chiwon can see the tempest appraising his new form, and the card’s displeasure with his relative (or, perhaps, absolute) weakness was evident. his new body is slight and small, pouting lips and wide, halfway innocent eyes doing nothing to elicit the same vigilance as his previous form had. if anything, he evoked a vague fondness - but chiwon knew better than to underestimate the tempest; capture might have weakened the card, but it did not rob him completely of his power.
his diligence was an extension of the great respect he held for the cards - they are, essentially, born of organic energy, and so nature-made and nature themselves, even if they had a proclivity towards destruction as this one was - but was nature itself not temperamental? it was the most discordant cards that attracted him - better him than the rookies, and some deep, ingrained part of him he didn’t care to acknowledge sought the bits of glory that came with subduing such a great force.
patience accompanies respect, a greater sense than most heroes his age, and when the tempest lurches at him unsteadily to land a whisper of a blow to his shoulder, chiwon blinks slowly, his gaze steady as the card begins his spiel. perhaps it would have carried more weight in his previous form, but now he looks akin to a puppy pawing and mouthing at his ankles with teeth too little to bite - it’s endearing, he’ll admit it, and when he’s pulled down by the collar to eye level with the tempest, the corners of his mouth quirk in bemusement. he bends his knees, further reducing their height disparity. “as you wish.”
but, as with most things defiant and petulant, it is clear boundaries need to be set, and while chiwon doesn’t believe in suppressing a card’s aggression but rather working in conjunction with it, a defiant card might present problems in the future. when he speaks, his voice rumbles like thunder, stern and leaving little for argument, all traces of amusement dashed to the side. “you can be defiant for however long you like - it is not in my nature, nor should it be in anyone else’s to force you into compliance and expect ideal results.” he takes the tempest’s chin in between his thumb and finger, his gaze narrowing. “but know your stubbornness will not do you any favors in this instance. it does not make you braver or stronger to willfully ignore your circumstances - it simply makes you blind. and so i ask again - what do you want to be called? and before you repeat yourself, ‘tempest’ will make you stick out like a sore thumb in human company.”
conversations are scarce during a fight, but tempest had taken great pleasure in taunting and pushing limits. showing off his superiority with the ease he carried himself with, afloat and one with the wind, as if he was carried by invisible wings, while words dripped like poison from the tip of his tongue. a riled up hero had little control and a hero without self control was as good as dead.
it worked on the rookies; it hadn’t worked on the hero in front of him.
his voice had rung in his ears like the ghost of a memory - present but far away. a vague shape, a voiceless whisper.
it didn’t compare to finding himself standing right in front of him with no quarrel to muffle his - chiwon’s, the tempest reminds himself - words and the card finds himself unable to hide the hint of surprise that crosses his features when the human so easily accommodates to his wishes. a second passes in which he wonders if the hero was simply that pliant or that foolishly kind, with a silly grin on his lips and a twinkle to his eyes. tempest has few seconds to study his face, but finds himself momentary distracted with the urge to count his lashes, inhale the scent that he’s emitting a bit deeper - it was the oddest combination of the scent of rain on fresh grass and the warmth of incense.
that brief moment doesn’t last, but is quickly replaced by the sombre expression tempest was used to from the human. his voice makes the tempest flinch visibly, shoulders pulling closer to his body as a self defence mechanism he never resisted he needed, but his human shell possessed by instinct. his own fingers lose their hold and fall away as the warm touch of the hero’s skin lingers against his face - a wondrous thing, the human warmth, the effect that skin contact and proximity had. tempest had never before made experience with it but found himself quickly shrinking, growing meek and humble in comparison to his previous outburst.
it feels silly of him, in that moment. the way the hero - chiwon; he whispers it inside his mind only, barely acknowledging - speaks to him makes it seem like he was the idiot fighting a natural force and trying to make something happen that wouldn’t. his lips tremble for a moment, press into a thin line before the pliant flesh purses in unison to the frown that creases between his brows. no one had ever talked to him that way before; no one would have dared address the powerful tempest in such a brusk and disrespectful manner.
the first drop of realisation falls then, cold and bitter, as the tempest swallows it along with his pride. he isn’t what he was before and his eyes lower, unable to meet chiwon’s, as if following a natural impulse he didn’t realise he had.
“i don’t know.” it feels like a loss. like a fight that should have been his suddenly turned on him and forced him to the ground. a once so proud creature reduced to a mere shell, a shackled beast that follows orders. the most painful part was that he gave in, himself; tired as he was, weak as he felt and heavy as his limbs are, it felt like he had little chance, otherwise. “i don’t know human names.” he still has enough defiance in him to cross his arms and jerk his chin away from the warm hold - no matter how tender the touch felt, how nice the subtle heat - his voice a stubborn mumble thrown into the space between them. “you own me, don’t you? why don’t you pick it, then?”
