still, we rot

He takes the second bucket from the ground, assuming that John’s brought it for him. He’s thoughtful like that, Seb thinks briefly as he moves the water closer to his own horse who eagerly starts in on it. “I can’t feel it yet, but at some point the air will change.” It’s not necessarily the cold - though that’s obviously an integral part of the winter - but at some point, nature will fully shift and there’ll be no more battles to fight. 

“Do you?” Sebastian’s mind is fully on the prospect of battle, it seems. They could have endless war if they wanted, with no need to pause. He’s heard that sometimes the rain is brutal there - from some diplomat he barely paid any attention to - so he doesn’t know if that stops anything. “It’d certainly snow less if we were there.” It’s not the snow - well, it is the snow - but rather the mud that’s the worst of it. All the same. But the subject returns to war, as anything does these day. “Alright, I do suppose I envy them that. I’d much rather be at war than not.” Even when the fatigue sets in, when the screams of the dying are easy to call to mind. He’d rather be there than at the capital. “You feel for far too many people,” he tells John. 

“You don’t mean that,” he replies lightly. “There’s far too much even for you.” Though John does actually listen to him. It’s nice. “Well, first of all the weather’s been shit in general, we’ve been taking too many losses, and some of the battlefield tactics make little to no sense in half the situations they’re used in. And I’m tired.”

John makes a noncommittal noise and doesn’t look at Sebastian. Maybe he does care about too many people, but he feels like someone has to. If he has spare food and sees a child by the side of the road, he’ll give it to them. If they’ve stopped near a village, John will walk to the nearest house and assure them that the battlefield is far away. The world is too full of evils and anger and selfishness, and John causes some of it. He’s killed sons and fathers without hesitation, without mourning. There’s no harm in soothing where he can.

“Oh, don’t I?” It’s good to smile with Sebastian after a long day of riding, a long week of killing. “I’m not so sure. Seems to me like we’re settled in for the night, and I have nothing but time and no one to entertain but yourself.” He could sit with any of the men they fight alongside and strike up a conversation, but he’d rather talk with Seb, who’s interesting and funny and extremely rude. Plus, Sebastian doesn’t spend hours around the fire bemoaning a family left behind. 

Most times when they go out Jim has no reason to do almost anything other than drape himself over Kasen and flash threatening glares at people who get too close – hell, he’s flashed talons depending on the scene at people who get far too close as well – but never before had something so interesting happened. Never before had Kasen mentioned any surviving relatives, so having one pop up out of the blue had been pleasing. Especially one that looked like that.

More so, especially one who Kasen reacted to Jim noticing like that. It was so new it’d actually taken Jim a few seconds to recognize Kasen’s jealousy as such, and then Jim couldn’t not revel in it by pushing Kasen to his limits. Kai had been more than content to flirt back, too, which had made it all the better.

Jim’s almost just a little bit disappointed Kasen hadn’t slaughtered him then and there, but there’s something to be said for self-control he supposes.

Self-control, a hefty amount of it, is all that keeps Jim from letting out an excited sound when he’s pressed against a wall. Allure, of course, seeps out of him like a love song. “It’s not my fault I get jealous. It’s just my instincts.” Because he’s absolutely a slave to them, and doesn’t tend to just use them as an excuse. “Don’t get me wrong, Kai was pretty, but I really had no interest until I saw you getting all riled up.” Wings unfurl, the swirls of color likely calmer than they ought to be in the situation. “I never thought I’d actually get to see you like this.” And Jim is drinking it in unabashedly, the tug to Kasen pulling in him with pure delight. 

Kasen feels the flood of Jim’s allure like a tantalizing smell on a cool breeze. He’s always tempted to sink in and follow along, hoping he might find something delicious and mesmerizing at the end of the trail, but right now it’s all too easy to brush those temptations away. He never asked how long it took for Jim to stop being annoyed that Kasen can ignore his allure - assuming he ever was, or assuming he ever stopped - but right now he wishes he would have. He’d love to rub something in Jim’s face to make him even half as angry as Kasen is now. 

“Instincts,” he repeats, but on his tongue it’s nothing but condescension. He knows better. Jim just likes to play, and show off what’s his, and remind Kasen as often as possible that the bond that connects them is a thread’s width from unbreakable. If he was suicidal, Kasen could threaten that - a lifetime of loss for Jim - but he enjoys his life of luxury too much to let it go. That, and he knows that nothing would make him feel better than killing his fucking magically appearing cousin. 

His grip on Jim’s throat tightens, fingernails digging in. He can feel Jim’s pulse but not his breaths - killing with his hands hasn’t been satisfying since he came into his power. “Don’t fucking blame this on my reaction. You started it,” that sounds childish, “you decided to flirt before I even started getting jealous.” The word is acidic, and he wants to rinse it out of his mouth with alcohol or blood. Kasen watches Jim’s wings drop out on either side of him, and he simultaneously wants to sink his fingers deep into the feathers, and break the bones on either side of the joints. 

Eun Yooonly gives a soft ‘humph’ and a childish crossing of her arms in response to his observation. She looks fine, she just looks like she’d gotten a knife thrown at her and didn’t manage to completely doge it. As she should, given that it’d happened. All pouting is gone once she sees that Chuya is making her favorite drink and then there’s a smile on her face as she finally relaxes, elbow propped on the bar while she gives a shrug.

“Have food at home.” Probably. Eun Hyuk does his best to make sure there’s at least instant ramen in the house, when Eun Yoo is too busy practicing for something upcoming to help make money. Not that the scarce amounts she scrounges together really make a difference. “Yeah. Just a showcase, technically.” She’s going to get properly hired to dance soon, though, she can tell. She’s catching eyes, and this upcoming showcase could lead directly to her getting hired depending on who goes and how her performance is. The cut on her cheek is going to have to get covered in makeup. And she won’t be able to go get money because that’d risk another injury. 

So it’s all on Eun Hyuk again. “Not just as a buffer!” Her faces scrunches though, pretending to contemplate. “I won’t go to the backstreets until my performance if you say you’ll come.” Since she has to do that anyway. Another cut somewhere visible, anything even minor to her legs – it could ruin the whole fucking thing. The risk from the location doesn’t change much between just hanging out there and actively working as a rentable girlfriend. She even slides her headphones off, although they haven’t been playing anything for a while, to show sincerity. “Promise.” And holds out her pinky.

‘Food at home’ is longhand for ‘no,’ so Chuya doesn’t take back the order he’d placed for her. There are probably some lines he crosses with every outcast he takes in, lines that divide strangers and parents, creepers and siblings. It’s not his fault he’s observant, nor is it his fault that the people he decides to take under his wing have no one else to go to. A few dollars for a drink and some food doesn’t mean much to Chuya in the long run, but it can be all the difference in the world to some people. 

He rolls his eyes when Eun Yoo scrunches up her face even though he believes her. It’s quite likely that she really does want him there - another line crossed, or at least smudged out in the dirt. But he’s okay with being a buffer, too. He can cross his arms and be intimidating, or he can give her a little praise if she’s earned it. As long as Chuya’s not expected to make nice with Eun Hyuk, he’s willing to do almost anything to help Eun Yoo out. 

Seb may not be one to care about those around him - another reason he has no desire to be king - but he’s not a fool. Losses mean fewer men to fight at his side, fewer reasons for his father to continue to allow him to go out on these campaigns, despite his status as the only heir to the throne. It’s a risk Sebastian shouldn’t be taken, but the King will have to drag him back to the castle - or really, have a contingent of his guard do it. Sebastian will fight that as best he can. 

John’s not there when he finishes the report, but though he’s done it for no one else, Sebastian’s purposefully memorized which horse is John’s. It’s easier to tell now that there are fewer riders - easier to lead and tether his nearby. With her between him and the camp, he can give himself a minute to lean gently against her neck. They’re both sweaty and dirty - it’s not a particularly enjoyable feeling, but it’s a moment to close his eyes, pause, before he scrubs at the dirt that he’s definitely got on his forehad now and gets back to work. He hears John approach and turns to face him, expression lightening a little. “Have I ever? There’s plenty to tell you.” 

Some of it he can’t or shouldn’t say to the others in charge. Technically, he can say whatever he pleases and they’ll let him, but it doesn’t feel the same. John at least tells him when he’s overstepping. “It’s getting close enough to winter that soon enough we’ll be back to the boredom of barracks and winter training.” It’s not a return to his father per se, but it feels a little like one. “But there’s always more complaints than just that.”

A smile quirks the corner of John’s lips up, but he hides that smile behind his collar, ducking his head down and watching the water level slowly deplete from the bucket. All day, the ride had been silent save the rattle of the wagons and the chorus of creaking from the leather saddles. Death has been following them around like a warning, and it’s good to hear Sebastian hasn’t been changed by the thinner crowd of knights. 

“Winter...” John sighs, tipping his head up to the quickly darkening sky. It feels like summer had only just passed, but Sebastian is right. Soon, the anxiety of impending battles will be gone, and John will spend his time holed up with too many men or traveling the long distance to see his family in his time off. “I almost envy the kingdoms to the south,” he says, setting the bucket aside and beginning to work at the sweat on his horse’s back. His own light armor is starting to feel heavy, and his stomach is starting to hollow, but right now he doesn’t feel like moving. “Their nights never have to pull back for a season. But I feel for their citizens - the farmers and the bakers.” He can’t imagine being at war all the time. Even during their active months, John and Seb rarely see a battle with casualties.

[ starter for @tragedium​ ]

“No, like…” She repeated the hand motions, slightly slower that time, and held the last one as she looked over to Kara. “But really point, you know? ‘Bastard!’“ She wiggled the final sign a little for emphasis before dropping her hand, ducking under a piece of wood that’d fallen from – the ceiling, maybe? Why was there even wood in a factory in the first place? No wonder it’d gotten abandoned. Not up to fire code, probably. Eun Yoo kicked a wayward piece of concrete. 

She did like the idea of ghosts, but actually believing in them was a different story. Sure, weird things happened sometimes, but it probably wasn’t ghosts. There was still a thrill that came with breaking into the supposed haunted ruins of a factory, and in the privacy of her own mind she could admit it did make her feel a little bit main character to. She cracked her knuckles, hopping up nimbly on a large slab of broken concrete, and went up on her tip toes to look around. 

“This place looks barren.” Maybe it looked more ominous at sunset, with long shadows stretching instead of the blanket of darkness then. “Are you sure its haunted?” She leans forward, long hair cascading off her shoulder as she tilts over the edge of the concrete boulder she’s standing on. 

Kara holds her flashlight between her teeth while she imitates the sign, doing her best to make the silent word as forceful as possible. It’s fun to learn something new - a new language and a new thing to keep her hands busy when her brain is too full to be productive - and she finds the thought of rolling her eyes and swearing at people without them knowing to be hilarious. 

She laughs when she gets it right, catching the flashlight when it falls from her mouth and spinning in a quick circle. The sound bounces off the crumbling walls of the old factory before sinking into the gaping maw in the floor that leads to the basement levels. She’s read up on this place - the history, the work accidents, the owner being jailed for fraud and the construction being so outdated that no one was willing to invest in the property afterwards. 

[ starter for @tragedium​ ]

Eun Yoo slinks in through the back, headphones affixed pointedly over her ears to ward off the greetings of the other staff members as she makes her was to the bar. When she sits down in a stool, it’s with a relieved huff, and she crosses her arms on top of the bar itself and lowers her nose to rest on them. She’s basically memorized Chuya’s schedule, finding out what days he works through trial and error, so she doesn’t feel embarrassed when he’s not there. Probably just on break and will be back soon.

In the meantime, Eun Yoo is definitely pouting. She doesn’t take her headphones off when the other bartender waves at her, just gives a little reluctant nod of acknowledgement before lowering her gaze and waiting impatiently. It’s not too long before she catches a new person in the corner of her vision, returning from outside, and she shifts her chin to rest on her arms instead. She glances at Chuya for only a moment before she glances back down. Her flannel has two new tears in it, and she has a prominent cut on her cheek. 

And bruising hidden under her clothes, but at least he won’t see that to be able to be concerned about it.

Still, she raises her hand to give a little wave, then lets out a dramatic sigh and sits up. “I have a ballet performance in three weeks. You’re going to come, right?” Her foot taps the bar. “Eun Hyuk is going to be there. He asked for the day off work.”

Chuya returns from his break trailing the smell of cigarettes behind him and not caring whatsoever. Most of the employees smoke, and Chuya’s sure he’s caught over half of the regular customers adding nails to their coffins, too. One such customer has found her way back into his line of sight, and it’s all Chuya can do not to sigh at her. Eun Yoo looks like she’s gotten caught in a dark alley again, kissing asphalt instead of practicing her steps. 

“You look like shit,” he says as he steps around the other bartender and gets to work making Eun Yoo’s usual - non-alcoholic - drink. He wants to lecture her about not getting into fights, but in his experience hypocritical advice is never received all that well. Not that she listens to him, regardless. “Have you eaten yet?” he asks, but he’s already writing on an order pad, expecting her to say no. 

Of all the things that Kasen can be defined as, jealous isn’t one of them. He’s never had a reason to be jealous, at least not since he killed his way out of the slums. He has it all - looks, talent, power, wealth, respect. Lately, he even has a hot, over-possessive boyfriend who likes to dig his claws in when Kasen’s fucking him within an inch of his life. There’s nothing to be jealous of - no one to pull the foreign emotion out of him.

At least, there wasn’t before tonight. 

All Kasen can think about on the drive home is Jim batting his lashes at Kasen’s cunt of a cousin. If they hadn’t been at a party, if Kasen’s Boss hadn’t been mere meters away, Kason would have sucked all of the shadows out of the room and launched them like a missile at his cousin. Even now, half a city away, Kasen’s bloodlust is so strong he’s shaking. 

The evening air is heavy with fog when the company leader finally signals them to a halt. John, for one, is relieved. The exhaustion of traveling from one battle to the next weighs heavy on him and the men around him, and he’s excruciatingly aware of the new holes in their ranks. There are more horses tied to the wagons than there had been when they set out from the kingdom a fortnight ago, and even more men are missing. Well, missing is the kind word. They’d been skewered or sliced on the battlefield, and had been too far gone to be saved. 

He directs his horse away from the main circle of camp, finding a pair of trees to string up a tether. Sebastian will join him later - no doubt after having a few words with the company leader or the strategist or both. For his part, John is just happy to have his feet on the ground again, and judging by the low groan his horse lets loose, he’s not the only one. “Yeah, yeah,” he murmurs, patting her neck. It’s quick, repetitive work setting up the tether and pulling the saddle from her back. Some of the knights are already getting to work setting up fires or securing the perimeter, and some are even harassing the cook to give them scraps to tide them over. But John goes to the supply wagon instead and grabs two water buckets. As hungry and tired as he is, if he doesn’t take care of his horse, he may as well just cut off his own legs. And the second bucket will keep Sebastian from having to trek to the stream.