back to you —

people did not play with hero. that was his job. he was supposed to be the one full of tricks and con artistry. and he had no doubt that whoever stole his bag of merchandise was either another god or something beyond that. it was impossible – according to his own arrogance – to get one over on him. and he would not be made a fool of for everyone to see. olympus might be gone but there were still ways of looking in on the others and entertaining themselves with the antics.  most people liked to keep their eyes finely tuned to his brother daos. he threw the best parties and seemed tailor made for reincarnation flourishing in every aspect where others of their kind floundered. but sometimes they liked to watch hero because he always had a trick up his sleeve to make humans look stupid. he did not take things turning on their head like this in kind.

he’s not gentle for even a second as he pushes through the crowd. people shout after him, obscenities and choice words about his mother that he can’t really find offensive. he was after all distantly related to her so they weren’t even hitting the sweet spots. once cleared of the crowd hero hit a corner only to see his adversary waiting. for a moment his head tilted trying to gauge what was happening. he’d become privy to some game. one in which this person either didn’t think he could win, or wanted him to. hero didn’t know which, but if anyone was tuning into his activities for the day he couldn’t be outwitted. there was never a moment he didn’t come prepared and crouching down as the person who had stolen from him took off, hero began to lace his shoes tight. once they were securely on, the wings popped out. kicking the converse together he pressed the toe of the sneaker into the concrete and took off at an unfathomable speed.

they were fast, but hero could be too. unaware that he was now entering a domain in which he couldn’t control. it was only as he’d gotten deep in, much too deep to know where he was going and how that he realized he was no longer a block from the tourist attraction. he wasn’t sure where he was. annoyed, but determined not to be outsmarted he stopped. raising a hand above his head, he probed at the world around him. he’d never felt anything like this before. it had nothing to do with any of his mythological family. this was someone new. and hero found himself grinning. he’d never met a worthy challenger before, and here he thought he’d be bored making easy steals all day.

“so you think you’re going to win this one huh?” hero took off into the air, eyes searching and probing for his target. catching a flash of something, he went spiraling down. landing delicately on his feet and peering ahead. “who are you? and why on earth would you want to incur my wrath?” not that he’d eve been particularly violent. but a little cajoling to his father or uncle’s and this could end as quickly as it began. or so he thinks.

evident now by the way other took off after him, lucius couldn’t help but chuckle to himself as he watches from a distant the boy running right into his trap much too quick to realize he’d slipped into another world. and down the rabbit hole he’ll go before landing (rather effortlessly) onto the ground of lucious’ new playground. he sounds miffed, surprised and almost offended that someone would think to challenge him like he was some kind of god. on second thought, lucious plays with the idea. because the wings on his heels are a tell-tale sign for anyone who paid remotely any attention to their ancient history classes. the coven has taught him every diety and being that wasn’t dolos, because that was the demons’ job to do that. he was their reincarnated leader afterall. so if it is a god he’s trapped into his world, he wants to know if they know about dolos too.

a dark chuckle booms overhead, a labyrinth of dead hedges crawling with spiders materializes around the other. “incur your wrath? sounds like someone’s a little in over their head. but i guess pick-pocketing tourists is the most excitement you’ve had in a long time.” he has that itch, the trickster’s itch that makes it so impossible hard not to meddle and stir up even the smallest of storms. and lucius can’t wait to see what kind of storm he is about to get himself into.

she’s starting to relax now. he’s not going to kick her out for running late or showing up without a face full of makeup. solji isn’t entirely sure how to react, but being herself even as candid and as raw as she is, seems to be working. he looks a little uncomfortable sometimes but having known him for a while now, solji suspects that’s his default setting. that he’s a little rigid, and maybe kind of shy. all the things that girls tend to eat up. she wishes she could be more like them. finding these quirks endearing more than worrying.  no one else would be panicking inside thinking they weren’t good enough. but then who had lived solji’s life other than her? she puts the ideas out of her mind and reminds herself that this was meant to be fun. she didn’t even know if it was a date. he hadn’t specified, had he? or maybe he did and she couldn’t remember. maybe she was projecting, wanting this to be some knight in shining armor bad enough to spill her feelings out in her head. she had to be careful not to say anything aloud. when he mentions her, she can’t help but smile. she bats her eyelashes at him. her charm is fake but her sincerity is clear in her voice when she speaks.

“me? does that mean you plan on keeping me around for a while?” she’s teasing him, but she’s hoping he won’t just laugh it off and will actually answer her. those abandonment issues rearing their head. “if I don’t get fired, I mean.” though it didn’t mean that they couldn’t see each other if she did. though it would make things hard on him. solji didn’t tend to stick around once one area of her life failed her. he’d be subject to show up at her apartment one day to find the place empty. she frowns, that kind of thing could break the heart of someone like him. and then it’s his turn to be sincere. solji is flattered almost bashful at the idea. but she steels herself. she didn’t have time to go developing crushes on people who would undoubtedly judge her. donovan had the best of intentions, but she knew better than to let herself go and get attached to him. still, he’s hardly ever so straight forward with her. they were making progress. it’s only fair to reward that. “you don’t have to worry about that. I’ve always thought you were, well really nice. nicer to me than anyone has ever been. and sweet. and kind. it’s weird but I don’t meet a lot of kind people these days. who just do things, y’know? because they’re good and they want to help. I think if you were anyone else there’s no way, I could like you. but you just so happen to be the way you are. and I don’t know…” solji trails off. she liked the way he was, but she’s getting a little sappy for her taste.

“cats?  really? but they’re so cute!” she pouts a little as if she’s got a cat sitting in her lap at that moment or something. as if he can help what he was born allergic to. solji isn’t sure she’s ever had cilantro before despite working in a diner that probably uses it in a meal or two. she wasn’t that great when it came to food or cooking. or remembering ingredients. or orders. it was a wonder donovan had any luck at saving her job day in and day out. she was certainly going to get him in trouble one of these days if she didn’t get better at it. “I don’t think I have any. I have a few things I don’t like though. like pork and green onions. and those one peppers um; you know people put them in tons of stuff. stir fry and the like.” she taps her bottom lip until it comes to her. “bell peppers!!” she jumps once she remembers, practically screams the word out before she catches how noisy she’s being. 

“sorry. but take me to this magical ramen place. I’m so hungry. i’d do anything for some food right about now.” she looks at him, no she winks at him. her intentions very clear. she can’t help herself.

“yeah, i guess it does,” he smiles at solji. “and even if you did get fired, i hope you’ll still want to hang out. we don’t have to be coworkers to be friends, right?” he’s asking her because it seems better than assuming she’d want to spend time around him. besides, he may be the safer choice to spend her time with but that comes at the risk of being boring. maybe that’s why he’s trying so hard to impress her, to make sure she remembers this day as one of the better ones so she wants to keep hanging out with him as opposed to doing who knows what. but even donovan is insecure, worried that he’ll run out of new things to show her---and then what? she’ll find that the novelty of chivalry isn’t what she really wants? well, he sure hopes it doesn’t come to that. but he can’t let those thoughts distract from right now. 

he frowns a bit at the fact she’s doesn’t come into contact with nice people often, and can’t bring himself to say that it’s probably the association she picks outside of the diner. he isn’t her guardian or parole officer to be keeping an eye on those things. the best he can do is substitute that time spent with a different crowd with time spent with him. again--it’s all about time, and donovan wonders if she ever thinks about how much time she spends drinking and getting messed up when she can be doing something else, like maybe discovery something she’s really good at that she’s never had the time to learn. “i think it’s good to be nice to people---i kind of believe in karma to be honest so i do my best to leave a good trail behind if you know what i mean. but i’m glad you don’t think i’m annoying yet,” he chuckles before turning into the parking lot. 

“yeah, i found out when i was little. we used to have a cat and had to get rid of it because i got an asthma attack.” at the mention of other things she doesn’t like, donovan makes note as he parks the car. “chashu is pork, but they have other meat varieties for ramen at this place. their garlic tonkatsu is really good and you can order it without the pork slices. as for bellpeppers, we can both agree on the fact that they’re the most useless vegetable,” donovan chuckles. he’s quick to cut the engine and make his way around the car before she can open up her own door. “after you,” a cheeky grin on his face waiting for her to step out before joining her on the pavement. the extra flirtations are not something new to him, but donovan quietly hopes she’ll eventually stop---it feels disgenuine even though he knows it’s just who she is.

maxwell wonders what his sister might think. he wonders what his mother might if she could see him now. having not seen him dance in eons she’s not entirely sure what her son does with himself. how he earns an income. maxwell is living off years of savings. but it would eventually dry up and then what? he shudders to think of the possibilities. he’s never known a life outside of dance. he wouldn’t know where to start or what it was like in the real world. he’s never given a second thought to the kid washing his car or preparing his coffee. he imagines himself briefly in those roles, some ill-fitting imposter trying to pretend as if he knows what he’s doing. he knows he could always teach; he’d have many from far and wide come to see him. but it feels demeaning somehow, a testament to the fact that he couldn’t make it. the kind of dancer that people would admire aloud but pity when they were alone. he would have to get over this somehow, would have to find a way to feel as he does now all the time. it’s feasible and all he’d have to do was ask. but then maxwell has never been good at that.

as they command the room, he studies her with his fingers. he measures the arch of her back as she bends. he measures the weight of her as he lifts her up into a quick leap. he follows her eyes, judges her face. all the things a dancer is taught to be aware of. there’s raw talent there – and who better than him to see it through. as the song finally comes to an end, the melody of the music trailing off into some other classical piece, he lets her go. moving gracefully away from her as if they hadn’t just been locked in an embrace moments before. maxwell downs two whole bottles of water, sweat on his brow gently toweled away and his hair pushed back from his face as he contemplates his next move. he wants to dance more but knows they could be there all night if he had his way.  he stands, the third (and the last) of his water bottles in hand. he doesn’t ask her anything about it, rolls it gently across the floor to her feet. he zips up his bag, pulls out his sweats to throw over his unitard. he’d come back later when she was long gone and he could have the room to himself. but he’s finding it difficult to leave.

but then he’s looking around in his bag. he manages to scrounge up a receipt. he had a protein smoothie earlier and stuffed it into his bag without thinking. in a moment he’s scrawled some information across it. a phone number and a time. he holds it out to her without a word. “see you tomorrow.” he should say something else. he doesn’t even know if she could make it so late. right after the place closes down. but that way maxwell could ensure they wouldn’t be seen. he doesn’t wait for her to answer. she has his number after all. he’s out of the room and once the door closes behind him, separating them he can feel a smile spread on his face. when was the last time he smiled? the last time he didn’t feel devastated by that giant hole in his heart? she doesn’t even know what she’s done for him. and he wouldn’t be letting her know anytime soon. but he knows it’s the beginning of something wonderful. he couldn’t wait. 

it’s an experience to put in the books, and for the first time in all her years dancing, natsuno finally feels like she is a dancer. she’s never felt so light, never felt so effortless in her movements until now---and this is the very first time she’s ever dance with another person. how is it that she could feel more worthy with someone else leading her than she does by herself? there is a validation in it that she hasn’t quite caught or understood yet. but to have a chance of a lifetime so unexpected to dance with one of the most renown dancers of their time not only leaves her starstruck, it leaves her utterly humbled and grateful for the opportunity. her head is in the clouds, riding pure bliss by the time the music fades into a new piece. and just like that it’s all over and nat feels her feet on the floor once again. she spins to face him, still in awe at how quick his movements are as he’s already across the room downing water bottles in giant gulps at a time. he says nothing, and she realizes in the silence that she was expecting some sort of critique that never comes. but she’s afraid to ask, afraid to bother him the way others must have before. 

it isn’t until he turns to roll a bottle her way does natsuno smile, relief settling in her stomach. he doesn’t think she’s horrible, or at least not horrible enough to complain about. most of her instructors had used many different punishment tactics to get the best out of their students. she isn’t a stranger to blistered feet and being starved of water and forced to stay on a strict low-calorie diet. all of this she’s never told her parents because they wouldn’t understand. they love her too much to allow that kind of treatment by other and onto her herself. nat isn’t slow to the fact that it’s all wrong. but she’s always been willing to do whatever it takes, even drastic measures. she wonders if maxwell has experienced it too, wonders how much of the industry rumors are true. the thought turns dark and she shakes it from her mind before taking a sip of water. “thank you---”

taka lives in a dark hole. it seems to have been that way all his life. once upon a time he met meyli, and she was some kind of bright light shining into that hole telling him that it wasn’t so bad. she’s done so much, from trying to keep him sober, to happy, to just loving him. and he’s too dense to see that no one has ever cared for him like that. not his parents, or the other dancers or the dealers who sell him drugs. no one has made him feel loved the way that she has. but he can’t say nothing has. no one person has helped him out of that hole besides meyli. but when she’s not there, and it looks as if the hole is getting dark again, taka knows what to do so he won’t have to be alone. the drugs are always there. they always make things a little brighter, they always make it so that he can bear the darkness alone. he knows he can’t ask meyli to do that for him. to be some kind of drug at his beck and call so the emotions don’t come crushing down on him. she’s human, with her own problems and needs. things he’s tried to fulfill. he can’t remember the last time they slept together. the drugs have taken that away from them too. sometimes he’s too high for sex. sometimes he can’t remember they’ve even had it. they’ve all but replaced her. always there when he needs them, when the hole gets to be too much. if he could get her to see that, to understand what it’s like she wouldn’t be so upset. for her it’s just a good feeling. for him it’s either being high  or sorrow so soul-crushing he can’t breathe. doesn’t she know that? what he wouldn’t give for this to be just a bit of fun. what he wouldn’t give not to need it like air.

he’s hyper-focused on that pill. what it’ll do for him. and how it’ll make him feel. he’s thinking of kissing her with it beneath his tongue. of apologizing and telling her how much of a screw up he is. he thinks of making love to her, of putting the inevitable off just a little longer. but he knows that she can’t stick around for too much longer. he knows he’s breaking her and she has two options. join him in his demise or leave. meyli is too good for this. happier. too pretty to let the drugs ruin her. he wouldn’t want it for her anyway. and it’s always been like that when they get high together. taka takes a whole pill and gives her half. he smokes a whole bowl and lets her have a little joint in hemp papers. won’t let her touch cocaine. hasn’t ever let her around a needle even though he shoots up like his life depends on it, because it does. and then lies to her about it. tells her how much he hates heroin and how they should never do it. so, they don’t. not together. she would have to have a breaking point. he’s kept her just out of addictions reach, and now he’s paying the price for it.

she’s fast. a lot faster than he remembers. then he recalls how he’s coming down. how he doesn’t have the strength of an addict. how he’s a weak boy. and would always be that way. the hole is closing in on him. taka’s fists ball in anger as she taunts him with his wallet. it’s his own fault for all the times he’s sent her to grab it. to get a pill or an acid tab from one of it’s many folds. she knew all his hiding places well. “baby – don’t do this now. I need that. please.” his voice is sugar sweet. she’s so mad. he doesn’t think he’s ever seen her this upset. he’s moving toward her. knows she needs to be held. but his arms feel heavy, his eyes are still on the bag. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you. I’m just irritated. I know that’s no excuse. but give me the bag meyli. I’ll get even sicker if you don’t. I can’t go through withdrawal again. you know how hard it was last time.” he’d been sick for weeks, unable to function or dance. it’d been rougher on him than most. taka wasn’t hardwired for withdrawal. the doctor’s warned him off drugs. told him another bout of it could kill him. he didn’t listen. he knows that’s why she’s even more upset. why didn’t he listen?

“meyli.” he’s right up on her, he takes her chin in his hands. grins at her. but he’s already reaching for the bag. “we can split it.” he’s missing the point. there would be no getting through to him. 

he doesn’t need to remind her how bad it was the last time. he never needs to remind her of all the times she’s had to take care of him whether it be from a comedown, a hangover, or the cold aching chills or attempting to get clean. she would have rather the latter even if it hurt her to see him so completely wrecked trying to fight back with every ounce of his will. because at least that would mean they could have some sort of liberation. isn’t it supposed to get much worse before it gets better? doesn’t he know that? of course he does. but when taka is like this he knows and cares about nothing. only the bag between her fingers means anything to him, the rest of the world is nothing, and so is she.

and it occurs to her that taka could turn on her. she’s seen addicts go crazy before, she’s seen desperation turn to rage. but she isn’t afraid. maybe because even in her gut she knows this is the last time, that she can’t possibly do this any longer than she has. meyli shakes her head furiously when he calls out to her, hating that he’s using the name to coax her, hating that he’s made something so genuine and sweet turn so ugly and manipulative. baby will never serve as anything more than him trying to get his way and she can see all the times he’s been able to get her to cave in the past. all he’s had to do was call her baby, tell her he loved her, promise her it’d be the two of them forever. it’s all a lie though, because she’s the third-wheel in this affair and she’s done fighting. 

he fills her head with doubt again, taking slow and deliberate cracks at her resolve. threatening her in a way that makes her sick to her stomach. could she really live with herself if she walked away from him to find out he’d gone too far because she wasn’t there to stop him? the tears are harsh as they run down her face and her glare lessens to pain and fear. he could be dead. and it could be her fault. the thought alone makes her falter again, and suddenly his closeness is welcome and all she wants to do is just forget about everything. if she can distract him, if they can just lie together and forget all the fucked up things that have happened everything can be okay----right? 

she agrees to listen. and cruz nods, finally he can lead her to the couch. he hovers around it for a moment, but then he doesn’t sit. instead it’s her he gently pushes down to the cushions. he wouldn’t be able to stop this from happening. from it all just spilling out and he doesn’t think he’d be able to do that with her so close. he would lose himself. maybe cry. and cruz knows that this tale is a long one with a lot of bad history in it. he has to leave room for questions, room for her to understand the full scope of what he’s saying. or else they’d just wind up as they always do. never learning anything new about each other and always keeping one too many secrets. cruz can’t even admit that he knows much about her life. their relationship had never been about divulging information. not until cruz came with the pain of his mother. before then she didn’t even know he had parents. he dodged every question about them, about his past, and even what he did for a living. communications in the military wasn’t the truth. but then he doesn’t think he has to tell her that. even if she didn’t want to believe it, he thinks somehow she knew it was more than that.

“when i was born, it wasn’t in a hospital or even at home. or some miraculous birth in the back of the car. i was born in a lab. a dozen doctors stood around my mother as she gave birth. recording everything, violating her privacy. taking notes like she was some specimen and not a person.” there’s an edge to his voice. she’s never seen him angry before. doesn’t even know that he’s capable of killing people. in the beginning, he never wanted her to know that side of him. now he feels like he’ll die if he doesn’t get the chance to tell her about it. because she had a right to choose if she wanted to continue to do this. and if he asked her now, he knows she would say yes ten times over. she was forgiving like that no matter how many times he disappointed her. she’d take him back and take those fleeting moments of happiness even if it was only some small part of him. he didn’t want that for them again.

“i didn’t see her again for ten years after that. i’m not sure what happened to her or what they did. she was just gone. and my life existed inside that lab. four white walls, day in and day out. i was studied and prodded and taught. everyday waiting to see what i was capable of. but i was struggling to develop. i learned slower than i should’ve. made mistakes. seemed entirely too ordinary for what they were hoping for. my mother on the other hand was a gift.” cruz pauses, gives a moment for it all to sink in. “i think – i think she was the most extraordinary person to ever live. she was a telekinetic and a telepath. one of the strongest they’d ever seen. but she’d fallen into a sort of stasis shortly after i was born. they’d been using her powers for twenty years and suddenly no one had any access to them. she just wasn’t working and neither was i.” cruz wonders if she can see where this is going. the story is a sad one and he knows it only gets worse.

“one day, they finally brought her in to see me. she’d been unresponsive for weeks. she stopped talking. wouldn’t communicate with anyone. she wouldn’t eat. my first memory of my mother is a scarecrow. that’s what she looked like. this weird frail crazy-haired thing. i was afraid of her. and they tried to get me to talk to her. to touch her but i couldn’t. i didn’t know who she was. i didn’t even have a concept of what parents were. i thought the masked people who brought me food and made me do math were my entire world. i thought those four walls were just what life was like for everyone. they tried to explain to me that she gave birth to me. but i didn’t get it. they left us alone for three days. i hid in the corner the entire time. and then on the fourth day i heard her voice in my head. she didn’t move. she didn’t twitch even a little bit. but she had this deep heady voice. like coffee. soothing and warm. and she told me she named me cruz. i didn’t even have a concept of what names were. no one had ever given me one before. and she explained that a name was something i could have. that it could mean something to me. and for ten years never having toys, or books or anything other than worksheets and food. this was the first time someone had given me something. she told me it meant cross. that she had never believed in anything until me.”  he stops, waits for a signal from her to continue. he knows it’s a lot. he wants to take it slow. 

the couch doesn’t offer any comfort to the stiffening of her back as cruz takes her all the way back to the beginning. nothing could have prepared her for a story like this, but she wouldn’t have thought to think that badly of a life. where he averts his gaze when he speaks on different parts of his story, hannah’s own remains steady on his face; studying his features and the emotions she knows he’s good at hiding. she can’t imagine the kind of childhood he’s had to endure---if it can even be called as much. and from it comes the returning resentment to whoever it was that kept him and his mother locked up like that. straight out of a conspiracy movie, both hard to believe and hard not to because this is cruz and he can’t be lying to her. not like that. why would he go through all this trouble to spin a ridiculous story when he knows better than anyone that all he has to do is come home? it wouldn’t take all the effort, and frankly it’s not like him at all. cruz never speaks, so when he does there is never a doubt in her mind that he could be telling her anything but the truth. a horrifying truth at the moment.

the words telekinetic, telepath ring against her ears. rationality defiant against the words because in this world those gifts are only cinematic. none of those things are supposed to be real, let alone exploited and harvested from the way cruz is explaining. it begins to dawn on her why it was that he was born not in a hospital, but in a lab. and why it was that they took him away from her. what had they expected from him? what had they planned on doing with them? 

hannah’s brows tense as a deep frown settles on her features. she’s angry for him. angry for what they did to his mother, wishing she knew the woman---wishing she could thank her and tell her she’ll take good care of her son now. but that wasn’t the end of the story and hannah knows this. he’s pausing not because there is a happy ending. if anything he’s probably only touched the tip of the iceberg. but he’s too far from her reach so she can’t pull him close, hold his hand to let him know she’s still following every word he’s saying. on second thought, she realizes he’s done it on purpose almost as if he’s averse to her touch now. and she knows it has everything to do with what they did to him. whoever they are. she wonders if her father knows them, and for a split-second the idea crosses her mind to find out. but she’s distanced herself from the man for so long any communication would be suspicious, even if she was his daughter. she still hasn’t forgiven him for what happened to hung. and she’ll never forgive them for doing what they did to cruz and his mother. 

she doesn’t answer his question, and he wonders if she can see the flare of irritation on his face. she doesn’t owe him anything, but that’s never stopped him from getting upset before. there’s no emory around either to quell that aggression that seems to overpower him. easy is used to talking to people and those people telling him what he wants to know. anything less is an insult to him, and the fact that he runs or will run some major cities in the future. she doesn’t know that and has no reason to care. it’s a valuable lesson in using his power for good. he could have her out of this gym and a dozen others if he wanted it that way. but emory would remind him that he’s just upset because he isn’t in control. he doesn’t have to be in control of everything. nothing would go wrong if he just saw how this played out without knowing every last detail. still he can’t shake the feeling of irritation. he does his absolute best to ignore the feeling. but he knows his face has changed. his mother used to warn him all the time to watch the way he looked at people. easy has been punched for turning his nose up and looking down on someone more than once. he doubts he gets that from her but she could walk away. he doesn’t want that.

easy shrugs. when is emory not with rima? when are they not attached at the hip making googly eyes at each other and professing their love? easy is starting to forget the times where rima wasn’t there. but if he had to choose anyone to get his cousin all screwed in the head he’d choose her. she doesn’t get in the way of business and never ask him too many questions that he doesn’t want to answer. she respects boundaries for the most part. except when it comes to his love life sometimes. but easy doesn’t even mind that. the other girls emory has fooled around with have been worse. instead of trying to hook easy up with someone, they thought to come between him and his cousin. flirting with him and wanting to see who would give them a better life. rima has never once looked twice at easy and it’s this small detail that makes him never pull emory away when he’s with her. easy knows she cares about him, even if it’s annoying. “always. they’re practically married at this point.”  but his tone is casual, it’s clear he doesn’t really mind and he knows what she’s getting at. “emory is getting soft in the ring anyway. he doesn’t swing as hard, tries not to put too many heavy blows on me even though he’s the stronger of the two of us. that’s just how he is. so it’s a waste of time when I can read his patterns. I’m looking for something new.” someone who could keep him guessing or at least someone who didn’t mind hitting him as hard as they could.

she doesn’t say anything and for a second easy thinks she’s going to say no. he wouldn’t be surprised, but he’d certainly be annoyed that he gave her wasted attention. but then she confirms, and that surprises him even more. if he were the kind of person to take stock in how a person responded he might be a little impressed. but he’s already examining her for weak points. “I don’t go easy on anybody.” he’s following behind her already eager to work on some of the steam he’s built up. he isn’t even seeing her as a person in the moment. just another body to hit to get his mind off of things. he’s confident in his ability to win, less because he thinks she’s incapable and more because he doesn’t doubt his own skillset for a second. he pulls on a pair of gloves and heads to the far corner of the sparring ring. a few people gather, perhaps interested in the odd match-up. 

“let me know when you’re ready.” easy knocks the gloves together to loosen then up and then stares her down. 

lola grits her teeth against the velcro strap, pulling it tight against her wrist as reminders of her training play in the far distance of her mind. she’s sparred with others before at this gym, usually women. only because she knows better than to attract attention. she might have been a disgrace to the academy when she went dark, but that doesn’t mean they’ll respond well to having a loose end starting fires when they should be laying low. lola knows better than anyone the only reason she’s still alive is because of legacy. her great, great, grandmother is probably rolling her grave right now at the clone they failed to produce. but lola knows it isn’t because she failed the program---they were ready to give her the keys to the kingdom. everything was lined up; the team, the back-up, the infantry. but she left it all, and for what? lingerie? no one will ever know---lola doesn’t really even know some days why she did what she did. but there is something about being cuffed and at the mercy of an organization run by people she’ll even know in name or face that rubs her the wrong way. she much prefers being on her own payroll. 

there’s more freedom. no more waking up in the middle of a night for a drill. no more grueling punishments for a single misstep, no more reminders of how big the shoes are that she needs to fill, and what a disgrace she is because she can never be the first lola marques. she wishes she knew the woman, wishes she could blame the woman for everything. but in all truthfulness she owes everything to the academy and to her matriarch. they’ve provided her with the skill and instincts to do something more than just answer to orders. maybe they should be proud that she’s broken the mold, done something for herself rather than follow blindly to those above. 

without a further thought she follows easy’s motions, pivoting closer to him as she watches for his movements. it’s more of a mental game than a physical from her perspective. how long can the other person last? because when all else fails she knows she has that to bet on. she can outlast any man, or woman, in the rink. and she’s got incredible patience---something easy doesn’t exactly look like he has. there’re a couple fakeouts from both sides as they continue to size each other up. and she isn’t completely unaware of the crowd that’s watching them now.  

he wishes she wasn’t here. that she didn’t have to see this, to know this about him. even if she doesn’t judge him or his cousin. she seeing the blood on her hands is enough to make his stomach lurch. and it’s more than enough to make him angry. which is rare for emory. he didn’t do anger. found no real joy in being pissed off all the time like easy. it was better to be forgiving of everything and everyone around him. and maybe he learned that early on. when his folks died. he could stay mad at them for sending him to live with his militant uncle. or forgive them for bringing easy into his life. for giving him the brother, he never had. his best friend, the only other person who knew him in and out to depths even rima hadn’t learned. emory was hoping one day she would. was hoping one day he could look at her, and look at marriage and know that they would always be the most important people to him. but after all this he’s not sure. and that’s what upsets him. he’s already forging the contract in his head, doesn’t even have to ask if easy is. as soon as easy could walk without a hitch in his breathing, emory knows he’d be out the door, determined to shoot up whoever put them all in this situation. emory is more tempted than he’s ever been to do the same.

but things don’t seem all bad. emory thought they’d be worse. that easy wouldn’t be able to make it with all the blood he was losing and the pain. emory is trying to ignore the burning ache of the bullet in his side but it hurts. nothing he can do about that. if he’s in pain then he knows easy is putting on the bravest face he’s ever seen. he’s moving as if nothing’s wrong, at emory’s side when rima gives her command. and emory isn’t sure what that says about him. that he’s ready to pass out and easy is moving as if nothing’s wrong. but he looks worried or concerned. looks that emory has never ever seen on his cousin’s face before. he’s looking intensely at rima, and emory isn’t sure he likes that. like they have a secret. like he should know something. “you good?” he directs the question at easy who looks at him and nods, tells him to shut up and let rima help him. and if suddenly remembering she’s there emory looks her over. she looks exhausted and he suspects it’s the sheer shock of what has happened. she was always worried about him. about his cousin too.

he allows himself to be helped, allows rima to run the show because the world feels as if it’s fading fast. now would be a good time to tell her he loves her. but how cliché and cheesy. and although easy might think their relationship an annoyance, emory had to admit if he confessed his love for her right then and there, he’d never hear the end of it. instead he smiles at her. “I got this. don’t worry.” and easy keeps his face hard because they were raised not to show emotion. whatever he had to do to save emory he would. they had the pact since they were thirteen. however, they had to survive they’d always do it together no matter what happened. emory knows this is going to hurt, expects it to. and doesn’t want rima to be apart of it. but she’s there and she’s so close he can smell her soap. his hand comes up like he’s going to reach for her but he feels tired. much too tired, and if sensing his need for her she’s leaning against him. and she’s speaking making promises she can’t keep. and somehow, it’s working. the pain is easing away. and before he knows what’s happening easy has the bullet between to bloody fingers.

emory blinks once and then again. he didn’t feel anything and now he’s terrified. “am I paralyzed? I didn’t feel it.” and easy purses his lips, there’s something in his face. suspicion. emory knows the look well. what has he got to be suspicious of? emory follows his cousin’s gaze. something is up with rima. easy shakes his head. “you’re not paralyzed. neither am i. ask your girl. she did something. gave me something.” easy sounds irritated more than grateful. he doesn’t trust anyone, to begin with and now he’s on high alert. emory shakes rima gently, she doesn’t seem altogether there.

“we need to get out of here. something’s wrong with her.”

she can’t imagine how much pain both emory and easy would have gone through if she hadn’t been there to take it onto herself. it doesn’t hurt, which she’s thanked over and over again for---only exhaustion and a difficulty keeping herself awake. like she’s losing oxygen even though she knows she’s breathing fine. by the time easy has the bloody bullet in his fingers and a haphazard gauze bandage is place on the wound, rima can barely hold herself up. she slumps a little onto the bed, leaning into emory for comfort as her mind starts to drift into recovery mode. this is going to take her out a few days at best. the pain collected from both men has all but shocked her system. but still, she tries to pull herself up, tries to keep her eyes open as they gaze lazily at emory. the alarm in his eyes is steady as is his voice. “i’m okay you guys--- you’re okay now. that’s all that matters. the pain will come back in a few hours so make sure you’re getting ice for the inflammation---and--” she struggles to speak between deep breaths. “and whatever painkillers you need. i won’t be able to help until i wake up.” there isn’t much time, or energy, left to explain everything but she finds herself gripping onto emory to support more of her weight as she slips in and out of consciousness. 

it doesn’t occur to rima that this might cause more of a negative effect than one that’s positive. easy, who is naturally suspicious now probably sees her as some sort of freak. she worries for a moment she’s lost his trust in saving their lives, regrets not telling emory sooner about this gift she has. she never thought she’d have to use it like this, never imagined telling him about now under these circumstances. it isn’t even that she wasn’t planning on telling him, because she’s known one day she will. just not now, not like this. but what choice does she have now that she’s border lining on unconsciousness? if she doesn’t say something they’ll think she’s dead, or worst try to get someone else involved in figuring out what’s wrong with her. both things she doesn’t want. all she needs is peace and quiet---time to rest and recoup. preferable tucked against emory’s chest. she can’t though because this

woojin isn’t entirely sure what to say. he feels as if he’s made a grave mistake, and while never one for violence, he might be tempted to grow a tree out of rush’s ear if he gets them both into trouble. “a few years now. he’s a bit of a character but he’s always been nice to me.” but then woojin wonders if that’s just because he’s rich. and if he had bothered to ask rush, the answer would’ve been yes. rush isn’t exactly secretive about his motivations to move up in the world. he sees woojin as a means to an end and they’ve just so happened to become friends along the way. it seemed woojin was good at that, endearing people to him in a way. rush had been a little disarmed when he realized he was actually starting to care about woojin and whether he lived to see another day, but it wasn’t as if rush couldn’t be empathetic when he needed to be. he had after all raised siblings. much more than most people unless you count those freak accident births and weird reality shows about religious cults who didn’t use birth control and thought it was cool to birth thirty kids out of some poor woman.

jihye is hard to read, she’s carrying herself differently. and this has rush intrigued. he’s always seen her in a more submissive role. working within his ridiculous whims and needs as he moved throughout the office like he owned the place. he wasn’t a partner or even a senior law associate. he was barely a lawyer. but no one could ever tell when rush walked into a room. he commanded it with his confidence and know how. and anyone who questioned him found themselves questioning their own intentions. couple this with the fact that he worked well under pressure, and never took himself too seriously and you had someone both arrogant and charismatic. jihye had experienced the brunt of both sides. which was him at his worse. and he can tell it’s set him back. she’s all ice queen now. they’re five feet apart but they might as well be five thousand with the wall she has up. rush was going to have his work cut out for him attempting to break it down.

“why is that?” anyone would good sense would quit. the fact that she’s telling him she won’t makes him both suspicious and maybe a little turned on. he was nothing if not a man seeking a challenge. she doesn’t even know it yet. he knows it’s wrong to look at her as if she’s some kind of conquest to be won but rush can’t help himself. “it won’t happen again boss.” rush grins at her. “i’ll be on my best behavior with both you and all clients involved.” he spares a glance backwards towards the door where woojin waits. he thinks he understands what she’s getting at, but only barely. she was clearly better at this than he was. wasted a talent, she would’ve made a hell of a lawyer with a look like that. but rush knows he should keep that to himself. she did excellent work as a paralegal too and for that he was grateful.

“uh, no i guess not.” he’s not used to being dismissed. but jihye is a slow study. she’s not someone to be won over in an instant. this would take some time. “let’s get back inside.” rush takes a step back to allow room for her to enter first. he follows suit and grins at woojin. “sorry about that. i owed her an apology for being an asshole earlier. i’m not entirely sure all is forgiven but it won’t happen again.” at this woojin looks visibly relieved. the two women though, rush can tell aren’t exactly working out in his favor. “so how do you guys know jihye again? she never talks about her home life or anything at work.” neither does he, and he never ask her either. but he leaves that part out.

jihye doesn’t offer him an explanation to his question. it’s not really his business to know at this point, but whatever decision she originally intended to make is now moot considering he quite literally runs in the same circles as her sisters. the leader of the coven has never been one for selfishlessly inclined decisions, and she knows choosing to step away from this position with rush would do more harm than anything. she has never been one to create a fuss, only vented to eunji because the witch had all but pried it out of her seeing the imbalance in her like only a best friend could. in the end, she’s doing this for suah and eunji’s sake. because there are better ways to exit from the situation. plus, now she feels obligated to keep an eye on rush and his dealings with woojin in case he gets a funny idea to pull the wool over the other’s eyes---something she doesn’t think would be too hard of a feat given how gracious woojin is to his friends.

“i’m glad we have an understanding,” jihye nods before walking past him back toward the front door, regretting stepping away from the fresh crispy air and into the stuffy mansion once again. the mood has changed now as the two reappear into the living room. eunji and suah look at their leader to gauge what has just happened outside. it is eunji who can sense something deeper than suah, who can make out the clear aura of authority emanating from jihye. the three share a wordless glance at each other before jihye offers them a small smile. it’s rush who speaks up first of course as if he can’t stand a quietness. she can’t tell if what he’s saying is an act or if he’s sincere. that part doesn’t matter, jihye supposes. as long as he behaves himself. 

she takes a seat on the single accent chair close to where the trio are seated together. “they’re my roommates,” answering for the first time since they stepped in as eunji chimes in, “best friends---sisters if you will.”---”woojin tells us you two have known each other for a few years yeah? says you’re a bit goofy but that you’re a good friend to him.” suah narrows her eyes a bit as she speaks and can’t help but give off the vibe as if she’s interrogating him. they’re both protective of woojin as they are of each other and with the way jihye has initially responded to rush’s presence the coven members are on high alert. 

she seems to calm, slowly but surely. and woojin smiles at her. he’s worried it wouldn’t work, but it has and now he thinks they can have a proper conversation about their feelings. “i’ve never had a girlfriend. not for any length of time past a one-night stand. I’ve never really had friends either. not since vega showed up on my doorstep one morning and tried to eat me.” woojin bites his lip, tips of his ears turning red as he confesses these things to her. he hasn’t even been able to admit any of it aloud to eunji. though he often didn’t have to. she seemed to know it without him ever having said a thing.  and it’s not exactly the life someone his age is supposed to be living. but he wants to make it clear to her how new this all is, how overwhelming it’s been and how it’s never been her for one second. it’s always been his hang-ups. “i’m sure you’ve seen i’m easily overwhelmed by people. i’ve been like that since I was young. skittish, my mom would always tell people. i never did well with strangers. i spent a lot of time alone. so when eunji showed up – i thought that maybe the universe had finally figured it out. what I needed. because she was and is perfect. and then suddenly you were there too. and you are just as perfect. and i just…i thought it couldn’t be right. i can’t even make friends. how could i possibly deserve two amazing women in my life? that didn’t seem right. and i was scared, that somehow i’d fall so deeply in love with you and it’d be some kind of fluke. i wouldn’t get to be happy.”

he still has that fear, but he doesn’t tell her that. he’s afraid that somehow this is some weird fever dream he hasn’t woken up from. maybe vega did wind up actually eating him, and this is his nirvana. he doesn’t know but the moment suah came in for that kiss all he could think about was how much he’d ruin the whole thing. how no one had ever stayed before. what would make that possible now? “and i just don’t want to ruin that. you tried to kiss me and i saw every failure running across my eyelids in real-time. and i’m sorry. because it read like a rejection, but it’s my own confidence that’s shot. i just, suah i want to do whatever i can to make you happy. i don’t want to ruin it for anything in the world.” woojin runs a hand down his face, it’s clear he’s been stressed about this.

he thinks they’re beyond fixing this. that eunji might have to step in because he can’t find the words. but she’s coming closer to him. starting and stopping a sentence. and woojin thinks she might ask to kiss him. but instead she’s wrapping arms around him. and she’s warm and soft, and he thought he knew what home was with eunji. but this is different, it’s lighter and better but still meant for him. he loves her just as much. woojin’s arms come around suah and he pulls her closer, burying his nose into her hair. the puzzle piece clicks into place and he grins. he gets it now. he wishes he’d done this before.

“am i forgiven?”

it didn’t occur to suah until now that he hasn’t had the same energies around him growing up--- that maybe he wasn’t comfortable with others and being surrounded by important people the way she was. there is so much she still doesn’t know about woojin, but that’s part of their journey isn’t it? to learn about each other and to learn to love one another for all their own imperfections? although, she doesn’t see any imperfections in neither eunji or woojin. they are perfect. on their own and for each other, and she’s still trying to figure out how she fits into all of this because she knows she is the odd one out. she’s always been---and always been loved and doted on for being that oddity. endearing is what she’s been described by the elders, and when eunji looks at her the way her grandmother used to, suah knows exactly what she’s thinking. that suah is endearing and precious in her own way. something worth coveting and protecting. she hopes woojin sees her the same. hopes he loves her the same---or maybe he loves her in his own way. different but all the same.

coming to the realization now that he’s always wanted to be around her, always wanted to openly loved her. it’s only that he didn’t, probably will have to learn for a while how to. but at least she hears it now when he says what he’s most fearful of---losing her, ruining her love because he doesn’t know quite yet how to love someone like her. she hears the words differently now, and the guilt and self-reprimanding lifts from her shoulders when his arms finally wrap around her and pull her in close. safety. security. words that she believed she knew with eunji. but with eunji is has always been comfort and peace. and it’s exactly what she needs. the comfort and peace to lull the rushing emotions of her heart. the safety and security to be who she is without worry. she needs them, just as much as they need her and each other. suah borrows her head against his chest, breathing him in and letting him surround her. she can’t remember how many times she’s wished for this moment and now that she’s finally allowed to experience it, the witch begins to miss eunji, wishing she was here.

woojin catches eunji’s eye before she goes to help suah pick out what she’s looking for. he’s enamored but there’s food to continue cooking. so he goes back to work while the sauce simmers. sautéing meat, and grating cheese. they would have a lovely meal and woojin couldn’t wait to sit back on the couch after dinner with the both of them in his arms. even if they could hardly all fit wrapped up in each other. he didn’t mind it though. “because the flavor is different from an onion. it’d be false advertisement.’ woojin offers with a teasing grin. “I grew those myself. well almost all the vegetables save the jalapenos. those haven’t been doing well in the greenhouse. i wondered if you might take a look at them sometime.” he directs this to eunji. knowing she’d spend just as much time if not more in the greenhouse than him. he began to notice flowers and plants sprouting that he hadn’t put there. an wondered if she’d been the culprit. even if she hadn’t, she’d be able to fix what he was doing wrong. it didn’t matter how good woojin was with nature, sometimes her touch just made plants open up in a way he couldn’t emulate. he loved that about her.

“maybe we can invite them over for dinner next time. i’m sure vega’s tired of eating…whatever it is he eats all the time.” woojin glances in the direction of the room sometimes vega stays in. he has no idea if he’s there or not. vega had the habit of moving much too quietly for woojin’s comfort sometimes. he could be in the house for weeks and woojin wouldn’t know, save for the brief smell of smoke. it could be a little unsettling but vega was still his friend. “and I have another friend I made awhile back I’d like the two of you to meet someday. he’s a lawyer, a bit goofy but I’ve always had a lot of fun with him.” which was saying a lot, considering woojin’s idea of fun was gardening. but rush got him out of the house and into a lot more interesting situations than he’d ever admitted to his girlfriends. he suspects they wouldn’t be happy about it. “i did. my parents weren’t around much. they’re big in the financial sector. always throwing some charity event or big ball that every rich person in the world attends. i don’t go to many of them. it gets a bit too crowded for my comfort level. but i’d like them to meet the both of you one day.” woojin wasn’t sure how they’d take him being in a polyamorous relationship. but he had long since learned not to care what they think.

“water witches? i would’ve never guessed.” but at the same time, it makes sense why eunji has the extreme patience with suah she does, and he falters a bit. having siblings probably would’ve helped him a lot more than he’s admitted. “that makes two of us. though I never really had a line to begin with.” woojin directs to suah. unless…he blushes at the thought. he’d better keep any future ideas like that to himself. but then suah goes and blurts out exactly what he’s thinking. and he’s shocked only for a moment before he grins. “I’ve always wanted kids too. just to try and do better than my parents. to give the kind of love i’ve always wanted to receive. though I think I wished for it too hard because now I have both of you.” woojin leans in to kiss suah just after eunji, but he’s pulled back before he gets the chance by eunji insisting he go help her. he nods and hands her the spoon while he comes up behind suah and places the knife in her hand. his own comes over hers and slowly he shows her the professional way to chop.

it’s unintentional the way the vines creep down his arms, and the flowers blooming atop his head. he’s had the embarrassing habit of blooming since he was a child, when he’s at his happiest. his mother would noisily clip each flower and vine away, annoyed with him for forcing her to do any real mothering. and annoyed that he had the problem in the first place. he was engineered to be perfect after all. so what should be a joyous occasion quickly turns into chaos. woojin drops the knife he’s using and nicks himself in the process splattering a small hint of blood on the counter and suah’s hand. 

“sorry!” he squeaks out, desperately gripping at the flowers in his hair. it’s too late to hide them. he’s already been seen by both women and his mouth opens and closes again as he tries to think up an explanation. his face is clouding with red, and he promptly excuses himself rushing into the guest bathroom down the hall. he digs desperately through one of the drawers until he finds what he’s looking for, a pair of small garden shears. they’re meant for this exact thing. hidden all around the house so when needed he could prune the earth growing out of him.

though she’s heard briefly of his story before, eunji discovers a new understanding to why woojin is the way he is as he recounts the family dynamic he has with his parents. it is unfamiliar to her, as it is to suah who have both grown up in supportive and nurturing communities. witches often ally with one another, an understanding that though there are those who choose a darker path in the Craft, there are also many who choose light and life. there is little that overrides the bond of a coven and blood oath---besides the bond of soulmates, of course. and as both witches listen to their love speak of one day introducing them to his parents it is eunji who feels the initial hesitation, only because she understands the ugliness of the outside world; judgmental and harsh. suah is yet to know of such negativity and the protectiveness eunji feels over her is what makes her worry how woojin’s parents will react. 

things move quickly, more so now that they’ve found each other. and she won’t deny the prospect of starting a family one day, since she found suah there was always the assumption they would adopt a child. for suah it’s always been more a responsibility than a desire. she feels herself too young, too irresponsible and carefree to think about taking care of another being. perhaps it’s because she’s always been the one taken care of. but there is pressure to carry the line on, it’s a promise she’d made with her grandmother before the crone passed. one that she knows she will one day have to fulfill, and she’d believed until woojin that responsibility had been alleviated given the circumstances of her soulmate being a witch. she doesn’t speak up about his enthusiasm for children, and doesn’t need to as she wiggles against him trying to remain serious while they cut the small onion into slices. it isn’t until she notices the vines creeping from his cuffed sleeves that woojin jerks himself away from her, cutting himself int he process does suah realize something is wrong. eunji, hearing the metal clamoring onto the counter spin on her heel to the commotion. 

kisun is not a secret-keeping person. which is why all of this feels so personal. he was honest with his parents about his shifting. and being the god fearing, cult loving people they are, they turned him away. how could they lead a religion with an abomination among them? and as far as kisun knew, everyone in the congregation thought him dead. not as if they’d ever sneak a baseball game on television. not as if they even had televisions to begin with. it’s a dark place to go in his head, and he is angry with jiwon because that’s his best friend ( and the man he loves ) and now here it was being revealed to him that he didn’t know everything there was to know. by kyungmi of all people. somehow this works in her favor, endears him to her because at least she was kind enough to tell him. and now they have something in common, and all his feelings of annoyance are starting to dissipate when he realizes how hard this must all be for her. how weird he must smell. how awfully imposing he must look. he scoots back a fraction, almost apologetic in his movements.

“it’s rough isn’t it? shifting all the time. it happens to me against my will more than I like admitting. I’m always angry because my adrenaline is going crazy. doesn’t have anywhere to go if I’m not physically active. and I eat every hour on the hour like I’ve never had a meal before.” he doesn’t know why all this comes spilling out. she probably can’t even relate. but he doesn’t care about that. she’s sharing her side of it. how terrible it all is for her, all kisun can think to do is commiserate. “i don’t blame you. for things being bad I mean. it’s not exactly like people are cool with wild animals running around the country. it’s dangerous and people are always watching.” kisun sets his plate down onto the table, and then because she looks sick thinks better of it. he disappears for a moment and then reappears in the doorway without the plate. his hands behind his back and a pillow under his arm and he’s shirtless once more.

“this might seem a little weird. but I know it helps.” kisun is cautious he looks nervous because he’s overstepping a boundary, he’s not entirely sure jiwon will like. but he knows big cats better than anyone, having constantly found himself turning into one. “tigers, especially baby ones tend not to live to adulthood because of the high mortality rate. skin to skin contact usually helps. they need a lot of care to grow up big and strong. I don’t shift on command often because it’s dangerous, i can be a bit territorial. i’m sure that’s why jiwon has kept us away from each other. among other things.” he goes quiet, trying to figure out how to phrase the next part. but nothing comes to mind. he’d just have to ask outright. 

“if you don’t mind…i’m going to strip and shift. it’ll help. trust me. I tried to contact jiwon but he didn’t answer. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. he’s been wanting us to get along, but I can be difficult.”

she isn’t sure what to expect from telling him everything---it feels like a confessional and part of her stomach twists in anxiety thinking about how kisun will react to all this. has she damaged his friendship with jiwon by telling him? or is the twisting in her gut just because she’s feeling worse by the minute as the moon continues to rise higher into the evening sky. it won’t be much longer before she’s forced to shift into her tiger form, and if jiwon isn’t here she isn’t sure what kisun will do--not that she expects him to hurt her in any way. but she knows at the least he would be unhappy about it.

he surprises her though when his features change. they seem to softened, almost guiltily as he steps back and begins to talk again. this is the first time he’s told her anything substantial about himself. kyungmi’s always understood him to be disgruntled, often annoyed (she assumed by her presence) and rather... territorial (as jiwon would kindly put as particular). but hearing him confess to the things that plague him, the effects of a curse that perhaps he never asked for her either, kyungmi feels the slightest of weight lift from her chest as she nods in empathy. though she doesn’t experience any of things he does---rather quite the opposite. her hardly ever has an appetite unless she’s in her tiger form. and the raw meat the beast chooses to eat often makes her ill afterwards. it’s another reason why she’s so weak and frail, so unlike kisun who stands tall and strong. she hates it, hates that she can barely stand on her own or take care of herself---hates knowing that she’ll always need someone nearby, hates knowing she’s always be a burden. but she understands because just like her own circumstances, he can’t control his. they’re a lot more alike than she originally thought, and she wonders if he’s got anyone else besides jiwon who is there for him. 

kyungmi doesn’t say anything as he walks out of the room again, allowing her thoughts to distract from the nauseating feeling in her stomach as she tightens the blanket around her shoulders. the shivers grow worse and she knows the cold sweat will come soon. she thinks about calling jiwon when kisun comes back. this time the plate is gone, offering her a bit of relief from the scents that are making her stomach turn. but he isn’t wearing a shirt again and she quickly diverts her eyes from him, cheeks flushing pink. “wh-what are you doing---”

cari has always warned him to not let it get out of control. how horrible it could be if vega didn’t keep a hold on himself. as if he’s experienced it somehow. but whenever vega asked about it cari couldn’t bring himself to relieve whatever trauma he had endured. arcturus was nowhere to be found. and trying to talk about feelings to ares was a class in getting nowhere. but cari was firm in his warning. and vega should’ve listened. should’ve known nothing good could come from dabbling with humans and witches and emotions. but he wasn’t good at the listening part. he never had been. not when woojin told him to be nice to hyolyn – somehow, he’d piss her off more. not when he was told to stay away – he found himself getting closer. and not when her flame burst forth. it should’ve been a big red warning sign for him. but for vega it was as good as opening a door and asking him to come on in. and now there would be consequences for his actions because he’d made the grave mistake of crossing those carefully drawn lines.

there is nowhere to go from here. vega feels as if he needs this, needs her in some inexplicable way that feels much too human and foreign to him. it doesn’t mesh well with his star, doesn’t blend in with the monster occupying the place a soul should be. he should push her away, because there is a darkness and a danger in him that could not be sated. but upon further inspection and perhaps a little against her will she has no idea it’s happening. he sees her. at her core. the root of her is holding onto a darkness too. and vega latches onto it like some shared bond. they would only bring each other down, and for some reason he’s delighted at the notion.

“i shouldn’t.” he can smell smoke but it doesn’t register that this is their doing. bells are sounding off in the distance. right above their heads too. but it’s all white noise to vega who seems to only here the calling of her flame. “you might like it.” he is both teasing and being truthful. “and that would be incredibly dangerous. i am not a good…thing to kiss.” he can’t even call himself a person. all the pieces that make up people are lost on him. he is some other unreal thing, that if given enough time and little supervision would destroy her. but she is unafraid, perhaps because she feels protected by her own fire. vega tries to put out the thoughts of killing it, replacing it with his own. some sordid version of romance in his confused little alien head.

and even as he protests, his mouth is back on hers. she tastes strange. and having eaten his fair share of people he knows that that means something. that something within her is not entirely human. he’s going to pull away to ask about it, when a shriek catches his attention. a woman – the lady vega seems to scare on a daily basis has just entered the house. she’s woojin’s maid and she’s screaming bloody murder. he pulls back, confusion on his face. and it takes a full minute before he can tear his eyes away from hyolyn completely to see what her screeching is directed at. one entire part of the living room has gone up in flames. they cover the wall and they’re moving fast across the carpet. vega stares dumbfounded at it for a moment. he has no idea how it happened. but somehow knows that it’s entirely his fault. the flame isn’t foreign to him, but it’s not entirely his either. he looks to hyo.

“woojin is going to kill me.” and as an entity not capable of dying, it’s a chilling phrase to say.

caught up. somehow he’s gotten her completely caught up in whatever spell he has. hyo isn’t sure where she’d gotten the notion that he was harmless, but it’s clear he isn’t. even her fires want to yield to him, and the darkness festering inside her quickly becomes insatiable for it. if he isn’t something monstrous and equally dark, why would it? there is no making sense of what everything means. what he really is. she’s heard the girls speak of him and his... companions as not entirely human, of another world. but his fire holds a bigger story she wants to understand now. she wants to know him. wants to feel the constant coolness of his fire burning her veins. 

vega detracts his words of caution and replaces them with his lips, and this time she’s an equally aggressive contender as she finds her arms gripping onto his waist and body pressing against him like she’s lost the ability to stand on her own when she really feels like she’s floating on fumes. she doesn’t want to think about what this means when they’re forced to separate, doesn’t think about the consequences of their recklessness or what her circle sisters will say if they ever find out. she only knows that this won’t be the last time. she won’t let it. and vega is the one to blame. her neediness grows but is abruptly cut short by the bloodcurdling scream nearby. it’s enough to make vega pull away, but when she sees when she finally focuses on their surroundings makes her stomach drop and eyes go wide. “fuck.” did they do that? the fire licking up the walls and spreading all around them was both a beautiful and terrifying sight. hyo for herself knew she would make it out alive, and something told her vega would too. but it’s the hearing woojin’s name does she remember that this house needs to be salvaged or else---well, she isn’t trying to find out. 

hyolyn takes a step back from him, unwilling to let go until the very last second before she faces one of the blazoned walls of orange and red. both palms extend forward as she whispers the faintest of spells. they come out as a low hiss, like she’s lulling the flames, cooing at them to return to her, to listen to their keeper. they recede quickly, but it takes more force than she originally thought it would. brows knit together at this newfound discovery, and hyo turns back to the star, eyes serious wondering if he even knows how to control his own fire. 

it’s silly to kneel before something he doesn’t believe in. everything within cari transcends ideas of religion, of god and of time and even space though it is what comes closest. he is too much to comprehend. and perhaps it’s why the old woman next to him is moved to touch him. it takes a great deal of strength not to launch at her. consume her soul and restore some of the energy he’s lost fretting about celine. it’s as if she doesn’t exist in any conceivable timeline, and cari never having been denied anything but his own existence is both smitten and concerned. in the end it’s the latter that wins out. eons of being have taught him the art of putting feelings away. such a very human notion. not meant for those of his ilk. and it would make him a hypocrite to constantly preach it’s irrationality to vega and arcturus ( ares never needed to be reminded not to love, he had none to give ) while suffering through it himself. in the end, he just wants to know that he hasn’t killed her. it wouldn’t be the first time. and that’s what’s so terrifying. that he could end her life and not even remember it until centuries later. just another face lost to time.

he yanks his arm harder from the woman than he intends. she looks slightly offended but more fearful than anything else. parts of cari must be seeping out of him. he struggles to control it, even more, when he thinks about food, death, soul-killing. these things all go hand in hand. reminding him that he was a monster and there would be nothing he could do about it. as if sensing some impending doom the woman is up and on her foot fleeing from the room. cari watches her go, catching sight of someone from the corner of his eye. and there she is, having heard his cry. or his prayer. or perhaps sensing his energy. he was having a hard time pinning down hers. he stands, taking in the sight of her. she’s not as he remembers even though there hasn’t been any real-time that’s passed.

but the wings.

and it all makes sense why he’d been completely overwhelmed by her touch. she wasn’t human. she was just as celestial as he’d come to believe. an angel. cari is aware of their existence, but stars and angels didn’t typically run in the same circles, given cari’s inability to remain stable for more than a few decades at a time. stars and angels certainly didn’t feel any level of emotional attachment to one another. these things were supposed to be beyond both of them. and maybe he was just the weak one. he, after all, sent her away.  

“i didn’t think you’d come back. i thought – “ it doesn’t matter what he thought. she wasn’t dead. he hadn’t killed her. “you’re an angel.” such a useless thing to say. as if she didn’t know herself. but he needed to say it aloud. to make it real somehow. 

“so that’s why you wanted to help me.” celestial grace. an angel’s bread and butter. “but i can’t be helped. you have to know that. you felt it didn’t you?” what could she do to undo all he’d done and would continue to do? how could she save the worst part of him? it was impossible. 

she doesn’t speak for several moments as he stutters through his realizations, just watches him like she’s used to watching everyone else around her. but celine is done watching. she’s spent too long running from her fears and the pain that comes with carrying out her missions. if cari is the last than let it be so, if she’s to lose her wings for an entity with no soul, one that doesn’t believe he can be saved, then let it be so. because the longing she’s silenced in the months of being away from him are rushing to the surface and there is little she can do about the learned humanity that lies within her. she almost scoffs when he calls her an angel. she isn’t worthy of such titles, knows this now in her heart. but it isn’t his responsibility to return such emotions, he owes her nothing. 

but she does owe him something. an explanation. an apology. her wings tuck neatly behind her and the flow subsides as she approaches him. a faint smile on her lips before tucking a strand of raven black hair behind her ear and slides into a nearby pew. “come sit.” celine leaves a considerable amount of space between them, careful to not cause another mishap like she had before while she stares at the statue of the one who was sent to free all sinners from their sins. He isn’t a fallacy, but she wonders what he is thinking now looking down upon her as her wings continue to darken underneath. at least there is no pain, not yet at least. she isn’t sure if that’s part of the punishment, or if the pain of falling from grace is bad enough. 

“it’s said that when god create the world and everything in it he knew one day there would be evil and sin released into it and that there would be an imbalance of bad against good. he created a secret order of angels, a tenth order, to some day counteract that. i guess you could call it some kind of last resort. he called that order, the children of the order. twelve angels born from the stars and guided by their wardens, the twelve archangels. each angel was then sent down to earth with four missions. the first is to find the artifact of their constellation. and the other three is to help three souls in one form or another with their specific role and power.” she fights the urge to shift close to him, his nearness something she didn’t realize she longed for until now. but celine continues.

nolan had done his work. spent hours looking into all the old lore he had laying around the house. reread a few different letters his parents had written him over the years about imprinting. and though he knew nothing about him was special, it was still hard to imagine. how one moment he could exist in what seemed like a different era. a normal college student who put too much thought into everything. and now this. in the end, he broke down and called his mother. they hadn’t talked for some time, nolan’s grandparents made it very clear that they wanted him to have little to do with his parents. they understood his condition but felt that their pro-werewolf ideologies might put ideas into his head. considering the massacre that occurred at the hands of his mother and father, his grandparents couldn’t be blamed. but they also weren’t werewolves at least to his knowledge and this was advice he desperately needed.  

in the end, he thought she’d say he was molting or something. some completely normal animal behavior. not fairytale ideas about imprinting. but there was no doubt about it. nolan had inadvertently stumbled across his soulmate. it explained the weird ache in his chest. the obsession with finding her, and the complete restlessness he felt whenever the wolf idly crossed his mind. nolan had never been practical so it wasn’t an impossible notion. but he would have to lay eyes on her human form. as if somehow that would make it all the more real. and his mother warned him that things moved fairly quickly where imprinting was concerned. where he was forced to endure a lecture about dominating and letting his alpha loose until he feigned his grandmother calling just to escape the awkwardness of it all.

that might’ve put nolan off from finding her if he wasn’t so annoyed by how strange he felt. he didn’t like not feeling like himself. and if his suspicions were correct, she wouldn’t be able to stay away either. he never considered the idea of his soulmate visiting a bar, but maybe she felt if she hid among the other’s she might rid herself of him. nolan wasn’t so easily shaken. and was prepared for a long hunt, it would do him some good. the joy of that was swept from under him rather swiftly. the moment he got close he knew. something about her scent triggered every base instinct in him, so much that he was certain to pop a hard-on right then and there. and all he’d done was look at her. nolan tried to collect himself, failing rather miserably at playing it cool. sweat was beading on his forehead. he was overcome with both desire and longing. as if he’d never known either until seeing her face. it didn’t help that she was stunningly beautiful. he should’ve met her in wolf form where base instincts were just another part of the gig.

“you.” nolan doesn’t waste any time. he couldn’t. he was two seconds from leaping across the bar and exposing everyone to a side of him he didn’t even know he had. “you were the one in the woods. you ran away from me.” it’s a weird conversation to be having to anyone that might be eavesdropping. but nolan doesn’t care. his voice drops just a touch, much deeper than he intends it to be. “you’re very pretty.” he didn’t mean to say that. 

“why did you run?” he knows she has to feel it too. she has to be feeling something.

she doesn’t think he has the guts to call her out in such a public space, but siyeon is realizing quickly she doesn’t know him at all. not even what his human form looked like until now. all she has is his scent and the aching in her chest to feel it through her keen nose. and now that he is here and they both know exactly who the other is, it’s like she’s understanding what belonging and wholesomeness feels all over again---not merely as a wolf, but as a human. the thoughts of her brother, of kitae and haneul quickly simmer out into the background as does all the noise in the bar. her eyes glow faintly a golden yellow before she blinks it away and in the depths the wolf inside her stirs awake aware of who is near. it huffs and begins to whine before she swallows against the dryness in her throat as if to quell it from bursting forward. siyeon has more control than that. 

but she doesn’t know how to answer his question, nor does she know how to respond to the abrupt comment about her appearance. he isn’t hard on the eyes either, even if he wasn’t hers he would have obtained a double-take from her. the biggest question still remains unspoken, under many other questions that could take days, weeks, months to unpack. but that’s only the human side of her rationalizing. it’s the side of her that she attempts to keep dominant now that she has to assimilate, now that she has two others to care for. her wolf would take care of each concern swiftly and quickly. in pack world, there are no questions, no pleasantries and formalities disguised at small talk and getting to know each other. because she already believes she knows him, and she will continue to know about him. their ending is already set in stone, all that’s left is to pave the path.

so why did she fight it to begin with? to his question---why did she run? siyeon chews on the inside of her cheek as her nostrils flare slightly, eyes tear away from his face in order to call the other bartender over to cover her so she can step out for a ‘smoke’. she isn’t sure if this is a good idea though, knowing the signs of another wolf hardly restraint against her own could spell trouble. but it isn’t a talk she is about to have in the middle of a busy bar. she tells the bartender she’ll be back in half an hour, and still she hasn’t responded to the questioning eyes. “meet me out back.” she brushes past him. a mistake as she gets a stronger blow of his scent that sends her reeling. 

she barely makes it outside before she’s heaving against the building, chest pumping like she’s struggling to breathe. is this part of the process? is it supposed to hit her like this? this frustrating tension in her chest as if her wolf is threatening to take over at any second? she knows what it wants, knows that it wants exactly the same thing she wants. him. the longing quickly returns once she’s able to steady her breathing and her eyes search for him, hands balled into fists to hold herself and the wolf back. the aftermath of brushing past him has intoxicated her senses and she isn’t certain if he’s just around the corner or if his scent is still lingering around her. 

part of him doesn’t believe it’s real. but henry knows that the dead never lie. they are incapable of doing so with him. and yet, he can’t bring himself to move. he’s missed a lifetime with her. and not just one. it would be impossible to pick up where they left off. in vessels, they’ve hardly had any time to get used to. but he reminds himself that none of that should matter where his wife is concerned. she is the beginning and the end of everything for him. the only reason he is still here. he could’ve easily walled himself off and away from the world, shirking his duties as Poseidon have. living some sad life away from love and everything associated with it. or a life of desperate wants like Dionysus, the only God capable of living so recklessly without ever having truly known love. but for him – for hades, there could be no one else. there could be nothing but life with her. she is here in a different form. dead and gone. and before he can tend to his wife he has to usher the spirit she has released into the void to the Underworld.

“evelyn, be not afraid. you will be judged fairly in the deeds of your life. and sent to where you will live out the remainder of your death. i do not know where this will lead you. as i am not the one worthy of providing you judgment. only that your soul is free.” his eyes drift from the ghostly figure he was speaking to back towards the body she left behind. these were special circumstances. and he should tell her as much. but nothing leaves his mouth as he brings her to the river styx where the ferryman waits to take her into the beyond. he should be patient. but it is impossible to wait the time needed to ensure her send-off. he wastes no time returning to the land of the living.

she’s still there, wordlessly awaiting him. adjusting no doubt. he is not sure where she’d been before and with whom. he too had a hard time adjusting to the life of the esteemed henry. a gentle soul good at easing the suffering of others. before that he lived the life of a sadist practically, overseeing the executions at a prison. it had been a grim life to lead and all the while he held hope that his bride would join him. he reincarnated before she was given the chance, but now here she was in the flesh.

henry steps forward, taking her face softly into his hands and searching her face. “it is you.” he can’t stop his smile from spreading. his heart from threatening to burst as if eros has just descended upon them. she was here with him finally. and now he could truly call it home.

“my queen.”

she’s nervous as she feels herself separate from the physical shell of the woman she’s known as her own self for years. evelyn is no less confused as she is fearful. there is an exchange and though she cannot begin to transcribe what this means for her afterlife, she feels she’s finished some sort of mission in bringing herself here to him. what he does next, she doesn’t know until he is facing her once again and addressing her by name. evelyn zhu. it’s almost as if she’s experienced a bout of amnesia once she recognizes the name truly does belong to her, but perhaps this is the effect of being dead, everything fades into the ether eventually doesn't it? isn’t this why she has to leave her body behind? 

he takes her away from the room and the scenery changes quickly from the office to darkened caves with a wall of fog ahead. she can make out what looks to be a stream, and the closer they approach she realizes it’s a river. the stories she’s read of ancient greeks crossing this river floats to her mind and no sooner does the ferryman arrive is she placed onto the boat and given a final nod from the man--- the god. and then he’s gone, and she’ll be too.

memories of young evelyn and the life she’s left behind passes through persephone like a silent movie. by the time he returns she knows exactly who is she in the mortal realm, but more importantly is who she is now in front of her king. ancient powers still flow through their souls, and its with those powers that she has been able to materialize in the flesh, for the rulers of the underworld are free to move about the lands in whichever form they please. her eyes become glassy as he she feels the warmth of his large palms against her cheeks. blinking the tears away, persephone nods. it really is her, as it really is him. stepping closer to him, her hands find his as she leans into them. the foreign scent of his perfume has faint reminders of the god stirring beneath the surface. to say she missed him would be an atrocious understatement. so all she can do is take him in, his eyes, his face, this new form that looks every bit a man and god as his original. 

he is unwelcoming of visitors. there are weapons at his disposal. a trident buried in the sand beneath the house. a sword strapped to one of the wild horses roaming his land. there is limitless potential at the hand of his bastard children, the cyclops that work tirelessly in the forges hephaestus has built across the land. pierce guzzles down another bottle of beer letting his sour mood take over. it didn’t take much these days to get him off-kilter, and he still maintained his temper of being an easily angered god. only one person could shake it out of him and he refused to acknowledge the thought. he’s already reaching for another beer from the six-pack at his feet. the top popped off as he takes a long drag, staring out at the water. knowing it’d take much more to get him just the right amount of drunk that he prefers. no one would be free to divert him from his plans for the evening. but he typically didn’t need to do much. a storm usually sent the locals running, and he was free to be alone. thunder rumbles overhead with the waves crashing hard against the beach as the sky swirls.

no one would be able to guess it was him, save for the storm brewing in his eyes. they’re much darker than usual. his hair is whipping in the wind but he is unmoved. the horses whinny off in the distance, galloping towards the various shelters he’s crafted. lightning cracks, and pierce scowls. “i don’t need your help!” the words thunder through the sky, shaking the very earth beneath his feet. zeus was always attempting to interfere where he wasn’t wanted. pierce didn’t need his help to cook up a storm, but his elder brother couldn’t resist the urge to show off any and every chance he got. lightning struck again, coming dangerously close to where he stood. a warning of sorts and he would’ve been even more annoyed had he not felt the probing presence again. he’d have to squabble with his brother later. someone was boldly trying to cross him.

and he wasn’t an idiot. some humans couldn’t be coaxed away. he’d heard of the odd ones. chasing storms and trying to get themselves killed. he cast his beer bottle aside and went to the edge of the water. there was nothing for him to fear within its depths, it was as much home to him as anything else. the water sloshes angrily around his knees. a cyclone is brewing, and he can’t stop it. but then – it’s there. a voice like an anchor dropping into his gut. he’d know that feeling anywhere. and the waters still for a moment as he too is frozen. the storm in his eyes doesn’t know what to do, and thunder rolls but it’s weaker than before. the weather starts to dissipate almost as quickly as it began. zeus would not get to irritate his brother tonight. for the only being in all the world who could calm the earth-shaker has just made themselves known.

pierce doesn’t waste any time. his windbreaker is pulled over his head, he keeps a wetsuit on almost all the time now. finding some mild comfort in it. in knowing he could take to the sea whenever he pleased. he needs no other gear as he goes diving into the water. he said he wouldn’t disturb her. that he would leave her to peace and better life than any he could’ve ever given her. but she has come to him somehow. maybe. he isn’t sure. the water pulls at him, happy to have it’s father back among it again. and fish come up curiously, always wanting to say hello. pierce isn’t angry as he pushes past them but he doesn’t have time. he has to find her. has to follow the calm of her voice.

“where are you? please.” he sounds desperate, but he only needed an inch to run miles for her. he’s never had any problem doing so. the only problem is that the water is her domain too. she’s just as capable of hiding within it as he. the only other being who could mask themselves in it’s waters without him knowning. why would she reveal herself now? 

she fights the urge to retreat, to slip silently along the waves and let them carry her back to shore---far, far away from where he is. but she can’t. she misses him, and it’s the desperation in his voice that breaks her heart more than the fear of reuniting with him does. ava has never considered herself selfish, and she believes the stories told of her are ones of the most benevolent goddess of the seas. it’s the nurture she feels over her children, for all those who live in the waters are hers to protect as much as those who glide atop the surface. she is the fisherman’s savior, the surfer’s guardian, the lost boats’ guide. and who does she protect against the most above all else? poseidon. 

she doesn’t quite believe he possesses the same powers he used to during their golden age, though she can feel the storm subside and knows exactly that is his doing. she doesn’t believe there is much she needs to protect anymore, not in this day and age. things are different now, technology has gained a following of mindless worshipers. there are new gods in this world, and they too have no form. who is there to lead them? is that why those like herself have been sent back to earth? to turn the tides once again? her thoughts are wandering, just like the waves that carry her. taking her closer, toward the other side of the island. she realizes she hasn’t spoken, and maybe that’s caused him to go into a panic. it isn’t like him, is it? she doesn’t really know anymore. it’s been so long. but she knows at least she doesn’t need to protect anyone from him but herself. and she knows also that he won’t rest until he finds her---that’s one trait he’s acquired from his brother. persistence.

but poseidon was never careful with her the way hades is careful with persephone. perhaps that’s unfair to ask. the goddess of spring was never meant to be queen---not until she was given a kingdom to rule. amphitrite was born to endure more of the rough currents and riptides of her domain; robust against the sharp coral and carelessness of a lover’s actions. as much as she denies this, she is no less resentful than the other gods. isn’t this the reason why she has been silent all this time? 

it’s inevitable though, because there is no one else who belongs in the waters with her but him. and the thought of feeling finally reigning over their kingdom together again is what allows her speak up once more. a chuckle sent through the waves, and she challenges him like so many times before-- sending her children to guide him across the seas back home to her. “you know where to find me.”