poly_chromatic | ♦ ♦ 13th Contract

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darker than black - hei

♦ ♦ 13th Contract

[ The weekend has come and gone. ]

[ Familiar faces have come and gone with it, leaving him feeling like an animal who's been taunted through the bars of a cage. Ugly memories, dormant for so long he expected to be free of them, emerge now as if risen from the dead. Horrors worse than what lurk in a crate of vodka have his head pounding -- tick tick tick like the City Clock. Like a time-bomb. Sometimes he sees Amber, free-floating, whispering riddles in his ears. Sometimes it's Yin, watching him with blank eyes and a sad not-smile. Pai is almost always closeby: never quite visible, calling out to him from behind a spray of blood. ]

[ Barely able to distinguish sleep from wakefulness, he isn't sure which is worse. The City feels twice as surreal after the atmosphere of the weekend, the atmosphere of his mind. ]

[ Fortunately there are ample distractions. ]

[Audio]

~~So this place has taken its 'prison' aspects a step further.~~

...Is this a practical joke?

[ Options For Run-Ins: ]

[ Shed: Pent-up energy and a mind for solitude have him trekking through the woods. He's in no mood for the chatter and music of smoky bars. He can't muster that effort to be On tonight -- to handle human faces and prying questions. Worse, the City's full of pests and spies. He'd rather not be out in public, where he could be recognized. The outdoors are a better bet, particularly so late at night. Holed up in an unheated shed, a flask of something foul in his coat pocket, he can lull himself into imperfect numbness. ]

[ If he doesn't freeze to death, locked and stranded, first. ]

[ Houseguest: The moon is pale in the sky. Masked and armed, Hei slinks through rooftops in the early-night darkness. Passing like a shadow past signboards and sloping tiles -- graceful, nearly weightless. He's alert, keeping track of everything. But his mind is fixed on Pai, on Amber and Yin and all the possibilities wasted. The thought-pattern is irrational. A time-waster. Dropping into an empty flat, he tries to snap out of it. It's chilly in here. He doesn't bother switching on the lights. Changing into civilian clothes in the bathroom, he splashes cold water on his face and resolves to head home. ]

[ Until he realizes he's stuck in. ]

[ What now? ]

[OOC: open to action and network replies. I'm cool with assuming he was stuck with more than one person during this curse. On that note, those he's trapped with are welcome to threadjack any network responses! Hei's in a tetchy mood after 4th Wall, so GIVE HIM HELL<3 ]

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[She takes another sip. It doesn't warm her any, but she's beginning to enjoy the buzz.]

What's that?

[ Astonishingly, there's a responsible adult somewhere in Hei. He's keeping a careful eye on her intake. He's not sure City Dead can get hammered. But it's not his responsibility to deal with a drunken Korra. ]

It's a pine mushroom soup. Served with chicken and shrimp. Good for winters. [ Christ, he is hungry. His stomach -- pining dog -- growls. Exhaling, he looks away. ] A few tablespoons of sake add flavor.

Sounds good.

[She's tipsy enough that the sound of his growling stomach makes her giggle, and impulsive enough to reach out and poke his stomach.

Poke. Poke.]

[ He wasn't expecting the drink to loosen all her knots that fast. He doesn't react to the poking except to raise his eyebrows at her. ]

Stop that.

[ His tone of voice suggests strongly that listening to him right now is the best idea. ]

[Yeah, she's a lush. She takes another sip and pokes him again.]

Or what? You can't kill me.

[She's already dead.]

[ He should've known the booze was a bad idea. Suddenly it's very important that he move, and when he does, it's very important to go over to her, though at each stage in the process he forgets what was so almighty important about the stage prior. ]

No. But I can cut you off.

[ Matter-of-factly, he reaches for the bottle. ]

Nu-uh.

[She hides the flask behind her back. There's a slight thrill going through her, partly the alcohol, and partly the chance of a fight. It doesn't matter that he's beaten her badly every single time; it pushes her to fight better, and she gets off on a challenge.]

[ Wrestling her off should be easy. She's loose and bendy and harmless, right now -- a strip of taffy. Nothing like Hei, whose sparks of anger can turn into a full-force rush of bitterness with enough alcohol. ]

Korra.

[ All didactic emphasis. He reaches behind her for the flask. This feels like playing. He can't remember the last time he's played. Let alone in a shed with a girl. ]

Edited 2012-11-14 02:29 (UTC)

[Not all that is loose and bendy is harmless. Not that Korra is doing much harm now, besides being annoying. She pivots, not putting any more distance between them but ensuring that the flask is out of his reach.

She almost responds with a teasing "Li," but it suddenly occurs to her that that might not be his actual name. It might be as much of a cover as his innocent and stupid act.]

What's your name?

[ He leans in closer, face to face, nearly touching. Snatches at the alcohol. Not like they haven't been in more compromising positions during fights. Not like it even means anything. This is practically chaste for him. At her question though, there's definitely a shift in his expression -- something half-shuttered, half-open. The usual smooth lie doesn't come on time. ]

...Does it matter?

[ Names don't count for much in the Syndicate. Even Hei is an alias. ]

[Oh. Hello. Wow he's close. She has enough presence of mind to keep the flask just out of his reach still, but he's very, very close. And warm. The heat anchors her in place, keeping her from trying to step back and put a little more distance between them. She misses warmth.]

I can't call you Li. He's an idiot.

[ Conversely, he feels no heat radiating off her. It's interesting. He's warm and she's cool -- yet their temperaments are ironically in reverse. Leaning in, he attempts a reach-around for the flask. Their bodies are separated by the thinnest sliver of space. But her remark stops him short. ]

[ He fixes on her eyes. Clear blue and white against the dark skin. ]

We're the same person.

[ A lie. Yet not. ]

[Right. Like Noatok and Amon are the same person. Except it's not the waterbender with the tragic past who still hunts her dreams, but the Equalist hiding behind the mask.]

Fine. Li.

[She swallows thickly as she once again manages to keep the flask out of his reach -- barely. He can't be trying all that hard. It's like they're playing a game.]

You're still not getting the flask.

[Or maybe he's playing a game with her. His eyes remind her of a wolf's.]

[ Their proximity is curious -- especially in relation to all she knows about him. Is she really so trusting? Does she think charades and a few smiles make him a safer person? There's so many ways he can hurt her. Broken joints. Sliced veins. Fried nerves. He knows all too well how pain can force out all rational thought, feed total compliance. ]

[ The thought of it, however, settles something strange in his chest. ]

You can't keep it either.

[ Somewhere along the line, it has become a game. But not one he should be playing. Not with her. He's surprised at himself. At this impulse within. He closes in, gloved fingers curling over hers, around the flask. ]

[ Except it's not the target anymore. ]

[Yes, she is. For all the horrible things that have happened to her, leaving scars both visible and hidden, Korra still trusts her gut instincts about people. She's been betrayed -- Tarrlok, pretending to be her friend, and Mr. Sato, pretending to be against the Equalists -- but she had been suspicious of both of them before their betrayals came to light.

She knows Li's dangerous, and that he uses violence to solve his problems even more often than she does (which is saying something). But she also knows he won't hurt her without a reason.]

Why not?

[The teasing tone cuts off as he takes her hand. Even through the gloves, the warmth almost burns her. There's no breath to catch in her throat, but she still finds herself unable to speak.

It's weird the things you feel, even after you're dead and shouldn't be able to feel anything. Confusion. Hesitation. Shyness. Wistfulness. A strange sort of longing. Her feelings have always been so simple (which did not make them easy to deal with). Nothing as complex and mixed as this.]

[ Li wouldn't kill her. But BK-201 would, because his sole deliberating system relies on cold logic. Except there's nothing logical about the City. Or this. He hears a voice suspiciously like Mao's: Deep-six the deep thoughts. Just go with it. Even if it's a mistake -- he's 99% positive it is -- there's only so much self-abnegation in the world, and he's used all his up. Morality is a complicated mess. ]

[ He moves nearer to her. This close, he radiates a tightly-wound energy. He thinks he feels her pulse vibrating between them, but of course that's just his own. A free hand tips her chin up. It'd be easy to stop this. Just one cold word, one sarcastic jibe, and the tension will re-coalesce into another fight. That's her call, though. ]

Because it'll get you in trouble.

[ The double-meaning couldn't be clearer. ]

[He's going to kiss her.

Korra doesn't know what to do. She's never been in a situation where she's had time to think about these things. All her other kisses have been impulsive (and/or curse related). There was no tense expectation, no air thick enough to cut with a blade.

She thinks about Mako, and realizes with surprise that this is the first time she's thought about him all evening, when generally he's never far from her thoughts. The realization hurts, like she's betrayed him somehow, but there's hope in it too.

Maybe she doesn't have to be in love with him. Maybe she can recapture those two weeks where the sight of him and Asami together didn't cut her up on the inside. Maybe she really can move on.

If she thought about it any more, she would panic. So she tossed all thoughts aside and bridged the distance between them, pressing her lips against his in a shy kiss.]

[ Her kiss is shy. His is not. He presses her against the wall, tips her head back. The hand cradling her head spreads to tangle in her hair, gentle but with the potential for roughness. His other pries the flask loose from her fingers, letting it drop with a thud. The sound echoes through the shed, though his head, firing a snap-crackle-pop of images. Carmine's mangled fingers. Yin's tear-bright eyes. Amber's wicked little smile. Too much left unanswered. Too much to process. ]

[ He stops trying. ]

[ He dips his head and skims her lips with his, once, twice, again, testing the difference in heat and chill. His mouth is hot, with a strange energy to it, almost like licking a 9-volt battery. His tongue slips into her mouth. It's not really his thing -- kissing. It's too intimate, too emotional. But there's a funny thing about kisses. They seem so natural and easy once you're into them, you wonder how they were ever something to be refused. ]

[She lets him take the lead, feeling like she's been caught in a riptide. She doesn't know what she's doing, or how to react when his tongue slides in. Her hands hover uncertainly before they settle on his hips.

Everything's awkward and strange and electric. She's painfully aware of how inexperienced she is, and the idea of breaking away and hiding under a rock for the rest of her life is tempting except for the part that involves breaking away. Every time he pulls back, a little whimper escapes her throat and her fingers clutch at his shirt as though to keep him from leaving.]

[ Hei knows his grasp isn't what it should be. Complicated. This is getting complicated. Each alcohol-tinged kiss -- all teeth and tongue -- complicates things further. The little sounds she makes send various parts of him skittering up to the ceiling, and down into the gutter. Enthusiastic. And innocent. No one who's had many men would be as open as she is right now. ]

[ It's easy to let his hand spread across her back, to slide it up and down, before bringing her hard against him. Her hair is soft and cool on his other hand as he cradles the back of her head, supporting her against his force. There've been so many women since Amber -- marks, quick flings, furtive encounters in hotel rooms, back-alleys of bars and clubs. Nothing serious. This is different. The tension, anticipation, it's familiar and strange at the same time. ]

[ His jaw coaxes her lips open to suck hot and slow on her tongue. An exploration and a question in itself. More? ]

[Half gasp, half whimper as he pulls her against him. Her body tingles all over, like a limb that had gone to sleep and is finally waking up.

She chokes back a giggle when he starts sucking on her tongue -- it tickles! -- but at the same time her hands are pulling up his shirt, craving the heat of his skin. An ache builds up below her belly and she instinctively rocks her hips against him.

She's not literate enough to understand Hei's unspoken question, or to understand what her body is saying in response. She's operating purely on instinct and an intense desire not to think.]

[ He feels the vibration of her giggle. Bites at her lip, half-smiling against her mouth. Though the rhythm of his inhale and exhale doesn't change, his breath deepens when she rocks against him. The effect is instant, almost painful -- bloodrush and adrenaline, like a switch flipped On. He lets her pull at his shirt, exhaling a heavy Hmm. The sound is his shorthand, giving permission to invade his territory and be friendly. ]

[ Her every response reads: Yes. Okay. But you don't just barge in without preliminaries and such first. He tightens his hold on her, palm splaying to feel the shape of her, marveling at the architectural curve of her ribcage to her waist and hips. Not a caress so much as a weapon-sweep. It's reflex. He doesn't go anywhere without concealed blades or frags. The priorities are nothing to laugh at. And since she's so close anyway, he might as well test the temperature differential properly. Both gloved hands slip under her shirt, splaying second-hand across skin, warm on cool, before bunching the fabric higher. ]

[ He fully plans to pull it off if she lets him. ]

[She stiffens as his gloved hands meet the bare skin of her ribcage.

How far is she going to let this go?

She remembers the talk her White Lotus masters had with her after she developed breasts. They had impressed upon her the seriousness of sex, how it was not a decision to be taken lightly, and how badly it could interfere with her duties as the Avatar. They had made it sound terrifying. Her mother had laughed and told her not to be afraid, that with her husband it would be something joyous and fun.

Master Katara, who had travelled all over the world since she was 14, slipped her a bundle of herbs. "You'll find many people have different ideas about what a woman should do with her body," she'd said. "But in the end, it's your choice. You have to do what feels right to you."

It had sounded so profound at the time, but now, in the heat of the moment, she realizes what a difficult thing this is. A part of her wants to slow things down. Another part of her is appalled at how far things have gotten already. Yet another part is afraid of being left with her own thoughts, and the awkwardness that would ensue if she stopped things and they ended up still being trapped here. And the physical part of her ached for his touch. How can she do what feels right when all the parts of her were in disagreement?

Her body shivers as his hands brush against her skin. Desire and a fear of awkward silences won out over what could be considered her better judgement.

Permission granted.]

[ She stiffens, and he stops, breaking the kiss. He doesn't draw back. He rests his forehead on hers, breath warm and heavy, assessing her with half-lidded eyes. He's learnt enough from seducing marks to always try and keep a clear head. Intimacy is a head-game, not a sex-game. And she seems off balance. ]

[ Just how inexperienced is she? His conscience, inchoate, forms a question-mark. A rarity among Contractors, who reputedly have no morals at all. But what he feels isn't moral nausea. Age-grading is what helps to keep children childish -- and what reputedly creates clean-living adults. But Hei's childhood wasn't regulated in a series of developmental stages. It was fast, high-stepping -- then it was over. Or more fittingly it never existed. He was never assumed to have needs distinct from an adult. Nor was he shielded from any aspects of sex and brutality. Indeed, he grew up in the thick of it. On the basis of Want, Take, Have. ]

[ When she doesn't resist, he reads it as consent. ]

[ He kisses her again, a seal of lips, a taste of tongue, hands clutching at the material of her shirt. Breaks the kiss only as the material whooshes over her head, static crackling, before catching her mouth again. The shirt is forgotten on the floor next to them as his hands resettle on her ribs. Sliding up to cover her breasts, kneading and massaging before he works his way under wire and fabric to do it properly. Not gentle -- that's the wrong word for it. But ...careful. ]

Edited (edits a million hours and other tags later :\) 2012-11-15 08:11 (UTC)

[Her shirt comes off, and Korra feels strangely grateful that she decided to wear the bra set that she had gotten with Asami rather than her traditional Water Tribe undergarments, which cover more skin. She falls back against the wall with a loud thud, and lets his hands work their way up her body. Her fingers dig into the skin of his back as though she's holding on for dear life.

He touches the bare skin of her breast, and she makes a sound that's half squeak, half moan, embarrassingly loud. It feels so different from the way she touches herself in the shower. The bra clasp digs painfully into her back, and she lets go of him to reach back and undo it. A tricky endeavor, even when she's not pressed against a wall making out with somebody.]

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