a n t i d o u l e u r

Et autant les siècles passent, autant la haine s'accroît, sans un seul moment de répit. Sans un seul espoir de repos. Avec pour seul ancrage, la douleur.

[antidouleurs]

                                   ▌▌daymvres

                                                                                              ► from

The less she spoke, the better it was. That was the immediate impression Hayeon had gotten from her the first time she'd laid eyes on the woman. She was right, up till this day she was right. As it was rare for her to get a wrong feeling about the people she encountered. She considered doing as she'd said, keeping her mouth shut, and leaving her where she stood. Hayeon could find her way back easily if she wished to. But that'd be admitting her words ticked her off, they did not, they just rolled off her as easy as the gentle breeze that swept by then.

"The fault's mine when I did not see you protest when he offered." If anything, an amused grin stretched her lips, deepened her cheeks and sunk the metal in each of them deeper. "If you'd taken your own petty advice and kept yours shut when we were in the car we'd be in the city by now." The statement was given with Hayeon's hand rising, fingers closing in the small distance she found herself in with the other to lightly flick the bridge of her high nose. 

[theqameison]

❝ A sincere artist tries to create something which is, in itself, a living thing. ❞ — Painter William Dobell

Woobin let out a heavy sigh as he placed the photograph back onto the white, magnetic board. ‘This is just perfect,’ he thought to himself as he took in everything as quickly as he could. After being called in by the Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency to consult on a case, he quickly made his way to the precinct hoping to cure the boredom that has so heavily plagued him during the colder months. It’s been a while since he took on an investigation that could entertain him, so when the news of a case potentially connecting to a serial killer that reaches back up to ten years came to light there was no way he could turn down that offer. It was too good to pass up.

“Hmm… a picture is worth a thousand words,” Woobin hummed to himself as his mind processed all of the details. The adage “a picture is worth a thousand words" refers to the notion that a complex idea can be conveyed with a single still image. In this particular case, the photographs contained images of a series of tattoos that nearly covered the now deceased unsub’s entire body. “I’m going to go and check out a lead— try not to get in my way,” he told his colleagues before making his way out of the station. If he was going to get the answers to the questions he had, he had to discuss it with someone who actually knew what they were doing.

It was always useful to scout around for reliable sources, where he could actually obtain useful information that would not be a complete waste of his time. One of his contacts had informed him to check out a tattoo parlor called “Title” claiming ‘they should be of use to him’ for this specific case after hearing a quick debrief. Does he trust the word of a ex-con? Well, yes and no as that would depend on how this little rendezvous would go. Yet, despite the risks, the twenty-five year old went against his better judgement and followed the lead right to the end.

He knew that this was a risk— that It could be a hit or miss by visiting this establishment on a whim. However, it was his best bet if he wanted to connect the dots in time… and he was not sure if time would be on his side this time around. When he got to the shop, he spoke with the employee who was working behind the counter. From the sounds of it, the man was of no use to him as he could not tell him anything he did not already know. Woobin was about to leave until someone else appeared from the back stating that all questions should be directed at her.

“Well then, perhaps you could be of better use to me. The name’s Detective Kim Woobin— I’m consulting with the SMPA investigating an active case. Do you think you can possibly help me identify the artist of these tattoos?” he inquired right off the bat, showing her the photos of tattoos. There was no need for him to exchange any formal pleasantries as this arrangement is anything but casual. After all, it was business; something he takes very seriously.

“The work is pretty detailed, freelanced I’d imagine from the looks of it, so I figured that someone in the industry might recognize it,” he explained before going into the finer details. “It appears to be a body suit, the man was completely covered in the portraits of female faces with their name and a date— presumably the date that they were found dead.”

[antidouleurs]

She cared not for his name or for his title, so she gave no particular attention to them. Nor did she care what his purpose was, in fact, she only cared for it to be over with, to lead him right out of her parlor because as it was, she was sure many of the people surroundings the place had caught sight of him. It was never good for the reputation of her place whenever the law decided to meddle. Thing was though, it was rare but it happened and when it did, she always had to appease them that nothing would ever get out of her.

They should trust her by now, and some of them did. There was this sick pleasure she took in covering human’s crimes, because as it was, they were destroying their owns and long as they kept to it, she had no say in it whatsoever. It’d always been a war among themselves, whereas her own kind were loyal to the core, proof enough in the fact that despite never having forgiven her for the doom she’d placed on them she was still there. Although part of it was due to her surviving the times when they were against her and wanted her scent gone from earth.

Human’s crimes though, they tended to amuse her. Because they were cruel with no purposes. It was as if they wanted to resemble the creatures they hunted, the ones they read in books, as if their minds had been twisted to fit one of an animal whereas their capacities were still so totally weak and human. She took a look at the pictures, only looked did not rise to get a hold of them, or seem interested. She as not. But the ink, she knew where it came from. There was a relief that did not show once she recognized it but did not associate it with the ones she’d done in the past or in a recent present. She hadn’t done this, nor had any of her artists she was certain of it. There was a sort of truce between tattoo artists who worked for the aim of criminals as well, who dug in further than they should.

A truce that meant that you were never to actually let out to the police or any other law enforcement agents what the other had been up to. Loyalty came with it, and the gods knew that loyalty was something Hayeon found herself bound by. Often times not by choice but by the mere act of traditions and the fact that her wolf tended to bound himself to others without asking for her permission at times. The proof of it laid somewhere in the back of her mind with memories of a red head girl that still sat there, itching because her wolf had appreciate the sheer mental strength she’d shown despite it feeling like it could crumble any minute now. As if he had a sense of saving her.

But she was straying, she turned to look back up at the man, “Whoever led you here has led you wrong.”

But the work was neat, she appreciated the fine details of it. Portraits were hard to look at sometimes, other times artists just tried to hard, these ones though. They were almost perfect, the shape was not overdone, the lines were softer and they were made as if to slide through the skin of the customer and make one with its flesh. It wasn’t any human work, and that entitled her to even more privacy on whoever had done this. Perhaps even a warning that he might get a visit soon if he did not immediately hide his tracks. If the man he was talking of was dead, it would be easier, but if he was alive, it might be harder. But that did not matter to her.

Although the idea of leading him wrong passed her mind, the man that stood there, asking questions as he ought to. she would not hold it against him, he wanted answers. It was his job to ask for them, she rose from her chair, leaning against the counter. “If he’s dead as we speak, you should try north from here. If not, then you might need to start over.”

[fortruths-deactivated20150906]

He was already on his phone, hoping a quick search in the NIS database would alert him to what he’d just run into. In his line of work there was always someone waiting in the wings. The paranormal weren’t like humans. He couldn’t just lock them up and never think about them again. If he took out a vampire then he had to be on the lookout for months as their sire or fledgling came to exact revenge. If he downed a werewolf then he had their whole pack to answer to and if a witch was the target then a coven would be putting hexes on him until he ended up in Puerto Rico making several attempts to drown himself. Catching him in his downtime was the best way to go about that, but he’d never felt this magic before. He couldn’t even put a name to it, not yet anyway.

“ So you felt something. Just not the same thing I did. “ He was relieved, visibly so that he hadn’t imagined that, but more so that she’d been honest enough to admit that he wasn’t out of his mind. That raised a few more questions, like what she knew, and whether she in fact was the one who put him under the spell in the first place but he’d have to get to the bottom of it later. For now she would serve as a much needed ally.

He hands the water off to her, and realizes perhaps that she might not even want it. “ Sorry, I just thought — I figured I should give you something for helping me which seems kind of silly since I didn’t even pay for it. “ He stops and downs the majority of his water and after a moment he feels clear headed enough to finish his research. His phone is his main focus again but five minutes of scrolling and he’s yet to hit anything that even sounds remotely close to what he’s experienced. “ So you don’t seem as quick to write me off as most people do. Are you aware of what happened? Seen something like it before. I know this is going to sound strange, but it was making me drowsy. Almost like some weird hypnosis. The only things that come to mind are the Olympian God Hypnos and the sandman but I don’t think I’ve ever offended either. “

Though Olympians aren’t the only Gods who have dominion over sleep. Plenty of cultures had a deity who handled the sleep of their people. India had four states they believed in Seunghyun wouldn’t be surprised if personifications of Susupti or Svapna existed, which embody deep sleep sans dreaming, and dreams respectively. Or Elijah in the Bible, who later became the patron saint of sleep. Even Morpheus could have his hand in this though Roman gods seemed to be dying in this day and age. There’s an endless amount of who could be after him, he just doesn’t know why. 

[antidouleurs]

His relief did nothing to appease her, as weird as it was, she would have showed confusion if not for the fact that she still wasn’t sure if it was a serious case of a human knowing more than most of them did, or just the lunatics ones who believed that they knew the answers to the universe itself. Whatever it was, she just listened without wanting to interrupt, only giving a small nod and a curt smile when he handed her the water with an apology on his tongue.

An apology that feeling she deserved, she did not feel any mean to discard it, accepted with a nod of her head before she took hold of the given water. She did not take a sip of it though because the few other words that left him had her arching a perplexed eyebrow at him—had her listening so that she felt no need to quench any thirst, she was not thirsty. Want to or not, Hayeon was intrigued, so maybe he fitted more in the lunatics who thought they had the answer to the universe but apparently also might have witnessed and done too much research to be close to that other side of it, the supernatural side of it. The one that most humans preferred to keep behind locked screen, in theatres, in books or on their tv. “I’m not sure what you believe in, but the sandman would not just make you drowsy he would knock you out into a sleep where you would most likely never wake up of for another day or two. No voices would have been able to stop the spell of his golden powder.”

That was the one she’d met at least, she was not sure how many they existed, or if they existed more than one even, but the one she’d met hadn’t been here to help her fall asleep harmlessly so that the memory she had of him was more of this sharp sting of caution over losing her mind to sleep than a smoothing sense of drowsiness. Although the depiction of sandman that this world had was of a kind man who put you to dreamless sleep, or helped children sleep at night. It was interesting, how things that were crude in the old times, became more approachable in these times and the ones that were harmless became crude and horrifying.

"The Gods would not bother to get so close to being found by mere humans. Witches though, are another story." Although at times witches were bound by contractors who sent them to do the job they could let themselves to do, for situations like these. Failures in which their identity was almost revealed to the most cunning minds that wandered through the most oblivious ones. There were of such a rarity, but the bigger the entity, the bigger cautions they had to take over being found. She could not imagine a God descending on earth to punish a human, rather they would send an underling to do the job. But those were entities, they were from another part of the supernatural that never quite touched the ones that were closer to earth and less close to divinity. She always knew to avoid those, Mother’s warning ran deep still in her veins despite her permanent absence.

"Sometimes you do not need to offend to become a target, being human is enough." But just because she spoke as if she knew of the topic, did not mean that she was willing to let him in on how she knew, or why she knew. But she felt a sort of empathy, for people who searched and wanted to delve deeper and managed to, but got close to almost losing themselves to the hands of the same things they spent their whole lives believing in. She would not classify him in that portion of people, but his curiosity was not a curiosity anymore, it felt more like knowledge, deep knowledge that he’d implanted in his mind not through words that stayed in his brains but experiences.

It rolled off him with a clear affirmation that he knew what he was mentioning, had most likely witnessed some other abnormal things that kept him on toes—that kept him sure this was no normal event. Offended, had he said? He’d even come to the conclusion that he’d offended some of these creatures. Which clearly brought her to the conclusion that it was no mere coincidence, A conclusion she kept to herself.

[antidouleurs]

                                    ▌▌narsadismx

                                                                                              ► Proof that they existed,

did not need to be laid down on the table for her eyes to see, and did not need to be shoved under her nose for her to smell it off their skin. One of it even sat in the close circle she had, friends? Guess she could call it that ,friendship. It was odd even in her thoughts while she kept her gaze unmoving on the shadow of the being standing next to her. Being because it wasn’t human, they often smelled of blood. Forget that they could have lived centuries, ages, some of them were still new and would still smell of blood.

Often times not because they drank it, even the ones that had never let a drop touch their tongue, that had never sunk their teeth in the inviting throat of a prey still reeked of it. As if it was imprinted on their skin, marked in their soul, so that everyone would be warned that given the chance they would not hesitate to suck you dry. But a warning for who? The passer bys who were most definitely humans and did not know how to detect those other beings, that were looking for the next one to use as a meal. For who exactly?

For her kinds? Other creatures? If so then they should not let them feed on preys that could not be warned despite the strong stench of death that lingered everywhere they went. It was one that she’d learned to control because hanging out with a vampire had given her the ability to ignore it as much as she wished. Because living with a vampire that befriended her meant that there were a lot of things Hayeon had learned to overlook, let it pass over her senses as if she never caught on them. As if all of them were blind to what Hyoseong was.

But it was a rare thing, to meet one out in the open like this, not hunting, under the rays of the sun. She would not speak of it though, even if she stood too close. It hadn’t been her intention, crossing the road was as common as anything else she did in this skin. She would not speak because just because she now tolerated one of their kinds did not mean the war never existed. Just because she ended up getting close to a bloodsucker did not mean that she hated them less for what they’d done to generations and generations of her own kind. Exceptions could be made, when necessary. Right now, it was not. She intended to just cross the road and walk as if she’d never caught the smell so she could get back to Tile without having to stand the fact that she was so still when so near an enemy.

[antidouleurs]

                                    ▌▌dearath

                                                                                              ► She was being approached.

From where she was leaning, one armacross the other, the full length of it atop of the small wall and her chin dropping on the folded one. Her eyes were set on the scene in front of her, some art show, interesting considering the fact that she was still there watching. Although, out of boredom she would let herself watch anything, even if it was just a killing. She’d sometimes agree to a hunt just to let herself do something, a hunt where she would only participate and agree to when the preys were animals. The pack that’d invite her would then travel and they would find a quiet resort where to run as they wished without any fear of being caught by the many tools humans had created so to be able to capture those moments. Hunts were sacred to werewolves. It was a thing they liked to keep among themselves.

But the performance that they were giving, which had had all her attention for more than a few minutes was being interrupted. Not lively so, but with quiet footsteps approaching and Hayeon only spared a glance at the new presence, it was a quick second.

Gone the next moment as she let her chin rest back in its spot, let her eyes fall back on the people moving by. Another scene was being presented. It was a rare thing, she had to look thoroughly for these theatres show. The people of this generation loving far too much the ones behind a white screen, to sit down and admire what has already been done and not what was being done in front of them. They liked everything ready to go, she loved the improvisations that came with street acting. Perhaps she wasn’t the only one, so that someone else settled next to her and stopped close by, should not bother her the slightest bit--should not make her feel as if their purpose was her. So that she kept her eyes where they wanted to be.

[zoeire-deactivated20150702]

Jae went on and on. On and on because it kept her sane. On and on because hearing her own voice and not the voices of those around her kept her in check. Oh how funny it was, that these brooding men, lacking intelligence what they made up in bulk, thought it was the threats that kept her down. The small taunts and little labels that they placed upon her nose were nothing. They were simply a medium. She would let them think, let them believe that they had her cornered, that a small phrase could end her rebuttals because it was so much more than that.

It was a choice. It was simply her decision. Jae knew there was no point in fighting back. She knew she’d be knocked down the moment she lashed out so she forced herself into submission, not them. As if they could. 

So she talked as she scanned the bar. She made little stories in her head, familiar faces and familiar actions became memories. It was all she had a glimpse of and it was all she would get. Kegs of beer clogging her nose and risque pictures of impromptu sex in the booth of a bar would soon become the images lining her mind and she told herself she could get used to it. She would get used to it. For the time being. Even if the female couldn’t see things her way, even if the bar was still seen as trash, which it was Jae didn’t mind.

She wouldn’t sugarcoat it as most did. This was no diamond in the rough picture. She’d seen how others tried to claim this patch as their home, their goldmine and that’s fine, to each their own. One man’s trash is another’s man’s treasure but Jae found she could never truly treasure this place. She’d rather trash it and walk out as it burned to the ground, laughing and full of satisfaction. Snickers left her lips while she filled two large mugs with beer holding them up and yelling through the mess for their eager customers. They’re asking her what she’s laughing at but she ignores them before grabbing for another bottle holding it up for the female.

“This one’s stronger if ya need it." She could read it in her gaze, the woman found this place absolutely repulsive. That’s what bars generally were though, repulsive and offensive to a feminine nature. Repulsive in that watching the routine acts almost made some females run out screaming, tails between their legs. It’s a place that carried a lot of history, of that much Jae knew. It had a reputation, as all things in their world did. Everything had a tale, a label that hung around their neck and when others heard of the boss man behind the establishment, soon it didn’t matter if the place was trash or not. There was something about him, that asshat, that had others willing to carry themselves accordingly.

Jae could smell him from the moment he entered the bar, rarely did he come by. He was off running errands for whatever life he lived. He left them behind to watch the bar, leaving the idiots in charge of the place and her. She hadn’t seen him in a few weeks but the smell was there. Her face contorted. Disgust. She didn’t search for him, she kept her gaze on the rag that ran across the counter. 

“I’ve been one for about a year." There’s not a hint of uneasiness in her tone, she speaks clearly for the woman before her even if the statement brings back memories. Even if it brings his smell directly under her nose. She’s somehow managed to block the memories from clouding her mind. As she responds she reminds herself that one day she’ll get accustomed to what she is. But for now there’s still some bitterness seeping off her tongue. "or at least I think it’s been a year in this place. time flies so fast and i ain’t really counting. and yourself?" Jae isn’t sure if it’s rude, she isn’t sure about customs but if the female asked she’s sure she’s allowed to ask back. Besides, when do others typically care about tiny details like that? 

It’s when she hears the statement that Jae wonders if her formalities are right. She wonders why she feels more eyes on her than necessary and more in particular, his glare from across the room. Sure he has his moments when he likes to look at her, gazing over what he considers his work, his little Jae but right now there’s more to it. It’s something Jae doesn’t understand and it’s something that causes her skin to prickle, her anger to rise.

“What is his problem…" she’s muttering to herself, her breath is hushed because she does not want to hear it. She doesn’t want him walking over and interrupting the only conversation she gets. But she’s curious, is there something about this female she should know? Jae’s education on her own kind was limited to strengths, and weaknesses, minimal do’s and do not’s. She’s sure there was more to this world than she was told about but she never had a craving for the information until now. Her gaze meets the female finally, scanning her briefly wondering what kind of labels she carried with that walk of hers, with that posture that spoke confidence, breathed dominance. 

“Is there something I should know? Or do the guys always stare at you like that?" No doubt the female had an aura about her that was distinct from others she’d met. But there was something else. Something that set her apart from the other female lycans and the other lycans in the room. Something that brought in the big man himself.

[antidouleurs]

Her eyes looked down at the offered drink, another one as if the one she’d just downed wasn’t distasteful enough. She furrowed her eyebrows forjust a split of a second, not because of the content of the glass but becauseof the one inside of the bar. Suddenly too many things happening a tthe same time, she should have retreated. After asserting that she had no intention whatsoever to actually start a fight or challenge the alpha.

But there she still sat, too tempted to let all the tension stir without doing a single thing to act as if she was about to leave. Because she’d put him at ease, but it did not mean that she was no threat. She would stay a thread until she decided to leave its land, until she rose from her chair head high and left. A year the girl had said and Hayeon had had the proof she needed to know that she was much too young in her skin, in the skin of the beast that laid heavy under her skin.

She could feel it. It was a wonder that all of them were blind, or pretended to be at least. Because the girl had a lingering anger under all he layers of words she used ,and the silence she used to appease them or herself, Hayeon could not be sure. She’d just met her, it would take a few more encounters for her to decipher what the feeling was from just letting her senses immerse in it. In fact, she shouldn’t even be prying. But she sometimes without realising, found a thing or two that would capture her interest and kept at it until she was satisfied. Or unsatisfied enough to stop digging through a story was not hers.

"Look, I didn’t bring you here for you to cause a war." The voice came to her just as she was getting ready to push away the glass she’d been offered and she turned to look at him, the person who’d brought her here. Thankful and at the same time quite unhappy that he thought she would honestly buy that he just realised that her presence anywhere was only half welcomed. He knew it. She knew that he knew it.

"No, of course. Your purpose lay way deeper than such a shallow one."

His cheeks pinked under her tone and she set her features in a kind smile, the type of kindness that could not cheat that behind it, laid a dozen of claws that were ready to tear was the door open to reveal what the true intent of her enemies were. But for now, she’d act as if the enemies were friends, because until the first slice was made through the mask they all wore around her—she had to keep the sheet intact.

Had to keep her mind off the lingering betrayal she could taste on all of them. A taste that she would never forget, the lingering burn that accompanied it a constant reminder to not forget. She took her attention off him, with a movement that settled the matter. She wouldn’t speak to him anymore, unless she urgently had to, and that would not come any time soon if ever.

"I’ll have to refuse this drink doll." She pushed the glass away, looking up at her with a smile that was not kind, just honest. Soft around the corners of her lips, her head had tilted to the side at the same time, so that she could think of the words to use to not let too much out, to not let her in through a door that had been kept closed by the community. Everywhere she went, Camille Desmarais was never mentioned but she still laid there in the corner of each eyes that turned to look at her, knowing she would know the moment their gaze landed on her. But if you knew, it meant you were not only inside of the secret, but you were a part of it too.

It sucked you right in, made you stand either in the middle, torn between your kin and the betrayal of the girl she’d been, or to the side of those who did not want to be seen with her—fear of being associated with the one woman who’d caused the Lycans to be weaken during their war. Or even worse, to actually take her side, to stand still right by her and put the past behind. She never was quite sure of what was worse. So she avoided pulling any newcomers through the clutches of her past.

It belonged to her and other few elders who chose to perpetuate where they stood when it came to their past. “Nothing you should concern yourself with. The only thing that should be of any worry to you is to get away from their grip. You’re young, you can still grow, but poison that youth and you will wrinkle despite the skin never showing the rotten tissue of the soul you let them manipulate as they wish.” She rose from her seat, wanting to take her leave now. Wanting to find her bed, the comfort of her home, to wash away the smell of thousands of emotions that kept washing over her own. Unable to overwhelm her, but still capable of putting her on edge, making her feel the huge hollow space where her pack used to lay once upon a time.

The price she put on the counter, the amount of it before she slid her purse right back inside of her pocket, it did not matter. It could have gone over, it could have been right but it would never not be enough. She always had more than enough on her. “Don’t run, don’t lower your head. Simply walk out while it’s still on your shoulders. It’s a pretty head,” So that Hayeon was reaching fondly so to let her fingers run through the strands that adorned the girl’s head, red yet soft, unlike the heavy liquid of blood that she felt run through her fingers. “Take care of it.”

She didn’t wait for answer, did not want an answer, she started to make her way out of the bar, already yearning for the peace she knew she’d find once she closed the doors behind her. She never waited for people to slide in her life, never welcomed them in. It had been the same with Hyoseong, although she’d met the woman at a time when things had been too hard to handle on her own. They’d clicked because somehow, Hayeon had still been Camille then, curious little Camille and her thirst for companionship the moment loneliness hit too heavy on her shoulders and made her stumble at the feet of potential partners for the road.

[antidouleurs]

like this post for a starter!

[antidouleurs]

                                    ▌▌vedrremo

                                                                                              ► She's observing.

What exactly? She's not sure, but her eyes are searching for something without looking for an answer, there's no questioning mark scribbled across her features, quite bland for someone who's been staring at her reflection in the mirror for a good minute now. She's been counting the ticking of the clock that's hung up somewhere in the room. She knows it's to her right, it's all she can say, because she's familiar with it. She speaks at once, after she's thoroughly finished what she's been trying to find. Not an answer, but it's a question that's downing on her tongue. It might even not be considered as such because it comes flat, with no mark at the end.

"We'd probably look different if we could get wrinkles." She's not alone, hasn't been for a good hour now. Sitting on the couch and doing something on her side while Ebony sat right next to her, Ebony--the name still reminds her of the difficulties she had to stick to it, thus sometimes her tongue would switch to its familiar shape, the name that the woman has deemed lost returning with a fervent need to not be forgotten on Hayeon's mind. The same way it did when it came to her own, Hayeon. As sometimes she wakes up and only tastes Camille on her tongue but cannot let it out so she breathes it out with a fog the mirror of her bathroom sink. Before letting her finger trace letters of the unknown name, forgotten in a moment of dizziness, so she can remember that Camille is not, Hayeon is.

[antidouleurs]

“What is it? Are you in a lot of pain?”

She’d stopped in her tracks, alright she had and it could have been taken as anything really. From how she’d been so quick to escape whatever the presence overwhelming her senses in the streets was to just suddenly stopping dead short like she needn’t no to run away from this. When had taken the easy road and turning into a coward been the only solution for her? It had her curling her lips in faint distaste, casting her eyes around to catch sight of whoever had made the discomfort so strong that she’d almost ran out of her shoes. 

She did not run. She preyed and chased, she was not the one who had to run if anything whoever was threatening her safety had to be on their guards not her. So that she waited. Felt them getting closer, even though she had a feeling that they’d been close from the beginning. But she waited still, ignoring the few passer bys stare, the few ones that were in a hurry not even daring to bump into her when she’d actually look up anticipating even just a brush of their shoulders against hers.

She’d bite their throat and tear at the flesh if she had ot do it in front of everyone—figuratively of course. Although the thought had her lips curling around a small grin. But then it was a jolt, a shock that ran all the way down to her toes and had her letting out a choking noise, bent over her form to stop the feeling from getting too close. He was there. So was his voice, asking if she was in pain like he did not know he was the cause of this. 

Her mother had told her once, that the ones that came from heavenly place, be it cursed ones or blessed ones tended to have this effect on them, the pure bloods, the ones that were born out from the curse and not from the bite. The scent and memories they carried often caused them to double over in pain if not for the overpowering feeling they had when they neared their senses. She had to control this. 

"No, you just really stink." The words were spat and with it followed her spit, down on the ground she held her fists tight in her pockets and looked up to see what features he wore. The one who actually dared to make her look this weak among other humans, a race that was allowed none of the privileges they thought they had over her kinds because they read it in books and saw it on their big screens. 

[fortruths-deactivated20150906]

Normally given his expertise he can see this kind of thing coming from a mile away. The catch is that he’d have to be on the lookout for it. As he’s never had to deal with being under attack while in line to grab food it’s never occurred to him that it could possibly happen. He’s put a lot of people away, not enough that he thinks it warrants personal vendettas just yet but he was working his way in that direction. He’s never needed protection outside of the job but now it looks like all of that is going to change. If this means he has to learn a few quick spells and maybe start carrying all those wards he’s collected over the years then so be it.

He shakes himself from his daze, eyes wide as he stares at his current savior a little longer. Had she put him under this spell without warning? He’d never seen her in his life, and he didn’t forget faces. She seems content to brush off whatever’s occurred between them. A trait he sees all too often when something supernatural happens. If they’re unable to explain away whatever it is that’s happened to them then they’d think of something. Anything in order to fit it into a neat little box to wrap their heads around. Why spend time dissecting something that was never truly meant to be understood anyway? He could very well see the logic in it and it if wasn’t his job he might be guilty of it himself. But at the moment he was unwilling to be lulled into complacency.

❝Did you feel that? Heavy and suffocating? Like maybe someone was trying to put you to sleep and smother you at the same time? ❞ The line moves again and this time instead of letting someone else jump in front of him he moves forward and ask for two cups of water for the two of them. He feels like the cool of it will shake the sluggishness from his bones, allow him to think clearly and track down whoever had it out for him. ❝ I know I didn’t imagine that. ❞

[antidouleurs]

He wouldn't just drop it, would it? It had her tilting her head in consideration. Wondering if it was on purpose, if he wanted to get her to say the wrong thing. She'd been in a situation like this before, but truth be told, was there any situations she hadn't found herself in? It sometimes felt like she'd lived a hundred of lives, each ones personalized to accommodate the century's trends and traditions. 

But she felt no real dubious intention coming off of him, at this point she had to make sure. Trespassing on someone's feelings or not, she still had to probe around to see if he was being serious, if he really wanted answers, the real one,s the ones she did not give out easily unless she was aware that the being pondering on them and wanting her to talk was of no huma nrace. Yet he was human, clearly so made of flesh and bones that could break and fade under layer of earth. That would break and fade under layers and layers of earth. 

"No," Honest, she hadn't felt that, all she'd felt was the awkwardness, partially due to the fact that she'd also been tricked but that was something she wanted to keep to herself. Curious or not, sincere or not, she still would not admit to having been weak in the presence of magic.

"You didn't, but I felt it differently since clearly I wasn't the target." Since it was the truth that he wanted, she'd let him have a taste of it. Not all of it all dumped on him with talks of magics and a sorcerer or trickster most likely at his tail, hot and burning and that the only reason he was unarmed was because Hayeon had been careless enough to think of it as just an everyday spell meant for playful harm. Although he seemed capable of holding his ground around this type of thing--but she wouldn't just let all of it out, call it great old rule of precaution and secrecy that almost no one was keeping lately.

The line moved then as she was in her thoughts. She'd even almost forgot that she was here to get something. Not even wanting whatever it was she'd been trying to get as she followed next to him, more so because she clearly looked like she had no choice but to act like she was with him at the moment. This was turning into a bothersome encounter if anything. But she would not squirm on spot and show her uneasiness, instead she let out a sigh as he ordered for her--she'd let that slide, even if now she remembered what she'd been here for, tea. 

[antidouleurs]

pericol:

       ❝ I feel as if I’ve been run over by a truck.       You look familiar, but I’m not really sure.       I think I drank too much… ❞

' she turns to give him a look, only because she's caught his voice and now there's no avoiding having to listen. it was better when he was still unconscious. 

he's sitting too close to her for her own comfort, she's not even sure why she let him inside but then she remembers incessant knocks on her doors waking her up at an ungodly hour and huffs quietly. leaning more comfortably so against the couch. she barely got any sleep because she didn't feel right with someone else right here in the other room. reason why a book is now sitting on her lap. '

"Might be the reason why you came knocking at my door." 

[antidouleurs]

zoeire:

Dividing her attention between impatient customers and ones who have caught her eye is a task Jae cannot manage. The last time she tried to give her attention to a rather calm male at the end of the bar while others were calling her way, the male was kicked out for being a distraction. He may have been a distraction but he was the cutest distraction she ever laid on eyes. Especially when her eyes consisted of this motley crew, scars, big burly jaws and all. Jae welcomed any shift in her routine.

Instead she took to giving small glances at the female a smile gracing her lips at the reaction to the drink. She’d love to know how it tasted but sipping the merchandise was prohibited. At least for her. She figured they believed she’d pop her cap if she became intoxicated. Nevertheless Jae is continuing to attend to the needs of the female’s companion and another. She hides the broken glass with a flick of her wrist before pulling out two more for the males. One eager customer is getting a quick ‘hold your horses’ while another gets a smile and a ‘what can I get you’. The contrast is evident but performed swiftly and without fail.

She wondered how the female took to the bar, it being her first time and all. Rowdy was hardly close to describe it Jae liked to think of it as a mixture of things. There was constant movement, guys shuffling through aisles to get to the booths, to get to their friends or get to the next fight and yet everything ran along smoothly. There was a harmony in this chaos that Jae found herself more accustomed to than she’d like to admit. She’d hear another crash and snap for someone to clean it up, mainly because she’d rather stay behind the counter than enter the belly of the beast.

Given the nature of what they were Jae figured this woman wasn’t too surprised. She didn’t catch it in her features but she did catch understanding. Maybe she half expected it, maybe not but Jae didn’t see it her place to ask. Besides, she’d already heard her answer with annoyance prickling on her tongue. The bar was odd, when people came Jae often told them the same thing when expectations weren’t met. “Milk it for what it’s worth." 

Take the bits and pieces and build it into something worthwhile. At least that’s what Jae often did. The musky scent that often swept over her nose in countless tides, she learned to anticipate a fight soon after, once adrenaline hit the males they were unstoppable. If someone broke the rules she could watch one of the guys pick them up and kick them out. After that no one would argue much, the atmosphere would settle and she could relax again. 

“You wanna get entertained, pick a table and just wait, it can get pretty funny." Jae’s in the middle of handing out another glass and wiping the table at the same time.

“Table in the far corner to the right, that’s Hwa’s little crew, they usually bring a girl every other day and right about now she’s probably going to leave because they stink.”

She’s pouring beer, concentrating on her mix rather than the environment. “Table in the middle, Minhyuk and his heavy drinkers, they act crazy but they’re too scared to really get drunk.”

“Mmm and over by Yunnie’s table, the girls usually fight over him because he brings too many.”

Jae’s never been one to give her attention, but only because her attention is never craved. When eyes fall on her they’re usually for a minute. People contemplating approaching the red head at the bartender, their endeavors are usually shut down. So it gives her time to observe everything that goes on and she never misses a thing. It’s a pity though, routines like this make it so easy for her to slip in her little tricks.

When Jae’s notices this female in particular has turned back to her, it’s a nice twist. It wasn’t just that she carried a different aura. No lilacs didn’t bloom off her and she didn’t emit small giggles like the others. There was nothing pleasant to take except the freedom that danced off her skin. And Jae liked it.

She wants to make a comment but something snaps her mouth shut. It’s the phrase she hears. The word. It wrapped the leash around her neck. It tightened and tightened and Jae only bit her lip to prevent a backlash. That word. She wondered if the female saw the leash before anyone else. She wondered if the chains were really that obvious.

She’s been gnawing at them for a year but oh how the caged pup cries.

“Belong huh…" she lets it linger the words are mumbled and drowned out by another call for a beer. She doesn’t, it’s a phrase that burns her tongue. It stings because it’s false and her entire being desires for it to be true. She doesn’t belong to anyone. That should be her response, it should be anyone’s response. But she knows. This woman sees those metal oppressors, they hang on her like a clutch. 

“I’m pretty sure I’m one of the youngest here," she didn’t need to establish that she meant young in both terms. "Both a blessing and a curse. I’ve been stuck with them for about a year now. Do you know any of them?" Her companion seems to know one of her co-workers but that was about it. 

There was nothing to milk, there was nothing worthy in this bar. Nothing would ever be worthy again once you'd lost what was the core of your whole existence. But there she went brooding on her thoughts again, something she often made herself stop doing. But the bitter taste of the liquid on her tongue, the noises were getting on her nerves already. Hence why she refused to ever step inside one of those things.

Generations after and pubs were still the same thing. Filled with pathetic beings who had nothing better to do than drown in alcohol and loud music, obnoxious yelling to keep their world from tumbling out of their grip. Or to feel as if they had more than what they usually had. Debts would rise then, if not in the form of money, it would be in the form of what they'd owe to their physical aspect years later. When their bellies were full of beer and toxin and their strength gone on how many times they'd weakened their minds by doing such frivolous things.

She thought and thought, took another sip but this time turned into it downing away the entire content of the glass and letting it rest gently back on the counter. Thought and thought and also listened to the girl's voice, odd out of the other noises. Blocking everything else when she needed to hear her over the roughness of the men shouting above the music. It would be a lie if Hayeon said she paid any attention to what she was showing her though. She looked, she took notice but it left no impact on her, no memories, she certainly did not want to remember the sight of the last table she was shown with women that were sprawled between the legs of the male that sat with them. Certainly not, especially with the scent of arousal that was now thick the moment she paid attention to them. She scrunched her nose and took her gaze off them, mostly because he glanced her way and she resisted the urge to flip off the wink he threw her way. Never.

"Don't be pretty sure, you are." She answered, more interested in that conversation than in trying to get to know whoever came or did not come regularly to the bar. It wasn't as if her senses could tell if someone was too old or too young, but they carried memories with them and each of them had a distinct scent attached to it. The stronger it was, the more years they'd lived on earth. The lighter it was, the less years they'd spent or wasted on earth. But some people could be as old as centuries allowed and yet carry nothing, being able to let go of their past  so that only the traces of age could be seen on their faces, lines after lines reflecting the memories that did not cling to them anymore, a thing she envied at times.

"I was more talking about how long you'd been a Lycan." She directly addressed it, tone lower so that the humans of the bar would not catch it. But she felt the stillness at having brought up the word, did not lower her gaze and kept it up at the bartender, a small smirk playing on her lips because of the eyes she could feel. The tension that hung and straightened every string in her direction, tight around her limbs and throat and yet that made her feel free to do as she pleased.

It was a defiance that had her leaning away for a bit, folding her arms across her chest as she spared none of the ma glance. Not even the Alpha, that sat somewhere in the back, she could feel his presence. Because she was a threat, another alpha right on his territory. But she wasn't here to start an uproar, it did not mean that she wouldn't get a bit of pleasure out of taunting them. It made her want to set things straight, that as lonely as she was, as packless as she was, she was still a Desmarais, part of the strongest royal packs that had ever existed and would ever exist. "I know no one, although they all know me."

Because old or new, everyone knew of the story of the wolf who helped in the eradication of her kinds. Everyone knew of the story of the big bad wolf who had been tricked by the hunter although she had never sunk her teeth in human flesh, hadn't eaten Little Red Riding hood's grandmother and had not fed off children. But the hunter had struck a chord, had used what no one could ever refuse, love, words that enticed her and made her crumble. Made her pay not with her life, for that would have been an easy price to pay.

What he took was worth more than her life would ever be. In comparison, her life was nothing. The same way in comparison to her, all of them here currently in this bar were nothing. Even the alpha that had years on his shoulders and most of his entire pack filled with people he'd turned without any approval on their part, even he knew when to keep his distance. So that the tension fell a bit and with it rose her solemnity in the status she held, would always hold, appearances be damned. 

[antidouleurs]

yunnki:

The chilled air that entered along with another customer caused Kijoon to momentarily look up from the box that had managed to have caught all of his attention prior to the girl’s entrance. With the quick disregard of the latter as a typical customer with no intention to buy anything, as so little did during this season, he turned back towards his task.

The chore, though seemingly simple, proved to be rather difficult as to find a space for any book that wasn’t illustrated was near impossible. Had the small container been filled to the brim with picture books, he would have completed the task hours before, when the box had originally been delivered. But along with his idiotic ideas to fill the shop with thicker books and unknown names, laid what he felt should be regret. Not at the idea to change what the bookshop supplied, but at the decision to do so gradually. Where it may have been a safe and even smart bet to do so when it came to the business, the work and labour that was laid upon him was hardly worth it.

With a huff of fabricated frustration, Kijoon kept the box of simple novels under one of the shelves with the subtle hopes that it wouldn’t be tripped over. But with the numerous stacks of books in various spots around the store, he couldn’t help but wonder when the first trip would be.

The childish thought was soon dismissed when the customer from before approached him with a book in hand. It only took him a moment to recognize the cover as his own. It was old and ratty, it contrasted the rest of the store but Kijoon still preferred to keep it in the shelves. It wasn’t a book of this shop but instead a book that he had brought from his personal belongings. He had bought it ages ago when the story of a Hansel and Gretel started to circulate around him; he was curious as to how his story was depicted and ended up rather pleased, though only because of the heroic traits that were displayed in his sister. Hardly anyone had looked through it, but he used to flip through it for a previous comfort.

Ever since he had come to own the shop, he hadn’t dared to open the book. What he had wished to be fear had always twisted in his stomach whenever he laid eyes on the book. If something so simple as a firework could trigger his panic attacks, what would it do to him to read about his childhood terrors? No, he didn’t dare to look through the book another time, but the thought of the shop being free from it strangely displeased him—or so he hoped it did.

"It wasn’t originally for sale." He admitted with what he hoped to be a sheepish smile. "Do you like this story, though? I’ve been told it’s rather tragic. It’s why it’s been here for so long. Kids would flip through it to look at the pictures, but their parents would never end up buying it." To fib came naturally for him at this point, and part of him hoped that his lies and truth interwoven together would make for a believable story, yet another part of him also didn’t care. "Letting kids read about witches that like to eat children don’t do very well for preventing nightmares."

A simple, almost pitiful chuckle left him and he ran his thumb along the edge of the book, as if in admiration of it. “But I suppose, since someone’s finally interested—how much do you think it should be?” To let go of such a part of his past felt like he hadn’t curled his fingers away from the book but of his sister. Which, admittedly, he felt he should do. “If you like this book, I’ve got other ones that hold other fairytales, too, if that’s what interests you.”

Hayeon's eyes gazed down at the cover of it, the letters, the shape of it, the way the pages were put together, all of it reminded her of the books that she held dear to her. The ones that burned in the mansion along with everything that she lived for. Her whole family, gone with each stories that were told and folded neatly in their libraries, gone. All of it burned away and yet, here it was, something that looked as old as her memories were.

It wasn't even that this was her favourite story, Hansel & Gretel, as the man behind the counter was saying, it was gruesome. Tragic was not what she would call it as, because back then fairy tales had a way of working with kids, put them through nightmares and were the only way to warn them of what lurked in the forest, what lurked in the shadows in the night. They were what the media did nowadays, awareness to the possible danger you may encounter in life. Fairy tales were the cautionary words of parents. 

Horror stories for children. 

"But they do well for preventing them to mindlessly be curious about running in the forest when the sun is down and low." And the moon is high and up and not only are the witches stronger then, but the wolves hiding behind each trees are. That one was her favourite story, as cliche as it would have seemed if one knew of what she was. Little Red Riding Hood had been her favourite when she'd been just ten, sitting at her mother's bed and listening to her read to them, all four of them sitting there and quiet. They were always quiet when it was the Little Red Riding Hood story time. 

"Parents need to let their kids know that not everything goes well for little running feet." She felt a grin tug a corner of her mouth, before she answered his other inquiry, she didn't need to. But when it came to her being at ease, in her element, words seemed to flow easier than she intended them to, "I like the story, but I like that the book looks as old as what is told in its pages, I would pay any price you wish to give me." 

So that she kept her gaze lowered, not wanting to pry when she saw him brush a thumb against the cover of it, as if he couldn't resist. She wouldn't blame him, though it made her grow curious as to why it wasn't on sale, why the underlying tone of the light tone he was using did not sit well with her. She could feel a lie a million miles away, she could feel everything if she put her mind to it, but she did not walk in the streets with her senses on full alert because humans tended to have too much to give out. 

But then the sound he'd made before, the one that made her frown lightly at the importance that the manuscript itself held, was discarded because he was speaking of something of much more importance. Many more like this,"Same format?" She asked, glancing up, eyebrows following the gesture, her cheeks would have rose with a high pink on them if she had still been young and easily showing how pleased she was. 

But the years had hardened her feelings and they stopped showing earnestly on her skin even if it was blatant by the sudden interest in her eyes that she was more than just mildly interested. She could finally make a trip back to Montreal, to visit the old Mansion that she'd rebuilt somewhere around the beginning of the twentieth century. She could walk in the library and fill in the blank spaces left on the shelves, a shelf she'd had handmade to look exactly like the one they'd owned.

In fact, everything in the Mansion looked exactly like it were before the flames engulfed it. 

[antidouleurs]

choithetruth:

He’d just called in his last case. The plan was to grab dinner and hopefully see an end to what was otherwise a long day. Exhaustion is apparent on his features, and because he is merely human he has been known to succumb to such. He isn’t sure if he’s daydreaming or if he’s wide awake as he stumbles forward in line. Suddenly the air in the room has gone rather warm and it feels like the walls of it are beginning to press in on him. He hasn’t felt this lightheaded in awhile and oh are his feet moving on their own? That’s strange. Enough that he should be cautious but the goofy look on his face says otherwise.

His feet propel him forward and any resistance he might be able to kick up as the feeling overwhelms him is crushed beneath the drowsiness seeming to weigh him down. He tries to think —through the sluggish haze in his mind — of what he’d done prior to being where he was now, but instead he found his arm outstretched. He knew the creeping uncontrollable feeling of strong magic, of being enticed to do against his will but there was nothing to be done on his end. Unless someone snapped him out of it. But he was alone.

Then, there she was. A crystal clear voice cutting through the fog enveloping him. Its delivery catching him entirely off guard as a heavy hand fell back to his side. For a moment he’s frozen in confusion and minor shock, both emotions sending cold adrenaline through his veins and yet, his expression showed no semblance of surprise ; stoic and unreadable, he remained. Like cogs clicking and whirring, his mind tried its best to form a coherent sentence — perhaps even something worth enunciating — but the silence continued to stretch between them. What had happened?

“What?”

She wasn't even aware of the magic, she should have been, which meant that it must have been a strong pull and she only realised it once he was out of it. The man in front of her, now sounding puzzled more than looking it. She was too, Hayeon stood there blinking before a frown settled on her features and her eyes scanned around for where it came from.

Because the person in front of the other man had just been a distraction, and gone was the distraction while she was busy staring at the man that the spell had been cast on. It was the broken charm, the way it snapped heavy in the air that made her realize what had happened, a second too late. She didn't like the feeling of having been successfully tricked, even if the trick in question had not been intended to affect her. There she went, meddling in things that did not concern her. 

It had her letting out a soft sigh, because she regretted having interrupted it, now wanting to see what would have happened. What the purpose of the one who'd cast the spell was, the consequences of the action, where would they have led the man? Curiosity was a trait that she could never quite tame down. She turned her gaze back at the man, looking as blank as he did at the moment. For a human he was handling this pretty well at least. 

"Nothing, I'm crazy. Seeing things." She shrugged a shoulder, tugging out the gum she'd stuck on the end of her piercing to start chewing on it again. Leveling him with a cool gaze as she waited for the usual, alright, affirmation anything that humans usually did. Agree to anything out of the normal being put back in a familiar territory because they did not want to dig further. Did not want to know what was under the heavy pull that had almost made them fall on the other side. Fall right into the trap of a vicious trickster most likely. Lucky she'd been there. Too lucky for her taste.

[antidouleurs]

                                    ▌▌amesozin

                                                                                              ► She'd been staring.

She shouldn't have been but she was, standing there and looking straight at where a mother and her child had been playing. So it was kind of impolite of her, but there was a thing about babies--or children. A thing that somehow would soften her face in a smile that wasn't mocking, or forced and it happened that at times, the only comfort she could find was head to a children park and watch them play.

That earned quite a reputation during a period, because some mothers kept seeing her. Some rumors about her being a widow, or a mother who'd lost her child and that was why she always came to this park. She was both a myth as a lycan, and a myth in the north region of Seoul as the widow who always came to cheer herself up by watching other children. It was back in the seventies, when she'd just moved to South Korea. She obviously had to move away because she'd gained too much attention and clearly she did not like the title. Ridiculous. Good thing that at the very least they wouldn't believe she was still alive and would attribute it to some grandmother image. One she'd made up for the sake of appearance and coherency when she told people that she owned a tattoo parlor that had been here years before she was born. Physically wise she did look like she wasn't born then. She even changed her clothing style to blend in easier. Although she had to say, she did not hate the choices she made.

But the memory distracted her, so that when she looked back up the scene she'd been watching was gone. She sighed and made to leave then, it was winter, so it was understandable that less people wanted to bring their children around. She wouldn't have had this problem though, she remembered her and all the other children of the pack loved playing in the snow. They did get cold, but it took a longer time for them to really feel the chill than the average human body. Besides the country she'd been born in did not allow for anyone to dislike the cold or winter.

She made to leave, turning around and heading where she was supposed to be, home. But she hit something, and immediately was thankful that her movement hadn't been abrupt, because looking down was a small figure. Big eyes looking up at her and a toddler that was sitting there in the snow, bundled in layers and layers of clothes, blinking--like he knew she was not going to resist the urge to immediately crouch to his height and level him with the same inquiring stare.

"Quite adorable, you think you are, don't you?" He probably didn't understand much of what she'd just said, she wasn't sure about his age, but she could tell his gender a the very least. She was pretty sure with the trend this day to dress the little girls as if they were twin to dolls, he would have been pampered from head to toe even in this snow if it had been a girl. She was glad she was not born human when she saw that if she had to be honest.  

[antidouleurs]

                                    ▌▌couleurx

                                                                                              ► Paying attention.

It was something that Hayeon did a lot of time. She would look like she wasn't watching, or seeing what was happening around her, but it was because she didn't need her eyes to pay attention. If she really wanted to, her ears would be there for her to catch what she wanted to hear. Most of the times, her eyes could deceive her but her other senses always stayed loyal. As loyal as they could stay if her sight did not hinder their goal to not let her stray from the truth.

It happened once, it meant that it could happen again.

There was a time where anywhere she went she had to make sure three times that no heart beat was out of range, that no suspicious activities were happening in the place she'd entered before finding a seat and ordering something. If she had to, other time it was just to stop wandering in the streets aimlessly. That had been during the beginning of her exile.

Things had evolved, for the bitter of the worse, nothing could be certain. But at least, she did not jump at every other person who'd enter, or at eyes she'd feel on her or sudden noises she'd catch when people spoke a bit too loudly. Made a gesture that sent something flying on the ground. Shattering sounds still made her startle a bit, but not with a body movement, just her eyes flickering up.

Like it was doing now and she was catching sight of someone bumping into another and not even stopping to apologise. Humans, they came in all shape and size when it came to bad manners. But she lasted no more than one second on the man who'd passed by without a look behind because the person he'd bumped into was losing balance and seemed as if no one was going to do a thing about it, busy minds they were. Hayeon reached out for the woman and gripped her arm before someone else was to again push her to the side while seeing that she hadn't found her balance yet. There was a question as to why the woman wasn't at least stable enough by now, but well she wasn't about to ask if it meant she could help quietly so then act like this never happened.

The grip she had wasn't tight to hurt, because if she underestimated her strength she'd regret it, but it was tight enough to keep her still while Hayeon shot a nasty glare to whoever made to pass through the bubble of protection she immediately placed around them. She was close enough now that no one was trying to actually shove them from side to side now, if they just dared, they'd regret it, she'd make sure of it. But she spoke once she was sure the way was clear, and she'd bought enough time for the woman to settle comfortably so on her two legs. "Find your balance."  

[antidouleurs]

"Maybe he was right."

                                    ▌▌sad rp starters

                                                                                              ► What happened?

It was a the tip of her tongue, but she needn’t have to ask to know that it had been terrible to both the person whose blood was covering the girl’s hands—and the girl. Because despite what might be known of lycans and their beastly nature, sometimes, they never quite matched the nature of the beholder of the curse.

It had been a curse for centuries, and it always will be that way if the shapeshifters did not let themselves accept the fact that for the rest of his life, they shall let the animal out and it will hunt. It will hunt, it will kill, without mercy until the day you learn to control it and keep it at bay long enough to tell it what you want it to hunt. Hayeon could, but because she was born with it. 

Jae wasn’t born this way. If anything that fact angered her, it didn’t even feel like she chose the bite. You had to make it a choice, taking it away from the person you were turning was a crime. This was why the Argents were out here for, to eradicate those scums who still thought that they could go around turning anyone they wished to, long as the prey ran. But this wasn’t what the young girl needed at the moment. 

"Let’s get you out of here first." Hayeon spoke, the smell of blood made her wrinkle her nose as she pulled her jacket and slid it across Jae’s shoulders. She made to make her stand up when the younger girl finally spoke.

"Maybe he was right." Words that made sense and brought back the anger that she was smoothing down with the urgency of just putting her in a safe place. Sure thing the sun would rise soon and the Argents wouldn’t miss to be there. Why hadn’t they been any when Jae had been given no choice? 

"You’re no runt, you’re a werewolf, doll." Albeit a young one, "Just because you don’t like the feeling of killing, does not make you weak." She managed to pull her up and straight and brush off a few leaves that were sticking to her hair, giving it a ruffle once she was done and tilted her head to catch her eyes in the lowered stance Jae’s head was. "You get used to it." 

Besides something seemed off, and to make sure of it, Hayeon reached forward for the blood staining Jae’s fingers. Getting hold of her wrist and her tongue flickering out to lick the taste of it, her sense of smell could not catch it quickly. But her tongue did and she spat the liquid out soon as she was certain of it. “Besides seemed like you had no choice, this was no human attack. But we really need to get out of here.” 

Last warning, so that Hayeon had to slip an arm around the girl’s waist and force her to follow her steps down and out of the forest, to where he car was waiting. Parked in quite a rush because of the yelp of pain she’d heard while driving by.