poly_chromatic | ♦ ♦ 26th Contract

Entry tags:

darker than black - hei

♦ ♦ 26th Contract

[ Anonymous Text/Unhackable ]

Imagine an imaginary menagerie manager managing an imaginary menagerie.

[ It reads like total gibberish. But it's a code -- recognizable to any soldier from his team in Heaven's War. If old faces (Amber, Pai, Carime) are here, at least they'll get the message. I'm here where you are. ]

Here we go again. It's a beautiful day in the neighbourhood. And the tourists are scattered out like maggots with half the brains. Even under 'new management', the City never changes.

As for me, I have time to kill. A ton of it. The City's a waiting room, and life here's a waiting game, but I'm getting good at it. Who would have imagined? Probably not those I knew before. But if they're not about to confirm or deny, I guess you'll have to take my word for it.

[ Come on, guys. Take the bait. Let him know you're here. ]

[ Options For Run-Ins: ]

[ ∰ Xanadu (Li): It's late evening, and the first stars twinkle in the sky. He's found a good spot on a grassy hill. A telescope rests on its stand beside him, a few small books and tools scattered nearby, along with the remains of a picnic on a checkered cloth under 'Li's reclining form: scraps of bread and cheese, a few tumbled apples, a thermos mostly empty of tea. Just an ordinary young man, out for a night of stargazing. ]

[ Come join him, why don't you? The skies couldn't be clearer. ]

[ ∰ Underground (Reaper): His clash with the six tusked demons has ended. The final monster has dropped -- decapitated, oozing blood. Masked and armed, Hei lies sprawled on the grime-slippery ground, not too far off, a blade still in his hand. The hilt feels hot, and molded to his gloved fingers. But it's quiet now, and that has to be good. He has a few scrapes and bruises that ache from the brawl, but it's nothing serious. The rest of his muscles are singing, the high-pitched song of the battle well-ended. ]

[ If you recognize the masked man, step forward -- carefully. If you don't? Keep your distance. ]

[OOC: Have at him, one and all. Just please be aware tags will be slow, so backtagging is mightily encouraged<33 ]

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[ There's an impulse -- long-buried but intact -- to hold her hand. (In Heaven's War, watching Hei guide Pai hand-in-hand across rocky terrain, Amber used to tease that it was like watching a shark lead a tidal-wave on a string.) But Hei doesn't trust his own reactions around her just yet. (Maybe he still doesn't trust that it's her?) ]

[ What he has in mind is the Turnabout Cafe, but it's so heavily trafficked as to be useless from a security standpoint. A bar would be equally pointless -- the City, emulating US drinking laws, doesn't allow minors in those establishments. Instead he leads her to a quaint, Alice In Wonderland-themed teashop at the corner. The walk to their destination means heading out the pet-store, taking the sidewalk, and making several turns around mostly deserted alleys with various points of egress. If Pai has anyone following her, either with her knowledge or without, they'll have a hard time remaining unexposed while the pair moves. ]

[ Finally they emerge at the teashop. With the exception of the dozen or so patrons seated on chintzy, mismatched couches and mushroom-stools, there's no one suspicious. Hei checks behind them while they wait at the entrance to be seated. No one approaches. It seems she's alone. Pop music plays indoors, and the evening sun pours relentlessly through the plate glass. Their flirty waitress, dressed in a poofy blue dress and apron, shows them to a high semicircular booth and sets misshapen cups of steaming tea in front of them. In this position they're hidden from the entrance. Anyone hoping to confirm their presence now will have to come inside and reveal himself. ]

[ A tangle of fear and anticipation making a dry bolus in his throat, Hei refocuses on Pai. ]

Back home, [ he says, almost without preamble. ] You've been ... gone for five years.

[Pai recognizes the strategic value of the location, but they stick out terribly, clearly Not Belonging. The only saving grace is that nobody here really sees to fit. Outcasts among outcasts.

She stares at him, not quite comprehending at first. It doesn't take her long to make the connections, though. A city outside of time and space.]

You know. [About Heaven's Gate.]

[ That's a bonus about the City. It's full of freaks. A handful more don't make any difference. Still, he's grateful he doesn't have to go through the tedious rigamarole of explaining the City's uniqueness to Pai. (He's never needed to. She's always been clever. Much cleverer, in many ways, than him.) At her question, his jaw tightens shut a fraction. He wraps his hands around his hot teacup, holding onto it like a pole in a gale. His eyes -- cast down -- are almost black, a flicker of remembered pain there that's gone almost as soon as it appears. ]

I do. [ Calm and flat, but there's a tension in the line of his shoulders. ] Amber -- she told me everything the Syndicate had planned. I found out myself eventually. [ Carefully, his gaze lifts to study her. ] What's the last thing you remember, before coming here? [ He needs to determine how well-synced they are. Has the disaster in South America -- the meteor shard, the erased continent, the loss of their team and countless lives -- happened yet? ]

I had only just decided. [That's really the only answer he needs. Beyond that, one day is much like any other in a war.]

[ His head -- his whole body -- feels like it's full of bees. Enraged red killer bees on attack. His knuckles whiten around his cup. I had only just decided, she says. He understands the subtext. Hell, over the measureless days, he's even begin to accept the rationale behind her choice. A mindset of Us versus Them -- the Syndicate (the humans) versus the Contractors they'd used, then planned to discard like expired goods. He can even understand the reasons behind hers and Amber's secrecy -- You were human. You still are. It wouldn't have been fair to make you choose. Intellectually it all makes perfect sense. But emotionally, it leaves him cold. ]

Decided. But never told me.

[ It's soft but sharp as a bite of ice. He's not accusing her. He's not even blaming her. But for a moment, he hates how calm she can be, how well she can compartmentalize. (Like sister, like brother?) How easily she can act like this didn't tear him apart, leave him unmoored and bitter, yet somehow more ruthless than he'd been in Heaven's War. (But he's not going to tell her about that. Or about the one year lost to that post-debacle guilt and despair. A year when he'd almost gone ferine. The wildness that came of being too free.) ]

[ Eventually, with effort, ] I grieved for you. [ It's not an emotional admission. It's a statement of fact. He was never expressive of his affections, but that didn't mean it hadn't come through in every single choice he made. ] For five years, I wasn't sure if you were alive or dead.

[Believe it or not, hearing that does hurt. They say Contractors are incapable of caring but that isn't true. Pai cares about him. She hurts when he hurts. She had known that this would eat him alive.

But he would be alive.]

I'm sorry. [It's not an apology. She won't apologize for making the only decision she could, to protect her people and her brother. But it does grieve her.]

[ I'm sorry. The words -- like the sentiment -- should sound rotten on a Contractor's lips. Hei, who isn't even a Contractor, has long-since learnt to use that phrase as a tool to create an opening. Something to penetrate the mark's jugular like an emotional knife-edge, find the exact spot to get the arterial fountain of info spurting. But that's not true here. She's as sincere, in her own way, as he is. ]

[ Hei' eyes move to the ceiling for a moment, maybe looking away from memories he doesn't want to re-confront. Maybe willing back tears. (Except there are no tears. He's grown dry-eyed and dessicated since that night he was seventeen, with his fingers on Pai's throat.) ]

[ Finally, on a long exhalation, he glances back at her. ] I know.

[ He isn't sure what he means this statement to be. An evasion, a disavowal, or an appeasement. For you, he reminds himself. She made the decision for you, The way you made every decision for her. That, at least, helps put his barbed and outsized emotions into context. Reaching out, almost cautiously, he touches her hand. Years of holding stranger's hands. Months of growing accustomed to Yin's cool fingers and Korra's fleshy palms. But no one's hand is quite like Pai's. He threads his fingers through hers, feeling the familiar fine bones under the skin. ]

[The simple contact races through his senses in a tidal wave of recollection. This really is Pai. Parts of his psyche, that have gone dormant at her loss, suddenly stir awake. She still gives him a focus, the way no one else ever has. ]

[No he doesn't. Not in his heart, where humans keep everything that matters. But he's trying. He can't help what he is.

She squeezes his hand, almost tightly enough to hurt because that's the way he likes it. He's never trusted anything that came without pain.]

What's it like here?

[What's his life like here? Is he finally free from killing?]

[ Her grip is tight, the way he remembers. He squeezes her hand back in answer, matching the pressure. A tiny nerve tics at the corner of his mouth. Either in an impulse to smile, or in sadness, Hei isn't sure. For years, since she's dissipated from his life, he's fought so viciously not to let anyone else in, to keep anyone from infecting his bones. But right now, it'd be so simple to get into him. The very rigidity of his emotional armor betrays him. (All it requires is that clear-eyed look of Pai's. Cool focus, cool hands, a cool smile free of that toxic of emotional kitsch ... and crack. Something inside him breaks open like an eggshell.) ]

[ To her question, ]

55% eventful. 45% dull. [ It's a more accurate representation of his life, rather than the City as a whole. Hei isn't good with inaction. While there's plenty in the City to keep him occupied, it's not the same as high-pressure environments and dealings with four-alarm psychos. The City leaves him with too much time to think. ]

Edited 2013-07-11 09:53 (UTC)

[She summons a waiter over and orders five finger sandwich sets and a giant milkshake. She's eyeing a pudding parfait for dessert, but she's not sure how much Hei can afford to pay. She'll reassess her hunger levels once she's finished this first course.

After Hei orders and the waiter is gone, she'll continue.]

It seems like a very peaceful place. [a quiet invitation for him to dismantle the illusion and reveal the truth of the lie]

[ He watches fondly as she orders her lunch. There's a sharp cramp of nostalgia, as inseparable from loneliness as his forefinger from his thumb. He's missed even this -- her ability, like him, to seemingly consume her weight in food. But in South America, rations were always scarce. You learnt to snatch whatever you could. (It's a refreshing change from eating with Yin, who pecks at salads like a pretty anorexic sparrow. Or Korra, who finds it seemingly impossible to sit still for one damn meal. ]

[ Watching her deliberate over the dessert section, he says, ] Order whatever you like. [ He can afford it. The pay at Cafe Satine is reasonable. But as a single man in a tax-free city, with a number of below-the-table jobs in the Underground, it's easy to amass a small fortune in a few months. ]

[ The problem, ultimately, becomes: What do I spend all this money on? ]

[ Dimly he becomes aware of a dull gripe in his innards. Oiiiiiiink. He's eaten almost nothing today. The chill dread of the Visitor Weekend had frozen him inside. Now, with Pai here, he's thawing out, and his belly is full of little stridulations. ]

[ Ignoring the waiter's aghast expression, Hei orders a large platter of beef sliders, a stack of five-way grilled cheese sandwiches, a jumbo Mediterranean fettuccine and a molten chocolate cake. (Warning: He may take a few bitefuls of Pai's parfait, too.) ]

[ When the waiter is gone, he pauses. He's gotten into the habit, over the years, of carefully weighing each word on his tongue before it leaves his mouth. The depths of honesty available to him, the luxury of speaking openly -- it all became just out of his reach, since Pai's loss. To have it back -- even for a moment -- is miraculous. ]

No place is peaceful. Least of all here. [ Her hand is still in his. He locks his fingers with her cool ones, squeezing gently. ] It's a lot like being back at the Gate. Unexplained phenomenon. Curses. Mind control and hallucinations. Recently there was a rebellion to topple the Deities -- the supposed string-pullers here. But -- [ His brow knits, skeptical. ] I doubt they're gone. Or that anything has changed.

[In that case, she orders two parfaits. One for herself, and one that Hei can steal little bites from without her having to kill him.

She rubs her thumb against the back of his hand and listens carefully as he speaks.]

Like the Gate, but not related to the Gate. [Half-statement, half request for confirmation. She doesn't feel the presence of the Gate here, which is in and of itself unsettling. But it's hard to imagine anything this strange not connected to the Gate.]

[ (Like sister, like brother. He doubts anyone touching his molten chocolate cake would've received different treatment.) ]

[ At her question, he offers a substantiative headshake. ] Not related at all. The City is like a different world. At least, that's the illusion that's offered. [ His first suspicion had been psychotropic drugs, holograms, controlled environments. Some ploy of the Syndicate's, perhaps. But the absence of the Gate -- so palpable it was jarring -- weakened that theory. You could fuck with a Contractor's mind. But separation from the gate was like amputating a gangrenous limb. You didn't exactly miss it, but you couldn't ignore the negative space of its loss. (Still, Hei tries. Loss and negative spaces -- he'd be lying if he said he didn't know how to deal with them.) ]

[ His gaze dips for a moment to watch Pai's thumb trace the back of his hand. When it lifts to meet hers again, there's a wry smile tucked at the corners of his mouth. ]

The stars here are real, though.

They are? [The excitement in her voice is almost 90% sincere. She was not the wanna-be astronomer that Hei was, but her fondest childhood memories are of the nights she spent with Hei watching the stars.]

[ There's a bittersweetness that goes hand-in-hand with watching Pai's excited little face. ]

[ The nights they spent stargazing are Hei's happiest memories too. But layered over them now is a discolored film of darkness. He'd stargazed out of habit in Tokyo, too, reading the false sky like a map of his future, and Pai's star as the compass to navigate by. He'd learned them as a teenager, as a soldier, both dull and vibrant at nights in South America, until the constellations had burned into his consciousness like a bleak landscape. How many nights, on how many post-battle lulls, had he lain out with Pai sleeping in his arms, navigating them? Sometimes he'd even invent his own weird stories about them, but other times he'd remember the old ones, the Greek and Roman legends that Amber sometimes shared with him. ]

[ His smile slips into something just a bit wider, a bit more open. ]

There's a painting we once saw. Van Gogh's Starry Night. That's what the constellations here look like. [ Gentler, ] Once it's nightfall, I'll show you.

[ But he isn't looking forward to it. Because, by sunrise, she might disappear again. ]

I'd like that.

{She tilts her head a little as she looks at him, noting a trace of emotion flickering across his face. Sadness, maybe? Her eyes ask silently What's wrong?]

[ She gets a smile in response -- smaller, more weary. It's how they've always communicated in the past: nods, glances, gestures. The closest to telepathy a normal person can achieve. He doesn't answer her right away. Instead he shifts, hesitant, almost unsure, sliding across the booth toward her. Slipping an arm around her side, he pulls her closer, her hair against his cheek. Her scent -- always a little bittersweet, a little ghostly -- reminds Hei of a home he'd left so long ago he'd nearly forgotten all the little details of it. ]

[ It's a moment before he speaks. Not, exactly, because he's nervous -- it's a fleeting emotional shade of grey that's never meshed with him -- but because this is painful territory no matter how you slice it. ]

The City gave you an invitation. But visitors can only stay a few days.

[ His tone isn't stoic with grief and the sage abiding of it. There are cracks edging each syllable. This short visit has already allowed his true self -- whoever that is -- to float out and up like a hot air balloon. He finds himself wondering what bargains he can make to prolong it? What parts of himself can he jettison for Pai to stay here? ]

[She lets him pull her in, finding the Contractor equivalent of comfort in his touch. She leans her head against his shoulder and inches closer.

Visitors can only stay a few days. She refuses. Having already seen the cracks made in him from the choice she made, she refuses to put him through that again. She'll find a way to stay here somehow. She slaughtered half a continent to protect her people; she will stop at nothing to protect him.

Their food arrives, and she begins eating quietly, methodically. Her attention isn't on her food, but on processing what she knows, brainstorming her next plan of action.]

[ For a while, the food and the tinkling of flatware spin an atmosphere of almost-contentment. Hei keeps one arm slung loosely around Pai, navigating forkfuls into his mouth with the other. The fettucine looks like confetti, the dark chocolate cake spilling out a black goo of sweetness. But he barely tastes anything. Part of him is still waiting as if for an airlock to break open, for the butterflied anxiety of this reunion to turn to loss. ]

[ Swallowing, he focuses on Pai. She has a familiar look on her face. Calm and meditative, its secrecy echoed by the twin curves of her dipped eyelids, the eyelashes making shadowy crowns on her cheeks. ]

[ Setting his fork down, he tries to catch her eye. ]

What're you thinking?

[ Amusing, how that's what the lover in the story, the movie, always asks. Amber used to ask him that too, always with a lilt of humor. Every time, Hei would reply: You don't want to know. Unless you already do. ]

[She finishes off her sandwiches before speaking.]

I'm just taking everything in. [I'm not ready to talk about it yet, in other words. For all of their love, care, trust, mutual dependence, Hei has never been someone she bounces her ideas off of. He's too protective and controlling. If she doesn't come to him with a plan fully formed and ready to defend, he'll try to take over the whole thing. He'd rather risk failure than risk her.

She starts on her parfait.]

[ What Contractors lack in empathy, they make up for in perception. In Hei's case, as a human functioning under-the-radar with Contractors, he's learnt to develop both. Except he doesn't need his usual repertoire to catch facial tics or trains-of-thought. He knows, with a queasy stirring in his gut, that something is brewing in Pai's mind. He just isn't sure what. It's how it's always been between them -- siblings twined by bloodshed, but separated by a tangible wall -- emotionalism vs. logic. For all his inquisitions, all his desperate fumblings to catch her soaring comet... ]

[ Well. Like him, Pai has always had a mind of her own. ]

[ Instead of pressing for details, he takes up his fork again, finishing the colorful stuff on his plate. Watches Pai's hands, so small and delicate, their joints whiter than the surrounding skin. He stares at the dainty movements of her fingers, and thinks -- If I could freeze my consciousness at this point, this moment, after she's gone, maybe I'd survive the truth of it. Maybe everything would be okay. ]

[ Years of bullshitting other people. But he can't bullshit himself. ]

[She looks up at him when he doesn't say anything. The look on his face hurts. (Stupid, irrational, but he's always been her weakness.)

She leans over and feeds him a spoonful of her parfait -- an almost unthinkable act of generosity.]

Stop worrying. Everything will work out. [Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not soon. But nothing can keep them apart forever.]

[ There's a moment's reluctance, before he leans in and neatly accepts the spoonful. (He'd permit no one else to feed him this way. Not even as a joke. They'd find the spoon embedded in their eye-socket instead.) Everything will work out, she says. Terrible, that she should have to reassure him. Even with white-lies. That's supposed to be his job. The responsibility he'd charged himself with, to stand between her and all the monsters -- not with arms protectively crossed but with a monster's gaze of his own. Still, he doesn't rebuff her. Doesn't use any cliched, jaded aphorisms to invalidate her efforts. ]

[ She's here. Right now, that's all that matters. To absorb every iota of it, he has to cut the fears loose, let them float off unmoored so he can gain the cool relief of perspective. They'll float back when he's ready, but in the meantime there is reddish sunlight and the squishy sweetness of parfait and dainty Pai-hands and an entire City to show off. ]

[ He hesitates, before allowing his lips to curve. It's a full-on smile, meant exclusively for Pai, like he's never forgotten how to smile at all. ]

Finish your dessert. Then I'll show you the rest of the City.

action;

sleepingstar - 2013-07-16 04:04 (UTC) - Expand

action;

mortemscintilla - 2013-07-17 02:03 (UTC) - Expand

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♦ ♦ 26th Contract

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