#obsxirene

@obsxirene

Haechul was told that if he didn’t go out today he would get decked. Hyerin told him that he should get out at least once a week to stretch his legs or whatever… After the thug breaking in to the apartment, Haechul figured it wasn’t as safe as he thought anyways. Probably more safe than in the streets exposed, but not foolproof.

He figured if he was going out to please Hyerin, he may as well go and get some groceries to do some baking or something. Maybe rent a few new movies to occupy the night once he does decide to barricade himself in again.

The unfortunate thing about wearing sunglasses constantly is that you lose track of time and where the sun is in the cityscape pretty easily. A secondary unfortunate thing about sunglasses is that they make it a bit more difficult to see things in general. When Haechul made it out of the grocery store, it was starting to get dark. The movie rental place was really close to home so he figured he could pick it up on the way and make it back before dark, right?

Wrong.

Haechul would have probably succeeded in his plan, had it not been for the second of the Chaos Controllers minions to go after him. He hadn’t realized that he was being tailed. Surely they must really want to kill him specifically due to having come after him more than once.

At the first shout Haechul bolts and tries to run away from the assailant, his groceries hitting the pavement behind him. He doesn’t make it very far before a second person enters the fray, managing to graze him with a punch from some brass knuckles that definitely weren’t brass. The wound from the iron knuckles touching his skin burns as his feet continue hitting the pavement and his panic sets in. Pain spurs him to continue and panic spurs him to find the earliest exit he can. Ducking into a small alleyway, hoping they wouldn’t see, Haechul pulls his trump card for getting out of awful situations.

Dropping his greater illusion, Haechul becomes his true swarm to escape. Two guys can’t catch thousands of locusts unless they had supernatural aid. And then they’d be hypocrites for trying to kill the supernatural with that. Haechul doesn’t find hypocrisy that puts his life in danger funny.

The pursuers stop at the edge of the alleyway and they weren’t fooled by the direction change. They weren’t expecting this however. Swarming out of the alleyway, the locusts flitted towards the closest place that can be easily used to lay low.  

He really hoped the witch hadn’t gotten caught up in all of this too, and he hoped that he wouldn’t be leading trouble to a non-troublesome individual.

Through a crack in a window in her store, Haechul funneled his swarm into the building he was seeking and reformed into his human-esque self. Irene probably wasn’t expecting a visitor to her store after dark, and she probably wasn’t expecting nearly as stylish an entry as Haechul just delivered.

“Irene!”

All illusion of style and composure falls away as Haechul collapses to the ground in his panic, clutching the still burning wound from his pursuit and mewling out confirmation of his cowardice.

@obsxirene

Man, this drink tastes a bit different. I don’t think a Fuzzy Navel is supposed to taste like Salami.

This was only one of a series of odd events that happened during the day. It started with a huge fan of his shows being unnervingly close to him, and getting really weirdly touchy. Then each bar that Haechul went to, the person was there. This person went to his shows at least twice a week, and sometimes drank with him. He’s used to having people he doesn’t feel close to in any capacity other than feeding fascinated by him, but he thinks this one might be just a little fae-mad.

They bought him his favorite drink tonight, and it tasted like salami. Then, people in the bar started calling him a pigeon and asking where Haechul went. The counter also appeared to be considerably farther away than it had appeared. He managed to make it out of the bar, and in his confusion tried to shift to his true form. He found that he couldn’t.

And then everything clicked.

The Fuzzy Salami Navel?

That was probably spiked with something intended to do not what happened.

Well.

Haechul probably should find someone who can fix that.

A few hours later he makes it to a Witches Potion Shop.

The owner was someone called Irene?

Surely she, who has a lot of notoriety in potions could make something to fix the product of someone who didn’t know what they were doing with potions.

Should make a note to stay away from that fan. Well. Better hop to fixing this.

He manages to slip into the shop through a cracked window. His bird wings couldn’t open a door of course. He flaps onto the counter in front of the person he assumes is Irene, and in the best voice he could muster from a bird body he chirped out his question.

“Hey, excuse me! So you might be wondering why there is a bird on your desk talking to you with words. So uh… That’s a long complicated story but to chirp it down, someone slipped me a potion. Now I’m a bird.”

He resists the urge to peck at the book she had in front of her.