#wx:task1

hmm… so maybe kitae had a point.

it’s not like beomseok didn’t trust his little brother. for who could know him better? through and through, if not for the boy with the same trident tattoo? but the tightrope between life and death has no place for lies and half-truths, so he’ll confess, he’s been a bit of a sinner. assumed the role of doubting thomas from the moment kitae proclaimed that beomseok was made for a place like this—this, being this… jungle gym of an academy. but he hears it now, the rumbling of retribution that sounds a whole lot like the taunting laughter only he knows kitae has the capacity to muster. feels the ground quake in the same way his veins thrum at the promise of adventure.

and what he means is this? he fucking loves this. laps it greedily up like the dribble of milk along the carton’s side.

when the ground quivers, it moans his name, and beomseok pays his partner a knowing look topped off with a devilish smirk, “guess that’s my cue.” and it’s as though he’s immune to the earth’s increasing tremors—the dead giveaway that the monstrous serpent is fast approaching in the valley—for casual is the way he walks in reverse as he balances his weapon in one hand, all in an effort to keep his eyes cockily locked on jihyun. it doesn’t take long before his heels kiss the cliff’s edge.

“catch you on the flip side, beautiful,” and it’s almost a glitch in time, the way the slow wink is succeeded with the lean back into the rapid fall. and fall he does, head first as he dives towards the beast with his trident’s teeth. and somehow, this frightful acceleration works in his favour, gives his weapon enough momentum that it sinks its fangs into the serpent’s shedding tail. it’s in this way that he uses it as an anchor, grips and spins around the sturdy shaft of his weapon as he narrowly misses falling into the snow. beomseok hangs, chuckles in relief that the plan he’d gambled on worked, though the preceding intake of breath between his clenched teeth betrays the deltoid strain he’s gained from the whiplash. but never mind all that, he’ll work off the adrenaline from his brush with death to hoist himself up onto the moving beast’s scaly back.

too much water, too much wind... haksu’s grip tightens on the leather-wrapped staff of his scythe, knocking away another sea-snake rearing its head and sending a flurry of sand up in the air - half of which is blown back into his face immediately. still, he hardly notices the sting. most of his attention is on the giant crab, because it’s massive, causing a disturbance in the surrounding waters, and quite unlike anything haksu’s ever seen before.

this is the first time he’s ever faced up against beasts from the coastline, that make water their second home. the past ones he’d tussled with had been straight out of the forest - taking the shapes of wolves, bears, hawks… and the experience seems hardly applicable. still, haksu feels like he’s adjusted somewhat to the jarring change of scenery by now, sticking close to jihwan as he cleaves yet another critter in two. annoying pests.

grimacing and brushing sand off his brow, he turns to the water winx who has become his partner today. she’s a genius off the field, that’s for sure, but how well that’ll translate into actual combat is still very much up in the air. “it ain’t gonna be ignorin’ us for long,” he says apprehensively. if this were any other creature, perhaps one that lived on solid ground, he would be at less of a loss, but how do you fight a crab? haksu doesn’t let himself forget that he’s an intelligence specialist, and he bites his tongue when the urge to ask what to do comes up. not in front of jihwan. he takes a breath - strategies, strategies...

“when you cook a crab you numb it first with ice--” no, there’s no way that’ll help them, there’s no ice, and why would they want to numb it -- “you steam it in a pot with boilin’ water--” no, jihwan isn’t even a fire winx -- “y-you crack the top shell off first an’ use a mallet for the--” and this time he isn’t interrupted by his own rational thoughts, but a crashing wave of murky water, the ominous click of massive pincers, and far, far too much sand. he grabs for his partner by instinct before the both of them are washed away, shoving the long curved blade of his weapon deep into the mud as a makeshift anchor.

many are quick to call attention to the moments in the spotlight, at the heart of the action where one attempts the finicky pirouettes and double cabrioles in front of the animated crowd, but so few speak of the moments prior. that is, before the gaining of momentum. before the curtains are drawn. before the music cue, while the space exists as a pin drop silence.

bitna feels like she’s always caught in those moments.

and that is to say: she’s always privy to her drumming heart caught in the ridges of her throat, proximal to the eardrums, it’s deafening. and in these moments where they exist in a pocket of fear and anticipation, where the space remains ever so dark, as if the world is not yet ready to glance upon them, she learns to stop time. to be still as a meticulously carved sculpture, to hold her breath and steady her pose until the light streams in and the music cues for the hour to resume.

and she sees this cue now. watches a small glow swim first from right to centre, then split from one to two. she realises it then, that the shadow anglerfish is staring straight at them. catches its taunting growls in the undertone of her beating heart, as though a sickening predator toying with their prey before the slaughter. here’s a head start, it whispers, i’ll count to ten. bitna reaches her right arm out in the dark until it lands upon what she presumes is rorin’s arm, and she slides her fingers down to seize her dormmate’s palm in a tight hold.