poly_chromatic | 三十三

Entry tags:

legend of korra: korra

三十三

[ action - morning through afternoon ]
[Naga knows before Korra does: Mako's gone. While Korra's at work at the Welcome Center, the polar bear dog sniffs around town, just to confirm it. But all his scents are old over a day old, and she doesn't need to see the Hall of the Missing to know that he's nowhere in the City.

[ voice - filtered to Chekov - supremely hackable ]
[For once, Korra remembers how to do a filter, even when upset. It helps that, by this point, the pain is familiar enough to practically be normal. With Mako gone, she's once again alone in the City.

Except the weirdest part is, she's not actually alone. At this point, she's been in the City longer than she had been in Republic City; she's known Chekov and Hei longer than she had known Mako and Bolin. She doesn't feel as stranded as she had the first time all her friends had left.

That doesn't stop her from feeling lonely in the large Beach House, even with three dogs, eight cats, and five sheep to keep her busy. Which is why she dials Chekov.]

Can you come over tonight? Bring some of that vodka stuff.

[Sadness. Happiness. Sadness again. Her emotions are cycling around so quickly, she can hardly see straight. She's not a drinker by any stretch of the imagination, but right now she'd give just about anything for the world to just stop for a minute and let her catch up.]

[ooc: Open action with Naga during the day! Come run into a lonely polar bear dog.]

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[She's finally settling into the rhythm of life completely alone. Fewer groceries, more dinners grabbed from restaurants near the Welcome Center. Despite the cold, she's taken to sleeping outside with Naga, since there's nobody left to tell her she's an idiot and get back inside. (With Hamlet and Mocha, it has the added benefit of her not needing to get up in the middle of the night to let them pee.) With Joan and Yin and Penny at the Welcome Center, and Chekov just a call away, she hardly feels lonely. (A part of her wants to reach out to Hei as well, but she doesn't. Mixed in with the loneliness is some relief that Mako is gone -- one less complication in the complicated mess that is her relationship with Hei. She doesn't want to acknowledge that relief.)

She's just feeding the cats (again) when she hears a knock on the door.]

Just a minute!

[She finishes pouring the food and is down a few moments later. She's surprised to find Hei on the other side of the door.]

.....hi.

[ Hei isn't sure why, but he hoped Korra wouldn't be at home. Which makes no sense, since he knows her daily patterns as well as Yin's or Pai's. His knocks ring hollow in the empty room on the other side. Then he feels her approach; he can hear her descending the staircase, her footsteps getting louder. Knobs rattle, wood creaks, and then she's in the doorway. ]

[ His first impression of her is slightly rumpled and bleary, but calm. Smelling a bit like cat-food, and very much like domesticated pets in general. He responds to her Hi with a terse nod, not unfriendly so much as automatic, and puts a hand up on the doorframe, as if feeling unobtrusively for bugs. But he's only doing that because he doesn't want to be invited in, yet. (Or maybe because he doesn't want to reach for her?) He's not sure which. There's a dangling, pendulous sensation in the pit of his stomach. ]

[ For a moment, there is a teetering silence. Then: ] I was in the neighbourhood. [ As in I decided to drop by. As in I wanted to check on you. He doesn't say that. Already this feels too much like an absurd social call. ]

[Something is...off about him tonight. Korra immediately notices, but for once it doesn't worry her. It feels very human in a way she can't explain, if it even occurred to her to try. (She analyzes people constantly, but it's almost always subconscious.)]

Late night sea shell collecting, huh? [She smiles, just a little, and moves to the side.]

Would you like to come in?

[ Hei raises an eyebrow, but doesn't dignify the seashell collecting with a response. Instead he puts his thumb around the edge of the doorframe, and shakes his head. His tone is almost off-hand, absent, when he says, ]

I'm not staying long.

[ If anything, he looks like he'd prefer to be facing something whose neck he can break. With every breath he feels his chest sticking to his shirt in two faint haloes of sweat, and fading again. Isn't sure if it's the humidity of the sea air, or the sweet confiding look on Korra's face, that's making him antsy. His eyes drift steadily away from Korra, to stare at his own sinewy, pale-knuckled fingers, trying to work out how to navigate this impulsive visit, but there's something warm and heavy settling his chest, just by looking at her. At the same time, a hand grasps his brain, squeezes it tight around the idea of his own fundamental stupidity for coming here, making him incapable of thinking about anything else. ]

[ Except, Hei is never stymied for long. On an exhale, he forces himself to speak. ]

I have something for you.

[I have something for you. Maybe some other girl would be excited to hear those words, but Korra just feels vaguely annoyed amusement.]

What is it? [It better not be more underwear. She really doesn't need more matching bra-and-pantie sets that are great for sex but nothing else; she's not having nearly enough sex to warrant the number of sets he's already given her.]

[ She's expecting underwear, no doubt. He's unsure when he got into the habit of playing dress-the-sex-doll with her -- but he needs to curb it. She's not his fucktoy. At least, he keeps reminding himself that. But it's hard for him to see people as anything but tools or toys. Korra isn't that easy to categorize, though. She revolves almost imperceptibly but constantly in a portion of his head, like a globe in the breeze from a window, elevated to a level where no Other Toys are visible. Hei may still use the other tools and toys, but he knows they're people of a different order: more immediately useful, maybe, but less complex, less special. There are even girls in the Underground who can, in the right hour, amuse him so intensely that he forgets Korra exists. ]

[ But as soon as he remembers, he's well aware that she is, unlike the other toys, unique. ]

[ He wipes a palm across his sweaty face, then does a better job with the hem of his T-shirt. Not like a little boy finding a pretext for hiding a flush of chagrin, but like a soldier regrouping for a tactical maneuver, or a predator baring his abdomen in a show of vulnerability, even if everything else about his body-language is anything but. ]

[ At length, digging a hand into his pocket, he tosses the electronic key at her. The metallic blue keychain -- a swiss-army knife -- glitters as it catches the sunlight on its short mid-air arc. ]

[Korra catches it before registering what it is. Or, well, that it is. Because as she holds it up to look at it, she realizes that she has no idea what in the world he just handed to her. (It certainly doesn't look like any key she's ever seen.]

Thanks. For the........ [Fill in the blank for her, please?]

A key.

[ He supplies the explanation in a terse, almost businesslike tone. Stares for a moment at the glinting metal in Korra's palm, concentrating on it as if it holds the answer to the whole conundrum of Right Now. The unfamiliarity -- the inherent threat of compromised -- disquiets him a bit. No professional offers a civilian access to their private hideaways. It's practically taboo -- unless you're springing a trap, or planning to use them as a decoy. What delicate work it is, this business of navigating an affair that has neither strategic nor emotional boundaries. No wonder he's ever attempted it before ... ]

[ Brushing it off, he continues. ]

I have a loft Underground. That key's for you to use, whenever you want to drop by. Or if you want to escape a curse.

[ Because Pai doesn't like when I bring you over and Because I'll never be comfortable somewhere like the Beach House. Not stated, but vibrantly palpable. ]

[She catches the subtext of that pretty clearly. (Not completely, though.) He doesn't want her back at his home with his little sister. Which works out pretty well, since she has no desire to be around Xing.]

Mako's gone, you know. [AKA This really isn't necessary, because his discomfort with the Beach House is something she missed.] You can come by any time you want.

I know.

[ As if she's telling him what the date is. He could say I'm sorry, and blah blah blah. Could ply her with polite platitudes, though he disdains them. He knows she must feel like it's something surreal, a disorientation akin to the tail end of a powerful bender, realizing that she's alone again. Except someone like Korra is never alone. Not really. She's one of those people who makes connections -- however brief or whimsical -- that are always warm and solid. Human. ]

[ She'll be all right. She always is. It's what he likes about her. ]

[ He shrugs off her offer, hesitating by the doorframe, his expression partly to mostly cloudy. I'm not the sort of person to invite into your house, he'd tell her, but she wouldn't understand the careful stratagems that go with defense and protection against volatile elements. She wouldn't understand that the intimacy of letting anyone slip between her thighs is nothing compared to having a space of her own. Somewhere to be alone, to think, to regroup. Somewhere BK201's corrosive bilge won't seep in. ]

[ Instead, ] You never know when he -- or anyone else -- might return. [ This, at least, is true. ]

[Somehow, she doubts that's what this is really about. He's never shown any signs of caring who was in the house before. She doesn't understand where his head is at right now...but when does she ever? She's learning, bit by bit, to just roll with his eccentricities.

She fingers the key again before sliding it in her pocket.]

So where is this place? Other than "the Underground."

[ Hei watches her, calm-eyed, reserved, like he always is when he's unwillingly been tossed into a situation that leaves him, for a heartbeat, flat-footed. Not uncomfortable, but holding himself back somehow. The sleeves of his shirt are crumpled; he straightens them in precise tugs, not with an air of fidgeting so much as finality. Watches as Korra slips the key into her pocket, and feels the tension drain slightly. His shoulders lower, though he still looks a little shuttered as he opens mouth, saying, ]

I'll send you the address, later.

[ Old habits -- except it's not a habit, it's a survival mechanism from back home -- die hard. He'd sooner announce a location of his safe-house than he'd tell Korra his real name. ]

.....or maybe you could show me? [He's really doing his best to make this awkward and unappealing, isn't he? It'd be funny if she weren't so tired. As it is, she really just wants some kind of touch, but with the way he's acting, she doesn't want to make the first move. (That's a lie -- she does, because she'd always prefer doing to waiting, but she's learned that sometimes waiting really is the better option.)]

[ There's a moment's blinking, before he says, ] What? Right now? [ the words bursting from him abruptly, a little incredulous, a little bemused. A little terrified by the idea of saying any of the other things which seem to be packed tight into the silence between them. Dimly, he can feel the evening sun beating down upon them, feel a butterfly sweat-stain spread on the back of his shirt, feel the cotton fabric sticking to his skin. Can feel too, a peculiar burn at the back of his throat, in his fingertips, in his sinews -- a zinging itch to reach out and touch Korra. ]

[She's not sure whether she's amused or embarrassed by how surprised he seems.]

Is there a reason not to?

....No.

[ Hei exhales in a short rush, succeeding in making it sound exasperated rather than relieved. His pulse is hammering erratically, jumping in his chest, but it seems far away from what he's saying and doing; okay, fine, he doesn't really know what he's meant to be doing right now, but he's found a strand of conversation to follow. It will do to stave off the silence. ]

No reason. [ He repeats it, more halting than he'd meant to sound, rubbing two fingers at his temple and suddenly horribly conscious of his own body language. After a beat he gestures vaguely. ] Unless you have more cats to feed.

No. They're all taken care of. [It'd be funny seeing him so uncomfortable if it wasn't making her uncomfortable too. Mostly because she doesn't understand where it's coming from. There's no Mako. No Xing. The last night they spent together ended without any dramatics. This should be simple.

So why does he look like he wants the earth to swallow him whole?]

[ Because none of this is simple. ]

[ It has nothing to do with Pai, or Mako. It has, instead, to do with that unpronounceable feeling trapped inside Hei's chest. He isn't sure what it is -- just that it makes the world suddenly very simple and very hard. He'd had plans, before coming here. To drop the key off, to check on Pai at home, to head Underground and meet up with a few contacts. The white-noise of his impending activity was vast in the night. His plans hadn't involved the alcoholic carelessness of Korra's presence; they hadn't involved going to the Underground so early, or Korra joining him, or the idea being as potently exciting as it is absurd, or -- Fuck, Hei thinks, quite calmly and with dark dissatisfaction. He's making a mistake, mucking up his unswerving schedule for a goddamn girl. Yet Korra is right there, asking What's wrong with her eyes, her whole face, her whole body... ]

[ Hei opens his mouth like he's going to say something, and then leans in. For a moment he seems like he's analyzing something on Korra's face. Or perhaps trying to make some remark he can't risk being overheard -- ]

[ Instead he kisses her. Hot, slip-sliding lips, then teeth and tongue, as if he has a mouthful of barbed secrets cutting him up inside. But after a moment, the kiss slows, becomes lingering, almost wistful. When it breaks, Hei stays close, as if warming his lips at hers. ]

All right. [ It's barely a murmur. ] Let's go.

[She waits, and for once doesn't even notice how much she hates waiting because she's watching him so intently. Every moment brings a new possibility.

There's a half-hearted noise of almost protest when he first kisses her, his teeth scraping hard across a cut on her lip, but she hums as it softens. She wants to wrap her arms around his neck and drag him inside. (Then she hears two of the cats getting into a fight, and decides it's probably best to get out for a bit.)]

Great. [She reaches for his hand with only the slightest hesitation.] Naga, watch the animals for me. [The polar bear dog wuffs acknowledgement.]

[ Always alert, Hei hears the caterwauling indoors. A dog barks in a distance, and across the sandy curve of beach, there is the hubbub of sloshing waves and far-off trills from seagulls. Yet, with Korra's lips on his, none of that matters. A circumambient silence makes him feel like their little spot is the only animated thing in the world: everything else just lies there, still and soundless. ]

[ He tries to ignore it when she addresses Naga like a person. Lets her curl her warm fingers through his, instead, squeezing them before he slips their linked hands in his pocket. He guides her past the stretch of crunching sand, to the flat pavement, and out on the street. The evening is warm and thick, orange and blue and grey; people's shadows precede them everywhere, slipping over the floor. Around them, buildings vie to block out most of the sky, pressing in tight. The whole City seems vivid; not bursting with light like the extravagance of Tokyo, but possessing a glittering whimsy. ]

[ Choosing the nearest exit, they drift Underground. The shadows deepen as Hei leads her through a warren of pitted streets and sooty buildings. They cross the Gyshal, then the Arena, slip down near a canal, before emerging into the 'Little Macau' section. The streets stink of fish, sidewalks crowded with people jostling along, multicolored wares spilling everywhere. Lightly pressing Korra's fingers, Hei wonders if she remembers coming her -- cursed as a toddler. ]

[They walk in silence, but it's nice. Her hand is warm in his, and the shadows settle around them like a blanket. She's amazed by how the tension leaves her shoulders when they reach the Underground. Noisy and crowded and violent as it is, she feels at home here. In the Underground, nobody's bothered by how rough she is, or her temper, or the million ways she falls short. She fits in down here.

Although...maybe not this specific block.]

Are you sure I'm gonna be welcome down here?

[ Perhaps, a year ago, Hei would've disagreed. Korra -- the original, shiny, sweet-seventeen Korra with the bouncy stride and bright eyes -- is tinted in primary colors in his memory, and would've stood out fantastically brightly in the Underground's murk. A walking bullseye. She's changed so much since then. At least on the surface. Atrophied by bitterness and disappointment -- but at her core, still glowing. Hei keeps his fingers laced with hers, his thumb finding her palm and pressing there as if imparting a secret. Around them, the street is sinking into blue; and into dark grey. The lanes are shadowed now as they drift past the bustling market, steeping slowly in the dark, nearing the pitch blackness of night. The streetlamps are floating, glowing circles on either side of them. ]

[ To Korra's question, he says, ]

The gangs have short memories. Especially with internal conflicts to focus on.

[ By now, the incongruous tale of the Baby Ballbuster is a distant memory here. Drifting through a warren of streets, he leads her to a soot-faced apartment. The area reminds him vaguely of Sengoku, near the remnants of old Tokyo, what the natives had called Shitamachi -- the downtown. The area has the same antique feel to it -- the cracked pavements, the buildings set out like crumbling but sturdy cakes. He leads Korra up a dark, damp-smelling staircase, to a corridor smelling of mildew and profound ennui. The door seems to sag in its warped frame -- but that's utterly deceptive. Everything on the other side is armoured and sealed tight. ]

[ Gesturing to an electronic slot, he says to Korra, ] Try your key out.

[She wrinkles her nose a little as they walk into the building -- okay, yeah, there are some ways in which she definitely prefers the surface. The door he leads her to is utterly uninspiring.

She glances at him uncertainly.]

I just slide it in? [She waits for an affirmation before trying it out.]

Right. And enter a code.

[ The keypad isn't numerical, but composed of symbols. He watches Korra press her key into the node mechanism. There's a beep and then a click as the first lock disengages. He punches in the code next -- ♦ ✦ ➛ ♆ -- making sure she absorbs it. There's a trill of electronic tones, before the door opens like a slow, growing smile -- if smiles creaked -- to admit them into a nearly lightless entree made less obscure by the pale shoji paneling. ]

[ The apartment, almost Tokyoite in its precise spareness, consists of two rooms that feel taller than they are wide. The first is occupied only by a futon, a cool patch of whiteness on the dusty floorboards, with a sliver of a window that looks onto a Kafkaesque air shaft and admits no light whatsoever, even at noon. The second is empty except for a rickety low table and a bookshelf. It has a perimeter skylight on the sloping roof, throwing pink illumination from flashing red signboards on the roof, across a grid of exposed wooden ceiling beams inside. The room tone is flat. Soundproofed. A bathroom, a workspace, and a kitchen with steel surfaces. All strangely subterranean, time and air moving sluggishly inside it. ]

[ Shutting the locks behind them, Hei mutters, ] I haven't had a chance to clean up in here.

What's there to clean? [The place is spick and span -- plain, but Hei's never been one to decorate (and she hasn't, either).

She smiles a little as she kneels next to the futon.]

I haven't slept on one of these in forever. Everywhere above ground seems to have raised beds.

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