#obsdongwoo

@obsdongwoo

There are still witches who worship gods: Duri learned of a whole coven while she was in America, all through a member that happened to be a friend. Though curiosity was innate in her as the blood in her veins, it had been largely by accident that she had learned of their affiliations. Their altar had been a proud thing, decorated with paints and bits of gold and little clippings of quotes; when Duri had asked about it, they had giggled and explained it, fingers curled over their mouth like they were embarrassed.

They had asked her after if she felt anything similar—if her work with ghosts had inspired some thought as to what happened after, or if she had any insight, and all Duri could offer was that there was nothing in the world that she could deem sacred.

It’s a strange memory to bring up now of all times, with ice scraping her tongue as she sips at a frozen mocha, but she’s used to such sudden visitations. Her eyes wander to the time again, and she takes a moment to update her blog (I hope if I die from waiting I become a ghost to haunt every late person) while she fiddles with one of her vials. The stopper had become loose recently, and she worries for the soil within—it may be a sign for her to pay a visit back to the grave from which she bottled the contents.

Here is the truth of it, as much as she has seen: ghosts have endings. Whatever happens or fails to after that is not her concern.

And yet this—this—this feels like its own kind of devotion, to command the hand of an artist to deliver her own intent. And in light of all else, it feels strange, too, to want such a physical manifestation of her place in the world. As fearful as she has been as of late, today, with this symbol-to-be of vulnerability, she merely feels fatigued: confused, too, for so many of her interactions lately have been anything but…normal. It’s not routine, but it’s closer than what people have been offering her for awhile.

After so many months, Duri actually hadn’t expected to be contacted by her artist of choice again: she had assumed with his silence had come an implicit refusal to work on her proposed commission, and Duri had quietly accepted that as destiny. Being contacted about it had been shocking, to say the least, but she had agreed to an in-person meeting before she really read the words. As the account she had reached him from was a throwaway, she hadn’t seen reason to terminate the meeting after it was set; she sorely needed to interact with living people that weren’t showing up in places they weren’t supposed to be.

Now, it seems, the artist will be late again: she would wonder if he was merely unprofessional were it not for the state of the city. Had Duri not left a half hour early herself, her own arrival would have been impacted. Even as she looks outside, she can see another gaggle of reporters setting up, to which she wrinkles her nose and focuses on the matching drink before her, purchased for her companion-to-be.

@obsdongwoo 

The soft glow of Breakin’ 2: Electric Boogaloo lit the faces of Haechul and his new apartment-mate Dongwoo. It’s been really stressful since the Chaos Controller has been messing up stuff around Sunseong, and Dongwoo suggested movies to relieve some stress. The movie had indeed loosened things up a bit. Haechul has never seen this movie before, but he’s really been enjoying making jokes about it with Dongwoo while shoving fistfuls of bread into his mouth. It was truly the perfect distraction.

Earlier in the week Hyerin had come by and put up some wards to be sure everything was nice and safe. That helped the two living there relax just a bit. They lived in a relatively safe, high class apartment, so it seemed unlikely to others that anything might happen at all. Some people thought it completely unreasonable that Haechul hasn’t left the apartment since this whole fiasco began.

They hit a pause for Haechul to go and grab more pastries and snacks.

“Should we do another movie? I heard there’s another sequel after this one.”

Haechul calls this out to his roomie from in the kitchen as he fills up a platter with the good stuff.

“It’s called Rappin’ or someth-“

Haechul was cut off by the sound of shattering glass. The windows were boarded up and there were supposedly wards on all of the windows to be sure that they were safe. Surely the movie had been unpaused or something. He enters back into the movie room to investigate.

“What was tha-“

He was cut off this time by the boards over the windows being busted to all hell. In the newly created opening stood a strange man who was most certainly holding something dangerous…. Some sort of weapon… Haechul has never been good at naming things… its short and sharp and it can cut bread… a… Knife. The word he needed was knife. That’s a fucking knife.

Haechul screams and tries to pull Dongwoo from the couch to safety. In the midst of this, the platter of foods ended up chucked in the direction of the intruder.

@obsdongwoo

He should have been more careful- should have noticed when the smells started getting to him and when his mind started reeling. He should have been aware of how a little blood can send him into a fit like this because he’s waiting just a bit too long. A few days more and he’ll have to go out on a hunt- whether or not the moon is where he’d like it to be. But that’s unimportant, no... What’s important is that he’s already gone a little too far because he saw someone trip- smelled their blood and reared back like a wild animal. He bolted but his mind is already fuzzing up.

He hasn’t pushed himself from his body yet- hasn’t forced himself to separate what he does from what he is. Things aren’t gone- not yet. At the moment he still feels like Lu, but he’s starving. His body feels light- so very light. He fangs almost burn and he needs something to sate that buzzing in his head. His immediate reaction is to drink, but he has nothing on him. A mistake. He always does, but for once he left in too much of a hurry to grab anything from Heaven’s Gate. The smell was what made him run off. He couldn’t risk jumping someone- anyone. Not there. He already feels out of place.

But that doesn’t change the way he feels. As human as he is in his body right now- he still wants something to bite- something to bleed. His mind is still telling him that he hasn’t done what he should to stay alive. He hasn’t forced that curse back deep into his body where it’s supposed to stay. He hasn’t sacrificed anything to the monster deep in his chest and now he can feel it starting to claw. He lets out a shaky breath as he props himself on an alley wall. He’s glad for where he lives now- glad that there are people who claw at their heads and mumble to themselves in these alleys enough that he doesn’t seem like as much of a freak. Even though there’s only one person around.

Only one person?

His eyes sheen in the dark- body jolting to the side with teeth bared. No one should be here. No one should see him when he’s like this. He’s hungry and even though he’s still human his body wants to move on it’s own. He doesn’t feel himself shift- doesn’t realize he moves to his second form just to lunge forward. Whoever this poor stranger is- they probably weren’t expecting him to do this- to turn out like this. First a human- then what looks like a faun and now he’s pinning them to the ground with more strength than it seems should be possible.

He doesn’t recognize the features of the stranger in that moment- because his mind decides to cloud. He’s too hungry now. The smell is too overpowering in his memory and he bites. He bites into soft flesh and---

Pulls back instantly.

There’s blood in his mouth, sure, but it tastes awful. He covers his now bloody mouth- mind whipping back into the immediate reality and he’s suddenly aware of the fact that he just tried to attack someone. He’s a bit distracted though- caught up in the fact that the tinge of sweet iron he’s grown so used to is so... awful. He hisses to himself- wiping his mouth and shaking his head.

“What the hell?! You taste like a dog!” It hits him very suddenly. He just yelled that at someone he just pinned to the ground and bit. This scenario is... bad. He blinks a few times- still unaware of his own form.

@obsdongwoo

Not soon after the public execution, a white lion ran wild within the streets. Members of his pride contained him into the back alley ways of the districts, but it wouldn’t be long until innocent blood was shed. He only saw red. He only desired red. And he needed someone to put him out of everything that he was feeling. It was a madness that couldn’t be contained by words or reason, but rather violence. Someone needed to force him down.

At the end of the city only a few miles from the forest, a white werelion thrashed another were against the wall in an attempt to escape the narrow space. They had surrounded him but were unable to land the hits necessary to bring him down. At this point, the other werelions were just fucking annoying. Too weak for the Prince of the Yu Pride.