Smol-ouroboros

Currently: most of the way to Seoul, the gang stopped in a hotel for the night… only to have to battle off wraiths who came looking for Minji. With Celine injured, and some questionable piles of ash on their hands, their plan has not survived first contact with the enemy.

After the reveal that Minji was actively targeted - going back to her apartment was very much not an option. At least until Celine got cleared for going back to risking her life, "let the wraiths follow us back from a known place" was not an option. And Rumi and Mira had been going everywhere in the apartment complex laying, tucking defenses and other things to ward off wraiths everywhere that they could slip something out of sight - with even more without the out of sight portion in Miyeong's apartment. Also the apartment of her neighbors, an old retired couple. When Mira and Rumi had almost been caught putting the defenses up the two had played the superstitious old people to the hilt - and that is how there was a second apartment in the complex that Mira had given a begrudging approval of. The two had decided that the pack of people that were tucked into Miyeong's apartment were apparently "lovely". Given that Miyeong knew that Yeonngi had been in the upper register of their opinion by the pair being politer in their comments about him when he wasn't around Miyeong felt perfectly reasonable in asking Rumi if her neighbors had been replaced by something supernatural. Because the pair had never in all her years of being in the complex had a positive thing to say about a guest of hers that had stayed more than one night in a row. Up to rescuing everyone from Miyeong's terrible cooking when Minji finally slept. And also that the two had been completely not asking any questions what so ever when the police had finally gotten around to contacting Miyeong. Which it was something to put on the white board for discussion of whether that was due to corruption from the Kang's being filthy rich, general lack of noticing the supernatural, something targeted or whether there was cult apparatus embedded. Because somehow it had taken two days for the Seoul police, who had been trying to find Minji to actually make contact. Who was merely the only staff member who had worked the night shift of the ER on one of the two days immediately prior to the fire who was still alive. (The demons had hit during the shift change. When Minji finally got that information while Celine and Zoey was out, Mira and Rumi had gone to see the neighbors. Miyeong had pretended to not notice that Minji was crying. Despite feeling Minji's body shudder as Miyeong uselessly curled around her friend) Okay - that Miyeong was sure was due to supernatural shenanigans. Because the police hadn't called Minji, or even Minji's family. Somehow every single attempt at finding the numbers and records kept coming back without bearing fruit. Hospital records - everything on site destroyed, with the offsite backup managing to hit with corruption that ate Minji's contact information. Family members of the coworkers - memory problems or phones ending up taking swims... into rivers. One by being hit by a pigeon apparently spontaneously forgetting how to fly.

The police officers—who looked like the photos of themselves in dress uniform that Miyeong had looked up just in case, thank God—were waiting where they said they would be, settled on a bench and facing in opposite directions.

She watched as Park Yeongjin spotted them, nudging Kim Seongho to turn. The men stood, offering a quick and professional greeting that Minji and Miyeong returned.

Park Yeongjin eyed the bench criticially. “That seems a little small for four. Shall we walk and talk, Minji-ssi?”

“That sounds fine to me, Inspector,” she agreed. That was the end of the pleasantries.

“We might as well get down to it,” Kim Seongho said, his voice surprisingly low and rough—maybe a smoking habit? “What can you tell us about the events of the last few days from your perspective? We’ll ask you to clarify anything or come back to any important-sounding details, so don’t worry about them, just give us what you think of.”

So Minji told them.

What they got back was little, at first—casually noting that it didn’t appear anything had been stolen from Minji’s apartment, and how difficult it had been for the firefighters to manage the blaze, but at least it hadn’t spread to any nearby buildings.

A request that they not speak to any other officers about this, at least not without a direct introduction by the both of them, which indicated that there very much were ongoing concerns about corruption in the department, even if Miyeong hadn’t been willing to risk saying the name Kang and watching this whole mess crumple up and blow away just yet.

It was the casualty count Kim Seongho gave stuck in the back of Miyeong’s head, though: all of the staff, thirty-five patients so far, and one civilian.

Only one.

She warns it will still take a while, and Celine's spirits and Mira's half-remembered auguries are also still days from bearing fruit, but it's a lead, and it's enough momentum that Celine wants them all on the same page about wraiths. So she spends dinner holding forth on demonic metaphysics, like Miyeong's tiny dining room is a lecture hall and they're all halfway through some supernatural PhD.

"Spirits are a natural part of the world," she's telling them, between annoyingly elegant spoonfuls of soup. "Even demons are, by most definitions." She doesn't look at Rumi, there, but Zoey and Mira both do. Rumi looks at the table.

"Wraiths are neither. They're not truly alive, or independent; they're shards of Gwi-Ma himself, connected to him, with all his abilities and malice. Like him, they grow in strength as they corrupt and consume, and as they grow stronger, so does he.

"The wraiths we face have fed to a degree I've never heard of, and we should not underestimate the danger. But I have met stronger spirits in my time. Now that I have their measure, I can prepare us better for the rest of them."

She sounds more than a little put out. Which is pretty funny from where Mira's sitting. Four hours of sleep, no implements, and two wraiths packing as much power as a higher-order gwishin each? Mira's abeoji wouldn't have made it out the door. Jageunabeoji might have made it as far as getting his shoulder ripped open before his defenses dropped, but physical pain is a great antidote to spiritual composure, in Mira's experience, and he'd still have been dead before Rumi woke up. But Celine froze the thing with a half-remembered spell on a piece of paper and a quarter of her blood volume in the carpet, and somehow her pride is still bothering her more than her arm.

"So do we have to use magic?" Zoey wants to know, tragically oblivious to how ridiculous the shaman is being. "We can't just, I dunno, shoot them?"

Mira answers before Celine can. "Think zombie rules. Injuries don't matter but if you destroy the whole body that'll work."

From the look on her face, it would have pained Celine less if Mira had actually physically slapped her, but she admits, grudging, "That is… a functional comparison."

"And they have to have made a deal with Gwi-Ma," says Miyeong, slow and resigned, not really a question.

"Yes," Rumi confirms, with deep sympathy. "Not all who die in his service become wraiths, but all those who are wraiths died in his service."

There's something a little haunted, or maybe hunted, in her eyes, when she says it. Mira wonders who she's thinking about, if it's a face she's afraid to see or one that she had to strike down and can't let go of. Both are the sort of petty torment Gwi-Ma loves.

The next question is Minji's, quiet and uneasy. "You said they're… fragments of him. What about the person they used to be? Is there anything left, anything to… reach? Save?"

Mira looks at Rumi for guidance, Rumi looks at Celine with an expression that Mira cannot bear to see, and Celine looks at Minji, her face grim, her tone sad. "No one knows. They remember what they knew in life, they go to the same places, follow the same routines, when they're not advancing the whims of their summoners or their lord. It could be a sign that they are the souls of the dead in truth, and not merely stolen images."

Celine hold's Minji's eyes for a moment, intent, then Miyeong's, then Rumi's, and her voice goes iron.

"It is not a sign worth betting your life on."

Rumi closes her eyes, and breathes out, long and slow.

"No," she agrees, sad but steady. "It is not."

She’s taught Rumi just about every way she knows to fold a paper airplane, and gone down an internet rabbit hole about them besides, and is (to her horror) starting to get used to being woken up first thing in the morning to go practice a basic self-defense regimen in the courtyard. Which is good, because Rumi doesn’t sleep much, but she will zone out into a napping meditation once Zoey gets to the target practice part.

Beyond that, though, not exactly useful yet.

She’s picked up enough to sort of follow some of what Celine and Mira do without asking too many annoying questions—though absolutely any of those were too many for Miyeong, who flashed her a very tight, polite smile and… Zoey was bad at a lot of things, but she knew that smile pretty well. She skedaddled.

(The smile was at least better than Minji finding out that she hadn’t called her mom—that was scary.)

So: Zoey hangs out with Rumi and hangs out with Mira and hates herself for being bored when she’s doing something this important and terrifying and wishes she could be better and wishes her brain would just shut up and—

A magpie appears at the window.

Zoey does not, at first, really think anything of it. It’s a bird. It’s pecking at the glass, which isn’t the most normal bird behavior, but she’s sure that some of them have to try to investigate those invisible forcefields sometimes.

It squawks. At her. And then hops up onto the sash and pecks right across from the one of the locks.

“Um,” says Zoey.

The magpie gives her a look that indicates she’s being a fucking idiot.

“Are you going to kill me if I let you in?” she asks, leaving behind her bowl of cereal to come squint right back at it. “No—don’t give me that look, I know you wouldn’t admit it if you were going to kill me!”

The magpie blinks, and opens three eyes to keep giving her its magnificent side eye.

Zoey squeaks and jumps backwards. It remains unperturbed, pecking again at the sash. Which, well…

She can only die once?

“Fine,” Zoey says, and the magpie hops back down onto the sill, allowing her to flick the locks and slide up the window.

It doesn’t move.

“Well?” she asks, bracing her hands on the ledge as she leans forward it look at it. “All that and you—“

This is when the magpie bites her.

Admittedly, it has a minimum of six eyes and is behaving with an uncanny level of intelligence, so if there was a bird worth having a conversation with, Miyeong figures this is probably the one. But despite all the insanity that she's seen since the day she got that call from Minji, an overgrown corvid sitting coolly and imperiously on the top of her kitchen chair while the most elegant and dignified woman she has ever met bows to it and gravely offers up a small hardboiled egg still somehow feels like a bridge too far.

"Thank you for answering my call, Kkachi-ssi," Celine is saying. Zoey, a napkin wrapped around one finger and a great deal of nervous energy vibrating through her body, gives Miyeong a look like it's not her fault nobody told her to expect magical avian visitors and maybe if Miyeong were a little more forthcoming she wouldn't have gotten bit and had to come drag them in here.

Miyeong tries her best to silently convey don't yell at me I don't have any idea what the fuck is going on either without offending the bird, which can see both of them, or Celine, who has only the normal number of eyes as far as Miyeong is aware but still seems to know what's happening behind her with a frightening level of accuracy.

And indeed, almost immediately, Celine says, without looking away from the bird, "Stop fidgeting back there, and go assemble the others in the sitting room."

It's said with a certain level of affection, but Miyeong and Zoey both walk out like scolded teenagers. They split without discussion, Miyeong going after Minji and Zoey collecting Rumi and Mira, and by the time they all make their way back together, Celine is standing by the picture window waiting for them. The magpie is on her shoulder. It only has two eyes, now. Miyeong decides to stop looking at it.

Rumi also bows to the bird, when she sees it, which isn't that surprising. Mira politely nods her head, which sort of is. Minji looks baffled, but less concerned than Zoey or Miyeong were, which is unfair. Of course, she hasn't seen the extra eyes yet.

"Kkachi-ssi has agreed to help us," says Celine, like this is perfectly reasonable. "She reports malign spiritual energy in a district northwest of here, and is willing to explore more closely and tell us what she finds. She also knows of a healing spirit who may be able to assist Mira and myself in returning more quickly to a more combat-ready state, if I am able to contact him."

Miyeong is impressed with Celine's ability to say that last bit like it's just a normal piece of news, and not something that might free her from Minji's reign of healthcare tyranny and thereby save her last drop of sanity. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see that Minji is somewhat less impressed. Though possibly just as amused.

Celine continues blithely along, as though she can't read all of that on their faces. "I thought it might be beneficial for us to gather and consider if there would be anything in particular she might look out for. I know, of course, what spiritual considerations to look out for, but I'm not well versed in tactics or the mundane details of investigation. If Rumi-nim or Miyeong-ssi, in particular, have any suggestions for what they'd like to know about our enemy's lair, we would like to hear."

"Of course, honored shaman. Kkachi-nim," agrees Rumi, with another elegant bow, and then furrows her forehead, clearly already trying to compile a list of options.

Celine raises a brow at Miyeong, a flicker of warm humor behind her eyes, and Miyeong realizes, quite suddenly, that the shaman knows exactly how unsettled she is by this and is delighting in it.

Mira’s heart skips a beat.

The magpie spirit croaks haughtily.

“Oh, well, if you want a more personal name—“ Zoey starts, again interrupted by a croak.

She recoils in surprise, and her eyes light up. “That’s so cool—uh, I mean… Thank you for honoring me with your name, Suspicion-ssi?”

Mira’s heart is no longer skipping beats. It’s doing a goddamn tap dance—what the fuck does she mean, the spirit just gave her a name?

And, like, Rumi and Celine look just as absolutely fucking poleaxed about it, so Mira can assume this isn’t just a “evil cult that thinks you have to steal everything has taught her you have to steal a spirit’s name when really they’re chill about it with normal people” situation.

The magpie spirit blinks her extra eyes open and then shuts them again, looking distinctly satisfied.

“The rest of the room cannot understand her quite so well,” Celine says, faintly strangled.

Which, yeah. If Mira had spent several decades honing her ability to connect with various spirits, only for one to show up and bite some random into alignment, she’d probably feel a little wild too. As it is, she’s just glad the spirit had the good sense to pick Zoey.

A lot of other people wouldn’t be smart enough or kind enough about it.

“Oh,” says Zoey. She looks down at her bandaged finger with wide eyes.

“It is a great honor,” Rumi tells her earnestly. “Were we able, we would have a feast thrown for Kkachi-nim—and yourself, of course—in recognition of this connection, and the sight that she has blessed you with. I am certain we shall do so once the danger is passed.”

“Promises,” Mira says dryly, unable to help herself. Thankfully, the magpie spirit doesn’t take offense, only tilting her head in what might be amusement.

Neither of these statements do anything but make Zoey look really nervous again. So Mira feels great about it overall, really.

“…Right,” Miyeong says, sounding a little like she’s going to fall over. “We can probably start with what kind of building it is—an apartment? How big? Whether or not there are multiple occupants?”

“How many showers there are?” Minji mutters, probably just to make Miyeong elbow her and insist that she said she was sorry.

Suspicion-ssi croaked primly, drawing herself up haughtily. Yes. You were. There are reasons Gwi-Ma's forces avoided this building, and they have everything to do with amenities; there are some torments they are not willing to face.

Zoey probably should have expected an attitude like that, considering the way Suspicion-ssi was looking at everyone, but…well. It's one thing getting a stinkeye from a bird (she's gotten plenty from the pigeons and gulls back in California); it's another thing hearing their critique of humanity.

"And that was…?" Miyeong asked suspiciously (oh…wait…now that name's making sense), eyeing the bird like it was a coiled snake.

Zoey saws her teeth across her lower lip, trying to think how to honestly but accurately answer. It reminds her too much of standing in the kitchen of her childhood house, the one her parents sold after the divorce, trying to placate two warring people and only further angering both. Only now one's a bird. Or, well, spirit-bird.

This must be what people mean when they say 'great power comes with great responsibility.'

Fortunately, Celine steps in.

"Just her thoughts on the building, namely that it is safe from incursions by Gwi-Ma's wraiths," she says, outwardly cool and professional but her lips quivering at the edges like she's fighting a grin.

Suspicion-ssi smirks (birds could do that?), and Miyeong 'hmph's in response, able to listen between the lines; Zoey wasn't sure what Miyeong's opinion on birds was before, but something tells her it is tanking fast.

Rumi steps forward, bows to Suspicion-ssi, who fluffs her feathers and preens under the display of deference. "Honorable Kkachi-nim, can you enlighten us as to the type and location of the building the wraiths have made their stronghold so that we may better locate it?"

Suspicion-ssi makes a series of low croaking-clucking sounds that scrape through the air like a spoon against the sides of a pot. She directs her eyes to Zoey as she answers, so Zoey reasons that she's meant to translate.

"She says it's an apartment building, nicer than this one-" Miyeong is clearly never bringing breadcrusts to the park again "-a few blocks from the hospital. Like, you could walk it which would be good for the wraiths, I guess?" She looked around the others. "Do wraiths remember how to use the public transit system?"

"I mean," Mira shrugged. "They can be fast learners if they have to be. My dad once taught one to drive a little."

Zoey tucked that tidbit away to properly become paranoid about later and focuses back on Suspicion-ssi. Her eyes narrow, not with the judgment she's been raining down on everyone or that smirking satisfaction, but something...heavier.

Winging off Celine's shoulder, she settles herself on Zoey's, claws pricking little indents of pain through her shirt. Beak close to Zoey's ear, she croaks again, low, creaking, portentous, and Zoey gulps. Celine's expression hardens, and the rest of the room looks at Zoey, collectively on edge and holding their breath, waiting for her to speak.

The words ring chillingly in Rumi’s mind, even still, for all that Zoey had tried to offer them lightly.

Is she the beast? Is Jinu? (Worse?) What moment will come when she must be able to see the difference?

Prophecy has rarely been any comfort to Rumi, and this one is no exception.

At least, she supposes, Mira had perfectly understood what the most honorable whispering magpie meant on saying “Though a bat is not truly blind, it is still smart enough to use its ears to see.”

“C’mon,” Mira declares, as if Rumi had not spent the past several minutes waiting for her arrival, “it’s time for your introduction to public transit.”

Rumi grins, hoping her cheer will help soothe some of Mira’s edginess. (She is, of course, truly delighted by the existence of public transportation systems such as had been described to her the night before—if only they were fully free and accessible to the unlucky!) “The bus station it is.”

Mira rolls her eyes fondly, which is enough.

“The listening ear was a favorite of my eomeonim’s,” she explains, keeping her gaze off on the passersby. “It, uh, it lets you sense intent. What a person wants, that sort of thing. Probably pretty useful for spotting wraiths, yeah?”

“Very much so,” Rumi agrees.

“She liked to use it as a party trick,” Mira explains, tugging Rumi to one side of a moving staircase, so that they may merely stand upon it and not walk down. “Abeoji would throw them, and she’d get so fucking bored that she’d just set herself a goal—like seeing how many marriages she could destroy in one night. Stuff like that.”

“Petty cruelty.” Rumi’s lip curls.

“Yeah.” A slight smirk twists Mira’s mouth. “She’d hate knowing that I was about to use it to ‘destroy Jaeho’s last work’, God. Kinda perfect.”

“Did she—“ Rumi’s question is lost as Mira withdraws her card, starting to explain how the ‘turnstile’ works.

It should probably be less entertaining when it's actual life and death, but Miyeong has never claimed that her sense of fun is remotely appropriate.

She looks at the order of the ones they've figured out, again; Rumi first, Mira sixth, Celine third (supposedly. She won't explain why she thinks that and she doesn't know what it means if it is her, so Miyeong's not exactly sold). No obvious pattern, not by age or when they joined this adventure, no clues there.

She taps at the second line. A healer cannot heal from the belly of her foe.

"A healer." It seems pretty unhelpful, as prophecies go, being a fairly obvious statement, but it's at least also fairly specifically targeted. "That has to be Minji, right?"

Minji shrugs. "Zoey's a med student, she does more hands-on healing than I do, these days. Barring current exceptional circumstances."

Zoey looks up from her own, extensively scribbled-on copy of the prophecy, and cringes. "I mean I haven't shown up for almost three weeks now which is way more than enough truancy to get bounced from the program, so, probably not so much, actually."

"Zoey," says Minji, like Zoey's one of her nurses who she just knows can do better.

"Forgive me for being slightly kidnapped," Zoey protests. "I've been a little too busy to make calls to my residency director!"

Minji eyes her, and says, like a diagnosis just clicked, "You haven't been busy, you've been unmedicated, so you avoided a stressful conversation until it was too late and the anxiety of choice was taken away from you."

Miyeong hisses quietly between her teeth, and Celine's eyes narrow slightly. Zoey, for her part, goes pale, but still manages to put some bite behind it when she answers,

"Wow, okay. Didn't ask to be quite so perceived, today." Miyeong catches the sideways flick of her eyes, the briefest, anxious glance at Celine. "I'm not, it's not like I'm a flake, I'll write the letters and do the apology tour and get back in next semester. I just think the whole evil cult thing is kind of more important right now—"

"No one's judging you for getting caught in all this, Zoey," says Celine, in a way that manages to be simultaneously gentle toward Zoey and fairly pointed in Minji's direction.

Minji pinches the bridge of her nose. "She's right, yes. Sorry if that came out harsh. I was trying to say that you have a disability, which means that you not actively being in a program right now has nothing to do with whether or not you're actually a 'healer' and everything to do with being denied appropriate accommodations. Which we should have dealt with by now. Do you have a provider you can call about getting a new script?"

The slightly wounded, extremely wary expression on Zoey's face flips instantly away in the face of sudden opportunity, her eyes lighting up.

"I mean." She tries for nonchalance, anyway, and fools no one. "I know we're avoiding places the cult might be watching. Buuuuuut I do have most of a month of XR still, sitting uselessly in my dorm, we could always just go get that."

She's pulled out the puppy dog eyes.

Miyeong might, possibly, add her own to the mix.

It's still a bit of a surprise when Celine just sighs, and says, "Take some shinkal and please be careful."

And, because today is apparently Minji Fucks Up Day, makes Celine’s mouth tighten slightly as she focuses down on the papers in front of her.

Minji half-expects an immediate redirect to the tune of “maybe we should start lunch—it seems like time to start lunch to me, hm?” but, instead, Celine sighs and shakes her head. “Healing is a magic that requires an ability to connect with others. Not just to have compassion for them, but to truly engage.”

“Sounds intense,” she prompts gently.

It’s enough for Celine to spit the last bit out: “I wouldn’t know. Hopefully, this spirit Kkachi-ssi referred to doesn’t require a skilled partner. Shall we make lunch?”

She sweeps herself up and towards the kitchen, deftly avoiding the air mattress, and leaving Minji with the bitter satisfaction of having seen it coming.

Miyeong is a little touchy about her kitchen, as they’ve all learned, but they should be able to clean up before she’s back, so Minji’s only worries as she follows are about Celine.

She’s already digging in the pantry, for one, looking entirely ready to grab something with her dominant hand and pop several stitches in the process.

Minji does not think about where they would go in that event. She just clears her throat.

Celine straightens, without a single hint of guilty speed, showing off the bag in her left hand. “I was just getting the rice. I can manage it one handed, I think. Do you want to get some vegetables started?”

“Certainly,” Minji says dryly.

They work in silence for a while, as Celine is very safe with the rice cooker and Minji barely even notices what’s under her knife, too busy spinning away platitudes and trying to think of something real to say.

“Unskilled,” she says at last, “is not incapable.”

Celine looks over from where she’s leaning against the stove, expression momentarily unguarded.

Minji smiles at her, just slightly. “If I happen to say that I find you very capable, will you keep believing me?”

Celine watched Minji''s back ruefully. "Alright - why are you so confident?" Minji's chopping slowed - the slow dawning realization of a teenager with their bluff called. "I bit Miyeong last night." Carefully staccato cuts chopped down the vegetables.

Celine, secure with Minji not looking at her, allowed one eye brow to rise. Miyeong had not been a fifth red enough for anything with even aspirations to be foreplay to have occurred. More importantly - Miyeong had not done the requisite a hundred and twenty offerings to the fates, spirits, ancestors and everything else in between for Minji to realize that Miyeong had an interest. The nurse was many things - and stubbornly oblivious was unfortunately one of them. (If it wasn't for the fact that Minji thought so well of Miyeong, Celine would have felt sad for the reporter. Instead Celine was finally understanding the reason why some romantic comedies were actually funny. The two would figure it out eventually- Celine just needed to get every one through their hunt alive to give them the time.) "I rather need context." Celine glanced over at the rice cooker - which chugged along without further direction. "If your long time friend deserved it, you would have started with that this morning." (Meanwhile if Miyeong had asked for it, Celine would have been forced to congratulate the other woman for finding her voice and saying what she wanted in her relationship with Minji.) A smile stretched slowly on Celine's lips. "I had a nightmare - and I thought I had been biting into my fist as some wraiths passed my hiding spot." Celine's mirth vanished. "That's not a failing." Celine began - but the crescendo of Miyeong's chopping cut her off. "I woke up due to her yelping from being hurt by me." Minji was now more crushing the vegetables instead of chopping them now. "And all she did when I woke up was ask if I was alright." Celine carefully did not pinch her the bridge of her nose and sigh. Rumi hadn't leaped up in alarm from hearing a yelp of pain - and Rumi would definitely have noticed if Minji had gotten the first aid kit. So Minji hadn't broken the skin probably.

Having previously help rescue Miyeong from a combination of Minji impersonating a squid and sheer... hmm feeling stuff due to Minji burrowing her head into the crook of Miyeong's neck and curling tightly to the source of heat... Celine highly suspected that what actually woke Minji up was Miyeong moving during the nightmare. And probably in surprise or... Again, Minji was extremely oblivious that Miyeong hadn't been blushing out of just embarrassment for walking into the bathroom while half asleep to shower while Minji was already washing her hair.

The guy working security looks at her ID with an awkward grimace that says he’s been told off for trying to see someone in her family’s before. Usually she’d say something to make him feel better.

Today, she points at Rumi and says, “She’s a guest.”

He gets a look on his face, like he hates her rich ass and his shitty paycheck, but nods.

They have to send Rumi’s sword through the x-ray machine. The security guy looks miserable, but says nothing. Mira resolves to figure out if she can give him a bonus for dealing with their shit.

Rumi bows to him on getting it back, way too low for the modern day. “Thank you for returning this unharmed. It is very dear to me.”

“Uh,” the security guy says, bewildered. “No problem?”

He remembers to bow back a moment later.

“What is he guarding?” Rumi asks, as they head up.

“The family ego, mostly,” Mira jokes.

Rumi laughs, grinning in that goofy, too-wide way of hers, her ever so slightly too long canines catching in the shitty fluorescents. “I have met many of his ilk.”

“Enough about my shit, what about you?” Mira asks, hurrying to deflect before she gets emotional again. “You said you’re part-demon, right? Had to be some monsters on that family tree.”

“I suppose,” Rumi says, looking thankfully untroubled by a question that could’ve gone incredibly wrong. “I never knew my mother, though my father always spoke highly of her, in spite of her nature.”

The closest Mira’s ever come to a proper demon is that time Jaeho tried to cultivate a dokkaebi in his closet like it was a sourdough starter. She tries to imagine what the fuck Rumi’s parents must have been like, and the resulting concept is too nonsensical for words. “Huh.”

Rumi shrugs. “He had a very kind heart. I have always sought to emulate it, but—“

She waits.

Rumi is not dumb enough to finish the sentence, instead eyeing the floor counter and asking, “How high are we going?”

Nowhere that belonged to her parents has ever been safe or comfortable, exactly. The rules changed too often, Mira was too inconvenient— or, worse, too convenient by far. But she spent hours in this office when she was small, sitting in the corner, being quiet and patient under fear of pain and punishment, tooling away at her 3DS and waiting for Eomeoni or Abeoji to deign to notice her again.

It's… familiar, is the feeling. It's not a good place. But it's one she knows, one she can navigate blindfolded. There's something about that, a solidity she hasn't had since she and Zoey got in that car, and it's disquieting to realize any part of her could walk through this door and feel relief.

"Are you well, Mira?" asks Rumi, quietly, and it occurs to Mira that she's been standing in the threshold for a somewhat abnormal amount of time. She gives herself a little internal shake.

"Just memories. It's fine." She leads them over to the bookshelf, full of expensive first editions of culturally significant books that her mother did not care about at all and never read, but which looked impressive to visitors. Mira remembers her father criticizing her for the shallow vanity, as though his cabinet full of untouched fancy liquor one office over was any different.

At the base of the bookshelf is a locked cabinet, where the real books are. Mira doesn't know where the key might be, of course, but that hasn't been an obstacle to her for years. Thirty seconds in Eomeoni's desk for a paperclip to bend up and a nail file for pressure and then she's two tumblers in before Rumi can even react.

"You can pass locks," she says, like Mira is doing something wildly impressive instead of the topic of a two-minute-or-less YouTube tutorial. "Is this a common skill in this time?"

"Probably depends on how common it is for parents to lock their kids up. I couldn't get past the spells, once they started using those, but for a couple years there they were just leaning on a Masterlock to keep me out of the way. And I didn't want to be out of the way, so."

The lock slips with a satisfying click, and the cabinet swings open.

And she came for the listening ear, that was her plan, that was the full extent of her intentions here. She has spent her entire life knowing as little as possible of what her parents did, of what her family has devoted itself to. She has deliberately forgotten glyphs made to override human will, refused to memorize words that have no purpose but pain, she is stained enough by her family's evil, it makes her sick to think about the things she's done, the power they have, the power they wanted for her.

But in with the ledgers and dirty laundry, there are six books of hundreds of years of occultist bullshit in this cabinet, and in at least one of them, there is a means to summon wraiths, and doesn't that mean there's a way to bind or dismiss them, too? In at least one of them, there's a bestiary of demons, and wouldn't there be something there about Gwi-Ma?

The idea of even touching them makes her queasy. The idea of leaving them is terrifying. She can't— Mira is a Kang, Mira hurt Rumi when she should have known better, Mira cannot trust herself.

But Mira is not alone. Mira is in this office, horrid and familiar, with the most righteous person she's ever met.

Rumi eyes the smudges her fingers leave on the massive glass wall. Maybe I can wipe them off before some poor attendant is forced to?

The crack in Mira’s voice sends Rumi whipping back around "Rumi, what if we take them all?" 

She can’t quite make out the contents of the cabinet Mira has opened, but the burnt pitch of magic lingering on the tip of her tongue is unmistakable. 

A war rages behind Mira’s eyes—she gazes at Rumi as if she is her lifeline, her only source of absolution.

As if I am fit to offer that. 

Fit or not, at this moment, someone is in need. 

Rumi steps closer and crouches down so she is closer to eye level with Mira. Wow, she is tall. Focus!

“Take them all?” she echoes.

Mira swallows and motions to the books. “There is probably a lot of cult bullshit in there but what if these books hold the key to dismissing wraiths? Or discovering something about Gwi-Ma’s weaknesses?” Rumi eyes the uniform leatherbound spines, she could only guess what wickedness lay within. Her eyes drift back to Mira. Mira, who had lifted herself out of her family’s grasp by will alone. Mira who had stood up for Zoey, a stranger at the time, throwing away everything she had known. Mira who is wringing her hands and breathing perhaps too quickly. 

She reaches out to grab her hands on impulse. Mira stiffens but does not pull away.

“You have worked so hard to pull yourself out of this ‘cult bullshit’.” The phrase feels strange in her mouth. Mira snorts and Rumi feels the thrill of victory in her chest. “Are you sure this is what you want?” 

Mira looks her straight in the eye and her gaze turns to steel, “Zoey has her shin-kal and weird bird bond. Celine has her shamanism. I can do this.” 

“I trust you, and I promise you will not bear such evil things alone.” One by one, together, they stack the books into Mira’s bag.

None of the books are pleasant to handle but the oil slick feeling of the sixth and final book clings to Rumi’s hands. She breathes through the memory of fire. It’s just a book. Before Mira can protest, Rumi slings the bag over her shoulder. Mira gives an indignant squawk.She affixes her most reassuring smile upon her face. “I said you would not have to bear this burden alone! Is there anything else we might need?”

“...I think that’s it in terms of evil cult things.” Mira glances at a round device hanging on the wall. “We should get moving.”

She follows Mira back through three different doors of varying heights and several ostentatious hallways. 

The elevator chimes before they reach it. A tall, gaunt man steps out, flanked by two security guards. He reminds Rumi of an official from the mainland that arrived at her house one evening, armed with decrees, papers, and words from other people.

“Mira-ssi, how fortunate to see you here. I trust you have a moment?” the gaunt man asks as he gives an indecently shallow bow. His smile does not reach his eyes.

She wrinkles her nose at that last one. "My residency director." Jihye-nim…she's not mean or anything, she's just- really big on punctuality. Like, if-you're-not-ten-minutes-early-you're-late big. And phone calls when you're bailing short notice. Which, yeah, Zoey guesses is important if you're a doctor or surgeon, but she's-

She stops herself before 'not' can materialize in her head and focuses back on Miyeong, who's looking at her like she's trying to solve a puzzle. "Not keen on explaining your sudden absence just yet?" She says it so gently, Minji's illegally perceptive comment nowhere near as forgotten as Zoey would have liked (she should let Mira and Rumi know that Miyeong, apparently, has a steel-trap memory).

And- yeah. She's not. But she doesn't say that, just sits back, taps the shin kal Celine insisted she bring against her nails; it makes a soft clinking noise that sounds more like a chime than anything. "It's just- what would I even say if she asks? 'Yeah, sorry 'bout that; I got kidnapped by an evil cult and sucked into a magical war on wraiths.' Maybe next semester, though!" She barks a quick, mirthless laugh. "Her follow up question will be if I want to talk to guidance about my career path."

Because if that doesn't sound like a last-ditch excuse for someone to bail on med school, what does?

Miyeong's quiet, scribbling little squiggles in the margin of her notepad as the bus hisses to a stop (not theirs), scrutinizing Zoey. "Do you?"

She grips the shin kal, tight. Guess it really is Perceive Zoey Day.

They sway on the seat as the bus lurches back into motion, city rolling past the windows. Miyeong doesn't press, not like she did in the hanok when she was hunting for answers on Rumi; this is a different approach, like she's waiting patiently for an oyster to open rather than prising the shell apart for the pearl.

It's impressive; she may write for a rag, and have questionable judgment about chasing down not-so-ancient heroes, but…she clearly cares about the people she talks to, and wants to hear their stories- the real ones, not the ones they say to smooth over feuding parents or try to fit in or present a distilled, toned-down version of yourself designed to be that elusive thing called 'likable.'

And maybe it's something about how she's so obviously listening in a way her mom hadn't, that she just comes out and says it.

"Kinda."

Miyeong waits. It takes another stop before Zoey gets the words out.

"I…" tap tap tap with the shin kal, that feels so right in her hands, more than any medical instruments dis. "I'm not sure I want this. The doctor thing."

(Not that she has any idea what to look for, they just look like people, but it's not like she can do nothing.)

"I mean, I don't… hate it?" Zoey finally continues. "It's good to help people, right? And the ER at least has a lot of variety."

Miyeong reaches over to tug the brim of Zoey's hat a little further down over her face, and says, knowingly, "So you don't hate it. But you don't like it, either."

Zoey doesn't know why she wants to argue. "I do! Biology is really cool. Zoology, life sciences, I even liked orgo, I always get good grades in anything to do with that," she objects, almost reflexively.

They walk, and Miyeong waits.

".... It's just, one day suddenly I was a senior and my mom was handing me applications for all these pre-med programs and now here I am, and I guess I never actually made a choice? It just kind of… happened. And now I'll be doing rounds and I look around and it's like I'm in a dream, or... or someone else's life, or something. Sometimes it feels like I'm supposed to be somewhere else. Mostly it just feels like I'm not supposed to be there."

She flicks the tip of the shinkal under her fingernail, disgruntled; she's spent hours trying to put this into lyrics just to get it out of her head, and never found a way to explain it that satisfies her.

They're coming up on Zoey's dorm, now, and she does a quick look around for anyone she recognizes, for anyone who has seen her walk up this exact sidewalk a hundred times before.

"This feels kinda less like a heist, by the way, and more like just sort of going about my normal day," she points out, as much to change the subject as anything else.

Miyeong, generously, lets her, with a bright, "That is, in fact, the entire point," all that delighted intensity of the notepad and the planning popping right back into place like she's never been serious a minute in her life. "If anyone notices something that isn't normal is happening, it's not a heist, it's just getting caught."

Between the wraith paranoia and the career angst, Zoey is not all that sure that she's coming across as normal, exactly. But she tries to relax and act natural as she and Miyeong time their approach to the building just right for another student to hold the door, and tells herself she belongs there as they ride the elevator (which is insane, because she does belong here, she lives here, she pays money for this place!).

The whole time, Miyeong just casually leans against walls and chatters aimlessly about the kdrama they've been introducing Rumi to like she sneaks onto campus under the possible nose of a cult every single day, and somewhere under her own nerves, Zoey is genuinely a little in awe.

"Magnetic key card, yeah?" asks Miyeong, as they exit the elevator. "What would you usually do if you lost yours?"

"Most people just hassle their roommate but I've got a single, so I'd have to go get my RA to let me in with the master card." (Which would involve reminding people she exists, and also a lecture.) "Or, pay to get a new one printed." (Which would also involve her RA, and an even worse lecture.)

Mercifully, Miyeong's only reply is, "Well obviously we won't be doing that."

Instead, she reaches into the bag at her side, which reminds Zoey of the heavy-duty work satchel the maintenance crew carries around, and pulls out a hat. It's navy blue and it has "FACILITIES" embroidered across the back in bold white thread.

She pops it on her head as they stop in front of Zoey's door, and says, "I need you to do your very best bored college student."

Zoey's best is almost certainly not very good, especially once Miyeong pulls some kind of vaguely-calculator-looking device and a blank keycard out of the bag, and starts casually putting the card in the device, pressing some buttons, waving the card at Zoey's door, getting a red rejection ping, and starting again.

But it must be good enough, because eventually, there's a noise down the hall, and one of Zoey's neighbors (Zoey doesn't quite remember her name but does know she likes dubstep— the whole hall, in fact, is aware of that—) walks out of her room, looks over, registers Miyeong messing with the door, and looks away in complete boredom to continue toward the elevator.

"Oh my god," says Zoey, slowly letting go of her reflexive death grip on the shin kal. "Ohmygod she didn't even care, what the hell, how is this working."

Her second thought is also huh, but for an entirely different reason.

It shouldn't feel so weird, stepping into her dorm. After all, it's her dorm; there's her Monterey Bay Aquarium hoodie thrown over the back of her desk chair; here's her laptop in sleep mode, power light blinking in a way that made the thing look like it was snoring; there is the stack of books borrowed from the campus library the previous term (shoot, were those overdue?); everywhere she looks are pieces of the messy, disorganized life of Zoey Choi, med student.

But at the same time it doesn't feel like her life. More like someone she used to know or the set of a TV show she watched as a kid; familiar, but not hers. This Zoey didn't know wraiths or demons were real (and, let's be honest, was probably better of psychologically for it), forged a bond with a spirit magpie with an attitude (still equal parts weird and cool), and fidgeted with normal things like pens and drawstrings, not spiritual wraith-slaying weapons.

In this Zoey's life, her biggest worry was her rounds, not the incursion of some demon king into the mortal realm.

She…can't say she envies her, though.

This Zoey hadn't met Mira and Rumi.

Miyeong gives her a moment to process the feeling of not-quite nostalgia (could you be nostalgic for one month ago? or something…you never really wanted?) then ushered her into the room, shutting the door behind them. "Okay!" Rubbing her hands together like an old-timey crook (committed to the core with the heist bit), she swept her gaze around the space. "Where are the goods?"

They spend the next several minutes stuffing 'the goods' into Zoey's backpack: medication, laptop and charger, changes of clothes. Miyeong vetoes dropping the books off at the library return with a very good point ("As far as they know, you were never here to return them"). Zoey's double-checking that she's gotten everything she can't live without when her eyes land on her half-made bed. Specifically, the splash of thinly-worn green near the pillow.

Oh.

Before she can stop herself she's plucking the turtle plush off the bed, running her fingers over the worn pieces of fuzz on its flippers, the sagging stitched smile, and the friendly plastic eyes. Something tugs in her chest.

Okay, maybe it was dumb to take a plushie to med school, but in her defense: TeeJay was a really good study-buddy. And confidant. And cuddler.

"Got everything?" Miyeong asks, hand already on the doorknob when she looks back at Zoey. "…Zoey?"

"Oh! Um, yeah." She nods, forcing her eyes away from the turtle. "All set!" She moves to toss him back on the bed, but can't make her hands release their grip.

Miyeong flicks her gaze to the plush; Zoey feels her ears start to burn.

Think of what Mira and Rumi would say, she admonishes herself. You can do this.

And she can. Think of Mira and Rumi sneering at their babyish ex-friend. Think of Celine looking disdainfully down her nose, too.

What she can't do is let go.

She just hates herself….

"You wanna bring that?" Miyeong's suddenly next to her, looking at the turtle with that same gentle smile from the bus.

Zoey tries her best dismissive shrug; it feels stiff. "I mean, it's not really important-" (even though TeeJay totally, stupidly was)

"It looks like it's important to you, though." Miyeong reaches out and strokes the well-loved little toy. "And that's important enough. You deserve to have things that make you comfortable and happy." Then, quieter: "Anyone who cares about you would understand that."

it contains human existence.

116 images— the sun, the location of our solar system, mathematical and physical unit definitions, and our planets, including a blue and swirling white sphere simply labelled "Home." it contains images of human dna, of our cells, their structure, the way they divide, our anatomy, our conception, our birth.

it does not contain an image of war. nor of disease, nor poverty, nor crime, religion, or ideology.

it does contain a father looking lovingly at his daughter. it does contain the picture of a tree toad in a gentle hand, of a woman eating a grape at a supermarket.

the remainder of the disk is audio. a 90-minute selection of music from all over the world, sounds, and greetings. there are greetings in 55 different languages, one akkadian, spoken in sumer about six thousand years ago, and one wu, a modern chinese dialect. the greetings call out to a friend. it wishes them well. it asks them if they have eaten yet.

but it contains other sounds too. it holds the sound of rain, of thunder, of a volcano and an earthquake. it holds the sound of mud pots and trains. it holds the sound of a mother kissing her child.

with little to erode it in space, the golden record would probably outlast all human creation. it will be 40,000 years before it approaches another planetary system. if it does, it cannot find intelligent life. intelligent life will have to find it, retrieve it from where it floats silent and small through space. we still don't know if they would understand it.

in 7.5 billion years, the evolution of the sun would burn the earth up, and we would not exist any longer, but the voyager would fly on, bearing a memory.

In my mind there’s three possibilities:

1) they’re all in sync, shits done in minutes cause magical teamwork honed through years of training.

2) it’s complete carnage, Rumi tries to give directions, Mira gets frustrated when she describes the screws as Small and Smaller, Zoey is holding something backwards cause she’s fully trusting Rumi and her instructions, but her instructions include left and right in relation to nothing.

3) Mira and Rumi are sitting and watching as Zoey blazes through each piece like a zoo animal given enrichment puzzles. They have boba and hold Zoeys straw to her mouth whenever she asks.

this au got me laying awake at 3am thinking abt steven surviving a job interview

bonus:

an obscure/hyper specific word that describes an emotion, feeling or experience relevant to the fic (bonus points if the description is the definition, bonus bonus points if its in a language thats not english)

crane wives lyric

line from a book, play or poem (bonus points if that piece of literature becomes relevant in the fic)

sentence so long it could be a fall out boy song title

question that someone later in the fic asks/answers

the amazing devil lyric

some kind of pun

if the fic is for a musical: lyric/title from a song in that musical but reapplied in a different context

first and last line of the fic (bonus points if there's an alternative title in slashes or parenthesis somewhere on the fic)

Pantalone: "Honestly, at the rate she's going, maybe she'll crash Liyue's economy with all the money she —"

Ningguang: *raises hand* "Shhh, watch."

*they crouch behind a wall*

Lumine: *takes out a vintage Fontainian drinking flask*

Lumine: *looks around to make sure nobody is watching*

Lumine: *empties all the tonkatsu ramen stock out of the flask, then puts it on the alchemy bench*

Lumine: *puts 16K Mora on the alchemy bench*

[The Mora vanishes and the drinking flask glows.]

Lumine: 🫤

Lumine: *puts 28K Mora on the alchemy bench*

[The Mora vanishes and the drinking flask glows.]

Lumine: 🫤

Lumine: "Fuck it... [inaudible] ...worth a shot."

Lumine: *puts 220K Mora on the alchemy bench*

[The Mora vanishes and the drinking flask glows.]

Lumine: ....

Lumine: "...I guess... [inaudible] ...if I... [inaudible] ... Xinyan?"

Lumine: *tosses drinking flask into backpack and forgets about it*

"Tutorial" on how to "draw" a blind OC.

My kofi

Boring tired disclaimer: Keep in mind that this is an introductory "drawing" "tutorial" and has some generalizations in it, so not every “X is Z” statement will be true for Actual People. Which happens to be true for everything in general. Links below so that you can research and do a nuance. Ones that were directly mentioned are bolded.

As a twelve year old:

Pro: “If we allow this two adults who love each other can have legal protections for their marriage” ok, great, yeah, don’t see why we’re even talking about this. Against: “But God said -“ why the fuck does he get a say? God also says I’d be condemned and going to hell/purgatory because I’m half-Catholic, half-Protestant all-unbaptised as a baby so why are we taking this invisible man’s view on this?

Anyway, I thought it was stupid then and I think it’s stupid now.