all my life i've drowned in adrenaline. now my blood runs slow like a sedative, i wake up past noon and they settled in. lord please help me, i dont wanna lay down. so help me get the fuck back up. i dont wanna lay down. help me back up. song baram || agent artemis // disclaimer
her heart breaks for him anew as he stumbles towards her, her little brother that sheâs loved more than her own life for so many years. the little brother she had thought of every night before falling asleep, the boy who once used to only be able to find sleep in her arms after a hard day. she remembers how small he had been back then, the first time their accursed father had targeted baram for his experiments. she remembers how heâd been so insistent on playing still, up until heâd collapsed into his building blocks and haneul had panicked. he had laid there in bed after sheâd forcibly tucked him in, his exhausted body suffering from fever, watching through barely open eyes as she flew the airplane for him with tears in her eyes. in her mind, while she had been gone, sometimes he had still been that child.
but the boy stumbling towards her is no longer a child, and that also hurts.
but when he buries his face in her side, her hand slips into his hair naturally, smoothing down the faded red strands and she wants to cry, because this feels right. this is what she had dreamed of, had fought to come back to.
âmy little love,â she thinks fondly, the longing in her thoughts almost tangible as she fights the tears that slip down her face despite her best efforts, âiâm so sorry⌠iâm so sorry i left you for so long⌠i fought every day to come back⌠you were my strength when i thought i couldnât carry on, little wind.â when he tells her that their father is dead, the sharp stab of vicious pleasure that courses through her is almost startling.
but the vehemence shines through even in her thoughts. âhe deserved nothing less. itâs okay to be scared⌠itâs okay to be scared. but weâll protect you. iâm never going to let you go again,â she declares, grateful that she doesnât have to say the words out loud. with the tears slipping down her face and the hitched breaths sheâs softly gasping for, she doesnât think that she would be able to say it out loud.
her hand strokes through his hair, comforting and steady, just like she had when she used to lull him to sleep.
'my precious little brother⌠iâll love you even after the world ends.â
cw: implied child abuse; needles/syringes; hospitals; parental death
her fingers breeze gently through his hair and he shivers at the familiar touch that had only been phantom until now. his body shakes with muffled sobs as he tries desperately to cling to the tangible familiarities of his sister that he can perceive through the sharp chemical smells and sounds of the hospital room theyâre stuck in. suddenly every ache and pain feels so real, no longer dull and inconsequential but raw and razor sharp. suddenly he is six years old again and his father looms over them both, needle in hand. his head spins, and if he hadnât already been kneeling at her side, he knees mightâve given out from beneath him as he cowered from his own memories.
âsit still, baram!â the young boyâs wail is shrill and piercing, hand print reddening across his small, plump cheek. the next strike lands on his sister, who has put her lithe frame between them both. it is enough to quiet the boy, who canât stand seeing her hurt. the syringe is shiny and long, and he would crawl far, far away from it if not for his sisterâs arms wrapped snug and warm around him.
âi wanted to find you. i wanted more than anything to find you. i wanted to die trying. i wanted to find mom and you. i wanted to kill him.â he speaks out loud, the only way to discern his flashbacks from reality. he finds himself afraid to lift his head, for fear that the ghost of his father might be looming just behind him, waiting to administer another painful injection.
the boyâs mind is fraught with suffering, but full of genius, craves the kind of play where he can turn building blocks into anything he can imagine. even as the experimental serum seeps into his enhancement and rapidly becomes dizziness, migraine, nausea, does he insist on playing. then there is syncope, which sends him noisily toppling into a pile of plastic blocks. she is there to gather him into her arms, ignoring his squirming and carrying him to bed. âyou can still play but you canât use that arm, okay? tell me what you want, and iâll help you. promise.â
he can hear footsteps outside the door, men talking in low, authoritative voices. reality drifts further away, blurring the line between it and his memories even further, âdonât leave again. donât let them do anything to me.â
he mumbles in garbled toddler speech about how cold he is, fever another unwelcome side effect come to visit.Â
âi know, little wind, i know...if you sleep now, youâll feel better when you wake up...â
a small plump hand uncurls itself, revealing a crudely built lego contraption for her to take, âyou have to make it fly. itâs an airplane.â he watches intently as she moves the toy in graceful arcs in front of him, his eyelids growing heavier under the sharp ache just behind them, âyou press a button...for the engine to go... wsssshhh...to...â
she falls asleep eventually, long after she is sure he has, sitting at his bedside, battling a fever of her own.
âit was daesu. daesu killed him,â he manages through slowly dwindling sobs, his body exhausted from emotion. but his speech is still rushed and clipped, as if they might burst in and drag him away from her forever. again. âiâll never find mom now. iâm sorry.â
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but i'm black and blue, from bleedin' for you
you strike the match, burn me out so fast
look what we had, now it's turned to ash
                             a flashback with @miaheliosâ
cw: blood, gore, family death
heâs dead.
baram knows heâs dead before daesuâs blade even slides out of his chest with a wet, metallic sound.
âno-â his own hands are still clinging to his fatherâs shirt, where they were shaking him vigorously only moments before, demanding answers, full of pain and rage, âNO!â
he topples awkwardly to the ground, the cumbersome weight of his fatherâs bleeding body dragging him down with it. his knees dig painfully into the uneven terrain of a city ravaged by an apocalypse, and still he doesnât let go, even as he turns his head, trains his red, enraged gaze on daesu.
âwhat did you do? WHY DID YOU DO THAT!? dad. dad. you son of a bitch, donât you dare die on me-â baram shakes him again, ignores the way the manâs lips curl into the last breaths of a smile, the way his skull thuds grotesquely against the crumbled pavement underneath him. the world is blurry through his tears, through his fear and his anger, through his grief and his pain, âwhere is she? WHEREâS MOM?â
he's lost count of how many times heâs shouted at the man for answers he will never have. his voice is ragged, his vocal chords, already ravaged by the unpredictability of adolescence, rubbed raw with the animalistic instincts coursing through his veins.
âyou son of a bitch,â he repeats weakly, long after the cruel manâs punctured heart has stopped, red-stained smile glued into place by his death. there is no love for the man in baramâs voice, no grief for his fatherâs death to spare. there is only hatred, and loss, and rage, knowing he will never see his mother again, knowing all he has left are the memories of countless jabs and a merciless experiment and an unending headache and no more family. haneul, he thinks, sobbing once, and then twice, haneul i failed. please. where are you?
his fists untwist from bloodied fabric only to bang against the dead manâs ribcage, over and over, the corpse jerking unsettlingly with every impact. the lump in his throat grows so large it feels like he might suffocate, and his heart pangs so fiercely he is certain itâll implode any moment, a grenade of grief swallowed whole.
just like that, he has lost everything. he has lost everyone. he is left behind on this doomed planet with poisoned veins and a broken brain and no one left to love. and he will never see them again.
it begins as a ringing in his ears, quiet at first, and then high-pitched and unbearable. he shuts his eyes against the garish glare of the afternoon sun, feels the telltale migraine of his unstable enhancement settling in just behind his eyes. the pain in his chest pings loudly, travels like an electric shock through the lump in his throat and up his spinal chord, exploding white hot between his temples. the shout that escapes him is louder than anything heâs let out in his fit, but he barely hears it through the pain in his skull. and when his hands shoot up from his fatherâs body to clutch the sides of his head, blackened hairline cracks show themselves, peeking through the exposed skin between his sleeves and gloves, creeping dangerously downward.
be strong and hold my hand // time it comes for us, youâll understand // weâll say goodbye, today // if i could be with you, tonight // i would sing you to sleep // never let them take the light behind your eyes
>>for @lunaxmia
sheâs restless in her bed, her eyes open but unseeing, staring blankly at a ceiling that holds no interest to her. sheâs been allowed to see daesu, even seb has dropped by briefly, but the other piece of her heart, her precious brother â they havenât given him⌠or her, clearance to meet each other yet. she knows. of all people, haneul well understands the reasons why she cannot be allowed to meet other agents freely until sheâs been vetted. her power is dangerous, useful, irreplaceable â and untraceable. of all people, haneul certainly knows the best why she hasnât been allowed to see baram yet.Â
but at the same time, ignoring all logic â itâs baram. her little brother, the only part left she has of her family. ( here, she staunchly ignores the fact that their father is still somewhere out there. that person barely even deserves the label of human, let alone father. what kind of father experiments on his six year old son? what kind of father experiments on his children? ) itâs her precious little wind, her baby breeze, and she needs to make sure that heâs okay. that she hasnât let him down irreparably.Â
she hears him before she sees him, his racing thoughts and desperation nearly tangible, and when he bursts into the room, panting, fiery-eyed and fiery-haired, she feels that abrupt change as he sees her. he sees her, and she can hear the moment that he registers sheâs really there â but sheâs distracted, because thatâs baram in front of her, so grown up. heâs so different from the teenager sheâd left behind, and yet, when she looks at him, the tears already pouring down his face, it almost feels like heâs still the teenager she knew.Â
âbaram â my little wind,â she reaches out for him, still physically weak, still recovering, and she canât help the tears that well up in her own eyes to see him really there. sheâs waited so long to see him. itâs been more than four years since the last time sheâd seen him in person, and heâs so different but still the same â still her little brother.Â
âcome here, baram,â even in his mind, her voice is pleading, soft and full of longing, a slim, frail hand stretched out towards the brother sheâd longed to see for so long. âi missed you so much⌠i love you so muchâŚâ
right now, she canât see or hear anything but him.
it all overcomes him so suddenly, like the ghost of a freight train hitting him square in the chest and tossing at him all the grief heâs accumulated over the years she was missing in action. from daesu, his mentor, he had learned how to take every minute of devastation and rage at his loss and bottle it up into a small red capsule, carried under his tongue like a concealed weapon, unleashed only when it came time to destroy their enemies. but there is no room for fury here.Â
baram...
my little wind...
tw: implied suicidal thoughts
he remembers standing on the rooftops of the agency, shouting her name in his head until his temples ached, until his jaw was tight with the strain, as if she might appear on the horizon, floating to him like an angel. he would pause for several torturous moments, waiting for her calming tones to ring in his mind, glaring at a passing seagull for daring to interrupt the silence that belonged to her and her alone.
come here, baram.
his right bicep pangs, another phantom of his past, as he shuffles clumsily across the room, tears and tunnel vision turning the walls in a blurry, shifting mess. he is sobbing before he reaches her, his legs doing all of the work to carry him to her side, where he collapses uselessly to his knees, colliding with the edge of the bed and burying his face against her side.Â
i missed you too. i love you too. where have you been. i needed you. i wanted to die without you. i was all alone. father is dead. that son of a bitch is dead. iâm so scared all the time.Â
but he canât get any of it out, the endless refrain of feeling heâd prepared for this impossible moment of reunion. his own overwhelming emotions are lodged in his throat, catching on each pitiful sob, each ragged breath.
luckily, if it can be called luck, he doesnât have to.
be strong and hold my hand // time it comes for us, you'll understand // we'll say goodbye, today // if i could be with you, tonight // i would sing you to sleep // never let them take the light behind your eyes
>>for @lunaxmia
agent artemis report to civilian medical wing at 09:00 hours.
early. that's his initial thought when he squints through the muffled darkness of his covers pulled snugly over his head at the pinging notification projecting itself onto the underside of his duvet. that's in less than fifteen minutes, and he only fell into bed to sleep a few hours ago. he's supposed to be recovering - that shrink keeps telling him as much - and he's pretty sure recovering doesn't involve work tests at 8:49 in the morning summoning him to the most depressing, most traumatizing meia structure still standing.
but he knows better than to push his luck with the higher-ups, who don't need much reason to assign him some torturous physical conditioning under the guise of 'discipline.' he drags himself out of his bed, tugging off whatever he happened to sleep in and throwing on the first set of mission-friendly clothes he pulls out of the trunk at the foot of his bed just as haphazardly. it's a hasty teeth brushing and a careless handful of water splashed over his face that precede a few lazy drags of a brush through his hair, and then he is on his way, with three minutes to spare before he has to report.
"i'm here, what is it," he murmurs flatly through half-lidded eyes after a half-assed salute that earns him a warning glance from the stationed agent.
"agent luna has returned."
four words uttered with a certain confidential quiet terseness make baram's face go pale white and then flushed pink in a matter of moments. he feels the world tilt under his feet, and then a strong arm at his elbow, keeping him upright, pulling him back to reality. he isn't dreaming this?
"what did you say?"
"agent luna has-"
"haneul-"
he is all tunnel vision, nevermind the tunnel spinning in unsteady blacks and whites around him, like some tormenting funhouse that's moved itself into the folds of his brain. his eyes are wide and wild, and suddenly everything physical between him and his sister is an obstacle, an enemy, even the air molecules themselves.
"where is she?"
the agent barely gestures down the hall before baram is bolting, darting past medics and patients and agents in a blur, until he spots one of the few closed doors, guarded by another flat-faced senior agent.
"agent artemis, you have clearance to-"
"move!" the world around him has disappeared, he doesn't care about the eyes on his outburst or the cameras parked in every corner. his goal is clear, and he knows he wouldn't even let celest stop him from it if she tried.
"there's a preliminary briefing-"
"i said move,"
"agent, you are out of line-"
he'll regret it later, maybe, the mostly harmless swing he takes at the agent blocking the door, the closed fist that won't do much more than startle him. but right now, in this moment, with his heart pounding so hard it hurts, it is his way in, a window of distraction to grab hold of the door handle and ram his shoulder against the door.
it's unlocked, and he all but topples through it, barely gaining his footing. then he sees her. he sees her. he sees her and she's real.
immediately his eyes well with tears, and his energy shifts, revealing some version of the frightened teenage boy she left behind years ago. he can do nothing but stand there, weeping silently at the sight, because she's here and she's real and she's alive.
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