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I'm the Avatar, and you gotta deal with it!
When; Grab Bag Weekend!
Rating; PG-13
Characters; Korra and anybody else
Summary; Korra wakes up Saturday morning with her full Avatar powers...and no memory of the City.
Log;
When Korra opens her eyes Saturday morning, it's to find herself in a strange bed.
She spends a moment staring at the ceiling, trying to understand what's happening. Trying to remember what happened that would have brought her here. But there's nothing. The last thing she remembers is kissing Mako.
Mako... Maybe he's here. She rolls out of bed. If he's here, if any of her friends are here, she'll find them.
And if she finds the person who kidnapped her, she's going to make him regret being born.
Rating; PG-13
Characters; Korra and anybody else
Summary; Korra wakes up Saturday morning with her full Avatar powers...and no memory of the City.
Log;
When Korra opens her eyes Saturday morning, it's to find herself in a strange bed.
She spends a moment staring at the ceiling, trying to understand what's happening. Trying to remember what happened that would have brought her here. But there's nothing. The last thing she remembers is kissing Mako.
Mako... Maybe he's here. She rolls out of bed. If he's here, if any of her friends are here, she'll find them.
And if she finds the person who kidnapped her, she's going to make him regret being born.
Sunday - Nighttime ♥
Sunday - Nighttime ♥
[ But before he can cut the gap between them with a snagged cable or an old-fashioned crashtackle, the earth shoots up in a craggy cage, trapping him in. What the hell -- ? Red-stained sweat on Hei's brow and neck makes strands of black hair cling to his mask. But aside from the carefully-controlled, staccato rise and fall of his chest, he is perfectly still. ]
[ One quick sweep reveals the stones are too dense to kick through. Better to conserve his energy. Bide his time until she's closer. ]
Sunday - Nighttime ♥
You should have just answered my question.
[The sight of his mask, even with him trapped, makes her stomach roll. With a deep breath, she takes it off.]
Sunday - Nighttime ♥
[ Instead he lets her take his mask off. The prior fight has opened a seeping red cut across his cheek and the bridge of his nose. The orbit of his right eye is purpled and puffy. But his expression is coolly neutral, the determination to look her straight in the eyes unwavering despite his tactical disadvantage. He's been in this position before, but not often. Usually it's at the hands of fellow professionals on the same tier as he is. (He'd say it's humiliating, getting nailed by an amateur. A teenaged bratgirl. Except he secretly loved every minute of it. No bullshit, just a real balls-out fight.) ]
But that wouldn't get you off as much as this did.
[ The words are cutting. But a crowded cafe and a cup of cappuccino and his tone could almost be called casual. Instead, he's dressed in blood and bruises. (But when is that ever the opposite of casual in his world?) ]
Sunday - Nighttime ♥
But she frowns when she gets a good look at his face. The blood dripping from his nose reminds her of the arm injury she had ignored earlier. Now that his mask is off and he's safely immobilized, she feels just the slightest twinge of guilt at having added to his injuries.]
How do you know me?
[As she repeats the question, she bends the water out of a nearby puddle. She spends a few moments filtering out the dirt and filth, getting it as pure as she can before bringing the water up to his face. He'll feel a cool, soothing touch and a strange tingle of energy as first she heals the cut on his face and then reduces the bruising around his eye.]
Sunday - Nighttime ♥
[ His eyes flutter shut; he endures the healing. The energy reminds him of a mint balm, how it tingles as it seeps into his flesh. He doesn't thank her; half the injuries are her fault to begin with. Instead, pragmatic as ever, he accepts the free patch-up. His heart is no longer walloping in his chest, the adrenaline slowly fizzling out of his system. But now spots burst in his line of sight. ]
[ He shakes them off, ignoring the leaden ache in his muscles and the encroaching wooziness. His eyes stay fixed on her, sharp and predatory although she's the one pinning him in place. ]
We have a history of running into each other this way.
[ Although it's the first time it's ended with him at her mercy. Damn, time and emotions are funny things. Funny like syphilis. ]
Sunday - Nighttime ♥
One last answer first, and then she'll risk letting him out to finish healing.]
Who are you?
Sunday - Nighttime ♥
You call me 'Li'.
[ Simple and concise. Let her think his fortitude has crumbled. Let her think he's ready to play the passive prisoner. At some point, she'll have to let him loose. When she does, he'll make good on his escape. Every word and gesture is funneling into an exit strategy at this point. ]
Sunday - Nighttime ♥
[Weird, aggravating man. She's tempted to keep him trapped, try to get some more answers out of him. But she's not that great a healer, and he had some pretty bad injuries. If she lets them get any worse, they'll be beyond her power to deal with.]
I'm dropping the walls so I can fix your wrist and arm. Don't try to go anywhere.
Sunday - Nighttime ♥
[ The idea of her prying answers from him is laughable. Interrogation (with or without torture) is a game every Syndicate operative is well-versed with playing. When she speaks again, he turns his head to one side and spits out the dregs of blood that've welled up in his mouth (well away from her, thanks). His face is hard to read, but there's an uptilt in the corners of his mouth, like seeing a kitten growl like a tiger. Don't try to go anywhere. He wonders if she could try to stop him. ]
All right.
[ He lies with the ease of telling the truth. He'll accept the healing in good part. (What smart man wouldn't?) Once that ends, so will their little run-in. ]
Re: Sunday - Nighttime ♥
How can you be so sure of that?
Sunday - Nighttime ♥
[ While she heals him, he keeps his expression neutral, his gaze on the burn. But she may notice him casting little glances down at her with every few seconds, absorbing every visual detail of her face. He doesn't try to hide it. He wants to look at her as a stranger would, but he can't separate what he knows of her from the blank slate evoked by the curse. ]
[ The two of them remind him of children. Caught in a riptide of pettiness and push-me-pull-you. ]
Because I know it for a fact.
Sunday - Nighttime ♥
[She doesn't understand how everyone can be so sure. This entire place is incomprehensible to her.
She gets the burn down to only a slightly grumpy red, not wanting to use all her energy on one injury when she had at least a few more to do. Hope you don't like that shirt much, Hei, because she's ripping the sleeve so she can get access to the gash on his arm.
Her attention is focused on healing, but she doesn't miss the glances he's stealing. Why is he looking at her like that? According to him, they knew each other because they fought. That's not how you look at an enemy. Either he's some kind of sick weirdo, or there's something he's not telling her.]
Sunday - Nighttime ♥
[ (Except, watching her, he feels a haze of emotion so tangled and sharp it's almost sister to regret, and he can't begin to dissect it rationally. He just knows it's there, and it's been there for awhile. Exactly how long is something he'd rather not consider right now.) ]
It doesn't matter. Ignorance is bliss for a reason. [ Because he'd rather have her at his throat, than reveal what he's keeping from her. The destruction of his blood-sodden sleeve gets a raised eyebrow. But the whole tac-suit will need replacement anyway. He stands patiently for her ministrations, not like a prisoner biding his time, but like a well-behaved soldier. The wound throbs deeply, but he doesn't let it show. He just rolls his neck from side to side, working out the kinks before fixing her with that same level stare. ]
[ It's neither warm nor cool. But it's not the look of an enemy. It's too intimate. ]
Sunday - Nighttime ♥
People only say that when they know stuff. [sullen]
[Healing him is more difficult than she'd expected. His chi is a huge mess, far beyond her ability to deal with. The best she can do is try to work around the blockages, and even that requires that she tap into the Avatar state again. After she finally knits the flesh of his arm back together, she moves to his ribs. How had he managed to fight with his ribcage in this condition?
Not just fight... it's hard to forget about the bodies of the monsters surrounding them. She's not Aang; the fact of their deaths doesn't bother her. But the scale of destruction is eerie, and she can't make sense of any of it.
Ignorance isn't bliss. Ignorance is vulnerability, and Korra doesn't like it.]
Sunday - Nighttime ♥
[ He'd rather not pickle his brain trying to suss it out. ]
[ He raises his arms so she can manage his ribs. He doesn't flinch, but there's a hitch in his breathing. Something inside doesn't feel right. But if not for the healing, Hei suspects that not-rightness would've been with him for awhile. (Not that anyone would be able to tell with 'Li'. That scarecrow is always hunched over like a poster-child for lousy posture.) ]
Especially when it's 'stuff' other people are better off not knowing.
[ The corners of his lips quirk the slightest bit. It's a dry tease, meant to keep things offhand and interesting as if they're friends on their way to grab muffins and a latte, even if he has no intention of sticking around once she's finished patching him up. ]
Sunday - Nighttime ♥
That's not for you to decide.
[She's had other people deciding what's best for her for seventeen years now. This "Li" person isn't one of her parents or Tenzin or one of her bending masters. As far as she's concerned, he's a total stranger and he gets no say in what she's "better" off knowing or not knowing.
She might have knit his ribs together with a little extra force. Petty revenge.]
Sunday - Nighttime ♥
[ He makes no complaint at the extra zing in her healing. His shoulders shift and flex slightly at the sensation, but there's no move to escape her. Not yet. Lowering his arms at level with his ribs, he clenches and unclenches his palms experimentally, shifting into what looks like the first form of a port de bras exercise. It's not too far off: he's checking the stiffness in his joints, the smoothness in his muscles. ]
[ There's still the dull twinge of bruises here and there. But it's nothing he can't ignore. His focus goes back to Korra's face. He gives her a strange look -- the kind that might make her feel a bit like a little girl, but one who is very singularly endearing. A moment later the gaze shutters into perfect blankness. ] Ask yourself that once it's midnight. [ He doesn't explain himself further. In the space of a heartbeat, he's launched a cable up at the closest rooftop. Before she tries to stop him, he's swept off his feet and rocketed into the air. He knows the Underground far better than her. With a hundred nooks and crannies to slip into, it'll be impossible to track him down. ]
[ (He leaves his mask behind, the surface pitted and bloodsplattered. Consider it a souvenir. Or break it to pieces, if you like. He has spares.) ]
Sunday - Nighttime ♥
Creepy jerk. Even though she didn't really get any answers from him, Korra's glad he's gone. She sets his mask on fire, feeling comforted as she watches it burn.
She's still lost, though. And tired from healing him. Great.]
Stupid jerk.