test of time

umbaeran​:

(...)

“ don’t need it.”  her answer was pettily childish and clipped, short legs swinging off the edge of the ledge as she gave a loud sniff. “and i’m not crying.” her bottom lip jutted out almost immediately, dark hair twisted into plaits messily fraying from the countless climbing and running that she had been doing, much to the chagrin of the others. “i’m almost fifteen. that’s like halfway to being an adult already.” she muttered. “you don’t have to pat my head like i’m that little kid you brought back anyway.” her ears flamed at the thought, red slowly creeping down her neck as she twisted her face away from yoonjae quickly.

Teenagers were notoriously difficult to please, and this one was a greater challenge than the rest.

Yoonjae, as a young adult of twenty-five, did not actually have the patience of a saint as some had jokingly claimed. Guilt had simply taken its toll and whenever he was around Aeran, it was as if a sheet of heavy mist draped over him, easily quelling any flares of frustration or annoyance. The mist felt cold, too, clinging to the fabric of his clothing like the blood of the not-so-innocent family that he had torn apart that day. Each time he saw Aeran he was reminded of what he had done, and though he constantly told himself that he was not regretful of his actions, he still felt very sorry for her pain. 

“Did the exams not go well?” A lot of young people here feared the battlefield, but not this one. Aeran seemed very eager to get ahead of her peers and her efforts did not go unnoticed by the instructors. One mentioned to Yoonjae just the other day that soon she would be ready to join the war, and they were thinking about starting her off with a more difficult monster, just to see how far she could push herself. He was against the idea completely, but in the end, he was just a soldier with minimal influence.

Touching his thumb to the girl’s messy left braid, Yoonjae attempted to smooth down this one particularly stubborn escapee strand. Much like its owner, however, the strand was determined to show that it cannot be tamed. “Come and sit here.” He pointed to a spot with better lighting. “Let’s redo your braids.” A cheap-looking plastic comb was swiftly tugged out from one of his many jacket pockets - he was one of those people who liked carrying around random objects just in case they’d ever be of use. “Do you want to use these red elastics?” Yes, he had some. Aeran was in a foul mood last time they spoke, so he asked one of his lady friends what sort of gift offering might cheer up this kid. These red elastics weren’t exactly fancy, but they were thicker and stronger than her current plain black ones.

A moth fluttered, its papery wings determined against the strong evening wind.

It was a life, full of endless possibilities.

The moth dipped, and into the fire it spiralled. Drawn to the light and the warmth, the hope and the promise. Its patterned wings caught the flame, and fluttered several times more before they ashed.

Death. How devastatingly final.

There was a tiny voice whispering in his head, repeating the same terrible sentence that he wanted not to believe in. You will not survive, it said. You will both die here.

Blood reeked and corpses piled. Monsters fed in a frenzy, delight evident through the grotesque noises of pleasure they made. And to think, just minutes ago, these monster had been children just like him, playing hide-and-seek in the courtyard under the watchful eyes of their caregivers.

Yoonjae felt the strong desire to turn around and face the corner, retch to his heart’s desire and then squeeze his eyes shut. Pretend this wasn’t happening, tell himself that it was all a nightmare, soon to be ended by dawn.

Dawn was indeed coming, but the reality was already here. Deep down, he was painfully aware of this.

You are going to die. The little voice persisted.

And that was the likely outcome, wasn’t it?

Why would he be different than the others? If the adults couldn’t run from the monsters or fight them off, then why should he, a scrawny little orphan kid who couldn’t even protect his own meals, dare to hope for anything different? Maybe he should just accept death and start on a prayer for the purity of his soul.

Yet there was a part of him that wasn’t satisfied with that. Life was difficult when his parents died. The car crash that took them both left him alive, and made him face a bunch of decisions that a kid wasn’t really meant to handle. Did he live through all that suffering...all that loneliness, just to die between the teeth of these things?

He swallowed back the bile that rose up in his throat and ran, clutching onto the hand of his last standing companion. No. He was not and must not be satisfied with dying.

They were going to hide.

Under the staircase they stayed for a while, and when they were discovered by a monster, Yoonjae tried his best to not scream.

They were going to run.

Up the stairs they went. He gripped Yizhen ( @yizhenumb )’s hand so hard that it must be hurting her, but he was too scared to be gentle. They couldn’t afford to get separated - couldn’t afford to trip. If these hands were ripped apart then they might never find each other again.

Yoonjae couldn’t breathing, his lungs felt like they were on fire. The monster was behind them, its three eyes multiplying into six, each a different colour. One of them seemed eerily familiar, though Yoonjae wished not to focus on those details.

The two of them were in the orphanage owner’s room, the one with the strongest doors in this building. It took the monster only one swing with its fleshy fist to create a massive hole in the middle of the door, and another to rip it completely out of its wooden frame.

Now they must fight back.

Yoonjae stumbled back, eyes frantically searching.

The monster lunged forward - time was running out. That decorative sword hanging on the wall to their right would have been a good weapon, but it was too far away. Only if Yoonjae could reach.

He raised his hand and something strange happened. The sword that he had his eyes on flew towards him as if it heard his desire. It landed, hilt atop his open palm, bloodied by the monster that it stabbed through in order to get to Yoonjae. The thing collapsed, black blood oozing from the hole the sword made through its neck. “I don’t think it is dead,” Yoonjae whispered, wrapping his fingers slowly around the hilt of the sword and turning the blade towards the still wiggling enemy.

anyway, hello, it is me again with yoonjae, your dad. he had good parents, but when they died of a car accident, he ended up in an orphanage. due to being a pushover, he often had his food stolen and was therefore skinny & short. he had a friend/protect (yizhen) there, though, and that made his life at least a little easier.

the entity passed through the orphanage and most of the kids turned. with the adults slaughtered and monsters on a rampage, yoonjae managed to use his newly discovered power to survive with his friend until the umbrella arrived. he’s pretty grateful for the organization, because he would have died if the soldiers did not arrive in time. umbrella fed and clothed him better than the orphanage, so he decided to be loyal.

at first he was eager to fight, but soon realized the battlefield can be extremely brutal. for the past 20+ years he struggled, learned and eventually became the person he is today. now he’s a confident fighter and a patient instructor. he likes to teach young people on the field because that’s where you gain the most experience. he’s fond of people who are diligent, resilient and kind-hearted.

when he’s not on missions, he likes to chill around his penthouse in dad sweater vest and comfy slippers with a mug of tea. ah yes, that’s the life.

please contact me if you would like to plot with him. i have some plot ideas under the cut!