poly_chromatic | 二十七

Entry tags:

legend of korra: korra

二十七

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[Korra is done with the hospital. So very, very, VERY done.

Unfortunately, neither her body nor the hospital staff agree. Just a few more days, they promise her. You sustained major trauma from those bullet wounds. Personally, she finds the pain less traumatic than the terrible smell and the snoring of her roommates. (She's able to think this only because of really excellent pain medication.)

The biggest problem with being stuck in the hospital, though, is that it gives her too much time to think. About the injuries she sustained. About how she's going to need physical therapy. About the fact that no matter how hard she tries, she might never be able to move the way she used to again. The doctor warned her that her shoulder will be prone to popping out of its socket, and that her muscles may be stiff and harder to move than before. She's very lucky that none of the bullets shattered bone or nicked any organs. She could have died or been paralyzed. She tries to remember that and feel grateful, but mostly she feels like, bit by bit, everything that makes her her is being chipped away.

She hates hospitals.]

[ooc: open to any and all visitors or hospital staff!]

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Stay still. [ It's an order, but almost parental, like he's a little annoyed with her, but underneath it, indulgent and concerned. The overhead fluorescents seem to buzz everywhere that they touch him -- even the his eyes -- like he's sitting inside a bug-zapper. He's been here an hour, and he hates this place. Of course people would go crazy here. How can you stand it in a realm of inhuman scents and sterile walls, where the patients seem to lie in beds like slabs of meat in a freezer, where it never seems warm or dim or comfortable. This is a hopeless place. A Contractor must have designed it. ]

[ Turning, he extends the box at her. ] Just light snacks. Mushroom and spinach rolls. Tea cakes. Oranges. Dry fruit. [ He's smart enough to avoid any food that'd encourage the growth of pathogenic bacteria -- fish, poultry, pizzas. ]

[Normally the parental tone would get under her skin, but she's too disconnected to notice it. One thing at a time is about all her not-brain can handle.

She holds a hand out.]

Orange?

[Her jaws hurts -- why does her jaw hurt?!??!?!?!? -- and dry fruit sounds like too much work.]

[ Obliging, Hei unpops the lid from the box. The savory aroma of food clashes with the disinfectant scent in the air. The oranges are neatly peeled. He hands her a slice, shifting, crossing and uncrossing his legs, looking for a more comfortable position in his hard seat. His energy level is always high: he's not used to sitting idle for long, unless immersed in a book. Now he's like a fly caught indoors. He can only imagine how frustrating the stay will be for Korra. ]

[ After a long moment, his tone deceptively casual, ]

Do you know what happened to you? [ As in: Do you know who shot you? ]

[She almost chokes, and hurries to wipe off the juice that squirted onto her chin. It'd be comical if it didn't feel like her heart had stopped. Her mind is blank; it's impossible to answer him because there's nothing there.

Finally-]

I don't know. I'd never seen her before.

[ He waits until she's done scrubbing the juice off her chin, before he hands her a rough square of paper towels. His expression is flat, uncommunicative, but her words are filed carefully away. Her. The attacker was female -- or, at least, Korra seems to think so. Ultimately that doesn't matter to him. The weapon employed was a gun -- and it's no great effort, not with Hei's background, to rifle through the Network and see who prefers what as their Weapon Of Choice. Magic, claws, fangs, murder by proxy -- there's all sorts here. ]

[ But this City is too self-contained not to trace the evidence to its source eventually. ]

[ Finally, eyes fixed on hers, ] What were you doing when it happened? Do you remember?

[His eyes may be fixed on hers, but she refuses to meet his. She scrubs her chin, then her hands...and then keeps running the towel on her hands, a nervous gesture.]

I was just at the Fountain. I wasn't doing anything! [defensive, as though he's implying she did something to deserve this.

He won't have any trouble tracking Marie down. There were plenty of witnesses.]

Nothing at all?

[ Too neutral to be an accusation. He's simply trying to assemble these bits and pieces into something remotely coherent. Admitting to any semblance of concern isn't for Hei. But functioning on an eye-for-an-eye mentality -- that is very much him. He doesn't enjoy the idea of a stranger wrecking someone he's left a mark on. Korra ranks perhaps slightly below his Doll or his knives on that list of practicalities. (Defense -- Offense -- Playtime.) ]

[ He's not sure when that happened. But the implications are something he'll consider afterward. ]

I was just looking in the Fountain. [She doesn't remember singing -- that's a detail he'll have to piece together himself. Shoudn't be hard, considering the day she got shot.]

[ Not hard at all. ]

[ Exhaling, Hei leans forward, elbows on knees, fingers interlocked. A deliberately non-threatening posture, even if he can't quite disguise the sharpness in his gaze. He doesn't enjoy seeing her all wan and torn-up -- but he has no idea how to express that in a way that doesn't involve the ingrained instinct of Seek Out & Destroy. ]

[ Quieter, ] Did 'she' fire any warning shots? Or hit you point-blank? Do you remember that much, at least?

[She can't answer. Her body is shivering, just a little, and the muscles in her throat are locked up tight. Tears press hard against the back of her eyes, but she doesn't let them fall. It's about the only thing she can do.

She shakes her head -- no, no warning shots. Her shoulder had been hit before she even knew anything was going on. She wants to explain that, but the words won't come out, so she just shakes her head over and over and over again.]

[ Hei's been trained to read people too well to remain oblivious to the shivering, or the signs of waterworks. Even then, he wouldn't need any expertise -- everything about Korra's body telegraphs: Cloudy With A Chance Of Rain. She's not Pai, who had the ability to shut him up with just a hint of moist eyes and quivering lower-lip. But he's not completely heartless either, no matter what the rumors back home are. ]

[ His expression is still all sharp edges. But his gaze shades to something almost soft. Something that says: It's okay. Shifting forward, slowly, so she sees it coming, he settles a light hand on her shoulder. His voice is barely a murmur when he asks, ] Do you want to be alone?

[Yes. No. I don't know. Him being here is about the only thing keeping her from bursting into tears. (Never mind the fact that his questions were what brought tears on.)]

She shakes her head again, bit by bit forcing herself to be calm. Breathing slowly, carefully encouraging her muscles to relax.

Better for him to stay around, give her something to focus on than her fears.]

[ Whatever wrath is simmering under Hei's skin, he hides. ]

[ His hand stays on Korra's shoulder, thumb rubbing idle circles against the round of it. With the other hand, he presses an orange slice, almost tactfully, into her palm. Part of him is grateful she doesn't dissolve into a messy gush of tears. But the other part of him acknowledges a breakdown isn't unjustified. There's a moment of hesitation, almost a feeble jerk of inner-resistance, before he leans in, folding her against him. Not a tight hug, or a long one. Just fleeting, but there's a warmth in the curl of his arm around her, in the press of his chin against the top of her head. She's fevery and tense and smells exactly like the hospital -- drugs, antiseptics, absence. But there's still a snatch of Korra somewhere underneath. ]

[ He doesn't say, I'll find whoever did this to you. But make no mistake -- he's already planning each step with a perfect calm. It comes easy, destruction, when you've practiced it since childhood. ]

Do you play video games? Hanayama puzzles? [ She'll be cooped up here awhile. Better to take her mind off it. In her place, Hei would glower at the offer. But again: Korra's not him. ]

[She hisses a little -- it seems like every touch, no matter where or how gentle it is, sends a spike of pain to her injuries. With the pain comes a fleeting burst of panic. The combination of his smell, his touch, and the ache of wounds stirs up no good associations. It's probably a good thing he lets go as quickly as he does. (Or maybe not. Perhaps if he had held on just a little longer, she could have shoved the panic aside and drawn the intended comfort from the gesture. Impossible to say and the moment has already passed.)]

What's a hanayama puzzle?

[ The hiss doesn't go unnoticed. Nor does the way the air around her vibrates with a barely-squelched panic. It's a reminder of how far Korra still has to go to be entirely relaxed with him -- and how Hei has done so little to encourage that relaxation. You're a walking trigger for her. Funny how that works. All the power and brashness on the surface, yet something as insidious as his attack can cut her down to the same size as any other terrified girl. The smart thing would be to wash his hands of her entirely. But -- ]

[ Well. Capture-bonding is unfortunately a two-way street. ]

[ At her question, he fishes inside a shopper he's brought along -- too yellow and festive in his hands. Sets a box of puzzles and a handheld Vita 3G in her lap. (He highly suspects she's going to chuck the puzzles at the walls at some point, and break the game console without trying. Good thing there are extras in the bag.) ]

The metal bits are the puzzle.

[She frowns and picks up the box.]

What do I do with it?

[ Isn't it obvious? ]

[ Carefully, he unwraps the box and plucks a small cast-iron strip from the collection. Holds it up for her between the thumb and forefinger of both hands. ] See if you can separate the two pieces. [ Pointedly! ] Without breaking them.

[She takes the thing from his hand and tugs at it experimentally.]

How?

That's for you to figure out.

[ He shifts again in his seat. The ventilation system overhead makes a low hmmmm that he feels like only he can hear. It's not a pleasant noise. Hei dimly associates it with illness, like it's some paranoid foretelling of doom, background whispers of conspiracy against health and life. Irritably, he shakes it off. His mind never goes to cheerful places when he lets it wander. ] I know you don't like sitting still. But this should give you something to focus on in the meanwhile.

[It already has. Korra's not one for mental puzzles, but she is one for challenges. Her tongue is peeking out from between her teeth as she keeps tugging at the puzzle. Her eyebrows furrow, and she looks increasingly annoyed... but in a strange way, much more like her old self than she has since arriving at the hospital.]

[ The brief flicker doesn't go unnoticed. Hei watches for a moment, immersed in the lively drama of her face. He knows it won't last; even if the drugs are superlative, the room scented with fresh flowers, the windows bright and airy and the bed the perfect mix of plush and firm, she's still stuck here. But right now, right here, she's as Korra as she'll ever be, and its a moment of welcome distraction. ]

[ It's a stopgap, ersatz type, true. But for this moment, like a held breath underwater, it'll do. ]

[ Eventually, ] I should get going. [ There's still the matter of Korra's attacker to be dealt with. ] I'll be back tomorrow with more food. If you want.

[That gets her attention back.] She almost says Don't (go. don't leave her alone with her thoughts).]

Okay. Thank you.

[ Hei senses a peculiar plaintiveness in her gaze. But he tells himself he's imagining it. She has friends who'll descend on her en masse everyday, he's sure. He doesn't have any real place threaded into the fabric of her life. It's all tenuous and temporary, like this little fling itself. But he'll endeavor to be useful while it lasts. ]

[ Rising, he regards her with steady eyes for a moment -- dull but fond. No kiss or clinch, but he reaches out and smoothes a hand -- very lightly -- through her hair. All emotion tied to softness is at a standstill. His frame-of-mind is already sliding into violence and calculation. It's not the kind of energy he can deal with at the same time as Korra. It's a little dangerous. ]

Try to take it easy. [ He doesn't mean in the sense of lolling in bed all day. That's a necessity for a time-period. It's her mind -- the thoughts skittering within -- he's talking about. ]

Yeah. [Her lips twitch in a weak goodbye smile.] Thanks again for the food.

[ He returns the smile -- but it's vague, almost reflex, a robot attempting facial expressions. Only his thumb, brushing the peachy softness of a cheek, retains any human warmth. He lets his fingers trail away, by slow degrees, then turns and exits the room. ]

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二十七

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