[ In most ways, Hei's train of thought is inevitable. During Heaven's War, he'd seen the worst humanity had to offer in terms of selfishness, violence, and indifference. Logically, you'd expect exposure to that kind of behavior to result in more of the same. (The fact that it hasn't -- that Hei hasn't been entirely swallowed up by it -- says volumes. There's a core to him that the grime of his daily life hasn't yet seeped into.) ]
[ He doesn't respond to the faint note of skepticism in Pavel's words. Nor does he reveal that his teammates in South America never kept the dreamcatchers intact. Instead they'd carried fragments of them, like talismans. The implication, when you stopped to consider the cadre Hei belonged to, was fitting. The best of the best; the most ruthless. Walking nightmares. Something about the atmosphere here, maybe the sight of the dreamcatcher, or the smoky air, brings it back for Hei. What it was like to be a teenager, no older than Pavel, with deadly skills and a license to use them, miles from home and making it up as he went along, knowing no one had been so near the Gate before his team, like astronauts on the moon but better, juiced with hormones and adrenaline, excitement and fear, an adolescent's keen mind and a predator's deadly instincts. ]
[ They'd known they were special, anointed for their role, baptized by bloodshed and experience, their childhoods as useless to them as empty snakeskins. What they didn't know -- not he, or Amber, or Carmine, or even Pai -- was what they'd be forced to forfeit afterward. ]
[ Pavel's friendly gesture gets a raised eyebrow. But Hei doesn't shrug him off. Physicality is a calculated thing for him. Still, there's no harm in spontaneous contact -- provided it's in small doses. Tipping his shoulder with a faint smile, he says, ] I hope you live to get old, but not bitter. [ Not the same as Many happy returns or May you live to be a hundred. But it's sincere. ]
no subject
[ He doesn't respond to the faint note of skepticism in Pavel's words. Nor does he reveal that his teammates in South America never kept the dreamcatchers intact. Instead they'd carried fragments of them, like talismans. The implication, when you stopped to consider the cadre Hei belonged to, was fitting. The best of the best; the most ruthless. Walking nightmares. Something about the atmosphere here, maybe the sight of the dreamcatcher, or the smoky air, brings it back for Hei. What it was like to be a teenager, no older than Pavel, with deadly skills and a license to use them, miles from home and making it up as he went along, knowing no one had been so near the Gate before his team, like astronauts on the moon but better, juiced with hormones and adrenaline, excitement and fear, an adolescent's keen mind and a predator's deadly instincts. ]
[ They'd known they were special, anointed for their role, baptized by bloodshed and experience, their childhoods as useless to them as empty snakeskins. What they didn't know -- not he, or Amber, or Carmine, or even Pai -- was what they'd be forced to forfeit afterward. ]
[ Pavel's friendly gesture gets a raised eyebrow. But Hei doesn't shrug him off. Physicality is a calculated thing for him. Still, there's no harm in spontaneous contact -- provided it's in small doses. Tipping his shoulder with a faint smile, he says, ] I hope you live to get old, but not bitter. [ Not the same as Many happy returns or May you live to be a hundred. But it's sincere. ]