[ Hei's gaze, in its broad, casual scan of the territory, has already ascertained the likeliest spot Naga would be tethered. He can pick up the stress-lines of burgeoning plans on Korra's face. But when she lifts a hand to her belly, it's suddenly impossible for him to function tactically. He thinks of the first and only glimpse he'd had of her, after the miscarriage. Whey-faced, doped-drowsy, her belly, thick, empty, the wad of blood-moist padding between her legs. He remembers he'd wanted to touch her, except there'd been a cold fierce tickle in his bones -- something like a scream made flesh. ]
[ For a moment, just a moment, he'd felt that lost child in his arms, alive and whole. Looking up at him out of Korra's blue eyes. Dainty and pretty like Pai had been, wrapped in her red blanket. He could smell that milky scent that would come off the top of her head, could feel the small hand clutch at his finger. The little mouth bubbling. All that warmth, cleaving to him, needing him. Needing the non-throat-slitting-blade-whetting-battle-scheming part of him. The part that is full of humanity. ]
[ He glances away, his face set in resistant lines. But he can feel something hot and wet trying to surface behind his eyes, so unfamiliar that he has to blink rapidly. Except his vision keeps blurring. Fuck this. Fuck this. He can't remember the last time he's cried like a milksop over a commonplace tragedy, and he doesn't want to start tonight, in front of Korra. Bitterly, vehemently, he wishes it were darker, so she can't fix on his face. ]
I know.
[ It's all he can manage past the hot fist in his throat. ]
no subject
[ For a moment, just a moment, he'd felt that lost child in his arms, alive and whole. Looking up at him out of Korra's blue eyes. Dainty and pretty like Pai had been, wrapped in her red blanket. He could smell that milky scent that would come off the top of her head, could feel the small hand clutch at his finger. The little mouth bubbling. All that warmth, cleaving to him, needing him. Needing the non-throat-slitting-blade-whetting-battle-scheming part of him. The part that is full of humanity. ]
[ He glances away, his face set in resistant lines. But he can feel something hot and wet trying to surface behind his eyes, so unfamiliar that he has to blink rapidly. Except his vision keeps blurring. Fuck this. Fuck this. He can't remember the last time he's cried like a milksop over a commonplace tragedy, and he doesn't want to start tonight, in front of Korra. Bitterly, vehemently, he wishes it were darker, so she can't fix on his face. ]
I know.
[ It's all he can manage past the hot fist in his throat. ]