𝐍𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐀

i am the shape you made me.

[4ntemortem]

SEASON ONE: INTO THE HOLLOWS (THE LAMB) —

INTRO / PROFILE / BIOGRAPHY / MOOD BOARD / ANTHOLOGY

[beforeyouijustforget]

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[4ntemortem]

IN COLD BLOOD

Jiyeon considers that she may be cursed. Perhaps that explains her bad luck, the general nowhere direction of her life. It's easier this way, too, to blame her nothing life on something so nebulous so intangible as luck. Some people have it and others don't; evidently she is a have-not. She's not ambitious either, fear strikes her at the thought of trying hard at anything only to not succeed. But that couldn't possibly be her fault. Jiyeon chews on her bottom lip until it's split and raw. They don't say it, but Jiyeon suspects that her immediate family consider her something of a failure too.

Mom pities her, because mothers will always pity their pathetic children; Jiyeon imagines that mom clasps her hands together in the dark and silently begs God to do something, anything with her. Her father and brother are men and therefore consider all women failures for the simple fact that it is innate to them, God-given. Their pathetic-ness is what makes them women. Jiyeon secretly worries what might happen to her when mom dies. Maybe they'll let her live the rest of her life parallel to them, ignored in this big house like the mice in the basement.

She turns the wooden figurine in her hand. It's ugly and crude, as if an amateur had taken a dull knife to a block of wood and hacked at it until it resembled the monstrous thing in her dreams. Jiyeon suspects someone may be watching her. She also suspects she should be more upset about this possibility, more indignant and offended. Would it be so terrible to appreciate that someone may find her worth watching at all? Jiyeon stares out windows after dark, steals glances over her shoulder, all for the slim possibility that she might find someone looking back.

Jiyeon doesn't carry the figurine with her, she has no real attachment to it. She leaves it on her bedside table and lets it watch her as she sleeps.

[4ntemortem]

DOWN THE LINE — @fatedandbound

Jiyeon is no stranger to suffering, most of it self-inflicted. Not out of some wayward sense of piety, she had long ago come around to the fact that she was not a God-fearing woman. More-so out of familiarity, better the devil you know than the one you don't. Jiyeon can admit, not openly, that it brings her comfort. She knows she will lead a life of disappointment and the certainty is enough for her.

That is why she stays (stayed) in Onyang, not like the flock that fled as soon as they were able to. Baek Jinri is one such character, gone before she had even reached the cusp of adulthood and back as if by the blink of an eye. Her hair is longer, her face more mature; she carries with her the air of a sophisticated metropolitan.

Jiyeon can't really begin to imagine what life in a big city is like, she's ignorant that way. Maybe it's cold and gray, a perpetual blur of faces passing one by. What would make Jinri want to leave all that behind? Jiyeon desperately wishes she could just come out and ask. The girls are essentially strangers now, whatever semblance of a relationship they had eroded by the passage of time. Maybe it's better that way. Teenage girls could be so foul.

She sits at the diner's counter, quiet and waiting to be noticed. It's not a very busy time, something like a humid mid-morning with most of the working population, well, at work. Jiyeon watches Jinri work, meticulously moving from one task to another before that focused attention finally falls on her. "Hi." Jiyeon hates how reedy her voice. How have you been? Everything ok? Why did you come back? "Can I get a cup of coffee?"

[4ntemortem]

KNOW ABOUT ME — @willowhour

to yurim, the laundromat serves as a bubble. not quite ecstatic to be here, but something of the sort. closer to relief more than anything. yurim has never thought herself to be one who celebrates normalcy, but given how she’s thrashed her soil-sodden socks into the wash with a wince, she could do with more routine and less impulse. it’s cooler than outside, and jiyeon’s voice grounds her in that strange way small talk does in a small town. it swallows the whining of the cicadas and dulls the phantom scratching that’s etched itself into a corner of her mind. “mhm,” a vague noise of agreement. her fingers drag slow over the sheets, eyes fixed on its corners. it’s easier to pretend its misalignment is what’s got her so distracted, unable to even look up at jiyeon as she speaks. “still sucks, though. summer is out for blood this year,” she groans, deciding to finally anchor herself in this moment. “could barely sleep last night. it’s too hot.” (a white lie. she won’t let herself sleep). she presses down on a crease, even if it’s not apparent enough to need this much care. yurim figures she can learn to appreciate the smaller things: this simple back-and-forth across neat stacks of fabric, if only to avoid looking too closely at the bigger picture. she sets the folded sheet on top of another and finally glances up at jiyeon. her eyes scan her features, searching for a hair out of place, maybe an eyelash just an inch off from the other—a difficult feat with han jiyeon, composed as ever. so yurim holds her gaze instead, gauging the other girl with every fold, wondering if she saw it too. “no problem,” she grins, tone lighthearted. “it’s my grandmother’s secret weapon. so she says.” she fishes for something out of the basket, not entirely sure what it is. just connects the corners and folds. yurim’s lips quirk lopsidedly, “if you’re really thankful, you could trade me your own secrets. or anyone else’s, really,” it’s mostly a joke and partly a way to quench her curiosity. “i’m not picky.”

Secrets? In some juvenile way, Jiyeon wishes her life had been tumultuous enough to warrant the need to keep secrets. She's an open book, comically so. Life consisted of walking to school, walking home, homework strewn across her dinner table, and an early curfew. Sure, she walks other places now; traded early education for the everyday adult life. She's not an interesting person. A canine digs into her bottom lip, lost in thought. Maybe she should make something up.

"Well—I," Jiyeon folds, and folds. The words come almost tumbling out of her, mind barely registering what she's said before she's already gone and done so. "Kang Yunseol told me she's been seeing things in her dreams." Jiyeon briefly feels a twinge of guilt, somewhere deep in her chest. It's a half-lie, really. It's not like Kang Yunseol had much of a reputation to lose, anyway. "Something about a beast with antlers." Jiyeon stops, hands slack as they rest on the tabletop. "It's, uh, kinda terrifying. Really makes you think what could possibly be going on up there." She taps a finger against her temple, nail pressed right into the soft give of her skin.

Briefly, Jiyeon considers coming clean. It sits on the tip of her tongue, as if waiting for the perfect beat of silence to rid herself of this monstrous guilt. Actually, it's me. I'm dreaming things and it isn't normal. I'm slowly driving myself crazy!

"What of you?" Jiyeon doesn't look at Yurim, irrationally afraid that the girl might see all the way though her and call her out on her lie. She likes Yurim plenty, but she can't say she necessarily trusts her enough with the horrid truths she keeps locked away. Jiyeon's seen enough to know it's better to conform. "We have your grandma's secret, you have my secret; you're not going to leave me hanging, are you?"

[4ntemortem]

A MATCH INTO WATER — @sacrosaenct

yunseol can see in jiyeon’s eyes the exhaustion, the reservation, the shuttering of those emotions as quickly as they come. the other girl has been a pillar for yunseol for so long and there is an excruciating awareness of that between them, an unspoken guilt that weighs heavy on yunseol’s shoulders, the knowledge of the inevitable. like so many others, at some point, knowing yunseol will be too much to bear. trying to help yunseol shoulder this burden will become exhausting, a tipping point will be met, the straw will break the camel’s back and jiyeon will learn to put herself first. to take care of herself, as she takes care of others.  yunseol knows this. she doesn’t want this. rationally, yunseol should be brave enough, be a good enough friend, to stop asking - demanding - so much of someone. but yunseol also knows that she is fundamentally selfish, scared to her core, and she is not strong enough to be the good person, to be the good friend that jiyeon needs. that she deserves.  so, as yunseol always does, she shows up at jiyeon’s doorstep in all her selfishness and all her weakness, and takes from her. demands of her. trembles in her living room and asks questions they already know the answer to, begs for the reassurance of jiyeon’s warm words and soft hands and kind expression and does not think about the forest and does not listen to the whispering in her ears.  “i - no - i don’t need a bath, i just - i can - if i can just change or - i just can’t be at home right now.” it echoes its emptiness back at her, brutal and cold, every memory and cruelty hanging in the dimness. jiyeon’s hands are placating, warm against her own, and she curls frigid, pink-jointed fingers around them, clinging to her with the desperation that drives the spiking adrenaline in her, the rampant rush of cortisol that animates her exhausted frame. “thanks,” she breathes, a weak gratitude, not enough to express her appreciation, not enough to offset the burden she places on the other girl, but all she has the strength to offer.  mechanically, without much thought, yunseol peels soaked cotton from her skin, dragging on the borrowed clothing, ignoring bramble-scratched legs and bruised shins - evidence of a haphazard crash through the underbrush of the forest. she pushes her hand back through her hair, uses her own shirt to squeeze out excess water until it is passably damp, rubbing her knuckles against her sternum - the dull ache of it grounding her. “you were busy?” she questions, the edge of guilt showing, biting at the inside of her cheek. “tell me something. what- what are you up to, these days?” she’s floundering for the liferaft of small talk, something to think about anything beyond her own guilt or the rumbling in her ears.

Jiyeon loves Kang Yunseol not unlike one would love a pet, always with an undercurrent of pity that it is at the general mercy of the entire world. Maybe God needs Yunseol alive, for whatever reason. Jiyeon can't say that she could find much will to live a life set on tearing her apart. Still, she appreciate the reassurance their friendship brings her. As long as she suffers, Yunseol will always come back to Jiyeon.

Yunseol shivers and trembles, her teeth chatter so harshly she can hardly string together her words. It's all lost to Jiyeon, essentially gibberish. Though she does come to make out the tail end of it 'I just can’t be at home right now.' Jiyeon, briefly, considers what Yunseol's home life might be life. Stifling for sure, worse than hers. Maybe she should count her blessings that her father doesn't care much for Jiyeon so long as she doesn't infringe upon his perfectly crafted persona. She holds Yunseol in place, rubbing her arms hoping the friction will be enough to warm her skin. She shouldn't be this cold in the middle of summer.

"No, I just couldn't sleep." It's the simple truth; sleep doesn't come to her easily nowadays. Jiyeon considers briefly confessing her strange dreams to Yunseol. Surely Yunseol, of all people, wouldn't judge her for it. Maybe they could find solace in their strange similarities.

But that wasn't what Yunseol needed right now. Jiyeon's sure it'd throw her off the deep end, lose her footing in reality and forever she'd be lost to the labyrinth in her head. "Laundry, mostly." Is what Jiyeon offers. "I was able to get this really nasty grease stain out of my dad's work shirt. It's like new, really." Listlessly, she continues going through the tasks of her day to day. It's not much she realizes. Where does the time go? "My dad's talked about going fishing recently. You should come with us. Y'know, get away." As much as Onyang will allow.

[4ntemortem]

BROKEN — @ech0h

he hadn’t minded jiyeon once. she was another face he saw around, at school maybe., or someone’s house. it’s the kind of town that makes it hard to have boundaries, not enough space to draw them between. so you’re stuck together anyway. that’s how it worked once he had started minding her. and to ilwoo it hadn’t really mattered if he had started it. he’d started it with too many people on a technicality. without his own agency. and that settled like a fire under him, the kind that smoldered, left all his frustration to rise up in a thick layer he breathed in and believed. she didn’t want to make amends, and so neither did he. call it a stalemate or inconsequential. but that didn’t make it easy to ignore her, so he didn’t bother trying. “is it now?” it doesn’t exactly sound judgemental, but whatever it sounds like, it’s nothing nice. he’s spent enough time around religion, to see how it's affected the people he cares about to find the whole concept overblown. religion isn't just tenacity rooted in faith. it's a concept that's rooted into a person, that grows. or more than that, consumes. replaces pieces of personality with something called faith, and ilwoo has stopped seeing the good in it a while back. “i guess you’re not one to do much of anything, are you?” ilwoo smiles as he says it, like it might be a joke. it’s likely a little meaner than he has any real right to be. he knows jiyeon doesn’t work, but past that and he doesn’t know the intricacies of her life or how she finds meaning in it. what he does understand is that it can’t be all that aspirational if she’s still stuck in this dead end town. he should know, he’s stuck here too. ilwoo rocks himself forward when everything starts cycling back toward work. slides himself upright off the stool and ignores the way his back aches from too many hours hunched up over the hoods of cars and farming equipment. “alright, i’ll take a look.” he holds his hand out, an unspoken request for the keys. only, when she doesn’t budge out of place he shoots her a glance that’s caught between confusion and annoyance. “if you want it done tonight i’m charged extra, i’m supposed to be off soon.” ilwoo nods toward the sun as he says it, like that might count as a time clock.

Maybe Jiyeon has an innate need for violence. She generally considers herself a placid woman, life does have a way of bending others to its whim. But, maybe, this need for violence was stolen from her along with many other things.

At least that is what this white-hot rage within her feels. Innate, intrinsic, so much a part of her that she cannot distinguish where girl ends and anger follows. Briefly she considers acting upon the urge. She has no practice but she imagines it would be something like a fish in water—natural. And Ilwoo a deserving target of it.

The most unfortunate thing of all is that he is not wrong. What does Jiyeon go around doing all day? Maybe that's what bothers her the most. He was right once, and here he goes being right again. She claims herself to be a busybody, someone without the time to even think. Maybe it makes her feel better about the general nowhere direction of her life; she's just too busy to even consider taking matters into her own hands.

"Ha. Ha." Jiyeon rolls her eyes, haughty and petulant (hurt, obviously). Another beat of silence passes between them, Jiyeon too busy nursing a bruised ego to bother noticing.

Ilwoo helpfully breaks the spell to remind her of why exactly it is that she'd drag herself before him. "Here." Jiyeon drops her keys into his open palm, too glad to rid herself of them. She waits, expectantly. Ilwoo is confused, obviously, by her behavior. As if he had also expected her to skip back home as soon as she turned over her keys.

"Well—" Obviously she expected to get it back the same day. Maybe he was doing this on purpose. "I'd prefer to have back today, how long would it take?" Still, Jiyeon likes to consider herself a smart woman; no need to further antagonize the man if she wanted anything done correctly. "Sure, yeah, extra is fine. I just want it fixed." She lets him mull it over, and find en empty seat to wait in while he does so.

[4ntemortem]

THE ANTLER GOD ENTERS YOUR DREAM AGAIN — @theantlergod

you’d like to say you’re prepared this time, for the dream. but you’re not. it doesn’t even seem like a dream at first. you’re home and in bed. it’s just starting to rain, and you can hear it pelting the thin paned glass of your window. there’s just a squeak at first, like there might be a mouse making a home of your walls. but it elongates, that noise. the metallic scratch of rust grinding against rust. it’s the window, and you roll to watch as something pulls it open wider. it fits its head inside first, mostly antlers jutting out at sharp and shadowed angles, and that same wide smile. the sockets of its eyes seem unending, and you can’t stop staring into them. your heart rattles inside your chest with the same ferocity as a cornered prey animal. “i can tell that you have good intentions. but i need more from you.” it clacks out its message on xylophone teeth. you shouldn’t be able to understand it, but you do. “something passed down to you, something that’s been in your family for generations. bring it to the same location, the tree with the eyes. i need it soon. hurry.” it snaps its jaw shut crocodile-quick and laughs between the gaps of its jaw as it seems to melt from your window. you wake with a start, sitting ramrod straight in bed. one hand is reaching out toward the window, it's open, and the ring your family passed down to you is clutched tight in your fist.

Jiyeon's hair is damp with sweat when she awakes; her nightgown sticks to her body in a snake-like, claustrophobic fashion. She rips herself free as she jumps out of bed, floorboards creaking under her weight. There is no sound, except for her labored breaths. Her heart pounds, and she brings a curled fist to her chest in effort to self-soothe. All she finds is her ring sitting in the center of her clammy palm. Her mouth is still dry with sleep and her stomach churns uncomfortably. Maybe she's sleep-walking. Yeah, she nods mostly to herself, that makes sense. Jiyeon sets the ring on her nightstand, and goes about getting her day started. Her dream haunts her, turns and twists in her mind until it is a monster of her own. It's nearing the end of the day when her minds drifts to it again. It's dark maw is pointed at her, damp and earthy breath ghosting over her as she lies pined to her mattress. Her hands shook, curled around the edge of her comforter as if to create a barrier between her and that thing. Her hands shake now; she holds them up, palms facing the window and finally notices that it's been cracked open. Haphazardly, at that. It's notorious for being difficult to open, one side sits higher than the other, as if the perpetrator gave up half-way through. "I need more from you," and who doesn't? Who wouldn't take more and more from someone who was willing to give it all. Her ring gleams from her nightstand, as if calling out to her. She remembers, not clearly, when mom had given it to her. They were all much younger, mom essentially the picture of health. Jiyeon had hopped into her lap, just a couple of years shy of entirely being too old for that. Mom presses a kisses onto her cheek and her forehead, taking one of Jiyeon's small hands in both of hers. "This is yours now. It used to be mine, and grandma's before that. But it's yours now." It was too big for you then. You kept it hidden, somewhere safe. For some time it had been lost. Then as if my a great stroke of luck, you found it under your bed amongst other things you had once thought to be lost too. You tried it on, amazed that you had grown into it. Or maybe it had molded itself to fit you. You're in the forest again. It dark, pitch black actually. You think that you should be more afraid, but you can't seem to think of anything to be afraid of. You guide yourself with the dim light of your phone's screen, trudging through the dark until you start to see the roots of the tree with eyes. Again, your hands dig into the earth and pry it open. The ring disappears into the shallow pit and you can only hope again that this has all been worth it.

[4ntemortem]

TURNSTILES — @shuteyed

It's late. Super late. The night sky is a dark, inky indigo with a dusting of stars. Jiyeon can hear laughing and singing, even from outside. They're celebrating her great uncle, a man closer to death than whatever life he was still clinging onto. Aunts, uncles, and cousins have all come together to celebrate what might be the man's last birthday. Jiyeon can imagine that after a certain age, you start to just wish for it. She likes to think that she'd live to see mid-50s at most, or rather she just hopes.

There's really no telling how much longer the party will go on for. Jiyeon sighs, and starts heading back inside.

They're a rambunctious bunch, to put it lightly. She squeezes past close and distant cousins, narrowly escapes the troupe of aunties desperately trying to set her up with someone (anyone, you're not getting any younger Jiyeon!), and incoherent uncles. It's a skill, honestly. Luckily, she makes it back to her seat in one piece. Jiyeon eyes Seongmin wearily, and sighs again.

"I mean, why even bother going all out? The old man was put to bed hours ago." She picks up her drink, which had gone warm and flat some time ago. "But I guess they've been looking for any old excuse to all get together, huh?"

Her relationship with Seongmin was ... tepid at best, apathetic at worst. Everything was so much easier when they were kids. Maybe that was just how adulthood worked. Still, Seongmin is her favorite distantly-related cousin. That surely had to mean something. "Well, how's Ilwoo? No doubt spreading good and joy to the world."

[4ntemortem]

KNOW ABOUT ME — @willowhour

Jiyeon doesn't remember when things get done, just knows that they do. She supposes that is the downfall of routine, life eventually becomes all one blur.

Water beats against the clear pane of the washer, soap foam clinging to the edges. It's a slow, quiet afternoon; the laundromat attendant sits behind their desk discreetly trying to doze away. The cicadas cry outside, almost personifying the blaze of the mid-summer sun. The problem with laundry is that it never gets done. Lots of waiting involved, too.

Luckily, Chae Yurim is able to keep her company most days. Jiyeon dreads the days she doesn't.

She watches the girl methodically separate, fold, and put away. Clothing, bedding, washcloths; they all go in their own little pile. Jiyeon takes her own load out of the dyer, choosing the table across from Yurim as she begins to separate, fold, and put away her own laundry. Their conversation is largely mundane, entirely unoffensive.

'How are you?' 'Great, you?' Rinse and repeat.

"I think it's finally hot enough that my mom wants to bring out her thinner comforters." Jiyeon folds, puts away. "Just have to wash all the winter stuff before we put it away." She shrugs, pretending at blasé. "Sucks but I guess we should be glad we at least don't have to do it by hand." Jiyeon folds, puts away. "Also, thanks for the, uh, stain remover tip. My mom was really excited when I told her that it got it all the way out. Grease stains can be such a killer, y'know."

[4ntemortem]

[4ntemortem]

CIRCLES — @saintsons

Uiseong did not think that Jiyeon would even recognize him. There was nothing to recall; all of their interactions were few and far in between. And he'd grown. Grown taller, grown up. He grew out his hair and tied it in a small bun (much to his grandmother's dismay). It was good for his work though—it was out of the way. That was how he preferred to go about his days. But when a young man's learned to develop some morals, it was difficult to turn a blind eye to her bike's flat. Not that he pitied her, not that anything he did would rearrange the hand he'd been dealt. It just was and he left it at that. It's becomes a sort of routine: 3 P.M. every weekday, sometimes later in the evening with smaller favors (i.g. she forgot the garlic salt, salonpas later in the evening because of the knot in the shoulder she couldn't get rid of), and his impassive "afternoon." That was more than his average interactions with their neighbors, not that she would know. But he did and that was enough. What was clear was his willingness through actions rather than words. Today felt like his departure would be too soon and maybe, the time on their routines had grown in length. Just the other week, he came back on his own volition after a longer shift to help her with a puzzle she mentioned. So when she asks about going back to the store, he just tells her "It's fine, we can go." He turns to give her a small, affirming nod. In case—because he knew how others often misconstrued his tone—his words weren't confirmation enough. Uiseong steps out first, keys in hand and an arm out to hold her front door. It's a fleeting thought as he watches the other; he wondered if anyone would talk about the two of them being around each other. Twice in a day? But overthinking any of this was silly and he's quick to dismiss it. It was too small of a town and Uiseong was too unimportant of a man.

She's almost surprised he agrees. Though would she have really asked if she thought he'd tell her no? Jiyeon pauses for a moment, seemingly lost in her own home.

"Yeah? Yeah, ok! Let me just grab my bag and I'll meet you outside." Uiseong stands at the door, watching Jiyeon work herself into a frenzy. She snatches her keys off the counter and pulls the strap of her bag over her head and all but trips over herself to get out the door.

They're been effectively operating on the unusual--what was she doing out and about with a has been thief? What was something else to add to their long list of things one would never guess they'd do?

The ride is short, again, nothing in Onyang is far. But the silence stretches for what feels like miles. The silence is tentative, like the clear surface of a pond just before the ripple of cast stone. "How's the mail ... thing going?" Jiyeon can only hope it's a safe topic of conversation. She's counting on a victory, no matter how small. He's said yes to her once, who's to say he won't again?

The cabin is sweltering; she's pressed up against the opposite side of him. The last thing she'd need was her father catching wind of her up to anything ... unseemly. God forbid a man and a woman be in close proximity.

The market comes into view soon enough. "Thanks, again. I promise I won't take long." What she doesn't expect is for Uiseong to get off with her. Sure, it's summer; that last thing, she, too, would like to do is wait on someone in the blistering heat. Though that doesn't explain why he chooses to follow down the narrow aisles, also. "Do you cook?"

[4ntemortem]

A MATCH INTO WATER — @sacrosaenct

of course i don’t. but yunseol doesn’t say that. instead, she laughs—sharp and breathless, not because anything is funny, but because something in her is rattling loose and it needs to get out somehow. she’s still dripping on the floor, her sleeves soaked to the elbow, hair plastered to her neck like a second spine. her eyes are glassy, fever-bright, too wide. “tea?” she echoes, grinning like it’s a joke she doesn’t quite get. “sure, yeah, that sounds fucking great. maybe throw in a communion wafer while you’re at it, jiyeon, maybe we can pray real hard and make it all go away.” she’s pacing before jiyeon can answer, fast, restless movements like something cornered and wired. her boots leave muddy prints on the linoleum, trailing the forest right into the kitchen like she dragged the whole damned woods in with her. “i'm sorry, that wasn't fair, it's not you ji, it's just - fucking - it's fucking everything else,” she mutters, more to herself than to jiyeon. “i just can't get - a minute alone in my head you know?" she claps her hands over her ears for a moment, then pushes them back through the dampened strands of her hair as if she'd meant to do that all along. she stops suddenly, turns her head to fix jiyeon with a glare. “do you think i’m crazy?” she's asked jiyeon this question a million times before. the answer is (usually) the same. yunseol isn't sure if she would believe it either way- a yes is too simple and a no is too foolish. "i feel --" she takes a breath, lets it out. "I feel like i left part of me somewhere." the heels of her hands press into her eyes, rubbing at it as if exhausted (she is exhausted, she's been exhausted, when was the last time she wasn't exhausted?) "i just need to get out of my head. can i stay? for a bit. just a bit, i swear," she promises, finally fixing her fluttering gaze on the other, chewing at the corner of her lip.

Jiyeon wants to roll her eyes. Yunseol's tantrum is going to end up costing her a whole lot more than just another sleepless night.

She's tired, she's just bone-deep tired and it's like a plague she can't seem to rid herself of. Jiyeon hopes it's discreet when she tries rubbing away the lines forming on her forehead.

"I know, I know," Despite everything Jiyeon can't find it within herself to be angry, at least that way maybe she'd be able to cast her aside once and for all, shared past be damned. Yunseol trembles, unconsolable as she tries to shut out the world around her (as if the problem were on the outside), and maybe Jiyeon wants to cry with her for everything she cannot do help. She means to reach out to Yunseol, bring her into an embrace she's sure hasn't been shared with her for some time. But the girl escapes just beyond her reach.

Jiyeon shakes her head, it's a pointless question; damned if you do, damned if you don't. "You're just ..." Troubled. Jiyeon is sure Yunseol knows all about being troubled. It's their word of choice, their peers, the town, the church. It passes from one mouth to the next. She's just ... troubled, as if it were something innate. "You're going to be okay." Gently, Jiyeon tries reach out for her again.

Yunseol is warm to the touch. Slowly, Jiyeon pries the girl's hands away from her face. She can already tell Yunseol is starting to wind down, effectively crashing from the peak she worked herself up to. Jiyeon nods, reassuring, practiced, comforting. "Yeah, c'mon. I can draw you a bath."

It continues to rain. Jiyeon tries not to think about Yunseol and her worsening ... illness. At what point will Jiyeon's placating not be enough? Will these violent outbursts one day become a permanent part of her? "You can stay as long as you need." Jiyeon leads them upstairs quietly, starts going through the motions of putting her to sleep and passes her a clean set of clothes. "Here, change into these."

[4ntemortem]

BROKEN / at the garage with @ech0h

ilwoo’s got the fan cranked up past high, in that way where it starts making this grinding whir-click of a noise, protesting the idea of living. it’s unavoidable though, because once summer hits the garage starts feeling a little closer to hell than anything else. the heat seems to pool on the concrete floor, steam spilling out from the engines and sticking to his skin. he’s got a good month left until it becomes unbearable, but he still has himself sat down right in front of the fan anyway. it’s basically a break, so it doesn’t matter much. he’s the only one on shift at the moment, and the only thing left for him to do is finish the repairs on some old farm equipment dragged down from the ginseng farms. he’ll get to it before the sun sets. or that was the plan, but now there's a car rolling its way up slow to the garage, groaning and wheezing the way most of the cars do that pull up a couple of hours before it closes. he lifts his hand to shield his eyes from the sun still lingering above the treetops, watches as jiyeon pops the door open and climbs out. it’s not all that surprising, by now and ilwoo could match every car in onyang with the person who drives it. it’s not like there’s an abundance of garages around for people to be picky about. he bets jiyeon would’ve preferred to be picky about where she brought her car to. but it’s onyang, so she’s stuck here bringing it to him. ilwoo smiles when she gets close enough that he can drop his hand. it lacks in kindness, and so it reads as something unsettling instead. like it should be crooked, sliding into a frown. but it doesn’t change, it just stays as that not-smile on his face as ilwoo leans back enough to balance his elbow on a cart behind him. “now, you know i can’t drop all my work at a moment’s notice just because you want to come see me.” the only reason that ilwoo says it is because he thinks it might get a rise out of her. that’s how he’s learned to deal with most everything in his life, good or bad, talk at it until something happens. enough times and it starts to become a pattern, one that can all but be used as a blueprint for their relationships now. ilwoo says something that makes jiyeon annoyed, and so she gets annoyed. maybe she takes a jab at him right back. like a game, only without any of the fun. “oil changes aren’t that hard, i bet you can manage.” ilwoo finally drops the smile as he says it, doesn’t bother asking the real reason she brought it in, either. with no other options around, she’ll be liable to tell him. the same way he’ll be liable to fix it for her, because he’s not above taking the money.

Jiyeon supposes she could lie, say Ilwoo was just too busy to tend to her. Though she's sure the indignation would essentially kill her father; that and it would just delay the inevitable.

Jihoon slides the keys towards her, taking a quick sip of his coffee before placing the mug in the sink (again--for the fairies or Jiyeon to take care of, the world will never know). "AC's busted. Take it down to the shop before dad starts griping." I'm busy; I have things to do; I have a life, too. Jiyeon doesn't even bother voicing her complaints, she doesn't need him getting loud this early in the morning. She drops the keys into her bag and adds it to her mental to do list.

It's not far, nothing in Onyang is far, but the sweltering heat makes the minutes feel like hours. And the thing's old, on its last legs practically; she's sure her father and brother would finally let it die peacefully if it didn't mean getting wrapped up in Jiyeon's busy life. So, it lives. Begrudgingly.

The car groans as it pulls into the mouth of the shop. Hm, something something about objects reflecting the inner thoughts of their owners. Jiyeon almost gives her a soothing pat; it's okay, she, too, would rather be anywhere else. Ilwoo just watches, seemingly materializing out of thin air at the sound of damaged machinery, much like a moth to a flame.

She's sure in another life, they could've gotten along passively. But, alas, whatever chemical cocktail gone wrong swirling in Ilwoo's head obviously had different plans. She doesn't know where he even gets the gall to get upset, she was the one wronged.

"Charity is a key tenet of most religions, and I'm trying to stay on everyone's good side. Don't get too excited." He's a master at getting under her skin, and the worst part is that it always works. Jiyeon stifles a haughty huff, refuses to stomp her foot at him like she may have once done in the past. "I'm not one to get my hands dirty, but I'll pass the message along."

They sit in uncomfortable silence for--Well, Jiyeon sits in uncomfortable silence for a beat too long. She's not too keen to start imagining what goes on in that head of his. He seems fine, unaffected, as cool as a cucumber. And Jiyeon hates him even more for it.

She gives in with a sigh, ready to sit in blissful air conditioning on her way anywhere but here. "The AC's busted. My brother thinks it might be the compressor. So, he asked me to ask you if you could take a look at it ..." Maybe this is divine retribution. "Please."

[4ntemortem]

THE ANTLER GOD ENTERS YOUR DREAM —

a floorboard creaks, but there’s nobody walking around to make the noise. the creaking moves closer, and closer, until it’s standing right next to your bed. you open your eyes, and everything is wrong. your bed is in the middle of the forest and there is a looming creature standing above you. its skull leers down, and the ropes of shed velvet from its antlers sway in the breeze. this is a dream, you realize, after you try to count the number of fingers you have on one hand and end up with six instead of five. you look up at the creature, sure now that it can’t hurt you; not trapped in your head like this.

“bring me your most valuable possession and i will reward you. leave it at the mouth of the forest, under the tree with eyes and you will feel fulfillment greater than anything promised to you before.”

it smiles and somehow the expression pulls past the long curve of its jaw. it smiles wider and wider, until you notice that its teeth aren’t the squared off molars of a deer meant for grinding up grass. they’re long and sharp. when it laughs, it sounds like a scream. or, no. that’s you. you’re screaming. you’re waking yourself up with it in the balmy hold of night. you won’t forget it.

Jiyeon awakes with a start, bile hot in the back of her throat as her heart pounds in her chest.  She doesn’t remember falling asleep, though evidently she had gone through the motions of it if the glass of water on her bedside table and her clean nightgown are anything to go by.  Hair sticks to her cheek and the back of her neck, matted with sweat.  The cicadas cry outside, her clock reads something just past four in the morning.  A clammy hands cups the curve of her cheek, the back of her neck, the base of her throat; all as if to make sure she was still whole.   

It’s a dark, inky feeling that plagues her.  Maybe it’s the adrenaline, the residual of sleep still clinging to her.  She must be still dreaming, surely.  A false awakening, as they call it.  Jiyeon thinks nothing of it as she bolts out of bed and runs downstairs.  

Adrenaline pushes her to the edge of the forest, caring not for the burn of exertion in her lungs.  She wipes away sweat with the back of her hand, quietly cursing the oppressive humidity of the summer.  Fulfillment greater than anything promised before.  It’s a sick promise, a taunting one.  Only God knows how badly she wants, how badly she craves.  

She unclasps her necklace without a second thought.  It’s an ordinary piece of jewelry to most.  But to her, maybe it’s all she once could have been.  A well-to-do married woman, with enough money to squander on necklaces like it and more.  She pries into the earth carelessly, drops it into its maw with the hope of a better return.

Her journey back home is uneventful.  Jiyeon feels awake now, far too lucid for the string of events that have taken place.  She feels stupid, psychotic; her brother tears open the front door before she can even reach for it.  “Where the hell have you been?”  Jiyeon has no answer for him, at least not one that’ll make her look relatively sane.

“I heard something outside.”  Jihoon looks at her, incredulous.  Her hair is damp with sweat and humidity, dirt is caked under her nails, into the soles of her feet.  Luckily, it seems like he’s relived that she’s back in one piece; he doesn’t really care to find the real reason as to why she felt so desperate to run out into the night in nothing but her sleeping gown.

“Well,” he sighs tiredly, motions her in the door. “Go get cleaned up.”  Jiyeon nods and goes upstairs. 

[4ntemortem]

CIRCLES — @saintsons

Kimchi, gochujang, one pound of pork shoulder. Jiyeon makes a mental note of the ingredients as she puts them away. She doesn't expect for her father to get home until later that evening, leaving her with plenty of time to ready dinner at her leisure. Nam Uiseong silently hands her another bag of groceries then turns on his heel to bring in what was still left in his trunk.

This isn't at all where Jiyeon imagined they'd be, years after high school. But life does have a funny way of bringing people back together.

It started when he came back to Seoul, found himself a respectable job delivering mail and showed up on her front step daily at 3pm to hand her their mail. Jiyeon can't really blame him for being as quiet as he was (still is) but after weeks of seeing each other daily you'd think she'd get more out of him rather than just a curt afternoon as both greeting and farewell. And that's all it really is, until she finds herself with a flat tire as she's running errands and casually happens upon Nam Uiseong outside of his usual delivery route. Jiyeon doesn't want to trouble him, really, but he insists. Though the ride back to her house is so silent, Jiyeon wishes she had spared herself the awkwardness and just trudged home by herself with her groceries in hand. But from there, one favor turns to two, then five, then a routine they slowly created for themselves.

Uiseong drops the last of the bags on her counter, a bead of sweat forming right as his temple. His hair is longer now, and for the first time Jiyeon can barely see the within him the teenage boy she first met.

"Thanks," she's curt, polite still. For how often they see each other, she can't exactly say they're comfortable. Jiyeon half expects him to leave without a word, turn on his heel and come back again tomorrow with mail in hand. But he lingers, quietly, as if expecting something himself. She goes over her mental list of ingredients again, and realizes--"I forgot the tofu." Jiyeon doesn't want to ask, hates that she even needs to ask. The watch on her wrist reads 3:46pm, which gives her enough time to go back to the grocery store and make it back with enough time to get started on dinner. "I--um. Can we go back? Well, forget it. I'm sure you're plenty busy. Thanks again for helping me this afternoon, though."

[4ntemortem]

A MATCH INTO WATER — @sacrosaenct

It storms on a Thursday. The wind picks up violently late into the afternoon, a precursor to the events bound to unfold later that night. Jiyeon puts mom to bed first, draws the curtains and pretends she doesn't hear her call out a hoarse good night as she closes the door. Jihoon, her brother, falls asleep in front of the glow of the TV screen; he's slumped into his seat, snores drowning out whatever variety show was being re-run. She slinks up the stairs quietly, careful not to make any sound as she passes her father's door.

She lies in bed restlessly, listening instead to the sound of the wuthering night. Sleep doesn't come to her as easily nowadays; there's always something occupying her thoughts. Mom, groceries, nightmares, mail. A never-ending litany of tasks for her to attend to. She doesn't know how long she tosses and turns in bed before Jiyeon finally decides to feel her way downstairs, guiding herself to the kitchen in the dark rather than risk waking anyone up. The rain outside is still thick, a dark curtain that hangs over their home and effectively shuts them out from the outside world.

A heavy knock sounds at her door. Jiyeon isn't sure if it's her imagination or maybe just the sounds of world at night, but then comes another, and another, and another, and despite her better judgement she tears the door open to find a drenched Kang Yunseol standing at her front step. Her black, inky hair sticks to her face haphazardly, breath heavy with exertion.

Jiyeon hardly has a chance to say anything at all before the girl is pushing past her to storm into her home. "Yunseol!" Is all she really thinks to exclaim, watching her trail rainwater across her living room floor. She's not so surprised by the theatrics, leave it to Kang Yunseol to make an entrance.

To ask if the girl was okay would be redundant; instead Jiyeon approaches her slowly, much like one would a scared animal. "Yunseol? Do you want some tea? Why don't we get you dried off, yeah?" It's not an usual scene for them, Yunseol flying off the rails and Jiyeon trying to put her all back together in the aftermath. She assumed Yunseol would have grown out of it with time, though, become a relatively productive member of their deteriorating society. Maybe Yunseol just likes being taken care of, Jiyeon finds that most don't really grow out of that.

Jiyeon manages to force her to sit at the kitchen table, combing through her wet hair with her hands. "Do you want to talk about it?"