#stamp.

Blood Everywhere — Accepting.

Gyumin watches the crimson line bloom across his skin, sharp and stinging for a breath before it dulls into a slow burn. The ghost of the knife lingers, and then — oh, how fitting — the sender's tongue drags across its edge, savoring him as though the taste itself were a victory.

The ache across his ribs doesn't quite sting as much as it tickles, perhaps due to the threads already mending themselves with a blueish glow, a product of a spell long cast to preserve his physical form.

For a moment, the lab stills. The candles gutter, glass hums with faint vibrations. Then Gyumin tips his head back and laughs. Not a bark, not a snarl, but a rich, delighted laugh that echoes from the stone walls like bells struck out of tune.

"Ah, so that's the game, is it?" He msues, eyes bright as embers, as though he'd been waiting for this all along. His hand flexes, the torn flesh knitting itself together with threads of black-gold light that coil and snap like lazy serpents. "A little revenge for the bottle, mm? Clever, clever. You do realize I only gave Baekhyun that particular brew to prove a point. Who knew your temper would be the one to stumble first?"

He steps closer, unbothered by the sting, by the intimacy of the gesture. There's something teasing in the way he tilts his head, lips curling in a jester's grin. "But you flatter me, Zero. Truly. My blood isn't meant for such crude delights, yet you lap it up as if it were finer than the spirits I slipped into your cup."

The last of the wound seals itself with a faint hiss, the skin whole once more. Gyumin flicks his wrist, sending a few drops of blood to spatter harmlessly onto the floor, like he's dusting away spilled wine. His eyes glimmer, amused and unbothered.

Lord of Shadows Starters — Accepting.

The lab hums with quiet life, a thousand little glass vessels and copper contraptions exhaling steam and light. Shadows coil lazily along the shelves where jars of half-living things blink, twitch, or flutter in suspension, and the air smells faintly of brine, smoke, and old parchment. Gyumin stands at the center of it all, sleeves rolled, hair loose, and a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as though he's been waiting centuries for this very moment.

The fish sits on a shallow basin carved from black stone, still dripping from whatever tank he'd plucked it out of. With a flourish of his fingers and a mutter of ancient syllables, the transformation begins. Flesh ripples like silk in water, bones melt and rethread, and within moments the creature's form wavers between familiar and alien. Fins dissolve into pliant limbs, suckers blossom along its sides, and a bulbous crown pulses wetly, as if taking its first startled breath.

It flops once, then steadies, tendrils coiling in the air with tentative curiosity. Its new eyes swivel toward Katsu, glistening and too many.

Gyumin claps his hands together as though he's just pulled off a party trick rather than bent the laws of nature sideways. "Ah! You see? A humble carp, taught to dream a new dream. That's basically a squid, right?" He mimics the other's voice with a light laugh. "Oh, but you wound me. This is no mere squid, sweetheart. Squids know what they are. This poor fellow—" The taller gestures to the creature, which makes a sound halfway between a gurgle and a sigh, "—is an exile from its own reflection. A fish rewritten, made to wander in a skin that isn't quite its own. Squid-like, yes. But not bound to the squid's dull certainties. Better! Stranger!"

He leans in, nose nearly to the glass, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Don't you feel it? That delicious unease, watching something caught between what it was and what it might become? That is the artistry of my craft."

The woods are quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant call of a night bird. Moonlight filters through the canopy, silvering the trunks and turning the mossy ground into a patchwork of shadows. Chanyeol kneels in a small clearing, hands pressed to the earth as he murmurs low words in a language older than memory. His cloak spreads around him like spilled ink, and the air hums faintly with energy.

Jimin crouches nearby, arms crossed, watching with a mix of skepticism and amusement. "No. That was not a human noise." She says, staring at Chanyeol with the same stillness she carries herself with.

Chanyeol freezes for a moment, then lets out a deep, guttural, almost feral sound — a rolling growl that vibrates through the undergrowth. His eyes sparkle with mischief as he sits back on his heels, palms up, as if presenting the sound as a gift.

"Ah, yes," Chanyeol says, voice smooth and playful, "that is the official 'I hope the deities of the forest don't think I'm insane' offering. Very potent. Very persuasive. You'll notice it's somewhere between a wolf's lament and… a disgruntled raccoon."

Jimin raises an eyebrow. "A raccoon?"

Chanyeol nods solemnly, gesturing to the surrounding trees. "Absolutely. Nature appreciates creativity. You don't just chant or bow — you perform. And performance requires… flair." He tilts his head and lets out another low, rumbling noise, this one even more exaggerated, before throwing his hands up theatrically. "Ta-da! Nature's applause, surely."

The wind rustles through the trees as if laughing along with him.

The sun is just dipping behind the horizon, painting the courtyard in streaks of gold and amber. Crickets chirp lazily, and the air smells faintly of wet soil and blooming jasmine. Chanyeol, hands raised toward the fading light, sways gently, murmuring incantations that sound suspiciously like a mix between Latin and a pop song lyric he just made up.

Zero stands nearby, arms crossed, eyes narrowing, trying to look serious but failing miserably. "Not bad. You really put your back into it. I didn’t expect that." He says dryly, watching as Chanyeol dips low to the ground, spins once, and then flings his arms wide as if attempting to hug the entire courtyard.

The warlock pauses mid-gesture, glancing at Zero with a mischievous grin. "You doubt the efficacy of nature, my dear Zero? The sun, the earth — they need this!" He strikes a final dramatic pose, one foot perched on a garden stone, arms pointed heavenward, hair glinting in the last rays of sunlight. "Behold! The great summoning of… uh… mother nature and mildly helpful magic!"

Zero blinks. Then blinks again. "You’re… praying to the sun and the earth at the same time?" His tone is somewhere between disbelief and amusement.

Chanyeol bows deeply, ignoring the incredulous look. "Of course! One must honor all aspects of nature. Balance, synergy, flair…" He twirls once more, nearly toppling over, before catching himself with an exaggerated flourish. "And always — always — style points!"

Zero shakes his head, muttering under his breath, "I knew he was powerful… but I didn’t expect this level of ridiculous."