Everyone has fears, things that they’d prefer to avoid. A normal person might be afraid of snakes, bears, or sharks. Some fears teeter on the irrational side, like how dogs cower from vacuum cleaners. A more than justifiable fear might involve vampires, weres, or any monster or magic that might be so inclined to take lives simply for survival. Some supernaturals fear themselves, some fear the people that might harm them. Jiho fears nothing.
Or rather, that’s what he would tell you. He has plenty to be afraid of. It’s true that he isn’t afraid of himself, but rather what he might do if he lost control. He fears losing his freedom, making actions that aren’t his own, and as a result, people. It makes sense in some way, people can be cruel. They deceive, manipulate, and take advantage of others to better themselves, sometimes without even knowing it. A single person can tear you apart with only a few well-placed words. Despite all the magic and danger flying around Sunseong, there’s something to be said about the power that one normal person has. The looming potential of being held down just by one person’s words is never far from his mind. Though it is justifiable to some degree, Jiho was never the most rational mind, at least not consistently.
If one person had that much power, then what about two, or three, or twenty? A crowd couldn’t do him harm in the way he feared; it had never happened, but that never makes it any easier. He feared people, and more than anything else, he feared crowds. Irrational. Deep down, he knew, but he could never shake the feeling off. It was easier to cope when there were fewer people around, but it brought out the worst in him when he had to traverse crowded streets downtown.
He had done it before, and he would have to do it again. He pulls the hood of his jacket over his head and makes his way through, doing his best to keep his composure beneath the safety of his bulky clothes.
He made a habit of avoiding this part of town during this time of day. The street was overflowing with people shuffling around to reach their own destinations. They were all engrossed in themselves, and occasionally collided with each other. He, on the other hand, was darting his eyes all over the crowd. He dodged a few unaware pedestrians as the crowd tightened into a single mass. The further he moved forward, the dizzier things became. He just had to make it to the end of the next block, then he could turn off into an alley and be on his way. His heart was racing as he glanced at the faces that passed by. A woman looking into her purse, an elderly man tossing away a cigarette, a mother trying to keep track of her child among the ocean of bodies. He could feel the hair on the back of his head and neck start to shift to feathers beneath his hood. He had to hurry, the last thing he wanted was for these people to give him weird looks. He was certain a few stray feathers fell out from his arms and legs, but there was no way anyone would notice in this crowd, much less care enough to stop him. He began to force his way through the cracks between people that were almost standing still from the sheer numbers that surrounded them. It’s suffocating.
It just keeps getting harder to focus, but he reassures himself that the end is just another few feet away. He has no idea how far it is, but he isn’t about to think any more than he needs to. It will only make him worse. He brushes past a few more people, much to his dismay. Another. Another, Another still. Fortunately, skin contact is kept to a minimum thanks to his jacket, though that isn’t his biggest concern anyway. He only wants to get out, and at this point, he is willing to make sacrifices.
His right hand grazes across someone’s arm.
He feels a sharp but subtle pain quickly spread throughout his body. He wasn’t expecting that, and recoils his arm accordingly.
In fact, his entire body recoils, pushing up against a few less than appreciative individuals behind him. Such a sensation might not have issued that response under other, more desirable circumstances. Even so much as a hand on his shoulder would have set him off, but this was considerably more than an exaggerated reaction to regular skin contact. He’s not quite sure what it is, given the daze he’s in. The luxuries of focus and rational thought are beyond him at the moment; it’s taking all he has to stay standing, but he’s frozen in place with nowhere to go.
