[ Something off? If asked, Hei wouldn't offer details. Reticence remains a cardinal aspect of his nature. Fuck, he privately wouldn't know where to start. Readjusting to a completely different world. Being involved in another war. Watching Korra defeat Unalaq and usher in a new spiritual era. Getting her pregnant. Watching her lose the baby. Staying on red-alert every moment for threats from the Red Lotus. His psyche is rusted by anxiety and fresh disappointment, his baggage like a rickety streamliner -- full of holes and crusted with filth. ]
[ He refuses to think about it. ]
[ He should be thinking about Chekov, and why he's here. The How bears less importance. He's well acquainted with the technology of the younger man's world. He understands Starfleet's mission statement. Dimly, he wonders if Enterprise is in the same dimension as Korra's, or if the two forked dimensions have accidentally converged. He worries, a coil of anxiety unleashing itself inside him, if they're all going to end up sucked back into the City. ]
[ He hopes not. Letting his mind loosen its grip on the What-Ifs and sink its claws into the Right-Now, he focuses on Chekov. The boy has a phaser. That, coupled with the element of surprise, may allow them to deflect the Red Lotus' attack. Push them into a retreat. ]
[ He slips a hand into his jacket. Draws out a laughably small platinum stick. Though only eight inches recoiled, when he flicks his wrist, it telescopes to six feet -- an interlocking series of pipes tipped with a sharpened sickle of diamond. He plans to shove the business-end into P'li's third-eye, if he gets close. ]
[ He glances toward the battlefield. The chaos tugs at an invisible string inside him. He can read its ebbs and flows like sheet music -- gaining brutal intensity as it surges to a crescendo. It's a moment before he spots Zaheer. Caught in a showdown between the Beifong sisters. Several yards off, P'Li blasts the metalguards to smithereens, creating an effective barrier of flying bodies and flames. ]
[ Finally, without looking over at Chekov, ]
We need to take out the Amazon. Be ready to jump in and distract her while I go for her Third Eye.
no subject
[ He refuses to think about it. ]
[ He should be thinking about Chekov, and why he's here. The How bears less importance. He's well acquainted with the technology of the younger man's world. He understands Starfleet's mission statement. Dimly, he wonders if Enterprise is in the same dimension as Korra's, or if the two forked dimensions have accidentally converged. He worries, a coil of anxiety unleashing itself inside him, if they're all going to end up sucked back into the City. ]
[ He hopes not. Letting his mind loosen its grip on the What-Ifs and sink its claws into the Right-Now, he focuses on Chekov. The boy has a phaser. That, coupled with the element of surprise, may allow them to deflect the Red Lotus' attack. Push them into a retreat. ]
[ He slips a hand into his jacket. Draws out a laughably small platinum stick. Though only eight inches recoiled, when he flicks his wrist, it telescopes to six feet -- an interlocking series of pipes tipped with a sharpened sickle of diamond. He plans to shove the business-end into P'li's third-eye, if he gets close. ]
[ He glances toward the battlefield. The chaos tugs at an invisible string inside him. He can read its ebbs and flows like sheet music -- gaining brutal intensity as it surges to a crescendo. It's a moment before he spots Zaheer. Caught in a showdown between the Beifong sisters. Several yards off, P'Li blasts the metalguards to smithereens, creating an effective barrier of flying bodies and flames. ]
[ Finally, without looking over at Chekov, ]
We need to take out the Amazon. Be ready to jump in and distract her while I go for her Third Eye.