Log: Complete
When: Feb 23rd, evening
Rating: Everyone
Characters: Hiei [3redeyes] and Kurama [banditfox]
Summary: Kurama intends to get Hiei to talk about what happened between them during Sunday's curse, one way or another.
Log:
Nearly a week had passed since Hiei and Kurama woke to find themselves sharing a bed in a strange room, having spent a fair portion of the night doing things together that neither of them had willingly discussed with the other before. Several days had passed since their last argument about it. Kurama was still angry with Hiei for refusing to broach the topic. He was also concerned. Hiei was understandably ill-at-ease with any sort of affection, even friendship. Trust had been hard-won between them. It was a trust that Kurama loathed damaging, and one that the City imperiled far too often--as it had the prior weekend.
Fortunately, though Hiei was faster and quite possibly stronger than Kurama, he was still bound by certain physical laws. Even demons had to sleep, and Kurama knew Hiei well enough to make a reasonable guess as to when the other youkai's reserves would be exhausted.
Hiei didn’t like thinking about a great deal of things-really, anything he felt himself ill-equipt to handle. That was a wide range of things, from emotion to affection, and, deeper, to subconscious and dreams. Hiei didn’t think about his dreams, and he didn’t talk about his dreams, as far as he could be concerned, he didn’t have any.
When, on the shores of that sleep, he felt the approaching energy of another-and just not any other, but one he’d been trying to avoid-his subconscious, usually his enemy, tried to stir him.
Kurama was coming.
The fox was pleased to see that he had accurately anticipated the point at which Hiei would no longer be able to remain awake. He would let his partner sleep, make certain they were somewhere secure, and once Hiei was cognizant again, they would talk.
Waiting to trap the smaller demon until he couldn't run any longer was a little underhanded, but it appeared to be the only way matters between them would be resolved.
His eyes (the natural ones) rolled back and forth under closed lids, and, finally, opened. He was awake. The world sagged with his fatigue, though, colors and sound became muted. Things echoed strangely. His most sincere desire became finding a place to sleep uninterrupted, not avoid Kurama, anymore. But the end result of that... Well, Hiei already knew what would happen. He pushed himself onward.
This was nothing. He’d survived worse.
Though, that ‘worse’ he’d survived, he’d been sure of, he’d been confident. He’d known he was right.
Now, for one of the first times where he’d faced a major struggle (though he’d be loathe to admit this was a struggle, or major, just the fox being an idiot) he was unsure.
Somehow, that made it worse.
And, as a true testament to his exhaustion, Hiei realized in some sort of a flash that, while he’d been thinking of all this idiocy, he hadn’t moved.
Hiei began running, again. It was what he was good at.
Unfortunately for Hiei, nature was in Kurama's favor. The plants rose up around him, forming walls where there had been none. Kurama waited patiently at the center of it. Branch, vine and leaf answered his call as he leaned against an old tree, arms crossed loosely over his chest as though he were doing nothing more significant than enjoying the scenery. Some of the power that he had gathered formed a faint haze of yellow light around his form, the only visible sign of effort, and one that could only be seen by those with heightened spiritual awareness.
Hiei could cut through the barrier. When that failed, he could burn through it. Kurama didn't care. He would continue feeding youki into the plants to repair the damage until either he or his partner was forced to give in. It was up to Hiei to decide if he cared enough to call a truce before that happened.
Hiei was good at running. He wasn’t very good at stopping. You could ask Yukina that, if she were here any longer. Which she wasn’t. And it was better that way.
If Hiei’s fury at the vines, and the eventual flames, increased, then, he said nothing. He wouldn’t have said anything, anyway, but the fact remained, his fervor continued, augmented.
He wasn’t going to stop. He didn’t want to talk to anyone, right now, or, as it felt in the bottom of his gut, ever.
Hiei's anger strained Kurama's powers as the fox continued to feed the barrier, augmenting its strength with his own. As the plants began to deteriorate beyond his ability to quickly repair them, he withdrew a seed from his hair and dropped it at his feet. Roots burrowed into the ground and ran through it several inches beneath the surface. Several stalks erupted at the base of the failing barrier and tangled with the crumbling structure. Leaves colored burnt orange unfurled and failed to ignite. The plant was fireproof.
Hiei had never heard the adage, ‘fight fire with fire’, but if he had, he’d’ve thought Kurama an idiot for buying into it.
His anger dissipated in view of the new plant, burning deep inside himself, caramelizing into frustration. He was tired, and he was alone.
Trusting the fox’s hearing to catch his words over the din of burning plants and trees quaking with the sudden weight, violence, and then dissipation of that violence, he said, “Kurama. Stop.”
"Are you ready to talk?" Kurama replied. His youki was still at work, encouraging new growth that didn't burn as easily, holding the single Makai plant he had sewn firmly in check. He wanted guarantees. He wanted to know that if he withdrew his power now and let the plants return to their original states, he would not have to wait another five days to ambush his partner for the chance to simply speak with him.
Hiei was panting, and angry, and he felt weak and tired. This only fueled his ill temper.
The bitterness in his voice was clearly evident, “I’m not ready for much else, am I?”
Technically, that was still a 'no'.
After over a thousand years of building his own legend in the Makai, Kurama wasn't likely to fall for such a simple trick. "There are two proper answers to that question. You can say yes, and I'll call these plants back to the way they should be. You can say no, and we'll continue as we have been until everything falls apart."
Hiei didn’t say anything. He just sat down on the branch he’d been standing on. Too angry for words, he threw his sword so that it landed next to him; point imbedded in the oak, and stared at Kurama. His eyes drooped, and his breathing was irregular with frustration and fatigue, but he was awake.
His voice was bitter and raw when he said, “What do you want?” The anger was barely contained.
It was difficult for Kurama to reverse the growth that had created the barriers. The Makai plant, so recently freed, was reluctant to return to dormancy. When the area around them at last looked again like a natural forest, the fox sat in his customery place at the base of Hiei's tree. He retrieved the tiny red seed he had dropped and secreted it away. "You know what I want." His tone was quiet, undemanding. "Why are you afraid?" Kurama thought he knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it from Hiei first.
Hiei inhaled rapidly, catching some of the soot still floating around him. He glared to Kurama, “No, I don’t know what you want, or I wouldn’t have asked, idiot.”
What second question? If there was one, Hiei ignored it.
"Yes, you do, or you wouldn't run," Kurama insisted. He sighed and leaned his head back against the tree, ignoring the tug of the rough bark against his hair. He closed his eyes as he conceeded that he would indeed have to answer that second question before Hiei would.
"I think you're frightened because you don't understand. You still don't quite believe that you aren't alone. Your mother's people called you 'imiko,' and you're convinced that you can't be more than that, because you're incapable of forgetting it. Even Mukuro had to fight you until you were on your knees before you would let her close."
When he opened his eyes again, he was staring up at Hiei. "After all these years, I'd hoped I might at least be shown the same level of regard you afford to her."
Hiei seethed. Not one to stutter or speak when he was not composed, he just sat, boiling into his own anger, until he could speak again.
When he could, he said, “You still haven’t explained what you expect of me, for all of this wasted effort.” He flicked a wrist, vaguely, in the direction of the forest around them.
Why answer something that hadn’t anything to do with him? The fox was obviously attributing emotions to actions that didn’t add up, didn’t make sense... Hiei saw no point in it.
Kurama was always cautious of saying "imiko"--the Forbidden Child--in Hiei's presence. It was a curse more than a title, one that Hiei did not deserve. On the rare occasions Kurama had heard it applied to the other demon in person, Hiei had remained neutral. That it bothered him to hear the word from Kurama at this moment meant he had more emotion invested in this exchange than he would admit to.
With that in mind, Kurama made a decision. He gave Hiei the desired explanation.
"Things have changed between us. What you make of that is still your choice. I had hoped you'd allow us to approach that change as partners, but you refuse to do so."
He stood and began to walk away. Like Hiei, he was tired, tired of arguing, of cajoling, even of trying.
"Don't come back to the apartment until you've made up your mind. Maybe a few days away will remind you what being alone truly is."
And then Hiei knew he’d won. He’d spent his whole life alone, and he could do it again.
“Fine.”
He turned, and, in a dark flicker of air, he left.
Rating: Everyone
Characters: Hiei [3redeyes] and Kurama [banditfox]
Summary: Kurama intends to get Hiei to talk about what happened between them during Sunday's curse, one way or another.
Log:
Nearly a week had passed since Hiei and Kurama woke to find themselves sharing a bed in a strange room, having spent a fair portion of the night doing things together that neither of them had willingly discussed with the other before. Several days had passed since their last argument about it. Kurama was still angry with Hiei for refusing to broach the topic. He was also concerned. Hiei was understandably ill-at-ease with any sort of affection, even friendship. Trust had been hard-won between them. It was a trust that Kurama loathed damaging, and one that the City imperiled far too often--as it had the prior weekend.
Fortunately, though Hiei was faster and quite possibly stronger than Kurama, he was still bound by certain physical laws. Even demons had to sleep, and Kurama knew Hiei well enough to make a reasonable guess as to when the other youkai's reserves would be exhausted.
Hiei didn’t like thinking about a great deal of things-really, anything he felt himself ill-equipt to handle. That was a wide range of things, from emotion to affection, and, deeper, to subconscious and dreams. Hiei didn’t think about his dreams, and he didn’t talk about his dreams, as far as he could be concerned, he didn’t have any.
When, on the shores of that sleep, he felt the approaching energy of another-and just not any other, but one he’d been trying to avoid-his subconscious, usually his enemy, tried to stir him.
Kurama was coming.
The fox was pleased to see that he had accurately anticipated the point at which Hiei would no longer be able to remain awake. He would let his partner sleep, make certain they were somewhere secure, and once Hiei was cognizant again, they would talk.
Waiting to trap the smaller demon until he couldn't run any longer was a little underhanded, but it appeared to be the only way matters between them would be resolved.
His eyes (the natural ones) rolled back and forth under closed lids, and, finally, opened. He was awake. The world sagged with his fatigue, though, colors and sound became muted. Things echoed strangely. His most sincere desire became finding a place to sleep uninterrupted, not avoid Kurama, anymore. But the end result of that... Well, Hiei already knew what would happen. He pushed himself onward.
This was nothing. He’d survived worse.
Though, that ‘worse’ he’d survived, he’d been sure of, he’d been confident. He’d known he was right.
Now, for one of the first times where he’d faced a major struggle (though he’d be loathe to admit this was a struggle, or major, just the fox being an idiot) he was unsure.
Somehow, that made it worse.
And, as a true testament to his exhaustion, Hiei realized in some sort of a flash that, while he’d been thinking of all this idiocy, he hadn’t moved.
Hiei began running, again. It was what he was good at.
Unfortunately for Hiei, nature was in Kurama's favor. The plants rose up around him, forming walls where there had been none. Kurama waited patiently at the center of it. Branch, vine and leaf answered his call as he leaned against an old tree, arms crossed loosely over his chest as though he were doing nothing more significant than enjoying the scenery. Some of the power that he had gathered formed a faint haze of yellow light around his form, the only visible sign of effort, and one that could only be seen by those with heightened spiritual awareness.
Hiei could cut through the barrier. When that failed, he could burn through it. Kurama didn't care. He would continue feeding youki into the plants to repair the damage until either he or his partner was forced to give in. It was up to Hiei to decide if he cared enough to call a truce before that happened.
Hiei was good at running. He wasn’t very good at stopping. You could ask Yukina that, if she were here any longer. Which she wasn’t. And it was better that way.
If Hiei’s fury at the vines, and the eventual flames, increased, then, he said nothing. He wouldn’t have said anything, anyway, but the fact remained, his fervor continued, augmented.
He wasn’t going to stop. He didn’t want to talk to anyone, right now, or, as it felt in the bottom of his gut, ever.
Hiei's anger strained Kurama's powers as the fox continued to feed the barrier, augmenting its strength with his own. As the plants began to deteriorate beyond his ability to quickly repair them, he withdrew a seed from his hair and dropped it at his feet. Roots burrowed into the ground and ran through it several inches beneath the surface. Several stalks erupted at the base of the failing barrier and tangled with the crumbling structure. Leaves colored burnt orange unfurled and failed to ignite. The plant was fireproof.
Hiei had never heard the adage, ‘fight fire with fire’, but if he had, he’d’ve thought Kurama an idiot for buying into it.
His anger dissipated in view of the new plant, burning deep inside himself, caramelizing into frustration. He was tired, and he was alone.
Trusting the fox’s hearing to catch his words over the din of burning plants and trees quaking with the sudden weight, violence, and then dissipation of that violence, he said, “Kurama. Stop.”
"Are you ready to talk?" Kurama replied. His youki was still at work, encouraging new growth that didn't burn as easily, holding the single Makai plant he had sewn firmly in check. He wanted guarantees. He wanted to know that if he withdrew his power now and let the plants return to their original states, he would not have to wait another five days to ambush his partner for the chance to simply speak with him.
Hiei was panting, and angry, and he felt weak and tired. This only fueled his ill temper.
The bitterness in his voice was clearly evident, “I’m not ready for much else, am I?”
Technically, that was still a 'no'.
After over a thousand years of building his own legend in the Makai, Kurama wasn't likely to fall for such a simple trick. "There are two proper answers to that question. You can say yes, and I'll call these plants back to the way they should be. You can say no, and we'll continue as we have been until everything falls apart."
Hiei didn’t say anything. He just sat down on the branch he’d been standing on. Too angry for words, he threw his sword so that it landed next to him; point imbedded in the oak, and stared at Kurama. His eyes drooped, and his breathing was irregular with frustration and fatigue, but he was awake.
His voice was bitter and raw when he said, “What do you want?” The anger was barely contained.
It was difficult for Kurama to reverse the growth that had created the barriers. The Makai plant, so recently freed, was reluctant to return to dormancy. When the area around them at last looked again like a natural forest, the fox sat in his customery place at the base of Hiei's tree. He retrieved the tiny red seed he had dropped and secreted it away. "You know what I want." His tone was quiet, undemanding. "Why are you afraid?" Kurama thought he knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it from Hiei first.
Hiei inhaled rapidly, catching some of the soot still floating around him. He glared to Kurama, “No, I don’t know what you want, or I wouldn’t have asked, idiot.”
What second question? If there was one, Hiei ignored it.
"Yes, you do, or you wouldn't run," Kurama insisted. He sighed and leaned his head back against the tree, ignoring the tug of the rough bark against his hair. He closed his eyes as he conceeded that he would indeed have to answer that second question before Hiei would.
"I think you're frightened because you don't understand. You still don't quite believe that you aren't alone. Your mother's people called you 'imiko,' and you're convinced that you can't be more than that, because you're incapable of forgetting it. Even Mukuro had to fight you until you were on your knees before you would let her close."
When he opened his eyes again, he was staring up at Hiei. "After all these years, I'd hoped I might at least be shown the same level of regard you afford to her."
Hiei seethed. Not one to stutter or speak when he was not composed, he just sat, boiling into his own anger, until he could speak again.
When he could, he said, “You still haven’t explained what you expect of me, for all of this wasted effort.” He flicked a wrist, vaguely, in the direction of the forest around them.
Why answer something that hadn’t anything to do with him? The fox was obviously attributing emotions to actions that didn’t add up, didn’t make sense... Hiei saw no point in it.
Kurama was always cautious of saying "imiko"--the Forbidden Child--in Hiei's presence. It was a curse more than a title, one that Hiei did not deserve. On the rare occasions Kurama had heard it applied to the other demon in person, Hiei had remained neutral. That it bothered him to hear the word from Kurama at this moment meant he had more emotion invested in this exchange than he would admit to.
With that in mind, Kurama made a decision. He gave Hiei the desired explanation.
"Things have changed between us. What you make of that is still your choice. I had hoped you'd allow us to approach that change as partners, but you refuse to do so."
He stood and began to walk away. Like Hiei, he was tired, tired of arguing, of cajoling, even of trying.
"Don't come back to the apartment until you've made up your mind. Maybe a few days away will remind you what being alone truly is."
And then Hiei knew he’d won. He’d spent his whole life alone, and he could do it again.
“Fine.”
He turned, and, in a dark flicker of air, he left.