[ He jerks back as if singed, and it is as if she is all fire, as if her body is the channel for a heat trapped and vented from the earth's core. A quiet hurt suffuses him, but it's tailed by keen shards of acceptance and inevitability. It's too soon for closeness. Especially in light of what she'd walked in on yesterday. He wonders if she'll ever stop seeing it -- that flayed red grostquerie he'd never have wanted her to lay eyes on. Wonders if, as time passes, it'll lose its concreteness, dissolving into the layers of violence that made it up. Or maybe the opposite will happen? Maybe her affection for him will dissipate instead, extinguishing as unexpectedly as it'd sprung up. ]
[ The idea comes with a sorrow that is shockingly physical. Fuck -- he doesn't want that. He wants Korra: to touch her, to kiss her, to comfort her if he can, to fight with her if he has to. He understands his own twisted wellspring of love at this moment as he's never known it when they are merely happy. ]
[ Then she rushes to the bathroom -- and his mini-satori is replaced by concern. ]
no subject
[ The idea comes with a sorrow that is shockingly physical. Fuck -- he doesn't want that. He wants Korra: to touch her, to kiss her, to comfort her if he can, to fight with her if he has to. He understands his own twisted wellspring of love at this moment as he's never known it when they are merely happy. ]
[ Then she rushes to the bathroom -- and his mini-satori is replaced by concern. ]
Hey...
[ It's Are you okay? in one syllable. ]