poly_chromatic | ♦♦ 34TH CONTRACT

Entry tags:

darker than black - hei

♦♦ 34TH CONTRACT - ANONYMOUS TEXT/ACTION

I know the City's sense of humor is barely functional but... Is this supposed to be funny? These things are crawling everywhere. And I doubt they're here for the symbolism.~~They better not be poisonous~~.

Options For Run-Ins:

The Underground: [ In the lit-up nighttime panorama, he is an unnoticed blur. No need for masks and disguises here; he strolls sedately, engaged in his surroundings. Lingers outside a pawnbroker's window to eye up the flick-knives. ]

[ If you want to catch him, be quick about it. Blink once, and he'll fade seamlessly into the crowd. ]

Cafe: [ Almost five in the evening. He's perched at the back of a noisy all-night caff, the windows steamed up as the snow floats hazily outside. Hunched on a small chair with a teacup, coat and hair dripping, his gaze drifts across the surroundings with an idle interest. People-watching is an old habit, the bright impersonal chatter a kind of sop as much as the hot drink. ]

[ Come say hello while he waits for his pastries. ]

Park: [ The grass is a-glitter with frost. Sighing, 'Li' packs up his telescope and trashes half-empty styrofoam cups of tepid coffee. Above, the sky is shadowed behind a sudden blanket of dark-bellied clouds. Not an ideal night for stargazing. Bundled up in his oversized coat and woolly hat, Li slings his backpack and exits. It's the last quadrant of night; he supposes he could patrol, but really he'd rather walk down the center of the quiet streets, breathing the fresh wet air. Everything is closed and sleeping, and he can enjoy the brief illusion that there is no one, alive or undead, outdoors except for him. ]

[ And you, of course. ]

Carnival (Closed To Korra): [ Spread out under the dark screen of sky, the carnival is something like a human body -- all its cobbled arteries clogged with brisk feet and the clatter of carts and skirling music, the ferris wheel pinwheeling brilliantly and the rides moving in streaks of color against the snow-greyed backdrop. On whim, he sends Korra a snapshot and texts the location. ]

[ In addition, he thumbs in, ]
Let's see if you throw up on the rollercoaster.

[ So romantic. ]

[ OOC: Bitten By The Love Bug ♥ Come pester him! Interactions can end in awkward silence, surprises kisses, glomps, violence, tragedy, or anything else you prefer! ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Hm? [It takes her a moment to register his question; her mind had been occupied fighting itself. And then... She nuzzles his shoulder a little while she thinks.]

I... don't know. According to Jinora, I get my bending back... but I can't really believe that. If Aang's supposed to come when I reach my lowest point... [Well, she's pretty sure she's already been there.] I don't think I'm cut out to be the Avatar the world needs me to be. But I can't just run away. [Would the Avatar cycle continue if she stayed here, or would it break? Would she be able to keep her memories? Would she be able to stop her uncle from threatening Jinora? A part of her is convinced that the answer is no. Even if she'd had her bending in the City, she wouldn't have been able to protect herself. There's something fundamentally weak inside her. She isn't strong like Aang.

She doesn't know. She really, truly doesn't know, and even thinking about the subject makes her guts twist uncomfortably.]

What about you?

[ I don't think I'm cut out to be the Avatar the world needs me to be. The words drip down his brain like cold water down the back of his neck. Part of him can't believe she'd think this way. When he first met Korra, he'd known there was something about her -- a quintessence similar to Pai's. It hasn't changed. Some creatures live as stars do: burning hard and hot, feeding on the dark that edges around them, erasing it, but primarily feeding upon themselves. Their lives are an inferno and them happiest in that heat. Eating away at themselves with a heroic brilliance until all that remains is the drive. The force. The appetite to dazzle. How can you ask someone like that to burn a little less bright? For them that would be a death every bit as final as the one they've all got coming. ]

[ When he thinks of Korra, he thinks of Pai, in her last moments in Heaven's War. A being that will go out burning at such degrees he's never known. Someone who will live and die in spectacular, unforgettable flames. ]

[ There is something private and far-off in the blue light of Hei's gaze, though his mouth is a hard line. ] You'll never convince me of that. [ It's quiet and matter-of-fact, not reassurance so much as a Hei-shaped aura of cold belief putting its shoulder behind Korra and shoving. At her question, he pauses, exhaling a slow breath. It's not a sigh, so much as it's a culmination of twenty-three years of suffering and exhaustion. When he speaks, he sounds more like he's reciting statistics than describing his dismal reality. ]

I'm running for my life, back home. Not in a hurry to return. [ A beat, in which his thumb strokes the ridge of her knuckles again. Almost contemplative, like he's aware this kind of honesty is at odds with everything she knows about him. ] But I can't stay away either. Too many leftover scores to settle. I might not finish them all -- but I don't plan to die unless I can.

[ Survival and repaying debts have always been the name of the game; Hei doesn't know how to do anything else. ]

Edited 2014-02-14 07:05 (UTC)

[Korra doesn't like the way he sounds when he says that. The way he talks about scores to settle and dying.]

Why not go somewhere else? You and your sister could some to another world. Somewhere peaceful.

[She's not offering her world; that would be silly. But as flawed as it is, it is more peaceful than his world. She's pretty sure, at least.]

[ Hei blinks, as if surprised by the suggestion. The ferris wheel still has a few more minutes up at the top, completely motionless; he presses one hand flat against the glass again, and turns his face away to stare. The sky is a wash of stars. It makes him think of Amber, those final moments at the Gate. The tangled bloom of mermaid hair whipping across the starry sky, the tiny seashell hands and young-old smile. All those terrible gambles she'd taken for him, risking all for a terrible pay-off. But apart from the fact that the Syndicate hadn't ended, even if its more wide-scale operation was, at least for now, knocked out, Hei wasn't really sure if he could say Amber had ultimately won. She hadn't gone rogue, as he had been so certain, true. But she had done wrong that good might ensue, and out of that wrong more wrong -- lots more -- had come. Tragedy personal and systemic. ]

[ Nothing, no-one Amber's plans had touched was the same. But he stood at the crux of that. What she'd done -- undone -- was all for him. ]

[ He doesn't blink, doesn't shift, just squeezes Korra's hand. ]

Back home, someone I cared about ... sacrificed herself so I'd have a chance to live. A way to choose how I could live. It's like ... if I left matters at home unfinished, I'd be insulting her memory, somehow. [ A beat, before he exhales. ] She'd see it differently, I'm sure. But there's no way to ask her.

She sacrificed herself so you could live, so you want to go back and risk being killed? That doesn't make any sense.

[ For a moment, it's Pai's voice that echoes in his ear. Pai would say that, too. She'd think it makes no sense either -- because it doesn't. But both Pai and Korra tend to see things in a world of black and white. The gray is what Hei inhabits -- and what Amber had warned would bring him nothing but suffering and conflict. But she'd respected his choice, in the end. Didn't say that he'd be robbed of his chance to be with her and Pai, and she'd be robbed of ... just robbed. All she'd said, with her silence, with her gaze, was: Is it worth it -- to suffer your whole life just to prove you can? ]

[ But if he'd chosen to be happy instead of right? It would've come with its own price. The idea that other people would suffer tragedies on such a scale as to reduce the disaster of Heaven's Gate to a pitiful dot -- He couldn't abide by it. It felt like a cosmic injustice. Here, it's not the same thing, though. He doesn't have to choose between his lifelong dream and the deaths of millions. But why does it feel like such a impending debacle, while the idea of returning home, dying in a battle, feels riskable, doable? ]

[ Quietly, ]

The world I left behind ... is a mess. Some might say it's beyond saving. If I'd chosen differently, I might have escaped it. But the price was killing millions of innocent people. [ His eyes narrow, fixed on the sky. ] I couldn't accept that. I chose to stay in that world. But in some ways, my decision made things worse. [ The lid ripped off the Syndicate; the existence of Contractors exposed; the mass paranoia and escalating conflict. ] Part of me feels responsible for it. If I abandoned that world, I'm not sure how I could live with the knowledge that I was too ... weak? ... to finish what I'd begun.

Oh. [Korra understands that, and his dilemma. She's never had millions of lives on her shoulders, but she knows the feeling of the weight of the world. Responsibility is a heavy burden.

She doesn't know what to say in response to that. She doesn't have advice to offer, or words to express what she's feeling. I understand, maybe, but she doesn't really understand. She knows she doesn't understand what he's going through, just like he can never understand what being the Avatar means to her.

So she lets go of his hand, and winds her arms around his waist. The car rocks in a strangely soothing motion. She holds him close and just breathes.]

[ Something flares and sputters out of Hei when her arms encircle him. Some part of him, cold and walled-off, wants to lash out. (There's understanding and then there's this.) Wants to kiss her until all her air is his, wants to feel her collapse under him and bare her throat, wants the control of it in the palm of his hand. It's an impulse that's easy to shake, when Hei has enough control to spare, but underneath that is something scarier. Something wholly frightening and new. (I wish things were different. I wish I were someone different. Maybe then...) ]

[ Then what? He tries not to think about it. Hei's never been one to function on What Ifs. ]

[ Below, the carnival lanterns are glowing blurs, the music tinny and indistinct. But he doesn't focus on that, or on the field of stars above. Instead he turns his head away from the window. Nuzzles the satiny mess of her hair, taking a long deep whiff of her scent. The quiet creaking of the car; the slow rhythm of her breathing; it's all strangely soothing. ]

However things turn out ... [ A pause, his sense of wariness and caution rubbing too hard against his impulse for honesty. ] I hope you know what a difference you've made.

[ To him. To the time he's spent here. To the way he operates -- even if it's not a complete change. But after numbed-out decades of nothing, at least there's a glimmer of warmth. ]

[She looks at him, wondering if she really has, and what that difference is. He's different than the man she'd met, yes, but with him, it's hard to tell what's an actual change and what's simply the stripping away of another lie.

And that’s the guy you fell in love with.

It's a terrifying, awful, horrible thought. She wants to take it back and erase it. It can't be true. She doesn't want it to be true. He's temperamental, violent, unpredictable. He's hurt her so badly. But she loves him, and that's why she's put up with everything.

The thought makes her dizzy. She leans up to kiss him, because she doesn't want to think about it, or what it means.]

[ Hei has long since built up a tolerance to that cold water shiver of 'oh -- there it is' that comes from viewing the chart of red-hot stars in a person's mind; a constellation of emotions and epiphanies. He's learnt to stockpile every foible in a mental armoury, to launch necessary tactical strikes. ]

[ So what he sees in Korra's eyes ... It's dismally familiar. A snapshot of every assignment, every mask and lie. It makes something sink and rise in him, frothing at the edges of his mind. He wonders who, exactly, Korra thinks he is. It's not about her seeing him as something else, something conveniently shaped, because whatever grave lies there is one he's dug for himself out of careful deceptions and cruel intentions. But it does make him realize, with a lick of icy dread, what those tangled sensations in his own belly are. The luminous dial on his wristwatch shows it's past twelve. Yet the curse-feelings don't dwindle. They remain like a hand clapped in his vitals; a hard familiar grip he feels up his spine and around his balls. ]

[ It's love. But it's filtered and warped through the world he's part of. For Hei -- love is interminably subjective. It's not things he loves; it's their function. It's not people he loves, it's their utility. Some part of him loves Korra, it's true. But not in the same way a normal person loves. To feed her sweet words would be empty. Like cheating. A photocopy of the emotion without the depth of it, and that's not fair. It's not even a revelation, this; he's too self aware for that. It's been going on for awhile; he's not exactly caught up to it. It's something he'll have to examine later. ]

[ For now, there's something both dark and bright in his half-lidded eyes. His kisses are soft in spite of everything. Not cautious, but with a flutter of morse code, almost like he's imparting a secret message with each slide of lips, the curl of tongue and teeth. ]

[The message, like Hei himself, is inscrutable. Not that she's paying all that much attention to what he might be trying to say, wrapped up in the horror of her own personal revelation. She's trying to drown it out, to forget it and what it says about her. It had been simple before; she'd put up with bad treatment because it was outweighed by the good, and once the bad outweighed the good, it'd be easy to end. Love doesn't work like that. Love doesn't just stop or turn off because it was inconvenient. Love doesn't go away because the its object is rude or mean or dating someone else. The absolute last thing she wants is to be in love. She meets his softness with a pressure and heat that seems to beg.]

[ There's a Please tucked away in her kiss -- fizzling in the burning intensity of it. He can feel the fevery warmth radiating off Korra in the dark. You hear people claim they're Crazy in love. He knows that plenty of them, yeah, they are. Chemicals exploding in their brains. Perpetually doing the wrong things with the wrong people for the wrong reasons. A chain of bad judgements and miscalculations: ten, fifteen years frittered away. Amber would tell him he's being a killjoy. But only the most deluded wouldn't be a little skeptical. For Hei, love doesn't mean any of those things. It's not whispered promises or rings or laughter. It's not even words like By your side and Together. ]

[ For him, you know you love something when you're smart enough to leave it. Even if it hurts beyond speech. ]

[ And it does hurt. It does, but his kisses stay soft. An open-mouthed hunger, schooling that wild chemical storm in Korra to a slow simmer. It's there in the slip of his tongue tracing her bottom lip, the cool pads of his fingers skimming the line of her jaw. Drawing back, he breathes, ]

Easy.

[ As in: Slow down. As in: We have all night. It's just the rest of their days that are slipping like sand through an hour-glass. ]

[Nothing’s easy. She just wants a hot frantic burn that will incinerate thought. Soft & gentle gives her too much time to think, makes her heart beat funny and her blood fizz like one of those carbonated drinks. She buries her head against his neck, blocking out all light as she tries to just breathe. It's okay. It doesn't have to be a problem if you don't let it.]

[ There's a soft judder all through Hei as she presses close. Her body is hot, and feels, in his embrace, impossibly alive. He can sense all its stormy workings, can almost see the crazy force of her emotions erupting in multicolored crashes, the wild-edged thoughts like so shuriken flying in the air. His heart races, pressed so close to her that it seems to beat for both of them. For a long time he can't find his voice; just squeezes her, his nose in her hair. ]

[ No, nothing is easy. Love may walk in beauty like the night but, Hei deals with too much sharp-toothed clarity to buy that trash. The night isn't the best venue for clear vision. He's seen every ugly side of love there is -- vitriolic, soul-destroying, perverted, selfish and insane. He knows both he and Korra are going to exit this City with regrets; it's an absolute given. But all that lies ahead, at home, is bleak and more bleak. Life here may be temporary and useless. But he's willing to snatch at whatever reprieve he has going. Peace and happiness aren't going to come from being with her -- he's too past that point. But she offers him some good-enough happiness -- and that's fine. More than fine for now. ]

[ His mouth slips away from Korra's. Burns a trail with tongue and teeth down her jaw, along her neck. His arms, meanwhile, circle her closer -- one palm splayed across her lower-back while the other strokes the skin-warmed denim of her thigh. It's not demanding, but soothing. His breath stirs the hair across her ear when he murmurs, ]

Ride ends in a few minutes.

[ His tone makes it clear he's in no mood to leave yet. ]

Mmmmm. [Half hum of pleasure, half distracted agreement. She tangles her fingers in his hair and presses encouragingly into his hands. She's not thinking about the end of the ride or what might come next.]

[ Hei kisses her again, and it's biting -- a low growl bubbling in his throat, a sharp bloom of heat and a wash of want. It's not so much in his mind as it is a burning in his skin. He doesn't want to exit the ride yet. Wants to prolong this tenuous moment for as long as possible, before it snaps into chaos. ]

[ The ferris wheel rotates again, their car climbing to the highest point. When it does, he rests his left hand against the paneling. The current he lets off is imperceptible. After all, it's a matter of amperage, not volts. No dramatic jolt that travels through the wheel's infrastructure. Instead the lights flicker off, then on, then off again. Their car creaks to a stop, swaying slightly, at the very zenith. There are no people in the two cars on either side of them. There are only twelve people in the ride, altogether; he's counted. ]

[ That leaves him and Korra with enough privacy, and at least twenty minutes until the operators figure out what's wrong. ]

[Korra starts as the lights flicker off, breaking the kiss with a little gasp.]

This is your doing, isn't it?

Maybe.

[ His lips press, smile-shaped, to the corner of her mouth. Print kisses across the point of her cheekbone, her brow, the curve of her face silhouetted white against the dark window. All around there is the rustle of wind against the windows and the buzz of motors, the squeal of unoiled hinges, the creak of the swaying car. Life seems to be pressing in on him, compressing him, buzzing noisily in his ears and crawling over his skin. But Korra's warmth against his is the focal point of the world. Circling her tighter, he draws her across his lap -- a sweet, solid weight. His lips trace through her hair, to nibble on her earlobe. ]

I've always wanted to try this in mid-air.

[She grins as she straddles his hips and wraps her arms around his neck.]

Is that so?

[She makes her way down to his shoulder, little bites soothed with teasing kisses.]

[ Those hot peppered kisses make him shiver, skin prickling in a flush of goosebumps. Hei's eyes flicker half-shut and there's a sigh in his quiet exhale. The way he grew up -- was molded, forged, warped -- another pair of eyes means nothing. This tiny booth at the top of the ferris wheel is the most privacy he's had in a long time, no matter how small and confining the shape is. He feels both connected and untouchable, and that paradox, too, is a gift. ]

[ The starlight and faraway pinpricks of neon mingle to make the air tense with pale magenta brightness, washing out all color; what shade Korra's eyes are is briefly a mystery. He doesn't care about that though. He nips one of her earlobes and then traces the arc of her throat with his tongue. One hand massages her hipbone while the other slips under her jacket, beneath the skin-warmed blouse to the shock of hot bare skin, running his fingertips back and forth from the nape of her neck to the top of her jeans. ]

[She slides her own hands under the collar of his sweater.] You could've worn something a little easier to get off... [After all, she went to the trouble of putting on one of the bra&underwear sets he'd given her before coming over. Be prepared for anything.]

But I look terrible in frilly tube tops.

[ It's breathless but full of amusement against the warm curve of her neck. That slow game of undressing; the teasing, lingering deliberation -- he has a feeling all that will come later. Maybe at the Beach House, or down Underground. Right now, his blood and his brain feel thick with wanting, the meridians of his body pulsing in time with his heartbeat. ]

[ Lifting his head, he pulls her bottom lip into his mouth and scrapes the sensitive inside with his teeth. He can feel the brocaded texture of her bra and the swell of her breasts through her shirt. One-handed, he tugs at a fistful of her jacket, trying to peel it off. The other, still under her shirt, rubs along her warm damp skin, tracing the beads of her spine to the strap of her bra. It takes only a moment of fumbling before he's unfastened it. ]

Oh I don't know... I think you could make it work. [She wriggles out of her jacket and lets it fall to the floor.]

Or you could've worn something with buttons. [Speaking of buttons... she reaches for the fly of his pants. She's not sure how much time they have before the ride starts moving, but she's pretty sure it won't be enough for a lot of foreplay.]

Are you suggesting a wardrobe swap?

[ Because the N o p e is palpable. The heat from her hand soaks through his pants and makes his groin feel heavy and hot. The fabric is already stretched taut; his erection has escaped the elastic of his boxers and is down one pant leg, uncomfortably twisted. He lets her tackle the zipper, his own hands reaching for the top button of her jeans, their knuckles getting in each other's way. ]

[ When her top comes free from the waistband, he bunches it up and watches as her torso is exposed, the triangle of pale underwear visible where her trousers are open, how the light curves over the bare muscles of her belly, the pinched waist flowing into the rise of her ribs, the weight of her breasts shifting under her loosened bra. As her top binds under her armpits, he coaxes her arms up, missing the weight of her hand between his legs while he peels the shirt off. ]

[ The sight of her, a delicious disarray, leaves his mouth dry, his hands flexing uselessly in empty air. ]

I don't own any tube tops. [Her voice is muffled by her shirt. She squirms to get her arms loose, the air biting her overheated skin, but the only thing she cares about is getting back to his pants. She can't tug them off while they're both sitting down, but she gets them as open as she can before pulling his erection free.]

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