, the monster in him won't stop until the place is a shambles and every threat quashed. ]
[ He staggers home at dawn, a thin lip of sunlight at the gray horizon. Sits huddled in a pool of shadow on the top step of the porch, cradling his pounding head. Korra's words, spoken hours ago, still crawl on him and will not be shaken off. Acts that had been performed at the bar with a cruel, determined zest now carry him back half a lifetime, making him feel like that vicious seventeen-year-old soldier with no emotions and no limits. ]
[ He's come to this but he has no idea how. Alcohol doesn't explain everything. ]
no subject
[ Except that's easier said than done. ]
[ After the war between the Water Tribes ... after the deaths, the chaos, the machinations, he'd realized something. How was he going to get out of the life while Korra was such an important figure in this world? How -- while her very position demanded that he stay vigilant for threats to her life. When every negative opinion or threat to the Avatar was constantly, insidiously cuing and inciting his latent killer-instincts? And why should he even want to, when her devotion to her role made it clear she was as much Avatar as she was Korra -- which meant that nothing in their lives could be simple. ]
[ Hei doesn't know. He's not sure if he's rationalizing or justifying. All he knows is that he loves Korra. That he wants to keep her safe. To do that, he has to peel back his layers of docility. Bare the sharp edges. No one is giving prizes for good behavior. Not here, not in his world, not anywhere. You want to protect something, you have to take risks, and the survivors are the ones who don't balk at getting their hands bloody. Maybe it would be nice if life was another way. ]
[ But it is how it is. ]
[ That night, he isn't surprised when Korra doesn't return. Refusing to let sadness (loneliness) catch up with him and kick him flat, he flees the empty house and seeks out a dim, bottled, greasy-wooded bar. He dives into the mix of alcohol and bitterness, a slowly-blossoming train wreck. Getting into a brawl with three fire-benders isn't part of the plan. But once he gets started, the monster in him won't stop until the place is a shambles and every threat quashed. ]
[ He staggers home at dawn, a thin lip of sunlight at the gray horizon. Sits huddled in a pool of shadow on the top step of the porch, cradling his pounding head. Korra's words, spoken hours ago, still crawl on him and will not be shaken off. Acts that had been performed at the bar with a cruel, determined zest now carry him back half a lifetime, making him feel like that vicious seventeen-year-old soldier with no emotions and no limits. ]
[ He's come to this but he has no idea how. Alcohol doesn't explain everything. ]