[ He's as disbelieving as she is. As a rule, Hei isn't demonstrative. After the atrocities he's witnessed in his lifetime, he's learnt to coat his core in psychic teflon-plating, so even the most disastrous events can be cataloged with a tactical detachment, a layer of aloofness. But he hasn't realized that there are some emotions that operate on a register above diluted sadness. They live on a mindless dog-whistle frequency. Their existence is in itself a horrifying discovery: like scanning a shortwave radio in the dead of night and tuning in to an alien wavelength -- a heavy whisper barely climbing above the static, voices muttering in a brutal language that human tongues could never speak. ]
[ In his peripheral scope, he watches Korra's fingers twitch. He becomes aware of an ache in his jaw from the way he's clenching it. Cutting his gaze away, he lifts a brusque hand to wipe his face. Swallows and deliberately breathes in and out, in and out, trying to steady himself. A hundred jumbled thoughts are pinballing in his brain. ]
[ Which makes it easy for Naga to blindside him. ]
[ In a moment of detached disgust, Hei knows if he were himself, he'd have reacted more effectively. He'd have decimated the threat in an eyeblink. In that sense, the Polar Bear Dog is lucky. If his mind were in default mode -- the killswitch flipped off -- he'd have slit the beast's throat without hesitating. ]
[ Instead there's a hot brush of white fur. A sudden suffocating weight. He goes down like a sack of bricks, pinned by massive forepaws. ]
Ow. [ A spasm of pain jolts through him, bleeding quickly into anger. ] Dumb dog. Get off.
no subject
[ In his peripheral scope, he watches Korra's fingers twitch. He becomes aware of an ache in his jaw from the way he's clenching it. Cutting his gaze away, he lifts a brusque hand to wipe his face. Swallows and deliberately breathes in and out, in and out, trying to steady himself. A hundred jumbled thoughts are pinballing in his brain. ]
[ Which makes it easy for Naga to blindside him. ]
[ In a moment of detached disgust, Hei knows if he were himself, he'd have reacted more effectively. He'd have decimated the threat in an eyeblink. In that sense, the Polar Bear Dog is lucky. If his mind were in default mode -- the killswitch flipped off -- he'd have slit the beast's throat without hesitating. ]
[ Instead there's a hot brush of white fur. A sudden suffocating weight. He goes down like a sack of bricks, pinned by massive forepaws. ]
Ow. [ A spasm of pain jolts through him, bleeding quickly into anger. ] Dumb dog. Get off.