#`au

  Taekwoon was never a people person. In fact, the male used every chance that he got to avoid people at all costs. The latter was usually quite reserved and rarely spoke to anyone unless it was absolutely necessary. So much so, that when he finally made his way to college, he chose classes that he knew no one would frequent. This put Taekwoon at ease as well as made his days much more simple.

ᴀᴄʜɪᴇᴠᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴜɴʟᴏᴄᴋᴇᴅ ▸ ᴍᴜʀᴅᴇʀ ɪɴᴄᴏʀᴘᴏʀᴀᴛᴇᴅ 

                 but it wasn't his brother. all around them, demons and hunters alike, his survival was a daunting mystery ; and then they found pamela. pamela hears the whispers of the name balthazar -- however once she chances a glimpse, her eyes burn right out, and many others followed. the message is far from a favourable one.

                 his nature was corroded. dean winchester bore the scars of a man who was offered a lifetime of service in pandemonium ;  with breath abated he waits for an unseen calamity governed by a semblance of puissance he'd not seen before. was this simply the work of a higher grade demon? this was no azazel, no lilith ; nothing he's yet to have witnessed.

                 these actions were reckless, his decisions rash, but dean couldn't live in the shadow of a debt collector with no notion of what was to come. he was intended for something. that's all that could be driven into his skull ; but he wouldn't allow himself to set fire to the world. he had done that already; though this, this he did not yet know.

                 the walls had been painted, all faiths respected, an array of weapons arranged upon his working board to anticipate the harbinger. it's been minutes, hours, and dean tires ; he's impatient, he's intolerant, he's anguished. he's a number of questions to ask, but he's more anxious to stab than confer with the beast. there's a darkness to him that seeks evasion, that lurks beneath his skin -- and the tiles above the roof begin to rattle, the wind whirls and pounds, the lights go out, one by one. his saviour had come to honour his summon, and by extension, honour dean winchester's opposite end of the gun. it's instinctive ; bobby and himself lunge for the shotgun, and when the doors are thrown upon and unhinged, they fire away. there was no stopping the hunter instinct -- but it was all in vain.

      He had, of course, always known that he was going to die young. In his line of work, with how many risks that he took, there was no other way that it could go: he was reckless, sometimes, though goodness only knew why (maybe that was his self-destructive tendency –– who knew?), and that had more often than not come back to bite him in the form of some manner of injury or another. It was a pain, yes, but he could live with it. However, he'd always had the niggling thought in the back of his mind that one day, he wouldn't be able to walk away after being so reckless. One day, it would be something more permanent. 

                                     it seemed like that day was today.

      There was a searing pain in his abdomen, a fire in his lungs, and every nerve in his body was ablaze. He choked on air, hitting the ground hard, bones jarring and muscles trembling. He felt as if he was on fire, and a shaky hand moved to clasp at the source of all the pain. He was only dimly aware of his surroundings, hand pressed against the wound, feeling warm liquid (blood, he knew it was blood, he was injured very badly, oh Goddess why couldn't he move, why couldn't get get up). He instinctively pressed a hand harder against it, futilely attempting to staunch the blood-flow: it, however, was quite useless. 

                         "You know what? I think we should get a pet."

This, naturally, was something that Sheik had said before, but he still thought that it was true. After all, what wasn't there to like about getting a pet? He honestly couldn't care less what kind of animal it was (though, he was quite partial to cats); he simply thought that it might be a good idea. Animals were nice, and he'd always wanted a pet of some sort, thought he never had one when he was a child. (His family had been too busy with work and the like, and said that an animal would be too much extra responsibility, and would distract him from his studies.)

"What do you think?" A glance was tossed at his best friend and roommate, the blond arching an eyebrow as he stretched himself out over the sofa, feet going off one end of it. "Could be a cat, dog, rabbit, whatever. Even a bat--" No, that last one was a joke (though, part of Sheik did think that a bat for a pet could be interesting). "...Or maybe a bird?" Now he was more or less talking to himself, a considering look dressing tanned features. "Though, some people say birds are too loud..." 

It was not uncommon to see the forest spirit walking about the trees, his feet making little noise on the soft turf below. More often than not, his expression would be that of a small smile -- he was generally at peace with the world, his life an easier one. There were little worries, in his opinion: most of the time, he cared very little for what happened outside of his forest. His concern was only for that of what happened around his home, and even then, the concerns were things that could be easily dealt with. 

One of his more treasured haunts was a small body of water that was near to where he spent the majority of his time. He would sit by its edge for hours at a time, doing nothing, honestly -- he simply found it pleasurable to be able to sit there and worry about nothing. This water source was quite crucial in sustaining the trees and wildlife of his forest: sometimes he would quietly thank it. It might strike some as odd, but for one such as Link, it was the most natural thing in the world to do.

And so, that was what brought him to where he currently was, sitting by the water's shore, leaning back on his hands, simply allowing himself to do nothing. Times like this were his favourite; contentment was evident in his very posture, a faint smile toying about his lips. The air was quiet and calm, leaving one feeling at peace, a certain manner of happiness settling over you--

Pain was not something that Sheik had ever learned to like, but it was something that he knew he had to tolerate. He, generally speaking, had quite the high tolerance for it, but even one such as him had his limits. Even someone, even an angel, who knew how to cope with pain could be pushed to that point where they could take no more, and their body would eventually give out. 

And that was what brought Sheik to where he was now, leaning against the side of a building, head tilted back, breathing ragged as the angel fought to remain conscious. He couldn't afford to pass out now -- not now, not before he made it to somewhere safe. He was stronger than that, after all...! 

                                             At least,                                                    he thought he was.                                    (his body, however,                                             seemed to have other ideas.)

The searing pain that seemed to have settled at the very core of his being felt as if it had been dulled, a fact for which he was grateful. However, everything else had been dulled too -- the sounds of the world around him seemed to reach him through a long tunnel, and his vision kept fading in and out. Blinking rapidly, he fought to remain upright--

                                           But then the ground lurched up to meet him,                                    and that was the last thing that he knew                                              as the world faded away.