ｓｅｖｅｎ ／ ｄｅｖｉｌｓ

        TAEYEON’S JAW TENSES at mei’s words. a dangerous animal ready to thrust forward. what’s the point of understanding humans, really? nothing but a waste of time.

such insinuation should send her into one of her usual fits, instead taeyeon keeps it in every time she interacts with the other girl. she hides her frustration in hopes of being amazed.

the human is an enthralling puzzle, one the vampire is willing to solve. mei works in strange ways, yet to be understood, but she tries. a first time for taeyeon, who is used to having what she wants close at hand, without question, under the threat of atrocious fury.

“alright!” she huffed, disappointed. both their concepts of normalcy are quite different, brought apart by species, culture and morality. for real, there is no crime in drowning men in the ocean.

silence follows mei’s list of options. however, taeyeon’s eyes shine bright with enlightenment.

“i know of a place you might enjoy,” no killing involved, she almost adds and shoots off in the opposite direction. mei has the skill to catch up.

their destination is promising: a crystal clear pool awaits. taeyeon’s favorite body of water in the entire ahn realm, which equals to the nicest bathing site.

she stops before the shore, hands already reaching for the skirts of her white dress. it makes her giddy with delight and victory to think about the human’s reaction.

          SHE KNOWS SHE SHOULDN’T complain. this is the type of adventure she’s been begging for, plea after plea, ever since she was a child. mei is a proud thing — always existing in the belief that there is more for her out there. this surely has to be enough.

and in her own way meiying has found that she enjoys time with the other vampire: not so much because of what they do together, but rather because she gets to spend time with a being so enchanting and inexplicably exciting as taeyeon. so their opinions don’t always align and mei feels that taeyeon’s may be .. morally grey at times, but there is still a fascination she can’t shake.

she gets up as the vampire starts trailing away from her, and she follows in a light jog. taking taeyeon’s earlier suggestions into consideration, mei refrains from having any expectations. still, when her eyes meet the crystal blue of the lake she beams.

          HE EXPERENCES relief when he sees the requested person appear, since the wait feels awkward with that human girl next to him.

“thank you for the water, emily,” minwoo returns the empty glass, holding it with both hands. He adds a soft laugh in reaction to ahyoung’s innocent threat, which serves as enough reason for emily to leave. however, he can still sense the multiple pairs of eyes on him. it happens every time they are in public as a couple. he is aware that he should not be fond of her actively participating in the farce they created.

in front of ahyoung’s people, he is unable to weave the usual tangled web of lies. for this same reason, minwoo expects her to set the mood of the interaction. once her words give away their relationship, even if it is pretend, he knows how to navigate the situation. he has come to realize that he does not mind her leading, showing the way. it is comfortable.

“there was little traffic,” he simply replies, instead of the ridiculous for you, my fake girlfriend, i would go anywhere he has in mind. dialogue flows easily, unlike physical gestures. it is when doubt creeps up on him. ahyoung’s lips on his cheek are corresponded with minwoo reaching out to take her fingers in his. enough to show that their palms fit perfectly together.

“It seems I’m early. i can come back when you’re done,” minwoo offers, aware that he is an outsider in that place, afraid of missteps. he is careful not to embarrass the well-known, humanahyoung. it is also part of the agreement to protect her interests in such aspect.

          EVEN IN THIS WORLD the woman remains private, though her human persona participates more. it’s easier with humans — they’re curious, but ignorant. they talk, but seldom listen. ahyoung rarely mentions minwoo, yet those she works with frequently have picked out bits and pieces of what they’ve been told and created their own version of this mysterious man, alluring and handsome. ahyoung lets them without really entertaining them much. still, it only makes sense for their eyes to turn in their direction when they’re finally found together.

«don’t be silly, you came all this way,» ahyoung replies, textbook answer, but there is a silent plea for him to stay that she suspects he can untangle from her web of white lies. he knows her better than most, though she keeps a professional distance. it’s all she can allow: for now.

she leads him further in, his hand fitted in hers as if it belongs there, and if she notices stares she gracefully ignores them. ahyoung is no stranger to the attention, but minwoo has likely never held so many human eyes on him all at once. she wonders if she’s doing him a disservice by asking him to stay.

           HE IS ABLE TO feel it. the return to comfortable normalcy of their relationship.

jihoon listens intently, absorbing zemin’s worries and doubts. He knows that reassurance is important for his student — any soldier charging into battle needs it, the cautious induction of hope that they will come back alive. every mission implies hazard, no matter how easy it may seem. of course, the president is thoughtful enough to assign rookies with effortless objectives, in theory.

when he was handed zemin, jihoon found the boy quite malleable. in exactly the same way those before him, who joined the order in search of retaliation. bad teachings would lead him down the wrong path. as a mentor, he tried not to sell him a vengeance story. for once consummated, it was inevitable for the furies to show with thirst for revenge.

still, it is difficult to grasp that loss is a part of life, especially in a world of immortal creatures.

“you won’t have any trouble,” he confirms, pondering over the details. zemin is now well-learned on the art turning vampires into dust. jihoon reviews basic steps before every mission. it gets ingrained in your head. first, reconnaissance work to learn the behavior of the creatures. then, the lure into a place where the high ground is assured. finally, a quick execution that prevents you from being detected. easy, right? except he was by himself this time.

“i am proud,” jihoon basically whispers, risking the cliché, hands clasp behind his back. it is only for zemin and his confidence to hear. leery of letting the rest know — of the side he reserves for the young hunter. others simply don’t understand what they share.

          HE IS USED TO being the young one, the youngest still, but he knows his mentor listens to him. zemin and jihoon have found an understanding in each other no one else can quite understand — two lone wolves were bound to make a pack, or tear each other apart. the latter had never been an option at all.

zemin knows the president has enjoyed playing it safe with him for longer than he liked. to a certain extent he understands why: the hunters are his family, and family want each other safe, but this is also a duty, a job, and the boy intends to do it well. nothing in their lives is completely free of risk and he knows that. perhaps that’s why he always charges into battle with his heart first, knowing that if he is to bleed on the battlefield he will have given it his all. not that it matters, really. if he dies, he dies.

he is not scared of death. perhaps that should scare him more.

it is almost expected that jihoon tells him yes. the older hunter knows better than anyone what zemin is capable of if he puts his mind to it. he’s no longer the ignorant boy he was when he first picked up his weapon — he no longer fights with the same blind fury and hatred ( it was still there; intact, resting, but always on a leash. never completely tamed ). 

it takes a second for the youngest hunter to hear, and acknowledge, his mentor’s words. somewhere deep down he has always known jihoon takes pride in his student, but among other thoughts taking root in his mind zemin has let it slip. «really ?»

            THE POUNDING INSIDE seunghee’s chest is comforted by the smell of fresh coffee brewing. her usual sense of confidence seems to evaporate like a hot drink. the choice of such a public place, in the middle of college, does not help. very clever, brave. if only her courage returned to her side at this time.

she thinks about how everyone is going to see her with him, siwon, from the night class. sun and moon. an eclipse. a once-in-a-lifetime chance. however, a feeling of inadequacy resides, although no keuroseu rule is broken. every time her brain muses date, her heart skips a beat. it is too late to backtrack now that she showed up.

there should not be any problem, seunghee tries to convince herself. she is meant to have everything under control, the ever reliable president. she takes a deep breath, inhaling the aroma of globby paste turning into hot oatmeal cookies. perhaps when her emotions found calm, she would regain her appetite.

as she anticipates siwon’s arrival, her vision is focused entirely on the display of available food. better than incessantly looking at the clock, waiting for noon, as he indicated. his voice resonates in the room as a verdict. ships that pass in the night no more. the days of barely meeting, touching just slightly, are over.

or so she hopes, wishes. an exhibit of human naïveté.

                                                                                           * @crucntus

          HE CAN’T HIDE IT even if he tries to — and he’s no longer trying to. siwon wears his heart proudly on his sleeve, unable really to do anything else when it comes to the human. it’s odd, perhaps. inconvenient, absolutely. unconventional, to say the least. they should not be there together, and yet he knows they should.

he hasn’t told anyone — not because he is scared of their judgement, not really. his father will surely understand, even find it in him to support, what it means for young hearts to be followed. his mother, whilst not so amused, loves him unconditionally. but siwon is painting himself in expectations by saying it out loud — he’s going on a date with seunghee. he can’t afford to wish for anything, as if he knows it’ll slip through his fingers. foolish thought. true thought.

siwon walks into the café attempting to hold his head high, and he can feel the anticipation buzzing throughout the entire room, people turning their heads upon the rare sight of a night class student among them. he’s a few minutes early, but something tells him that she will be too, and rightly so he sees her seated by a table, eyes wandering expectantly.

how a human can make his knees weak so easily is still beyond him.

——           he has never felt completely free, even though freedom was all he had his entire life. this is the catch about secrets, you are shackled to them, a prisoner of something that, sometimes, it isn’t even yours – and in sejoo’s case, he had centuries and centuries grounding him to the ground and impending  him to flee. 

he wanted to do such thing, but a burden that wasn’t his curved his back. 

and that he had became something he never thought he would, in the first place. a young boy with yards of green fields unfolding ahead of him – the backyard of  his own house. friends, those friends who could never play with him under the morning sun or swim in the lake when the summer heat is at its peak. friends, that would not feast with him. friends. and secrets. 

and so he became a deposit for those – friends and secrets. 

what is it about him that people so want?

( so many things, but never him. ) 

most of the times, she could be found wrapped in his sheets – like many other girls before her, few less after; but only she takes up that much space, both in his bed and his head, and perhaps, that was the first mistake of it all. he had been advised, instructed by his own mother – there were many issues involving meiying, and he should keep distance. 

not for his own good, though. 

and most of the times, she asks for things he cannot give. from his time, to his thoughts, to gently nudging at the secrets he has to keep with his own life. 

he tries to fight against her warmth that irradiates like heat waves, he tries to ignores her arms around his waist as he looks for his tie, left hanging somewhere in the mess that was the two of them together – and tries to ignore her face, looking up at him. 

but then she speaks, and even though his heart briefly flutters, it sinks a little inside his chest – for what she wants is not him, but what he keeps. “ and what for? ” he tries to speak, nonchalant. bored. “ it’s restricted for a reason, i doubt you’d manage to get it anywhere, love.” he adds a shrug of his shoulder, eyes back to scan the room – not that she will see the lie he’s about to tell, he’s pretty good at hiding those, but she’ll see something else. “ even i haven’t been there before. ”

          OF ALL THE THINGS she would have expected to find in korea, sejoo is the one thing that never ceases to amaze her. he is the golden boy every girl seems to dream about and for that he has taken up residence in her heart — she can’t deny him even if she wants to ( and she certainly doesn’t want to ). he has come to shape her reality just as much as everything supernatural she has encountered, and by the time she had noticed it was already too late. the boy had etched his name onto the uncharted territory that was her deepest thoughts. 

he is aiming for her heart now, and she can’t deny him even if she wanted to — and she certainly doesn’t want to.

meiying has never felt the need to be validated before, but with sejoo she feels she at least wants the affection. it comes easily to them, like they are pieces of a puzzle made to fit each other perfectly, and she succumbs nearly every time he comes around.

she wonders, and secretly prays, she has the same effect on him.

mei grabs for one of his shirts and dresses herself in it hastily, the fabric smelling of him — a sense of home she never thought she’d find all these miles away from her actual home. it loosely hugs her all the way down to her knees and still it fits like she thinks it should. grabbing his tie before he can locate it, she intends to hand it to him then changes her mind — one arm stretching to keep the tie out of his reach, another still resting around sejoo. it’s easy for him to get his hands on the tie and she knows it, but it’s this playfulness they do so well.

——           she is one famished creature, true to her nature. song ahin has matured into a woman who only knew how to consume. from her childhood, where she had been spoiled rotten, to her golden days – and those may last forever – she knows of one thing only, the utmost pleasure, the fulfilling of her hunger; didn’t matter what kind that happened to be. 

she lived in a world of woven dreams – the ones she had crafted herself. for someone with enormous void within oneself, being blessed with the ability of manipulating of what other might or might not see had only played on her side – and so she sat on her throne of illusions and broken hearts to rule the entire world, untouched; unless she wanted to. 

and she always wanted to. 

a knock on a door means permission – asking for it. a knock on her door meant more than that; and so she would take her time, with spraying her perfume, with checking if her lipstick was still intact, with the hair strands that fell perfectly framing her face. 

with savoring the scent that she knew well, coming from the other side of the wooden barrier, and the heartbeats that she could no longer count – desperate.

but her wickedness quickly washes away as soon as she faces him – just like her, he was a famished creature, but his was a different hunger. one that she could never quench, one that no one could ever, one that only loneliness were acquainted with. 

siwon’s  warmth irradiates from him through her, and makes her shaken, makes her wonder. “ an adventure? ” her words were deliberately slow – picking the right pace that would make his heart quieten, that would make him hesite. her siwon is a man of thin boldness, of wide assurance; the unknown was never a choice.

“ are you sure you wanna go on an adventure? ” fingers came to brush his hair away from his forehead, making her shudder softly as she touches his skin ever so gently. “ with me. ” her hand comes down, hovering over his own fingers, testing – if he was truly bold that night, if he was daring.

          DROWNED MEN NO LONGER come up for air, and siwon lies at the bottom of the ocean, a result of weight he carries bravely without second-guessing. he lives in the belief he’s doing something great, something greater than he is, and for this purpose he’ll put atlas to shame and carry the universe on his shoulders. except he is no titan — he is just a boy.

freedom is a luxury he can’t afford. still, he knows his parents do their best to lessen his burden. he’s lucky, in a way, but he knows ahin is lucky in an entirely different way. he does not find it in him to envy her: all struggles are personal, after all, and no matter how much he wants to fool himself into thinking he knows song ahin, he knows her mind and her heart and he has seen them, there is never a way of knowing. 

she is a mystery wrapped in a girl. and he is just a boy.

siwon wants to smile at her and let her know that there is nothing to concern herself with. he is, after all, fine — for whilst he longs for something he’s not quite sure how to describe, he has come to terms with a life in mediocracy and he has come to enjoy it. it’s just that it’s not always enough.

           JIHOON EXISTED IN solitary. self-imposed exile. a lone wolf. the order enigma. the path he chose since he grabbed the deadly nam relic. blades and blood. it was in his dna, just like any descendant of hunters. destined by nature herself.

he was aware of the perils of the job, but he was also good at it. as a one-man unit. sharp enough to cut, to tear open. no horde of level e vampires stood a chance. imposing, sometimes awful. those creatures didn’t deserve much of his time.

perhaps his arrogance grew with each mission, which led to the president’s intervention. she intended to stop a falling star from reaching its doom. the answer was in entrusting him with a student. jihoon failed to understand. he didn’t need a burden.

zemin. tragic child, quiet. damaged enough for the battlefield. he was expected to put the kid back together. he worked with the pieces, and gruesome training, to assemble a soldier. at the same time, the pupil slipped through his cracks.

he found himself shoving food into zemin’s mouth because he needed strength, training until late because he needed experience, making up words of support because he needed comfort. he finally cared for someone else. it turned into a familiar routine. family. more than brothers in arms. a father to a son.

such realization hit him like a bucket of cold water.

the training room was barely occupied. still, jihoon’s peripheral vision confirmed that there was no reaction to zemin’s freudian slip. on his part, he tried to hide the surprise in his expression, acting as if he had only heard his name. just a mentor. not a different figure.

“are you ready for what the old lady assigned you?” while his question was casual, jihoon approached zemin cautiously, giving him space and time.

“beers are on me if you don’t end up too bruised.”

          IT WAS ONLY A SIMPLE, a small mistake. zemin tries to reassure himself that his mentor’s reaction, or rather lack thereof, means he thinks the same. there is nothing more to it than a word. the boy chants silently to himself that it means nothing, and even if it does he can’t afford for it to. he lost one father before. he doesn’t think he’s strong enough to ever do it again.

their line of work means sacrifice and maybe that is why many hunters choose a life in as much solace as can be healthy for them. neither zemin nor jihoon ever had the choice though, and sometimes zemin can’t help but think that he is a burden on another man’s shoulders.

( but he had only been a kid back then: scared, broken. he had looked up to the hunters in every sense of the word as a way to avenge the death of his parents, to redeem himself. he has outgrown the other hunters now, but nothing ever stops him from being the runt of the litter. )

the young ones always wanted to prove themselves.

«actually, uh,» he begins, fighting the urge to stagger back. jihoon is comfortable and safe, and part of zemin wants to search for traces of affection on the older man’s visage. he doesn’t though — their appreciation for each other goes unspoken, for the most part. 

nothing more to it than a word.

«the ‘old lady’ mentioned a mission off of the school grounds. a couple of vampires recurring at a farm every other night.» he speaks slowly, respectfully, knowing they have played it safe with him this far. this is the first mission where he may not come back in one piece — or at all. 

he needs it to feel worthy.

            TAEYEON’S ENTHUSIASM FADED with mei’s words. liar. she was being no fun at the moment. 

since their first encounter, the human had seemed a pliant plaything for her entertainment. taeyeon’s eyes sparkled with dark intentions when she requested mei to miran. how foolish of her to sacrifice freedom in the name of a man, related by blood or not. however, after weeks of dragging her around the hills, the youngest ahn twin had changed her mind. mei not only belonged to another species, but to a completely different world. her stories made the vampire curious.

“is human food that great?” taeyeon asked, indignant. after all, she was an exclusive consumer of blood. the constant mentions of a variety of dishes were getting ridiculous. 

“i can try to get you a lamb if you are hungry. maybe pork?”

taeyeon could easily snatch an animal away from the villagers in the surrounding area. one of her favorite pastimes was to drinking the blood of their livestock, only to feed their fantasies of a creature. she did not know where the consideration for the human came from. mei was a complicated pet sometimes. especially because she had a tendency to hide her thoughts and feelings, all with the purpose of appearing fierce.

she was the most fragile thing in taeyeon’s eyes.

“throwing rocks is nothing compared to drowning them,” she commented as if referring to the weather. she did not care about confirming the rumors about her clan’s practices.

          A FEW YEARS AGO THE MERE prospect of the supernatural existing in her otherwise mundane life would’ve sent meiying spinning into her wildest fantasies, but the magic has since died out. she finds the other species outlandish and unfamiliar in a way that worries her more than excites her.

maybe they feel the same way.

«i mean, yeah .. or, it’s something about the variety .. just like —» her voice dies out. «forget it. you wouldn’t understand.»

she can’t expect taeyeon to. since becoming a rather regular companion to the female vampire, mei has immersed herself in her culture in a feeble attempt to feel at home again, and for that she has willingly given up luxuries she never before thought she’d miss as much as she does. 

«no thank you,» she mutters silently. after the things she has seen she is already contemplating going vegan. «and we’re not drowning anyone either, taeyeon.»

she knows it’s not what the vampire had in mind when being gifted mei, wrapped up in fragile skin and innocent bones. to be fair, this isn’t quite what mei had expected either. 

            JUST AS MINWOO IS about to pay for the books under his arm, he stops short at the checkout. there is an array of magazines, but one catches his eye among them. he does not bother reading the main headline on the cover — his knowledge about fashion publications is non-existent anyway. he drops some bills to pay for his stack and heads to the parking lot.

can you send me the address? reads the text minwoo types, now in the driver’s seat.

as he waits for a reply, he stares down at the glossy pages of his purchase. ahyoung’s high cheekbones grace harper’s bazaar. dark and playful. haunting and lavish. her supernatural appearance produces slick, black and white images. everyone knows of the beauty and the grace, human or vampire. he knows. when her eyelashes bat in his direction, with practiced model composure, minwoo thinks that something inside him will succumb.

he puts the magazine away, as his phone buzzes softly in his pocket. the message is followed by her pin on the map. he tenses when he sees the location.

despite all the responsibilities, even self-imposed, minwoo has learned to carry himself prideful. yet, his shoulders protest beneath the weight of a new role. the arrangement that exists between him and ahyoung is merely ceremonial. there is a procedure to this, there is a front to put on. what is he to do with the accidental touch, the residual afterthought?

at the improvised shooting site, minwoo feels definitely out of place. the backstage is suffocating and crazy. very different from the quiet secrecy of his own job. he finds it surprising how she manages to handle two personas, while he is a stranger to the thrill of dreaming and showbiz. standing still, he watches stylists running around, but does not manage to spot the model.

are you looking for someone? a voice asks and minwoo blinks, spaced out.

“song ahyoung.”

                                                                                            * @crucntus

          SHE BALANCES BETWEEN A MORTAL and, in their eyes, fictional world from a young age. she’s an accessory in one and a necessity in the other, but the lines often blur so song ahyoung doesn’t let anyone but herself define her own worth.

at least that had always been the case until hwang minwoo had become a rather permanent part of her life.

she stands tall still. ahyoung budges for no one and whilst the line between politics and feelings is starting to blur she lets no one look past the curtain that is her visage. she never drops the model act, human or vampire, even under pressure or in unknown waters.

this, she knows, will be as unknown as it gets.

ahyoung anticipates minwoo’s arrival, buzzing comments floating around the studio, whispers and eyes glancing in the model’s direction. she talks little about her private life, but somehow word of her ‘boyfriend’ has gotten around regardless, and whilst she knows there is nothing of substance in their so-called relationship ( or at least that there shouldn’t be ), she can pretend for them with a smile that arrives shockingly easy. she doesn’t dwell on what that means.

someone taps her shoulder where she sits, mist from the hairspray momentarily dissipating for her to hear the familiar name being whispered in her ear. she gets up then, leaving no room for her stylist to complain as she walks, and strides with confident steps as she wraps the robe tighter around herself. 

          SHE MADE EVERY NIGHTMARE seem like a dream, and that should’ve been zemin’s first clue to turn away. he was a hunter before he was anything else, but as a foolish boy he had placed his head ( and, it is becoming more apparent, his heart ) in the hands of a vampire.

he is still a foolish boy.

zemin finds himself seeking out excuses to see her. he leaves classes early so he can walk her to hers, his presence possibly annoying her more than anything else. he begs for her attention with eyes that sigh with adoration, and fishes for words he thinks she may never say to him. still, he doesn’t give up. maybe, with time, he can break down her walls — or at least pretend she’ll give him passage through.

«haneul !» he hotfoots it to her, following his own personal routine he has taught himself by heart now. it’s a risk he’s taking and he knows it, but she’s worth it and he’s plunging in heart first. he can’t afford to do anything else if he expects to have a chance with her ( he doesn’t and he never did ).

this is different even for him. he’s stayed up until sunrise to catch her after her last class, and despite the worried glances he get from vampires surrounding him, wondering what a hunter is doing amongst them, he is steadfast as he walks towards her.

«haneul, hey.» he feels out of place, awkwardly placed, and yet he continues to walk beside her. if he wants to belong, he has to crave his place. «are you uh — are you busy ? i want to ask you .. for a favor, i guess.»

          SHE HAS FOUND HERSELF MORE and more distracted as time has passed. there is a long list of things meiying dislike and on the very top is not knowing — everything she feels is information she’ll never get her hands on is viewed as a challenge, and challenges fueled her to do better. 

or even if it not better, it at least fueled her to do something.

mei has attempted to calm down the entire evening, seeking out sejoo as he seems to be the only one able to get her thoughts off of just how human and fragile she is — sejoo is the same, and yet he feels solid and secure and lasting. it is all she can ask for in a companion. 

she rolls over in his bed, still naked beneath his sheets, still feeling the imprint of his fingers on her body. she lets out a soft moan as if to gather his attention once more, but sejoo is getting dressed, probably out to run his duties, diligent and good as he is, and mei gets up from her spot to close the distance between them, paying no attention to the sudden cold air against her bare skin. «sejoo,» she coos, arms embracing his waist ( she has woken from a brief slumber and her restless blood is running impatiently now ). she feels bad for what she’s about to ask, but she knows she should — she has to if she wants to end her insatiable hunger for knowledge.

«my sweet angel boy,» she adds, knowing he’ll see right through it, but she bats puppy eyes at him regardless. «say i wanted access to the library’s restricted area .. would you know someone who could help me with that ?»

          THIS IS TREASON, HE thinks silently to himself as he makes way from his own house to find ahin. even siwon, submissive as he is ( diligent, loyal to a fault, always ready to make himself a sacrifice ), needs his space — he is not a robot even if he can play that part well enough, and distance is the only thing that keeps him from breaking. this is him, distancing himself, finding company with someone else.

that someone else, without strings and complications, always seems to be ahin. their friendship has become an odd one, an escape from a reality that siwon normally did not mind at all. but fact is he feels tired: he feels lonesome in his struggles, and whilst that is the way it is supposed to be he wonders if it has to be. 

ahin is an escape from a reality he has made himself. he is in no position to have regrets.

he knocks on the door — once, twice, thrice. he can’t tell if he’s shaking in the attempt to pull himself together or not, but the silence of the wait is almost deafening. the door, finally it seems, cracks open, and siwon allows himself to exhale when he sees her.

«let’s go on an adventure.» the words leave him before he can think twice and maybe that’s the beauty of it. «let’s do it now before i change my mind.» he hopes she won’t let him — if anyone can see what he’s thinking, needing, craving .. it has to be her.

          AND THERE HE WAS, STUCK in his own head again. he did that from time to time — zemin was a creature of habit, but there was one habit of crucial importance he had left behind, and it was that of hope. he couldn’t wish back his own faith no matter how hard he tried.

he would lie if he said this was the life he wanted. every morning woke him up with exhausted limbs and an emptiness between his ribs no amount of air ever seemed to fill. he was a lost cub in a flock of lions, and whilst he was making his own roar known he couldn’t help but feel like he could’ve done more.

the guilt of his parents’ death would always weigh him down.

he missed them all the time and looked to the hunters for comfort, for home, but none of them saw him as a young boy in need of affection. he was a soldier, a weapon, not a child any longer, but he had never gotten to be one in the first place. was it so bad for him to long for a childhood he could’ve had ?

his missions were his distractions. zemin filled his days with training and reading and hunting, then repeated when he found even a moment for himself. his days were hazy, gray, melting into one another in a meaningless blur, and he let them without fighting it. but there was one mission in particular that had caught the young hunter’s attention — a more challenging one than he had been permitted to partake in before, but he believed he was ready. still, he knew he needed the blessing of his superiors to take on such a mission, especially alone, and it was how he found himself seeking out jihoon.

he walked into the training room, his mentor present as zemin had suspected, and it was then it slipped. «dad, can i ..» zemin froze. the ghost of the word lingered on his lips, that boyish insecurity making home out of his now palpitating, embarrassed heart. his father was dead. zemin would be the first to say so.

«jihoon. i meant jihoon.»

          LIFE WAS A FUNNY THING when you had all of eternity to ponder on it. hanjae, he had decided long ago himself too, was a lucky man, and whilst for some eternity would’ve seemed like an awfully long time he found it to be a soothing fact.  

few men were as lucky as bae hanjae and his very existence was fueled by that knowledge alone: his beautiful wife, his wonderful sons, and a job that seemed to mean something was everything he could possibly need, and even want. he was a simple man like that, much to his own parents’ dismay, for within him existed the soul of a pureblood, yet the will of a man. he asked for little and still believed he was given so much.

it made it easy to return home every morning, sun rising as he embraced his wife, routine that was ingrained by now. that was why it was simple for him to notice when even the slightest thing was off, and he noticed it in the air the moment he stepped inside of the house. reading the energy was not a gift of his as much as a necessity. «honey ?» hanjae called out, finding her with her back to him in the kitchen when he entered. no words needed to be said when she turned, for her visage spoke a story on its own.

«whatever you’re worrying about, we’ll fix it. what happened ?»

             WHEN TAEYEON GREW OUT of mother earth’s core, she was made for the garden of paradise. miran had built the ultimate locus amoenus throughout the years, for her sisters and their children. the selected few, the deadliest of the species. without a care for the impurity of the outside world, controlled by the vices of greed and pride. the youngest of the ahn twins was bred to enjoy the intoxicating air of perfect freedom, unlike her pitiful brother — taeoh learned to show himself as a cautious prey, wary of the dangers that this supposedly safe haven represented.

“a little bird told me that you are homesick,” she mentioned, amusedly. a crested lark told her indeed. taeyeon’s eyes lit up when she saw her, wide and unblinking, trained on the face before her. mei, who was deemed to reve in the false illusion of liberty, under the watchful eyes of the vampire. dressed in her usual pristine robes, she approached the other girl, anxiously awaiting her reply. while miran had awarded mei to her daughter, an unconventional pet for her entertainment, taeyeon always showed a particular interest in the human and her reactions to the newfound civilization.

“how about i show you something fun?”

                                                                                            * @crucntus

           THINGS HAD BEEN LESS COMPLICATED back in china. it was what mei told herself, that once life had been normal, but normalcy had long since then ceased to mean anything at all. the girl couldn’t say she hated it, but her relationship to her new reality was far from a love story. part of her had already grown used to this, and she wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or just simply a sign.

«i’m not homesick,» she argued, crossing her arms in a stubborn manner. fishnet stockings revealed themselves through holes that hadn’t been in her jeans a few days prior, and mei wasn’t sure if her boots were wet or if she had ceased to be able to tell the difference. she wasn’t homesick per say, but she had always been an urban city girl, and the concrete beneath her was the most comfort she think she could ever feel. then again, no one would blame her for trying hard to adjust to new circumstances — circumstances she had quite willingly placed herself in, like a fly napping in a spider’s web.

«sure, i smell like cow shit and i think i might actually die if i can’t have pizza soon, but i’m not homesick.» stubborn, stubborn girl.