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Blood cult au part ten!!! (First, most recent)

Currently: while Mira, Rumi, and Zoey have wandered off to have gay breakdowns—er, put Rumi’s sword away, Minji, Miyeong, and Celine are working on lunch and continuing to plan how they’ll be getting rid of the wraiths. In Seoul, a grieving Bobby meets a nurse…

The sesame oil has started sizzling, so Celine scrapes Minji-nim's pile of neatly (if... perhaps excessively finely) chopped vegetables into the pan and turns to the pantry. She pulls out a jar of kimchi and two eggs without thinking, then goes back for the rest of the carton. Six mouths to feed is nice, but it will take some adjustment.

She looks over at her designated sous chef, but Minji-nim has slumped over her arms on the table, eyes closed at last.

Celine is glad. It's meant to be part of her duties, in carrying on the great Rumi-nim's work, to give comfort to those who she helps; Rumi-nim healed hearts and spirits, as well as protecting bodies from harm. Celine has always been much better at the practical side of things. She can offer food, a safe place to go, she can repair torn stuffed animals and glue together broken heirlooms like they were never damaged, but she's never known what to say to people, when they hurt. In the face of what Minji-nim has lost, any mere words Celine could think to offer feel dismissive and trite. But a nap will do her good.

Celine turns to Miyeong-nim instead. "Can you be trusted to chop kimchi?"

"Let's find out." The reporter's eyes sparkle as she takes the jar. "You can come over here and supervise, if you're worried."

Miyeong-nim really is a flirt. Celine should probably roll her eyes, but she finds herself smiling, just a little, instead, as she turns back to the skillet. It's been a while since anyone cared to flatter her that way. And despite first impressions, she's beginning to think Miyeong-nim's good opinion is more discerning than she likes to act.

Certainly, she has decent taste in women. Celine glances over at the table again. "Will she be alright there?" she asks Miyeong-nim. "She needs sleep, but I doubt she needs back problems."

The reporter stops squinting suspiciously at the kimchi and takes a look of her own. "She'll be okay, I've caught her napping in much worse positions than that. You wouldn't think a human could bend the way a nurse can bend when the only available flat surface is the top of a mini-fridge."

Her face has gone soft and warm, and her voice is so fond that it makes the words sound like something earthshaking and precious, instead of the off-hand anecdote to a near-stranger that it is.

Well. Small talk. Celine starts pulling some fruit out of the fridge for Mira's smoothie, and asks over her shoulder, "Have you two been partners a long time, then?"

“I—wait—huh?” Miyeong barely manages to avoid spasming and starting to chop her own fingers instead of the kimchi. “Partners like—not that—Minji?”

Celine looks back at her, blushing slightly and says, voice stiff with embarrassment, “I hadn’t meant to presume. I apologize.”

“No, no, it’s just…” Miyeong stares at her, attempting to come up with something, anything beyond repeating, “…Minji? She’s so… and I’m…”

Why would someone like Minji, who is as selfless and competent and together as she could be, possibly get involved with Miyeong? (…Beyond getting dragged along with her in extenuating circumstances such as the ones they were under. Where it was the right thing to do.)

Celine frowns slightly. “You’re…?”

Miyeong’s face goes hot, feeling ridiculously adolescent at having Celine look at her as if she‘a more than just some worn out idiot who’d sold her soul for consistent employment years ago.

“I—I don’t even know if she—“ likes women. Miyeong takes a breath before she finishes that sentence in the stupidest way possible. “We’d known each other through work before now. Separate works. Wherein she did not like me very much.”

Celine just looks at her for another moment, still frowning, and nods. “…What sort of stories have you working at the hospital, then?”

Miyeong cringes at the thought of explaining about Yeonggi, though she knows Celine hadn’t meant it that way, and then it makes Celine wince and— “No, no! You didn’t—no, I was only—please, Celine-nim, forgive me, there’s just a bit of a story there, and one that involves me being a bit of an idiot.”

Matched with a smile, that, at least, finally has Celine loosening up instead of looking like she wants out of this conversation, raising an eyebrow. “Really?”

So Miyeong deftly avoids the subject of how everything with Yeonggi ended, and gets into how it started—a tale involving missing IV bags, a caffeine allergy, and a source who exclusively spoke Spanish.

It makes Celine laugh, as she explains how she’d tried to bribe the handsome male nurse with coffee and he’d looked at her like he wanted to die.

She skips the part where he was so enthusiastic about helping her because the new operation was cutting in on his own illegal activities. Maybe once they’ve known each other more than a week… and she’s had a conversation with Celine where she doesn’t have to fight the urge to melt into the ground from embarrassment.

It’s funny, though. She’d never noticed that Minji was in the story so much too, exhaustedly trying to kick Miyeong out even then. “Since I still had the coffee, I tried the trick on the next nurse I saw.”

Celine, set up at her own cutting board next to Miyeong, follows her nod to Minji. “And I take it she refused?”

“Oh, no, she took it,” Miyeong says, feeling a fond smile tug at her lips. “It just meant that she smiled at me while directing me to the exit that day.”

Celine’s laughter feels distant, almost, as Miyeong puts down the knife.

Does she… have feelings for Minji?

What the hell?

Part of Zoey — okay, most of Zoey — wants to stay and poke around the office a little more. Not only is she curious about what a modern mudang's day-to-day equipment might look like, there could be more ancient mystical weapons stashed around here and she cannot miss that.

But as soon as Rumi puts the sword away, she turns and all but marches out, a woman on a mission. Zoey turns to Mira, a silent question, but Mira just raises her eyebrows and shrugs a little, and then gestures broadly toward the door with a tiny little bow of her head, after you.

Fortunately, from behind, Mira won't be able to see the absurd blush that overtakes Zoey's entire face over such a completely normal gesture.

When they get to the kitchen, Minji is slumped asleep on the table, and the sweet smell of sauteed veggies fills the air. Celine and Miyeong are standing very close together at the counter; over the sizzling of oil, Zoey can just hear Celine walking Miyeong patiently through every step of holding her fingers curled, rocking the knife along its curve, letting the blade do the work. From her angle at the door, Zoey can just make out the edge of Miyeong's expression, serious and focused, and the tip of one ear, a brilliant red.

"Honorable shaman," says Rumi, keeping her voice low to not wake Minji and doing something really unfair to Zoey's guts as a bonus. Both women look up, Celine like a normal person and Miyeong with a little startled jump. "Can I assist in any way?"

Celine looks around thoughtfully. "There's not much else to do until it's time to fry the eggs. You three should get something to drink, though. Especially Rumi-nim. I'm sure you're dehydrated after that swordwork."

While Rumi is thanking Celine with more of that formal, archaic graciousness that should be goofy and awkward but is actually just really sweet and hot, Zoey starts digging in the fridge, Mira right behind her. "What do we think they drank to cool off in Rumi's day?" Mira murmurs, and from right over her shoulder that is also doing something really unfair to Zoey's guts, and this is the worst day. "Just water?"

There is bottled water in the fridge, but, "All that sweat," says Zoey, very cool and very calm and totally a medical professional about it, "we should give her something with some electrolytes."

They dig out a few choices for her, bokbunja and banana milk and a bottle of Bacchus that seems like an odd thing for Celine to keep on hand, considering her vibe. Zoey's usually pretty uncomfortable about sharing her drinks, but for some reason it feels totally normal when they sit down at the table, a respectful distance from the lump of unconscious nurse, and make Rumi try all three before deciding who gets what.

Her eyes go bright and she says, "An age of wonders," again, at the banana milk, and Zoey ends up with the energy drink. Probably for the best; her ADHD makes her functionally immune to caffeine, Mira should probably be avoiding it post-surgery, and Zoey's not sure she's ready for the Rumi On Red Bull experience.

"So not to in any way imply that we should be left here, because we are absolutely not doing that," says Zoey, once they're settled, "but, what's the plan for those of us without sacred weapons? I know we're looking for the wraiths, but what should Mira and I and our home invaders do when we find them?"

Miyeong just smiles shamelessly at the dig, and Celine looks over her shoulder at Mira. "Did you learn any rituals of control or banishment, from your family?"

Mira grimaces. "I tried to know as little about it as I could. Kinda wish I'd payed more attention, now."

"Well, I can teach you all a simple exorcism. Strong rituals take time we won't have to perform and even more to learn, but wraiths are only so powerful once their summoner is gone. The right words and a little mugwort can be enough to break their control on a person, particularly if any of you happen to be decent singers. And provided you can keep your own minds barred against the pain they feed on."

There's a moment of silence, as they all simultaneously exchange glances and process the ratio of emotionally level potential exorcists to recently-traumatized wrecks in the room, and Zoey says, "I'm really good at beer pong, maybe you have some sacred weapons I could learn to throw real quick instead?"

Minji gets shaken awake to find a plate of food being placed in front of her. It smells good enough that she doesn’t ask too many questions.

It takes a few minutes for the world to kick back into focus. She’d love to say that the vegetables suddenly taste like ash in her mouth, that everything turns blackened and sick, but… the world just keeps existing, same as it ever has. That’s the worst part.

The food tastes good. She just can’t let herself enjoy it.

They talk, and plan, and somehow it’s decided that they’ll be trying to make the last ferry out and staying the night in a hotel on the mainland, so they’ll have a whole day for Rumi and Celine-nim to take on the wraiths.

At least no one has much packing to do.

“Both of our cars only seat five,” Miyeong says, as if it wouldn’t be reasonable to at least pretend she hadn’t tracked them by car. “Do we want to split back according to how we came?”

“I should probably stick with you three,” Minji says, gesturing to younger group—or, wait, Rumi’s five hundred. Ugh. “No offense, but if anyone’s going to be needing medical attention, it’ll be one of you.”

Rumi looks mildly offended (as if the skin of her torso isn’t half-shredded), while Mira nods, conceding the point, and Zoey laughs a little, awkwardly.

“Yeah,” she says, “probably. But we shouldn’t have anyone riding solo, so do we want to have someone double-buckle, or…?”

“Celine-nim and I can ride together,” Miyeong volunteers.

A second later, she blushes vibrantly, turning to Celine-nim. “If—if you want, I mean! You don’t have to, I didn’t mean to speak for you—“

“I would be happy to,” Celine-nim says smoothly, which is nice. Miyeong deserves a win—getting to spend a few hours in a car with a beautiful woman before they all drive to their deaths is the least that could happen for her.

And then she gets another when Rumi volunteers to take Mira and Zoey out for knife practice.

“Go on,” Minji says, nodding after the not-actually-younger trio. “I know how much you like distance weaponry.”

“I’m offended by this,” Miyeong declares, but she marches after them to go find Celine-nim’s shinkal nonethless.

Minji smiles after her. She hopes Miyeong enjoys it—properly enjoys it, in the way that Minji wouldn’t be able to right now, even when she doesn’t think about Miyeong and Yeonggi soundly beating Seulgi at darts, the way she would always laugh about it.

“You don’t have to help with the dishes,” Celine says gently, but Minji shakes her head.

“It’s either do something or shut down, and I’d rather not fall asleep again.”

The fine day has clouded over somewhat by the time everyone minus Celine and Minji has assembled in the yard, sun only intermittently peeking out from rolls of cottony clouds, but Mira honestly thinks that's for the best.

She's fairly sure Zoey would melt otherwise.

Mira takes her first shot and lands about five feet short of the target. Her second goes careening off to the left. Her third, at least, nicks the wall next to the bag of dirt, but her fourth goes wild again.

She doesn’t get too upset about it.

“Never really been great at throwing things,” Mira admits, as the knives run out and they pause to go get them back.

“You cannot curse yourself to failure before you begin,” Rumi says, all warmth and good intentions. “You merely need a bit of practice.”

But Zoey sees the way Mira’s jaw tightens (and then quickly loosens again as she loses some color, clearly regretting that move) and she knows the feeling. When you really just know something’s fucking hard and always will be and someone oh-so-sweetly denies it, like you’re just being mean to yourself and not able to accurately assess the situation… it sucks.

So she bites her tongue against the “You got this!” that she wants to chirp out—especially when Miyeong says exactly that and Mira’s jaw does that thing again—and, instead, just watches how Mira throws.

…Which is ridiculously badly. Because she just throws with her arm.

“Um,” Zoey says, carefully, “are you okay with constructive criticism or do you just want me to stand over to the side and not say anything? Because I’m totally good with not saying anything! I promise!”

Mira huffs before she can get any further. “Advice is fine.”

“Well, uh, I’m sure you know what you’re doing, but… you kinda gotta roll with it? Like, twist your hips and put all of you into it!” She offers her goofiest smile, exaggerating the shift of her body until it’s more of a joking bounce than an actual mock-throw as she mimes it for Mira—and then having to do it for real, however awkward that is.

But Mira’s smiling, nodding—though that might have something to do with Rumi coming over to try to help guide her through it with those calloused-but-still-so-gentle hands of hers. You know. If Zoey had to guess.

Just from the way Mira starts getting that really pretty blush, not any of her own thoughts on the matter, obviously.

At least she’s too distracted to be paying attention to Zoey as she throws again. Her lips tilt in a tiny smile as the knife clips the edge of the bag and she turns to high five Rumi.

And then she keeps turning and offers her hand to Zoey. To high five.

Right, because they should show Rumi, that was only invented in, like, the 1950s.

So Zoey grins and slaps her palm against Mira’s, and Mira—her voice is always kinda quiet, with the wires and all, but she tilts her head back and laughs and it’s so pretty and Zoey is so, so doomed.

And then! And then!!!!

She looks at Zoey and she smiles and she says, “Thanks. I always forget not to isolate everything when I’m not dancing.”

And she just turns to high five Rumi like Zoey isn’t exploding right next to her.

They wash the dishes in a silence that feels more comfortable than Minji expects. She's still tired enough that it's easy to zone out, to not really think of anything but the movement of the towel and how to stack the plates on the counter once they're dry. The loss remains, of course, a constant ache at the back of her mind, but with a task at hand, she stops getting caught by its sharpest edges.

Or maybe it's Celine-nim, who has a warm steadiness to her presence, despite her silence. There's something in the way she holds herself, the way she seems so centered and in control, as though demon apocalypses are just another day. It makes the pressure seem a little lighter, just for her standing there.

She's also very hospitable, rewarding Minji for her assistance by leading them to the sitting room and producing a bottle of soju, then pouring out two shots. "I don't often have the occasion," she says, her smile small and wry, "but if there's ever been a situation that warrants a drink..."

Minji doesn't need to be told twice. She grabs a glass, says a dry, ironic "wihayeo," and throws it back without blinking. Celine-nim shows more restraint, and simply holds hers, maybe swirling it a little, contemplatively, while Minji pours herself another.

"The 'situation'," Minji repeats, as the second shot burns down her throat. "That's one word for it. We've got the impossible ancient hero. The murder of all my friends. The kid who got kidnapped for a sacrifice. The thing where we're setting a bunch of random civilians against fantasy monsters." She waves a hand, still wrapped around the glass, at Celine-nim. "You said you were part of an order, right? Aren't there other people who are, I don't know. Trained in this kind of stuff? How is this Miyeong's job, or those poor kids?"

The shaman takes her bitterness in stride, watching her calmly like she has every right to it, but makes no apologies.

"We've been spread very thin, over the years," she answers instead, matter-of-fact, "and we were never a large order to begin with. Anyone I called for help would have to travel too far to be timely, and would have to leave their own home defenseless."

Celine-nim finally takes her shot, the long column of her throat flexing elegantly as she swallows. Minji blinks and drops her eyes, pouring herself another.

"Still," she says, filling Celine's glass again too, once she puts it down, "you have Rumi, right? Shouldn't you two just... do your thing, and the rest of us just stay out of the way?"

For a moment, Celine-nim just watches Minji, a careful regard that seems to peel right into the heart of her. Minji has seen Miyeong strip informants of their layers with a look, leaving them cut open and exposed, but this feels different, somehow; like Minji's being understood, her deepest self handled with the care of a surgeon, everything closed up properly afterward and left healthier than she started.

"... when I first met Zoey," Celine-nim says, once her keen gaze has finished its search, "I knew she and I would someday do something important together. I understand why, now. She and Mira withstood the voice of no mere wraith, but of Gwi-Ma himself, for days, and remained steadfast enough despite it to bring Rumi-nim back up from the hells."

She drinks again, and this time Minji doesn't look away.

"This battle will be a spiritual one, far more than physical, and Rumi-nim will need their strength for that." Celine's eyes hold Minji's, serious and thoughtful. "And you... It may be that you and Miyeong-nim are here because I will need yours."

Minji-nim looks at the soju bottle, and her lips twist contemplatively. “…Does Zoey have a driver’s license?”

Celine smiles and shakes her head instead of answering, not knowing either way. She hopes so, at least, given how shortly post-surgery Mira had been when the two of them arrived at her office.

Minji-nim waits with that for a moment before she says, quietly, “One of the wraiths looked like a photographer Miyeong liked. We didn’t even know he was dead until…”

Until we explained what they were. Celine grimaces.

“And—fucking Yeonggi turned up, apparently—did—“ Minji-nim breathes, sharply. “Becoming a wraith. Does it mean something about you?”

She wishes she could say no. Wishes she had decent words, comforting hands, anything. She tells the truth. “Gwi-Ma can only take a person’s image to use as a wraith if they gave themself to him in life.”

Minji-nim covers her face with her hands for a long moment before making a sound, the kind that might be a sob and might be a laugh. “Miyeong always thought there was something about the way Yeonggi died. We all figured it was just—“

Celine thinks back to the way Miyeong-nim had been so startled by Celine’s mistake, earlier, hadn’t even thought to be offended as she looked down at Minji-nim as if she were somehow worth impossibly more. And she thinks she understands a little.

“He actually sold his soul to a demon?” Minji-nim asks, peering up at her. She doesn’t wait for an answer before she laughs again. “That son of a bitch, of course he did.”

“Many do,” Celine says. “Gwi-Ma is… clever. And it might not have been…”

Minji-nim shakes her head again. “I don’t need hope for Yeonggi’s memory.”

“But I need you to understand,” Celine replies, thinking, terribly, of Rumi-nim on the other side of that portal, bloody and resigned and smiling as she gave herself up. She thinks of— “I need you to understand that it is not a weakness of—he will not only take what is offered. Gwi-Ma is called the Devourer for a reason. He will take anything he can touch, freely given or otherwise.”

Her hand has found its way to Minji-nim’s shoulder, somehow, as she is very close to her face.

Celine jumps back against the arm of the couch.

Minji-nim’s mouth opens.

“We must hold onto each other,” Celine says, before she can hear some platitude. “We must.”

“…I won’t let you go,” Minji-nim says, and this is perhaps the most anyone has understood Celine in years.

Miyeong hasn't had this much fun in ages. Not least because she's winning; Zoey's giving her a good fight, accurate with a great eye for distance, but Miyeong has mastered the forward spin faster than her, and is getting most of her knives in point-first while a good third of Zoey's are still bouncing blunt end off the sacks.

"Very good," is Rumi's assessment, as Zoey sinks one just a few centimeters off a bullseye and does a little whoop of glee. "You all show great promise. But in a true battle, your enemies will seldom remain still. I would like to advance to practice on moving targets, if you are amenable."

Zoey shoots a sly look at Miyeong, and then beams at Rumi, wide and innocent. "Sounds great, let's do it!"

Mira demurs, preferring to keep trying to consistently hit the stationary bags, but Miyeong rolls her shoulders competitively and agrees. Rumi has a little pile of squash that she's managed to collect from somewhere, green and round and overripe, and she lobs one slowly across the field of fire. Zoey whips a shinkal after it, a long clean release, and it sails just behind the vegetable, nearly clipping it.

Miyeong's lead might be in trouble.

One more round, and Miyeong's lead is definitely in trouble. She nicks a squash here and there, but mostly she goes wide in every direction, and Zoey, still hitting blunt-first a lot but still consistently hitting, is steadily closing the point gap. Rumi puts forward a valiant attempt to pretend she's impartial about it, but Mira makes no such pretense. She's entirely given up on her own practice to cheer Zoey on and trash-talk Miyeong, and Miyeong can't find it anything but charming. Watching the three of them fall all over each other in a fit of youthful hormones is almost more fun than the knife-throwing itself.

Though perhaps she shouldn't judge. At least they know what they're feeling. She lets her eyes flick over to the main building. Behind those walls is a woman who has somehow become the most stable presence in Miyeong's life for the better part of a decade, a reliable constant in all her rootless chaos, an irreplaceable comfort against her loneliness, and Miyeong never even noticed.

Honestly, she sort of wishes she still hadn't. It's not like there's anything to do with the information. Miyeong had her one shot, and it literally ended with a body count. Minji, who is in such terrible pain but still sent her out here to flex her projectile skills on undergrads for fun, deserves better from Miyeong than to hope to drag her down.

(Minji, who knows Miyeong is shameless enough to find that fun, is aware enough of who Miyeong is as a person that there would be no point in hope, regardless.)

The sun has not lowered greatly in the sky by the time that Minji-nim and the honored shaman come out to recall them and set them to preparations for their journey, but Rumi is proud to say that all of her pupils have improved a great deal.

Even Mira is more like to hit the target than not, and she showed much promise when they went over how to stab an attacker, despite being quite stiff during Rumi’s explanation.

“I am very proud of you,” she tells them all, the same as she tells everyone she teaches, whether they be five years old or sixty-five.

“You’re a really good teacher,” Miyeong-nim says, warmly, and Mira and Zoey agree, and Zoey comes up to loop an arm over Rumi’s shoulder and pull her close in thanks.

And all of this is good, like the sun and the grass and the feeling of an overripe squash in her hand. Rumi holds it tight, tries to burn it into herself, because she knows from experience that weak words would not stop Gwi-Ma.

They use the washroom to quickly wipe off the worst of the sweat and, going last, Rumi has opportunity to see that Mira has, indeed, changed her clothes, which is presumably simply what is done when one sweats in this time. The amount of washing must be ridiculous, and Rumi has a million questions about how they prevent things from falling apart, but—

For now, she just jerks her head away, flushing, because Mira has walked out wearing what cannot qualify as a full garment in this day and age.

It covers barely more than the undergarments. It doesn’t even reach her knees.

It doesn’t even reach halfway to her knees!

You’ve spent how much time in brothels? Rumi scolds herself, angry and embarrassed. Get a hold of yourself; her body is nothing to do with you.

(…It does make her feel a bit better when Zoey sees Mira and responds with a squeak of surprise.)

"So is this how we're doing this?" Miyeong looks between the two groups of people, Minji and the girls clustered around Miyeong's car, and her and Celine next to hers.

It's a logical division. Sensible. Minji's familiar enough with Miyeong's car to drive it without being distracted searching for the turn signal, and Celine's car is, well, Celine's. Plus if Rumi or Mira needs sudden medical aid, having Minji able to provide immediate guidance without needing to be flagged down from the other car is beneficial.

And Miyeong's not heartless; she has no intention to get in the way of young love and suggest Zoey ride with her and Celine.

So this is the most logical way to split up.

If the thought of being alone with Celine for a couple of hours ties a knot in her stomach, that's just...pre-wraith-hunting nerves. Yeah.

Celine nods, the motion more elegant than it has a right to be. "I'm fine with it."

Miyeong's heart jumps. The hot gorgeous TALL shaman's fine with it! She's fine with alone time with her! She is-

Lightheaded.

Maybe she should drive her own car with the girls. They have cellphones; Minji's only a call away-

But Minji's already holding her hand out for Miyeong's keys, and they're going to miss the ferry if they're not careful.

"I can drive!" Zoey's hand shoots up in the air. "Please? Rumi hasn't seen me drive yet and I'm really good! Mira! Tell them how good I am!"

"She didn't get us towed," Mira shrugs. "I think."

Miyeong blanches, thoughts of Celine momentarily suspended by thoughts of her car in the impound lot. Or worse.

Not that Zoey didn't seem responsible, but...she'd been that age once. She'd been that eager to drive to impress a crush once. She'd turned a car into an off-roader more than once.

But Minji- thank god for Minji- pockets the keys. "I'm giving you the aux."

"A role of great importance," Rumi nods seriously, perking Zoey up from the deflated slump she'd fallen into. "And you did exemplary with it yesterday.”

Miyeong mouths a ‘thank you’ to Minji as the girls pile in to the car, Mira and Zoey bouncing songs that Rumi just had to hear between them like juggling balls, and watches them crunch out of the gravel drive. She’d have a lot to worry about in the next few hours, but at least her car wasn’t one of them.

The sound of a car door opening pulls her attention back to her side.

“Ready?” Celine asks, one hand gripping the open door. There’s an inviting little smile on her lips, and her eyes catch the sun in such a way that they sparkle, igniting something in Miyeong’s chest.

Yes, a lot to worry about…

(she was going to say something stupid, she just knew it)

#kpop demon hunters #blood cult au #ficlet

While Rumi did fine on yesterday’s supply run, Zoey is honestly expecting a bit more of a freak out from her today—maybe just because she gets motion sick so easily.

But: nope. They pile in (Minji driving, Rumi and Zoey in back, and Mira sitting shotgun to have some room for her legs) and get on the road and Rumi shows absolutely no signs of discomfort.

Zoey might be a bad person for being disappointed about that.

After a while, the conversation shifts back from music to demons. Minji missed Celine’s earlier advice about mugwort, after all.

“The first rule of wraith-hunting is,” Rumi says (and Zoey’s brain unhelpfully fills in to have fun and be yourself and we don’t talk about wraith-hunting), “that they are hollow. There is nothing in them, and any promises they make to you are false. Do not listen. Hold on to what is solid.”

She looks at Zoey while she says it, because Zoey’s the only one looking at her, and so Zoey is left with the intensity of Rumi’s gaze, the impossible, out-of-time person that she is, and the softness of her smile.

“You,” she says. “Music. The sun on the grass. Anything you have.”

And Zoey’s brain plays it again: You. You. You. She has you.

But before she can say something stupid—something like I have you—Minji says, fingers tapping against the steering wheel, “Celine mentioned—she mentioned that Gwi-Ma would… take people, earlier. Like… like they didn’t have to make a deal with him or anything?”

Rumi’s expression twists with a horrible kind of hope, and she doesn’t answer for a long moment before, finally, her voice thick with something Zoey can’t interpret, she says, “The knowledge that I have is different, but it has been many years.”

(Zoey thinks of the way she talked about her dad. Wonders if maybe…)

(But maybe not. They haven’t even known each other a week, after all.)

“No, she—she wasn’t clear,” Minji says. “I might have misunderstood.”

Rumi bites her lip. Hesitates, before adding, in a way that’s clearly meant to be reassuring, “You must fail for him to take you. But it does not mean you cannot be brought back. Fear is his hand. Do not play it.”

It would’ve worked better if she didn’t sound like she was about to cry.

Blood cult au, part nine! (First, most recent)

Currently: While Celine has dragged Miyeong off for a walk in the garden—that’s going surprisingly well, odd comments about her height aside—Minji, Mira, and Zoey have helped Rumi down from her little PTSD moment, and started getting on the same page about all of the events that led up to the hospital fire.

grundpfeiler

Celine was pathetically grateful that Rumi had asked her question as she began drinking a large glass of water. It bought her time to decide what she felt about Rumi asking that question.

The answer was yes on multiple levels. Celine was aware that Rumi and her opinion on whose the house was differed. On one hand - Rumi herself being the one to say that you took such care of her home that she sees it as yours is something deserving of warmth. On the other - it was Rumi's house and Rumi just giving that authority to Celine (especially with that panic attack earlier) was not comforting. Rumi's home and if she wanted to open it to guests- it was open. And Celine was still left scrambling to figure out how much Rumi had figured out,and hadn't in regards to the current times. Because it could be incredibly scatter shot. On one hand, Rumi had figured out that Ryu Miyeong and Minji Park were a couple before Celine had. Which, it was slightly blatant in hindsight. The last boyfriend - and someone there in the emotionally charged aftermath. After all, you didn't just call anyone for help after finding a dead body. Also after the hospital fire became known the two had been much less careful about hiding it. Priorities - Ryu Miyeong admitting that the two had been staying together for the past two nights and Minji Park just finding comfort in her lover's presence. Considering the other foot however - maybe a certain quiet discussion later on current social standards and expectations. Zoey and Mira could cover a lot... but the area in the Ven Diagram where Mira being raised in a presumably extremely conservative cult and Zoey being raised with an American as well as Korean social lenses apparently was hit and miss. "Not noticing" the slip ups probably would have been the better call in this situation. On a second level - Celine was needing to figure out if she should feel ashamed at the idea that the great Rumi thought the answer could possibly be no. Ryu Miyeong had been entirely correct earlier that she and Park Minji needed information. Putting aside all the reasons to want the two around - Celine had an ethical responsibility at the moment towards the two. If someone was dealing with... poltergeist was the English word, that was violently injuring them and the individuals presented no danger to herself, Celine would argue that she was obligated to at least help them find a hotel room that was surreptitiously in areas where the poltergeist was highly unlikely to be able to follow to continue doing the harm until the matter was resolved. Park Minji had only escaped death by demon activity by luck. And depending on how the demons were operating - they might realize they didn't get all the people who were asking questions. Especially if Park-ssi was consistent with having opinions enough to call off work to help Ryu-ssi.

Who in turn had called the police, and was somehow being cut off. Ideally that was entirely supernatural in nature - because the situation became so much worse for everyone if the demons had infiltrated into the computer network of the Seoul Police to the point of eavesdropping on the dispatch channels. For some strange reason - it might be considered that these two women fall under the category of needing sanctuary. It's not like the two were bringing any trouble that wasn't heading their way anyways. Also on purely tactical grounds... Yes. Park Minji was very simple. They needed someone that could help with injuries/assess if they needed to be taken to a hospital because no one wanted a second hospital being burned by demons. Also she was a witness to the known demon hotspot (six demons roaming a specific building absolutely qualified) - and they absolutely needed to pick her brain for all the information she could give as to whether they were dealing with something grown quickly by Gwi-ma or something that already preexisted. Because how was the cult able to locate which hospital Mira was to kidnap her? A question for Park-ssi and her partner Ryu-ssi. And the journalist... well, they already knew that there was something blocking the police from finding out about Mira's brothers death. (Murder implied illegality - the man had been summoning Gwima - protection of self and others fully applied in Celine's opinion.) Someone who could help them trace the operations of the demons would be immensely beneficial. And - lastly on a personal level Celine wouldn't be upset at the two staying for a little bit. Now that she knew that the two were not threats to Rumi but two very frightened individuals who were grasping at smoke because something had gone very very wrong. It would be wonderful to have people her own age to talk to that knew about events. Celine wasn't entirely sure what had been some of the subtext going on in the conversation with Ryu-ssi but the woman had listened. And Celine wanted to see more of the rock steady personality of Minji. Celine didn't mind being distant from others homes and buildings in the area, people could be exhausting. But those two - they already had the feel of people who wouldn't drain her so quickly. Also because there were three young adults in the building, one of whom was centuries away from all she'd known, one had been raised in a cult, and the last having to sort out Americanisms and other aspects out. Knowing when you were over your head was a virtue.

And Celine was very much not overlooking the ability to point Rumi towards the lesbians in a presumably extremely stable relationship with the "I discovered a dead body" and current stressful situations not noticeably straining dynamic. (It even helped make the rooming situation easier if they stayed in the Hanok versus in town.) "As long as they're willing to help chip in on groceries." Celine answered.

“And you have how many open wounds right now?” Minji asks, before even processing the shaman’s reply.

She finds herself tilting her head to give a properly dirty look as it filters through her ears.

(It’s almost like another day at work, even if usually they’re begging college students to subside less on alcohol and energy drinks and more on foods that might actually help prevent vitamin deficiencies, not trying to keep them from killing themselves through blood loss, sepsis, or choking on their own vomit—no, actually, choking on their own vomit brings her back to alcohol.)

(Almost.)

Celine winces slightly, acknowledging the misstep, while Rumi flushes and stiffens.

“That is unimportant,” she says, which means she doesn’t know. While trying to plan some kind of… battle against the demons of Seoul.

Jesus. Minji is going to start screaming and never stop as soon as she slows down, isn’t she?

Then call her halmeoni and apologize for every time she ever thought her beliefs were silly.

“Try the other one,” Mira says.

Rumi, valiantly, tries again. “…I was not planning to leave until we had appropriate provisions, and the travel would take several days besides, so I would be largely healed by then?”

Minji points to her chair.

Rumi sits, and Zoey and Mira promptly engage her in conversation about travel times. Minji tunes out somewhere around, “The cars go how fast?”

It’s… difficult. She’s lost people before, she knows this feeling. The poking in the back of her head like when her father passed, every little thing reminding her.

And she’s been through mass casualty events before—car wrecks piled up, construction site collapses. She knows that feeling, too, like she’ll never get the blood off of her hands.

Both at once is hell.

Mingyu liked cars. Gyeonghui could cook like no one else. Seulgi ran every work event like the navy.

She has to force each sentence into the past tense. They don’t belong there. They’re not supposed to be. They’re supposed to be present, waiting, when she arrives back at work.

They won’t be.

How many open wounds does she have right now?

Minji couldn’t tell you.

Miyeong sits down and offers her a tired half-smile. Minji makes no attempt to return it.

“She’s nice, actually,” Miyeong says. “Celine.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Minji sighs.

Miyeong wraps an arm around her shoulder, pulls her close. She smells like motel body wash and flowers. Minji wishes she smelled like blood, but she lets her friend hold her up nonetheless.

She doesn’t know what else to do.

Truly, Rumi decides, this is an era of wonders.

"So we can leave at once!" Rumi sits up straighter, the dull throb from her injuries the only thing that keeps her from launching to her feet and marching out the door. "If it will just take a matter of hours to travel to Seoul, then there is no need for provisions! We will be back here to sup come evening!"

Modern travel was miraculous. And highly convenient!

"Okay, pendulum kinda swung too hard the other way." Zoey shakes her head, pinching the bridge of her nose. "We still need to, like, pack."

Rumi tilts her head confusedly. "...But you just said it is less than a day's journey. We can come back here just as fast. Packing should be unnecessary?"

Zoey makes a scrunched-up face, like she's trying to say 'yes' and 'no' at the same time. Mira is nursing along the last of her smoothie, not saying much; she had already admitted to not having much experience with travel ("evil cut family vacations aren't really a thing"), and Rumi suspects the- what was the word?- painkillers she took several hours past have worn off by now and her jaw is troubling her.

A horrible thought seizes her.

Did she ask a bad question?

"Here, perhaps this will help." Before she can apologize and take it back the honored shaman pushes off from the counter she's been leaning against and removes a folded piece of paper from the drawer (so much paper in this era...) and comes to the table.

Rumi's heart stutters as she watches her country unfurl amid the breakfast dishes. She knows...it has changed; what she learned during their car ride into town the day before (has it really only been a day?) still haunts the back of her mind like the scent of smoke that lingers long after a fire's been extinguished.

But here is Seoul, where Gyeongbok Palace stood shining and proud (was it still there?); here is the Han, a hooked blue line curving its way to the coast; here is Jeju, her home.

True, the colors are too bright, the paper too crisp, and...she is not sure of some of the city names or what some of the lines mean. But if she looks at it hard enough, focuses on the places and geographical features she does know, she can almost see herself back in her study, standing over a table with the children of the hanok crowded around as she gives a geography lesson.

She wondered what happened to them...if they were alright after Jinu-

The thought is leaden, and she forces herself from under it back to the present.

Mira is smirking at Celine. "You know only old people use these, right?"

Rumi blinks. They do? Wait...does that make her old? But Mira looks like it's funny so maybe it's a joke?

She is not sure she understands modern humor...

Celine is unruffled by the maybe-jab. "Being able to navigate via map is a useful survival skill. Unlike your phone, the mind does not run out of battery when you need it most."

"I have a solar charger!" Zoey pipes up, face un-scrunched.

Celine's eye twitches.

Ryu Miyeong pipes up. "Well, suppose the day is overcast. Maps are useful then!"

"Not that you know how to read one," Park Minji rouses herself enough to add, giving her friend a little nudge.

"...Okay, but! I can still appreciate their usefulness."

(Ryu Miyeong seems oddly determined to please the shaman, Rumi notes; likely just grateful for agreeing to open her home to them)

"Anyway." Before Zoey and Mira can reveal how their phones stay functional on cloudy days Celine's finger is tracing an imaginary line from Jeju to Seoul. "I know travel is faster now than it was, but the distance is still the same, as is our need for food and water. Plus it would be wise to bring medical supplies and a change of clothes or two if we end up staying somewhere overnight."

That makes sense. Rumi nods. The world has changed, but it also has not. Or perhaps it is people that have remained constant, beneath the technology and strange clothes and customs and jokes she does not understand.

A groan from Ryu Miyeong interrupts her musings before they can veer too hard into philosophy. "Shoot..." she turns to Park Minji. "We don't have a change of clothes!"

Park Minji gives her a flat look. "We are wearing yesterday's clothes which we slept in and you're just realizing this now?"

Ryu Miyeong stammers and colors as Celine looks at her and Rumi gets the sense that she is not the only one who's travel-planning skills are somewhat...lacking.

Thankfully, with their trip the day before, neither Miyeong-ssi nor Minji-ssi are stuck drowning in Celine’s clothing, as the girls had been.

Perhaps she ought to take to keeping a small supply of clothing about in more average sizes—while she regularly donates to winter clothing drives and the like, it is always good to be able to give to those in present need, rather than asking them to wait or giving indirect aid.

On the other hand, recent events might not recur.

Celine waits until she’s trailing behind Mira and Zoey before she makes a quick note in her phone to keep track of the idea. Happy as she is that they’re comfortable enough to tease her, they don’t need any more ammunition.

“Mira and I just got a few outfits, since we actually had clothes that we, y’know, might have the chance to get back to, but it’s definitely still enough to share,” Zoey promises, as if either Minji-ssi or Miyeong-ssi had hesitated for a moment at the promise of clean clothing. “Mira, what do you think, is she closer to my size or Rumi’s?”

As Mira and Zoey whisk Minji-ssi off in a whirlwind of fashion, Celine catches Rumi-nim leaning over towards Miyeong-ssi—and, well, the reporter had certainly proven much less aggressive than her first impression, but it would still probably be smart of Celine to keep an ear out.

She lets herself linger outside the doorway of the guest room, watching them down the hall from the corner of her eye.

“I do not mean to embarrass you,” Rumi-nim starts softly, “so, please, do not take this as an insult towards your intelligence—“

And Miyeong-ssi’s eyebrows are already climbing, in spite of the quiet earnestness of Rumi-nim’s tone.

“—but rather a statement of my own ignorance, as I have no knowledge of how widespread these ‘showers’ have become in replacement of the baths used in my time. Are you familiar with their use?”

Miyeong-ssi blinks, and some small part of Celine braces itself, protective, though of course Rumi-nim does not need her for that.

But Miyeong-ssi smiles, and there is not a hint of mockery or condescension. “I am, thank you.”

“There was some… disarray… after my first attempt,” Rumi-nim adds, her voice so low Celine had to strain to hear it. “If your knowledge is only theoretical…”

The humility and kindness with which she conducts herself makes Celine wish that she had understood half so much from the stories. After the awkwardness of teaching the great Rumi herself how to properly use a shower curtain, it echoes on like this: gently averting a problem before it could arise, even at cost of her own pride.

“Showers are very common,” Miyeong-ssi explains gently. “They have them in bathhouses now, even.”

It is, Celine thinks, a very good thing that Miyeong-ssi had not responded poorly. Minji-ssi’s taste is not altogether incomprehensible.

It's almost a shame she's committed to keeping this story off the record, Miyeong thinks as she heads towards the bathroom, arms laden with clothes generously provided by the 'violent hate-filled demon, Rumi of Jeju.'

She hates libel as a rule, but especially when it's aimed at someone like Rumi, such a kind-hearted and giving person (and yes, she would use 'person,' considering she was a better one than most of the ones Miyeong's met). The thought that someone could harbor such animosity towards her, enough to spread lies that all but buried the truth, made her want to hunt down every author of the niche dissertations and esoteric website and- do something.

But Minji's entire shift- so many of her friends- was gone because of actual demons and, like her friend, she didn't want anyone else to get hurt.

Kang Mira and Choi Zoey were safe, Rumi was far from a danger to the world, and there was a very nice mudang involved who seemed to be enjoying her company. That was enough. This would stay the best story she never wrote and she was fine with that. Still, she could fantasize about what she would do if, one day, she happened to find one of Rumi's detractors.

Punching someone in the nose would probably be a bad idea, considering she'd broken her hand when she tried out her ex's punching bag. But maybe she could still manage a roundhouse kick? Her teenage years weren't that long ago, right? And she'd almost gotten a blackbelt; that had to count for something...

"OOF!"

Musings on the merits of being an almost-blackbelt came to a screeching halt as Miyeong stumbled backward, rubbing her forehead where it'd knocked into the chin of the person she'd just walked into. Hard.

"Sorry about that," she groaned, blinking the stars from her eyes and gave a little self-deprecating chuckle. "Not really used to having to look out for-"

Celine was standing in front of her, a fresh pile of towels in her arms.

MIyeong was suddenly beset by stars of a different variety.

"-You."

Instantly, Miyeong wanted to kick herself. That was the lamest possible way to finish that sentence and, more importantly, not what she meant to say!

Why did she keep doing that she never did that she was always completely in control of her mouth why-

Celine lifted a brow, looking distinctly amused. "Well, since we just met this morning, I would expect not."

Miyeong blinked, brain crashing to a 404 error screen.

Was Celine...making a joke? About something she said? The hot hot gorgeous TALL shaman thought she was funny?!?

And she was smiling at her again.

Yes, she thought as she took the towels Celine offered her, she was very fine with how her investigation was playing out.

Minji wasn’t ashamed to admit that she sat down and cried in the shower.

The moment she was alone, herself and no one else, no one needing her to help them, it crashed over her, sending her to the ground.

It hurt.

She didn’t have better words than that. It hurt.

So she cried until the water ran cold, and then she cried some more.

She was a wreck when she finally turned the water off, from the tangled mess of her hair all the down to her slightly numb toes. But she didn’t have the energy to do anything about it.

Rumi’s stolen shirt was soft in the way that only brand new clothes had, easy to pull on, but the jeans she’d borrowed from Zoey had her nearly crying for no fucking reason.

Minji squeezed her sore eyes shut, jeans halfway around her thighs, and hiccuped at the sheer misery of it. All her friends were dead, and she had to put on pants?

Her head hurt and she was cold and all of her friends were dead and never, never coming back.

She fumbled at the jeans until she finally got them on, pausing against to wallow in the awfulness of having succeeded at that when nothing was supposed to be right, this petty little victory when there where demons lighting her fucking hospital on fire, and then breathed deep and slow until she trusted herself to open the door.

Rumi—strange, young-old, maybe-demon Rumi—found her first, expression soft with the kind of non-judgement Minji usually only saw in professionals. But that made sense, from the Joseon equivalent of a domestic violence advocate.

How pathetic, that she needed to be taken care of. This was her job.

(And everyone she worked with was—)

“I made tea,” Rumi said. “That is, green tea. If you would like some.”

“Thank you,” Minji said, wanting not at all to sit through a tea ceremony. She could hold it together. She could meet them where they were.

Rumi nodded. “It is on the back porch, if you would like. Or in the kitchen, with everyone else.”

Professional.

Minji laughed, the sound tired and broken. “Thank you. I—“

Words gave out. Pathetic.

“…I will take you to the back porch,” Rumi said gently. “I will stay until you are ready, or until you want me to leave.”

Fortunately (or perhaps unfortunately?) this is a familiar routine for Rumi. Taking Minji by the elbow, she shepherds her to the back porch, choosing a route that circumvents the kitchen; even though the eyes there would be full of concern- had been when Rumi left to check on Minji- they are doubtless not something Minji-ssi wishes to face just yet.

She'd already set the table on the porch, tea and cups and linens (or, well, paper linens) and a box of the strange tissues that were applied to tears with religious regularity in this century (also made of paper; was there no end to what it was used for now?). Minji sinks gratefully into the chair Rumi pulled out and watches numbly as she pours two steaming cups.

She mumbles a tired 'thank you' as she takes it and sighs her way through a long sip, watching the flowers bob in the breeze. Not talking, but that is fine. Kyung-ja hadn't either, when she first came to the hanok, shaken speechless in more ways than one by her- well, by the time she sat down for tea on the porch, former husband.

Not like Jung-soon, who'd found relief and comfort in letting her thoughts flow unrestrained from mind to tongue. She told good stories. Kyung-ja, too, once she recovered.

And both of their children had been so sweet and bright and full of laughter...she can almost- almost hear them now, beneath the breeze and chimes hanging from the roof, and part of her almost expects to see them come around the corner any second.

But they won't, the memory slams into her like a stick beating a rug, the calm that had settled over her shuddering off and into the air. They're gone.

There's a burning feeling in the back of her eyes. She knew that. She knew that. It's just...

It only felt like last week they were all sitting on this porch together, laughing over the ducklings the children had tried to sneak into the house.

But it wasn't.

Her hand clenches on the cup.

She knows, she knows, she knows, she-

She just saw them last week.

"You're a regular pro at this."

Rumi jolts back to the porch and the present. Minji is smiling wearily across the table. She nods politely. "Thank you. I...am not very experienced with the finer points of cooking, but have much practice with tea."

"I don't mean that." Minji glances at the cup. "But the tea is good." She tips her head, as if indicating the porch as a whole, the table, the two of them. "This. Helping people."

Rumi glances away, tucking a strand of hair behind an ear. She...never did get used to such compliments. "I very much enjoy it. It gives me purpose."

Minji nods, understanding. "You'd have made a good nurse." Then, before Rumi can respond to that (how does one respond to that?) Minji sighs and sits back. "Sorry if I'm kind of...out of it right now. Swear, I'm not usually this-"

"No!" Rumi reaches across the table to lay a hand atop one of Minji's. "It is alright. You have helped us a great deal today; it is an honor to return the kindness. And there is nothing wrong with accepting help from friends."

How many times had she sat on this porch, steam curling from cups of tea, and said those same words to another?

Minji sighs deeply. "Thanks. Again."

"If you want to talk," Rumi says, treading lightly. "If you think it will help, I can listen."

Minji doesn't say anything for a long moment, then leans back in her chair, face tipped towards the rafters and squeezes her eyes shut. "I can't believe they're all gone..." she whispers, the sentence hanging heavy in the air.

It wraps around the posts supporting the roof, twines through the rafters, and brushes away the wafting tendrils of steam, settling like mist around them.

Rumi squeezes her hand, hearing laughter and voices haunting the air.

She knows the feeling...

“Jaeho probably summoned the first wraiths to help get me out of the hospital,” Mira explains. “He was always insecure about mindf—about mind altering magic.”

Miyeong snorts at her self-censorship. Celine doesn’t react.

Mira wonders what it says about her that she feels more at nearly swearing in front of real adults than she does at talking like this about her recently dead brother. “The maximum that kind of spell can do is forty. I’d say Jaeho could probably get ten on a good day.”

(Not that their mother would have ever let him, of course. She never had the Kang taste for summonings, always wary of how they could go wrong, get out of control.

From her current perspective, Mira can’t help but agree.)

(She wonders what Jaeho sacrificed, where he did it. There weren’t any signs of a previous summoning in the living room when he brought her back, and he wouldn’t have wasted any time cleaning up after himself.)

“So we have a minimum of six enemies, and a maximum of ten?” Zoey asks, scribbling away. “How do we find them?”

She’s appointed herself their note-taker. So Rumi and Minji can catch up when they get back. It’s considerate of her.

“I can make talismans for that,” Celine says. “Hopefully, they’ll be clustered together. The scrolls all say that wraiths tend to stick to what’s familiar, though that might mean… Rumi-nim will be able to tell us for certain.”

Miyeong closes her eyes for a moment, leaning back from the table. Something about that idea—wraiths returning to the routines of their living counterparts—scares her. She doesn’t share, though.

“What about the banishment?” Mira asks. “Do you have cursed wine lying around?”

“I have shinkal,” Celine replies, which… makes sense for a mudang. Of course she would do things the right way, instead of feeding the wraiths hellwine.

(Mira’s only seen it a few times. It’s not pretty.)

“And,” Celine adds, after a moment, something like excitement flickering behind her eyes, “I have Rumi-nim’s sword.”

Minji shakes her head. The very idea makes her want to be ill. How could she remember so many people?

But—

Who else is left to remember but Rumi?

“Who was the first person you brought here?” she asks, impulsively.

Rumi casts her a startled look, but swallows it behind her practiced calm only a moment later. It’s an odd way she has, a noblewoman straight out of a period drama in her diction and bearing meeting a punk college kid with her hair and tattoos. She doesn’t quite fit.

Minji doesn’t clarify her question—the point isn’t to get an answer, it’s to get Rumi to answer. A more specific question that might feel more possible to cope with than the one she’d offered Minji, sneaking the emotional processing in underneath.

“I was fifteen,” Rumi says, at last. “Chaeyoung was my maid. My father wanted me to have someone close to my age to interact with. She—I grew worried.

“She is—she was—I have never known anyone braver or more loyal. Nor anyone else willing to put the lady of the house to work on the linens, regardless of whether I asked.

I wouldn’t… I don’t know how to exist without her.”

It’s more an image painted in silences than in words, but Minji grasps enough. She nods, offers out her hand across the gap between them.

Rumi takes it. “I am sorry, I was meant—I intended to allow you to speak freely, not to make such a moment about myself.”

“That would be me,” Minji corrects. “Mostly because I’m so lost that knowing anyone is down here with me is enough kindness.”

Rumi laughs. “You deserve far more, Minji-ssi.”

“It helps to know I’m not alone in being without them,” Minji points out. “Besides, it’s important that your family be remembered.”

Rumi stares at her a long while and, paradoxically, her face looks far younger as it softens under their weight of grief—less some immortal memory and far more just another young woman.

“Then I will endeavor not to be alone with you,” she says, and Minji’s tired heart breaks a little more.

“Same, kid,” she says, and she squeezes Rumi’s hand.

"YOU HAVE A SWORD?!?"

Zoey's shout from the kitchen catches on Rumi's ear and pulls her attention towards the door, setting aside for the moment her thoughts about last week the distant past.

She had left Zoey and Mira and the honorable shaman and Miyeong-ssi discussing plans for returning to Seoul and addressing the wraiths Jaeho had left behind. Weaponry was to be an expected part of the conversation and not something that merited eavesdropping (never mind Zoey's volume demanded effort to not overhear). But...hearing mention of a sword...in the house that used to be her own...

It caused something in her, a small hopeful something, to stir.

Was it possible...?

Part of her wanted to leap up and run to the kitchen, ask if the sword in question was what she dared not hope, but she remained seated, hand tight in Minji-ssi's; she was hostess, Minji-ssi her guest, and more importantly she'd promised to stay.

But...perhaps she was out of practice at masking her desires, because Minji-ssi glances towards the kitchen, then at Rumi. "How about we see what all that's about?" She asks, tipping her head towards the kitchen as she stands. "Not sure how much I trust Miyeong's judgment if swords are involved..."

She'll have to work on that, Rumi thinks to herself even as she nods and accompanies Minji-ssi inside. Lest she let on just how much she wants and show everyone what a selfish, horrible creature she is.

Zoey is sinking back into her chair as they enter, visibly abashed by her exuberant outburst, but the honorable shaman is nodding pleasantly, clearly unbothered by what Zoey seems to think is a grave transgression. "Well, technically it's Rumi-nim's sword; I've just been safekeeping it. But-"

"It's here?" The words fly from Rumi's mouth before she can stop them, and now all four heads at the table are turned towards the doorway. Rumi knew she should bow and apologize for bursting in like that but…

Celine-ssi had her sword.

Far from being irked at Rumi's lamentable lack of manners, Celine-ssi actually looks pleased. Glows, like-

Like her father did the day he presented it to her.

"It's in my office. Would you like to see?"

Rumi's nodding before she even finishes.

Because the women and children of the hanok were lost to her, but she could at least reclaim some small part of her old life.

And while she did not doubt the honorable shaman's veracity, it wouldn't be true, it wouldn't be real, until the sword- her sword- was resting in her hands.

The tea is left to grow cold while Celine leads a small procession to her office, Zoey bouncing along since "there's no way I'm missing this!" and Mira keeping pace with a more sedate but no less eager enthusiasm. Miyeong-ssi and Minji-ssi bring up the rear.

Part of Rumi feels disgusting and selfish for doing this, causing them to break up their planning session to indulge her, but then-

Then they're in the room Rumi noticed her first night in the hanok, the one with the desk and strange large rectangle of black glass that looked like Mira's phone but larger.

Then Celine-ssi goes to a section of wood paneled wall and tugs, revealing a sort of closet.

Then Zoey whistles, eyes running over the contents before fixing on a set of golden-tasseled shin kal, and Mira's hand grips her wrist before she can reach out and touch.

Then Celine-ssi pulls down a long, flat box of polished wood, a tiger with sinewy muscles rolling beneath its coat leaping proudly across the lid, and holds it out to Rumi with a bow. "It is my honor, Rumi-nim, to return what is rightfully yours."

A dangerous concept for a demon, 'rightfully yours;' it signifies owning and wanting, satisfying all those most wicked impulses. But just this once she lets the thought go uncorrected.

Heart is fluttering in her fingertips as she reaches out with trembling hand to undo the latch.

serpentbeardwrites

Mira watches as Rumi undoes the latch on the ornate box. The eagerness, the want etched into her frame gives way to something much softer as she pulls out her sword.

Zoey is vibrating so much that she might as well be still. Mira isn’t sure that Celine is breathing. Rumi’s sword is so different from the gaudy ceremonial daggers and gem studded ritual knives her family favours favoured—and clearly, it has been lovingly cared for. The pommel’s gold inlay shines under the office light. Painted constellations and warding charms cover the freshly lacquered sheath.

It radiates a quiet, regal authority. It reminds Mira of Rumi herself.

Rumi runs a hand along the engraved crossguard. Then she traces her fingers across the sheath. Equal parts pain and wonder flicker across her face.

She blinks, turns to Celine, and bows low. “Thank you, Mudang-nim. You have taken such wonderful care.”

Celine finally seems to exhale. “As I said, it is my honour.”

“ARE YOU GOING TO DRAW IT?!” Mira jumps at the explosion of sound. Zoey, mortified, slaps her free hand over her mouth. Mira squeezes her hand in reassurance. Rumi smiles at them—sword in hand, she looks hot lighter than she has since Mira met her. Rumi’s fingers twitch along her sword’s leather grip and she swallows, hesitant, and flicks her gaze between them.

Mira nods in encouragement. Sue her, she wants to see the cool sword as much as Zoey.

She nudges Zoey and jerks her head at Rumi’s sword. “Well? Don’t keep us waiting!”

Rumi smiles again, still careful but… hopefully buoyed by them and not pressured, before looking to Celine.

“Please.” Celine gestures.

Rumi leads them all out into the yard in front of the tree. There is a newfound confidence to Rumi that was not there before, like she has reclaimed a missing piece of herself. Mira tramps down on the butterflies in her stomach.

Rumi turns to Celine, “Mudang-nim, will you sing for me?”

Celine wipes the surprise off her face and nods resolutely.

With a whisper of sanctified steel, Rumi unsheathes her sword. The Saingeom sings with power as Rumi begins to move to the rhythm of Celine’s voice.

Miyeong doesn’t really know shit about swords, but she can tell that Rumi is skilled, dancing through the courtyard in a whirl of gleaming metal, keeping time with Celine’s voice.

(Mira and Zoey certainly look impressed, if maybe a little more with Rumi’s physique than her technique.)

She does know singing—she’d spent years as a trainee, even if it hadn’t gone anywhere in the end—and Celine’s voice is a gorgeous, perfectly clear soprano, carrying the lyrics of the old song straight into their chests.

It’s one that Miyeong expects Rumi would be familiar with, or at least wouldn’t struggle with, knowing the story—that of the bear-woman Ungnyeo, and how she outlasted the tiger to become human—a rather thoughtful choice on Celine’s part.

Or maybe just one of the usual from her repertoire. But Celine seems like the thoughtful kind.

Either way, she’s got more important things to do right now.

Minji is leaning up against her. She looks… ragged. In a way that Miyeong has never seen her before, not even on their worst days.

But this is a new kind of worst day. One where they don’t walk out and going home alone, see each other again the next time Miyeong happens to have a reason to bug someone over in Records or try to convince some idiot fresh out of their residency to actually give her a comment instead of pointing her to the hospital’s public faces.

Miyeong isn’t used to touching her, to being close to her without a desk between them. She isn’t sure if she’s supposed to hold her hand or put her arm around her shoulder or what—she just knows she can’t fuck this up.

“Are you alright?” would be a stupid question.

Instead, somehow, she ends up murmuring, “Do you want to buy a hairbrush?”

Minji startles, and looks at her askance.

Miyeong barrels on, the way she always does. “Your curls need… something, right? Something Celine probably doesn’t have? And I just—I go insane when I forget to eat and let my hair go to shit because everything else gets too much. They’re going to feed us, so I can’t help with that, but I can buy hair stuff when we go through that town again.”

Minji stares at her for a moment, silent, still, just long enough Miyeong almost thinks she’s fucked up entirely before she says, “Thank you.”

And leans over again to press her forehead on Miyeong’s shoulder.

So maybe they’ll be okay.

It's not until Rumi finishes and sheaths her sword that Zoey realizes she's stopped breathing.

Not that she didn't know Rumi was fit; hell, she carried her and Mira down a mountain without breaking a sweat. It's just...watching her go through sword forms, with so much confidence, was a completely different experience.

"Hot..." she mumbles as soon as she gets some breath back. The second the word's out of her mouth she stiffens, teeth clacking as she clamps her jaw shut. Warily, she glances around; hopefully no one heard that...

Oh.

Mira's looking at her from the corner of her eye, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

Oh no.

Screwing her eyes shut, Zoey clenches the hem of her shirt so she doesn't start facepalming herself into next week.

Stupid stupid stupid-

"Was that not to your liking?"

Zoey's eyes snap open to Rumi, standing a foot or so away. The earlier confidence seems to have been sheathed with the sword; there's a worried crease in her brow, and her canines are peeking out as she gnaws her lip.

"Oh, it was." Mira answers languidly before Zoey can so much as open her mouth. Arms folded, she shifts her weight on a hip and throws the biggest shit-eating grin in Zoey's direction. "She just thinks its hot."

Good thing there's an actual nurse here; Zoey's gonna need one if her heart keeps crashing out like that.

Rumi...doesn't really react, though. Just frowns, shades her eyes, and looks up at the sky. "Yes," she says after a moment, not a hint of irony or mockery in her tone. "It is quite the warm day."

If she wasn't currently about to die of embarrassment, Zoey would be fighting to keep a straight face. Apparently, not-so-ancient not-quite-human heroes take things literally.

Plus side: at least this was a relatively harmless way to discover that than, say, turning her loose on Celine's record collection and offhandedly telling her to 'knock herself out.'

Not counting, of course, the damage dealt to her dignity.

"Perhaps you would feel better if we returned inside?" Rumi offers, smiling brilliantly.

(yup, really good thing they have that nurse)

Zoey's one-hundred percent certain she would not, but nods and trails after her towards the hanok all the same. She can feel the adult-adults sharing looks over her head and, worse, Mira's little triumphant smirk.

Well, at least one of us is enjoying this...

***

Mira is not enjoying this.

Sure, there was something amusing in the way Zoey was sticking her tongue out at her behind Rumi's back, and yeah, the smirk- the one she used to pull out on the rare occasions she had something to lord over Jaeho- feels good to dust off.

But she swears the second she's alone she's going to scream into a pillow (which will probably make her jaw hate her even more but whatever).

She saw the way Zoey watched Rumi go through her forms; she saw the way Rumi's face lit up at the prospect of doing anything for Zoey, even something as basic as moving everyone inside out of the not-really-hot-day; she saw how...right they were for each other. How much they wanted each other.

The way her own chest had warmed as she watched Rumi slide into her element and become a brighter version of herself with that sword, looking the way Mira felt when she danced, didn't matter.

Just like the way she had felt inside listening to Zoey infodump about the twenty-first century to Rumi didn't matter.

They...weren't for her. Not in that way.

So the least she could do was nudge them towards each other and be happy watching their happiness-

"Yeah, no, you were great!" Zoey's gotten over her mortification enough to start complimenting Rumi with her usual bubbly effusiveness (damn Mira could listen to that voice all day). "You are totally gonna kick some ass!"

Rumi stops, one foot on the porch step. "...But I have my sword. We will not need to kick anything?"

Mira pauses as Zoey starts laughing and Rumi stares at her incredibly (adorably) confused, chest aching anew at the scene.

Yes, she could be happy for them, no matter how much she wanted to be in that picture too.

Miyeong and Minji-ssi at least wait until Rumi-nim, Mira, and Zoey are inside before they start laughing.

Celine feels a smile tugging on her own lips as she watches them. It has been a long, long time since the hanok was this alive.

…But she should not think of such things. Not now.

“They’re cute,” Miyeong says. And she is looking at Celine. For some reason. Like she is inviting her into the conversation.

So Celine nods. “Yes. Would you—like to come in with me? Once they’ve calmed down, it will probably be just about lunch time, and we ought to finish planning. Though you are, of course, welcome to the garden… if it’s not too hot out for you.”

They start to laugh again. It is good to see, from Minji-ssi especially, who has cried enough to leave her eyes red and swollen even still. Celine knows she won’t be don’t grieving anytime soon, but… it’s good.

She doesn’t press them to follow her as she slips inside, certain that the couple needs their space.

Her fingers tingle as she lets herself take a proper breath, to go back and settle: she had just sung for Rumi.

She had just watched the great Rumi herself take up the sword that Celine had polished since she was an angry girl who didn’t understand why she had to do such a stupid chore and dance with it.

The feeling rattles her down to the bone.

She wants to beg for Rumi-nim’s aid, but the woman is just down the hall, ready to entirely earnestly offer it, and overwhelm Celine all over again in the process.

Rumi-nim, she still finds herself thinking, the wordless plea automatic after so long.

Celine shakes her head at herself and runs her hands through her hair, taking a deep breath.

She has no reason to act this way, and all of her companions are struggling beneath the weight of recent traumas—she must remain composed for their sake, if nothing else.

Perfectly timed, the door slides open again, Miyeong blinking in surprise.

“Oh,” Minji-ssi adds, seeing over her shoulder. “Celine-ssi, I’d thought you would have been in the kitchen by now. I hope we didn’t make you wait.”

“No,” Celine says, calm and even, “not at all.”

#ficlet #blood cult au #kpop demon hunters

Minji honestly cannot believe it isn't even noon yet.

She's dead on her feet in a way that even the most unforgiving double shift couldn't match and the gray dawn hours when her and Miyeong pulled out of the hotel parking lot back when her friends were alive seems days- not hours- behind them. But when Celine offers her and Miyeong a guest room, saying "they've had a long day" and "it's only going to get longer" she's the one shaking her head.

Is she exhausted? Yes. Does she want to be alone with her thoughts right now? Hell no.

Not that Miyeong seems inclined to leave her alone, she's...surprisingly steadfast, for someone a rung above an ambulance chaser; but the quiet of a bedroom, with no distractions for her mind to grab onto like a life raft, is a battlefield she does not want to face right now.

"We can help you with lunch?" Miyeong offers, flashing a hopeful little smile at Celine. "I am a great cook."

Minji, exhausted though she is, snorts. "Yeah, you should see her fridge."

Celine arches a brow at Minji, then at Miyeong, face vacillating between irked and absolutely mortified. "Really?"

"Well..." Miyeong fiddles with the end of her braid. "I'm a great cook if someone gives me very specific directions and doesn't let me anywhere near an open flame?"

Celine blinks, then huffs a breath that sounds suspiciously like a chuckle. "That works for me."

it's brief, but before Celine turns away Minji swears she caught a smile.

Soon they're in the kitchen, Miyeong very specifically overseeing the rice cooker while Minji minces her way through some vegetables.

"So," Miyeong asks once they're all situated with their respective tasks. "Long day coming up. Guessing you don't just mean travel time?"

Celine turns down the burner she's keeping Miyeong a more-than-safe distance from and hums. "Wraiths cannot summon Gwi-Ma on their own; their desires are only echoes from their own lives and he needs more substance than that. But what they can do is influence.

"Perhaps a maximum of ten is on the low end for conjuring, but it's still nearly a dozen agents of Gwi-Ma roaming Seoul, looking for victims. And considering...recent events," she paused to glance at Minji; Minji was very glad she was working through an onion at the moment, "they will likely find fertile ground for the sort of bargaining he favors."

Minji slowly works through the last of the vegetables, paring and sorting her thoughts along with the produce. She's no stranger to grief; the sounds of agonized tears and stoic silences, the way faces crumpled like a building robbed of its foundation or turned so still it was as if a second death had occurred before her eyes, were part of working the ER.

And...she's no stranger to what it could lead people to do. To have (she still couldn't believe she was saying this) wraiths helping along those dark thoughts, using people's suffering to manipulate them for some demon king's purposes (she really needed to apologize to her halmeoni)...

She looked over at Miyeong, drumming her fingers on the counter. Things had been...bad, with her after her boyfriend vanished. Minji had honestly been scared for her.

How worse would it have been, though, if a demon had her ear? Would- would she still be here now? Or would-

"I think that's chopped enough." Minji starts as Celine appears at her elbow, indicating the now miniscule bits of scallions.

Whoops.

But Celine doesn't seem to mind- actually, she looks like she's enjoying their company, just thanks her. Feeling her legs on the cusp of calling it quits Minji takes a seat at the table. Propping her hand on her chin she watches Celine and Miyeong. The conversation has been diverted from the coming supernatural sojourn, diverted instead to the more immediate threat of Miyeong jeopardizing lunch.

"It'll take longer if you keep doing that," Celine says as Miyeong takes the lid off the rice cooker for the sixth time, letting all the steam out. "A watched pot never boils."

"That's technically impossible," Miyeong counters, setting the lid back on. "Water has to reach 100 degrees eventually."

"Not if you keep staring at it."

Miyeong turned and cocked a hand on her hip. "And you know this how?"

"Mudang training."

Miyeong stands frozen by the rice cooker, completely at a loss for words as she tries to figure out if Celine is being serious.

That's a first, Minji thinks. Eyes sliding shut she lets herself slip into a doze, rest coming easier with the purposeful bustle of a kitchen around her, crowding out the worst of her thoughts.

The wraiths lingered, though.

Hopefully they wouldn't do too much damage before they could get there.

She didn't want more people to get hurt.

***

Brisk, purposeful, focused as an arrow toward a target, footfalls pattered like raindrops against the sidewalks of Seoul. They were steps with stocks to trade, lectures to give, children to hurry from school to home to idol training and back; steps striding relentlessly through a life with little room for pause.

Even less for the man on the bench.

None noticed the face made for smiling and spreading cheer turned crestfallen; none hesitated at the phone trembling in his hands.

None stopped to ask or listen or condole over the young music manager Ji-Hoon, who had stopped at the hospital before work to follow up about a trio of random girls he and the man on the bench had encountered while camping, simply because the latter had been so worried about them.

None, except a young man in scrubs, looking suspiciously like a nurse Bobby thinks he remembers seeing around the hospital wing that just went up in flames.

"Hard day?" He asked, voice like the low crackle of a fireplace, warm and strangely hypnotic.

"You don't know the half of it," Bobby sighd, tightening his grip on his phone showing the last message Ji-Hoon would send anybody.

"Here," the young man sat next to Bobby, eyes glinting gold in the morning light. "I might be able to help..."

•18+ Adults Only

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leveragecentral

every leverage dynamic ⮎ alec hardison & eliot spencer & parker

you scared? you're damn right. i'm not. i got the best thief and the smartest guy i know chasing this guy.

#ot3: we change together #them ALWAYS #leverage #queue it up

jimalim

Zoey asks the girls "do you love me?" at least once a week. It started as a genuine insecurity lingering from the aftermath of the Idol Awards. Her needing the reassurance that despite the many many hours they've spent talking and crying and talking and crying some more, what they say is true and that they really have mended all fences Gwi-Ma left in his wake.

However, the further they move past the trauma and the longer things are back to normal, this question isn't posed because she needs validation but rather because she likes the attention. It's silly and playful, and deeply yearning.

When asked, Rumi will practically melt before pulling Zoey in for the world's tightest hug "of course I love you!" she'll sing song, her head resting atop Zoey's. Mira on the other hand will physically push Zoey away playfully "shut up, you know I do." When Zoey pouts saying she needs to hear Mira say it, Mira will kiss her cheek and mumble a short "I love you" avoiding all possible eye contact and attempting (and failing) to hide her blush in the process.

Eventually one day Zoey asks the question again, but it's different this time. It's earnest again, like it was back in the beginning when it was proposed with uncertainty. The tone is sincerely questioning rather than boastful blustering. Rumi and Mira are immediately worried that something is wrong. But Zoey refutes, taking their hands in hers and looking them directly in the eyes. She repeats the question slower this time, emphasizing love jsut a touch more than usual.

Mira gets it first, her eyes linger on their entwined fingers. There's no denying it, no playful push. This time Mira cups Zoey's cheek, smiles shyly, and pulls her in for a kiss. "I love you." Rumi finally catches up and melts like she usually does. She squeezes Zoey's hand tight and pulls her in closer so she can rest her forehead against Zoey's. She answers like she always does, just in a whisper this time, "of course I love you" before kissing her as well.

Zoey still asks the question once a week. And the girls both give her the love and validation she seeks and then some, except now they ask her back. And every time Zoey says "more than anything" before kissing them again.

#cute cute cute #polytrix #kpop demon hunters #Zoey #ficlet

mockva

#video #for future reference #knots

sylairaa-commsopen

I have a really bad migraine but I needed this out of my system omfg she loves her daughter guys!!

#kpop demon hunters #Celine #Rumi #fanart

kesyrotta

What will you paint?

#gorgeous #clair obscur: expedition 33 #clair obscur spoilers #Maelle #alicia dessendre #Gustave #verso dessendre #fanart

•18+ Adults Only

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buffycaps

Rest in peace to the incredible Anthony Stewart Head (20th February 1954 - 1st June 2026)

RUPERT GILES in BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER (1997-2003)

#anthony stewart head #btvs #rupert giles

venndaai

have you guys heard about the greenland shark. some crazy shit happening there.

venndaai

they are sexually mature at ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY YEARS OLD.

their (live!) young gestate for. wait for it. eight to eighteen (??) YEARS. can have up to 10 at a time. good grief.

longest lifespan of any vertebrate, up to five hundred years

toxic flesh

has giant eyes but is usually blind because of a weird little crustacean that's evolved to live on and eat their eyes. this doesn't seem to bother them much.

lives in deep cold water and has the lowest swim speed and tail-beat frequency for its size across all fish species. just generally lives life in extreme slow motion

largest genome of any shark

eats everything including moose and polar bears

ma'am you are delightfully strange and I'm privileged to share a planet with you

fluorescentbrains

this post prompted me to refresh my memory on Greenland Shark Facts and this detail about how they feed goes so hard

just vacuuming up their unsuspecting prey. whole !

muffinlance

Good news good news good news! Recent research suggests the eye parasites do NOT blind them!

Dorota Skowronska-Krawczyk sits in her office, eyes fixed on the computer monitor in front of her. "You see it move its eye," says the UC Ir

I <3 you a normal amount Greenland sharks

#fascinating #sharks #nature #ocean

trixdraws

🗡️👑✨🌈

nitpickspot

Catra is a princess because of the princess carry. it's a technical definition but it checks out/s

#it checks out #catradora #she ra #fanart #queue it up