𝔭𝔩𝔢𝔞𝔰𝔢, 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔢 𝔦𝔫

tagged by: snatched from @nouvelis

   "i want to be myself, but i can't."

you have a secret interest or a personality trait that others wouldn't like about you. you may have shown it off once, but it was received badly, and now like hell you're gonna be vulnerable like that again. you dream of the day where someone you like will act this way too and you can finally release this lock in your chest, although that's extremely unlikely. you feel disconnected from others' reality of yourself. it's very uncomfortable.

tagged by: @spellbks​

     Dorian would like to say that he wasn’t one to become easily giddy, that he did pride himself on his own sense of professionalism and that his heart wasn’t racing with excitement at that very moment. But that would be a lie as he watched them, taking their hand in his own as he too bowed his head lightly before he forced himself to clear his throat, composing himself. He could see the chief’s brow raising higher and higher at his actions, never had Dorian been so excited to meet someone, let alone a psychologist. Yet he couldn’t help but to have grown more intrigued by the other the longer they were around. Always coming and going, always seeing them but never talking, he hadn’t lied when he made mention to them being a near celebrity around the precinct. He couldn’t remember the number of times him and his colleagues had placed bets on just who would get to meet the other first, whether or not they were seeing someone, if they were straight, gay, or even neither.

     His smile only grew wider as they introduced themselves and he couldn’t help but shake his head, “be careful, if you say things like that, I’ll be asking for your help quite a lot. Not to say I can’t do my job on my own, but to have someone as revered as you helping out on a case, I mean who wouldn’t jump at that opportunity.” Dorian praised, the chief’s head shaking slightly as they rolled their eyes, “okay well if you’re done going all sparkly twinkle eyes at the Doctor, perhaps you’d like to start investigating the case, or would you like to ask him for his autograph next?” The old man’s words were gruff, a hint of amusement hiding behind them as Dorian snorted softly, eyeing the pudgy man, “don’t tempt me chief.” Laughter spilled into the room from the both of them as the chief nodded his head, “sure, sure go right ahead. Go ahead and just talk in here, I’m taking the rest of the day, the wife’s been nagging me to see the doctor about that cough, told her it was nothing but… women.” He grumbled under his breath, tossing his hands up in the air in exasperation before he bid the two men goodbye, grabbing his battered gray coat, threads fraying from where buttons used to be as he pulled it around himself, unable to close it properly before he limped out the door.

     “Please, take a seat let me just get these set up for you.” Dorian gestured toward the couch on the opposite side of the table as he set the case files down, starting with the most recent as he began to lay out the photos of the crime scene and evidence they had collected. “Alright so, what we know so far is that these two women, Yonghee and Yoona, both attended the same graduate school, but neither were in each other’s circle of friends. They went to the same gym but again, neither of them knew each other but look how similar they are. Their eyes are nearly the same shade and though Yonghee’s has been recently dyed blonde, she was originally a brunette like Yoona.” He frowned, brow furrowed, “we know it’s the same guy who abducted the first two since they both match the M.O. and he keeps dumping the bodies in similar locations. The first one was in the wooded area behind Yongsaeng Park and the second one was thirty feet from mile marker thirteen on the freeway heading into the mountains. They’re all like aged girls, all attending graduate schools, brunettes, but how is he finding them? How can he be going across the entire city without getting caught? Someone should have seen him, right? Or at least noticed someone acting suspicious don’t you think?” Dorian asked, finally sitting down across from them as he looked from the case files to Hyunshik, “so what exactly am I missing here?”

he lets his focus linger on the chief as he talks with dorian; truth to be told, hyunshik has never liked the old man very much. yet again, it can not be a surprise to anyone, that he is extremely strict of those he deems acceptable to view as decent -- and even more so, of those whom he keeps close as friends. those people, human or not, are few but still close to his heart. but this man, coughing his lungs out as it seems, definitely is not one hyunshik sees as worthy of anything ; the mere feeling almost has his nose wrinkle, as if there was a foul smell lingering within the room. (though, his  sense of smell is above average, as one could put it -- and some humans do reek, as if they were decaying from the inside; even with their hearts still beating.) 

as the man finally departs from their company, hyunshik brings his mind back to the present ; the chief can be handled later, if he becomes too much of an annoyance. he offers dorian yet another, small but sweet smile, as he sits down to the offered seat ; opening few buttons from his jacket to prevent it from  wrinkling. he does not touch the files set on the table until dorian clearly is done with his quick task -- and only then reaching towards any paper closest to him. the girl in the photo is not familiar to him, but certain understanding of the killer settles within him.  while listening to the other male’s explanation of the case, he merely answers with nods here and there, having no real reasons to disturb his words. even after the last question, rhetoric or not, he leaves unanswered & instead lets his focus dwell on the papers on the table. he has no rush, not for any girls’ lives nor helping dorian come to any important conclusions ; but he lets himself enjoy this play of helpfulness.

his eyes are hazy as he finally manages enough collect enough strength to open them. there is no bright light, but a pain still makes him wince -- as if someone had made tiny paper cuts all over the surface of them. he presses them close right away, instead shifting the remaining strength elsewhere ; to wiggle the tips of his finger and sharpen his hearing. there are no sounds he can register, no way to identify where he actually is.

after few long minutes, belus finally forces his eyes open yet again, this time the pain is far less severe and lets him keep them open.  the ceiling is unfamiliar, so is the scent of the room; he can not recall ever being there.  a small huff of annoyance passes his lips as he moves his head from one side to the other, trying to pinpoint something in the room that would provide him answers to the questions forming in his mind ; where is he? why is he here? and who is in charge of the current situation? -- but of course, the list of suspects when it comes to the last question, can be considered endless. 

Taemin’s vision is gone, but it isn’t completely gone– he can still see light, and vague shapes. And.. In all the fuzzy light of the book store, Belus’ shadow is centered in front of the young witch. He can smell Belus too– like brimstone and burnt herbs, heady incense.. It’s funny how other senses heighten when one falters. He wonders what Belus’ face looks like right now. He at least knows it’s close– and he wonders if the other’s skin is still just as smooth and perfect as before, if his eyelashes still look feathery– if his hair is still soft, and– then Taemin gets flicked on the forehead and it mildly startles him, the blonde succumbing to a mess of blinks as he leans back in his seat on the stool, fingers gripping the edge of the counter. Just like the older warlock to toy with him. And as Belus speaks further, Taemin begins to feel helpless. Months? Months more. He’s already been like this for a few months now, and it’s felt like years. He’d die to even be able to read the wrapper on an ice cream cone at this point, let alone the research journal he had risked his life and got maimed for.

“… Nothing. I’ve got nothing that you don’t already have.”

The answer is probably disappointing, but it’s the truth. What would Taemin, a baby-witch that’s only been walking this earth for twenty-six years, have to offer Belus? Belus; who’s so powerful and has been around longer than Taemin can fathom. The slender boy scoots the stool out and he stands up on his feet, feeling along the edge of the counter until it meets the wall, and from there he navigates where there’s a broom and dust pan hanging.

“Would you help me clean up the soil and pot pieces that got broken when you arrived earlier..?” He’s prepared for Belus to say no, but he’s got the broom handle in his fingers. “I’ll probably just make it worse.”

“nothing?” small hint of surprise escapes into the tone of his voice; in a sense, he should have expected such reply, but still he had not. “definitely a disappointing answer, yes, people usually start listing things right off the bat. some are even willing to give away their only child, can you believe that? though that is acceptable payment in the end...” his words linger away, leaving him silent for a moment. his eyes do follow the younger witch though, as his mind is deeply in thoughts. he merely glances at pointed soil and remains of the pot, almost rolling his eyes as he stands up to his full height.

with light steps, belus moves closer to the witch boy. he ignores his words in a sense that he does not spare a glance at the broom -- instead he simply flicks his wrist, halfheartedly mouthing silent words before the mess starts to clean itself up & pot repairs itself. belus almost makes a snide remark of how he would never touch a broom. ( what’s the use of having magic if you do not use it for every possible thing ? ) 

your result: mulberry   ( hyunshik ) 

Keywords: romance, slow-burning, devotion

    The love of yearning, of candlelit nights spent staring longingly at your lover’s hands or of cramping your own with the effort of writing the perfect love letter. Yours is the love that transcends time, expectations, and patience. When you’re in love with somebody, you give them your whole heart. An extremely loyal, thoughtful, and introspective person. Your ideal date may involve simply opening a bottle of wine and reveling in the company of your favorite person. Voted most likely to fall in love with somebody who your soul remembers from a past life.

Best matched with: mulberry, peacock, scarlet

Yeah. That’s how bad Taemin fucked up. The word wendigo has even Belus’ voice heightening with surprise– Belus, who isn’t scared of anything, and is a force to reckon with himself. All at once the altercation in that musty old manor deep inside some Norwegian forest is bubbling to the front of the young witch’s memory. The smell, the raw power, the screams– the literal graveyard of body parts and half-finished meals scattered around the beast’s nest. Taemin can feel a pit open up in his chest and he lowers his head, his slim arms folding on top of the counter in front of him. 

“It was a freak accident. I went to this place looking for a research journal one of my favorite warlock authors had written– it was the only copy left in existence, and this senile old witch was reported to have it in her possession. I just.. Really wanted this book for my collection– and for the knowledge– and I knew I could nab it from her and leave if I was quick enough.” Taemin is no stranger to theft. He’s stolen dozens and dozens of times. Made himself a little career out of it. If it sparkles, offers power, or will complete a dusty book collection on his shelves– the boy will come after it and take it right from under your nose.

“I traveled, making portals from chalk and energy, but they could only get me so far because I’m not.. Good at spells like that, yet. It took me a lot of tries to make my way across the world. And to get to where I needed to be. One portal I opened– nothing but ocean water came pouring out, and I had to close it before I turned a back-alley in Germany into a great white shark aquarium.” He snickers, pressing his forehead down into his arms, and he hates how Belus has a special sense for guessing everything. Or maybe it’s not special. Maybe anybody could read Taemin like a book if they wanted to.

“But finally, I got there, to this abandoned home in the woods. I had spent a week on foot looking for it. I’d been tired and hungry for days– now that I’m thinking about it, it was tough to walk in a straight line. But once I saw this place and felt the aura coming off of it, I knew I’d found it. I felt new again, if only for a little while. So– I went in, and– The witch had been dead long before I got there. In fact, this thing had made a nest in the attic and was eating people from a nearby village for god knows how long..  It was the strongest thing I’ve ever fought. The scariest thing that ever wanted to take my life.”

The boy swallows at the lump in his throat. He doesn’t like recounting it, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t have recurring nightmares about the fight– night terrors of sharp claws swiping across his face all over again, and the searing pain that accompanies it, all fresh and new all over again. “To shorten the story– I pinned it under a book case and set it on fire. I would’ve died there if my companion hadn’t dragged me out of the window with his little talons. We tried numerous healing spells together, and they helped me look.. A little less maimed, but.. He says I’m all scarred up– so. Not winning any beauty pageants any time soon. Got the book though. Good thing I can read it, huh?” He mutters the last part sarcastically.

It’s funny how the words spilling from the warlock’s mouth seem like their intentions are to make Taemin feel better. 

The young blonde doesn’t know if he should let himself sink into it, but Belus’ words are like a warmth he hasn’t felt in a long time. It seems like the other man isn’t going to press the issue, and instead he’s taunting the little witch about heartbreak and growing up, and it makes Taemin pick his head up with a weary smile, while the hole in the bottom of his chest only serves to open up wider. He’s not gonna get into the nitty gritty details– no– he’s not gonna word-vomit about how he was lucky enough to feel love, both in a romantic, burning sense, and all in a comforting platonic sense– and managed to lose it all. Two familiar faces are glimmering in the back of his mind, and their absence suddenly has the young witch losing care for himself all at once, which leads him to speak up. “Maybe.. I do want you to fix me. Could you do it here…? Now?”

a laughter bubbles from his chest. it fills up the store, unapologetic and proud, his shoulders shaking as he shakes his head, “a book. you sacrificed yourself for a book?” there is clear unbelief in those words, not fully mocking yet far from good-natured as one can expect from the warlock. “i have always known you lack instinct of self preservation but this... this has to be the most comical thing i have heard  in a good while.”  there are still remains of chuckles passing his lips as he shakes his head. “though i am disappointed that you didn’t let any sharks into the city. that would have been hilarious. i would have loved to see how poor humans would have tried to explain that away.”

“regardless”, belus hums, “that’s quite of a story you got there”, he brings up his hand, waving it right in front of the other’s face -- not that he has any doubts of the lack of vision -- before bringing his thumb and index finger together, flicking the middle of taemin’s forehead ( not too strongly to cause any actual damage, but enough for such act to feel ). snickering, he pulls his hand away to yet again inspect his clean fingernails.  “so, you roasted a wendigo alive. not bad, even stronger witches tend to fail at putting those animals down to their graves. they usually end up dead or at least very much injured.  -- what is the book about anyway? i highly doubt any pile of paper can be worth all that trouble, and besides books can be destroyed way too easily.”

“your companion seems rather useless in my opinion. perhaps they should read through that book since it seems to be such treasure for you”, belus snorts and rolls his eyes, “you need to be better with choosing who you spend your time with”, the warlock’s words drip with sarcasm, as he has witnessed ( many times ) in his past as others have warned his friends about him. not that friend is a word he uses ; most everyone can be replaced easily.