IF PATIENTLY THY BIDDING THEY OBEY, DISMISS THEM NOT DISCONSULATE — dam.nation vs. reality tv, failing to enter the charts, and one another. ( do not question your television screen. ) group lore insp. by persona, the divine comedy, paradise lost. fictional idol writing blog centred around the lives and careers of song sasung, shin hwihun, gu yonghyung, omori shogo, jung kijung, and the other boy. written by robbie. contains mature and sometimes dark themes, themes of religion.
i. GROUP BIO. ii. MEMBER PROFILES. iii. DISCOGRAPHY.
iv. DISCLAIMER. v. TAG LIST. vi. WRITING MASTERLIST.
LATEST CHAPTER : GOD SAVE THE DAMNED EP01 : No Guts No Glory.
not sure if it even needs to be said atp considering how long it’s been since I last posted but dam.nation will be on an “indefinite hiatus” for the foreseeable future. i’m not going to delete anything or deactivate this blog because I want to leave a door open for them to come back but for now i’m pretty sure that’s a wrap, i had a lot of fun working on them and making their stuff, and having that fun was very very important to getting me involved in fic again but they’ve stagnated for too long that I’d rather keep my focus where it is than worry about what to do with a group who by design weren’t story-heavy and were mostly aesthetic focused lol!
genuinely, thank you to everyone who took interest in dam.nation! you guys gave me so much more encouragement than yous realise and really really helped me find my confidence as a creator again after a long time ❤️🖤❤️🖤
um the best way I can describe what’s going on with dam.nation is that I spent like a whole week in blender making something for a ten second teaser then like just as I was almost done and had something I was happy with i lost everything on my pc including like their album cover and like 7 finished graphics I had ready to post and I couldn’t bring myself to think about them again until now
If I was trying to hide the fact I was referencing P4, I wouldn’t have named the mini after a massive part of the game, used a direct quote from the game in the teaser, or have the words ‘group lore insp. by persona’ in my pinned HSHDJHDJD
PARTY4U is the second pre-debut single of the up-and-coming MYDOL girl group, G-GIRLZ. They would promote the digital single for three weeks as well as their previously released track, GNARLY.
Yes, finally, after two months of heavy speculation and leaks online, G-GIRLZ finally revealed their official group name and debut date at the end of their PARTY4U music video...
As you can imagine, stan twitter had a lot to say about it!
TAKE A SCREENSHOT TO GET YOUR PARTY4U PC!
“We didn’t storyboard it. We built a house and let the night unfold.”
— Son Roan, MV Director, on filming “party4u”
The "party4u" MV isn’t structured like a traditional music video. It’s a voyeuristic, damn near clusterfuck, drift through a house that feels like the center of the universe for exactly one night. The camera is your only guide, tipsy and uninvited, always a few seconds late to the drama. There’s no plot, but there are stories.
Shot mostly handheld, with a grain filter and blown-out lighting, the video follows a single continuous motion through the rooms of a party you’ve seen on TV before: sweaty, messy, and a little bit sad.
“Each member of TACK13 has their own arc, but none of them get a resolution. That’s the point.”
Geni is introduced mid-argument. She and Hyun of ISSAYAH stand in the kitchen, yelling at one another and causing the people around them to either stare or scurry off. The volume of the video drops just enough for viewers to catch words like “again?” and “you came with her?”
The camera swings wide whenever it gets too close, like it’s scared of them. Their fight continues silently across rooms: matching each other’s steps on the dance floor, locking eyes when they think no one’s watching.
Later, Geni’s seen resting her head on Hyun's shoulder as he silently smokes a cigarette. She has mascara stains on her cheeks as she blankly stares ahead. When Hyun takes a drag, he uses his free hand to bring Geni's to his lips, a small yet gentle act of intimacy for the turbulent couple.
“It was all them. We didn't plan any of it. They legitimately fought on set and made up that night. It was perfect for what we were going for, but also terrifying to be around.”
Navi is the most romanticized character in the MV. She’s introduced alone, dancing in the kitchen in a glittery mesh top, headphones on while everyone else is tuned into the party. The camera lingers on her as she twirls with a wine bottle in hand.
She locks eyes with Yonghyung. Their scenes are quiet, warm, always framed with candles or ambient glow. They keep passing each other: once in the hallway (where he moves aside without speaking), once at the fridge (where she closes it before he can grab a drink), and once on the stairs, where they finally pause, faces inches apart.
But they don’t kiss. He gets a text, glances at it, and leaves. She watches him go, smile fading.
Later, during the bridge, Hwihun walks up to her on the back porch and offers her a jacket. She declines.
“Navi’s plot is about never arriving. The party is full of people but she’s stuck in a loop with someone who keeps missing the moment.”
The house party is at full volume, the bass bleeding through the walls, laughter overlapping. But when we cut to Finn, seated on a velvet couch with Minsi on his left and Eme on his right, the music dips. Not completely. Just enough for you to hear the shift in energy. It’s a controlled silence, like you’re holding your breath.
The camera takes on a voyeuristic quality here. It doesn’t try to be objective. It picks sides. Then switches.
Minsi’s leg is crossed tightly, one manicured hand on Finn’s arm. Eme’s posture is relaxed, fingers twirling a straw in her drink. Finn is… neutral. Unaware, or pretending to be. But the girls clock each other with every movement. Eme leans in to say something. Minsi laughs louder over her. Minsi pours Finn a drink. Eme takes it and offers it to him first.
Later in the MV, the camera transitions into the bathroom—warm lighting, soft echo. Eme and Minsi stand shoulder to shoulder in front of the mirror. Silent. Both fixing their makeup.
Minsi blots her lipstick too hard, leaving a faint smear on her chin. Eme notices. Doesn’t say anything. Just watches.
Minsi glances sideways. She knows.
During the bridge, we see Finn again. This time alone on the stairs, scrolling his phone. The party roars behind him.
Neither girl is in sight. But the camera lingers long enough for you to wonder who he’s thinking about.
“We never confirmed who Finn liked. That wasn’t the point. The point was that both girls were performing until it stopped being a performance.”
Akiko starts the MV off lowkey. She’s introduced in the background of someone else’s scene, fixing her lipstick in the hallway mirror, barely in frame. For a while, she blends in. Until she doesn’t.
Midway through the MV, she’s spotted slipping into a closed-off bedroom where Londyn and Hajin had been hanging out earlier. It cuts to her rifling through someone’s makeup bag, smirking to herself as she applies a silver eyeshadow that doesn’t belong to her.
She walks back out and ends up sharing a cigarette on the balcony with Juni. There’s no dialogue, just overlapping laughter from the party behind them and Akiko staring off into the night, totally still, as Juni watches her.
“Akiko has the smallest storyline, but she’s the most deliberate. She’s always slightly off-angle, like she knows she’s being filmed and doesn’t care.”
Harin’s entrance is theatrical. She appears in the bathroom doorway in full glam, tossing her coat onto someone’s lap and stepping over Kaori and Kaleina mid-fight over aux.
She makes eye contact with Zion, smirks, and deliberately sits next to Chloe on the couch. Chloe looks pissed off, looking at Harin and asking 'Who is this?' over the music. Harin smirks at the camera, showing her chunky and extravagant nails.
Throughout the night, Harin’s the girl people whisper about. We catch glimpses of her laughing with Hanjae of Loopin in the hallway mirror, then slow dancing dramatically with Drew in a scene too glamorous for the rest of the video.
Near the end, we see her by herself in the laundry room—smeared mascara, silk dress stained, staring at her reflection like she just lost something.
“Harin was the most powerful girl in the house until the very last scene. We wanted her to feel like the aftermath of something. She’s the kind of girl who ruins a party by existing too loudly and then vanishes before you can ask why she’s crying.”
Ayun and Nami are introduced dancing together on the couch, passing a vape back and forth, hands tracing collarbones. Their chemistry is undeniable. Everyone in the room sees it.
But then London walks in. Nami doesn’t even explain; she just disappears from the shot.
Ayun stares after her, then shrugs it off and keeps dancing. But the camera catches her slipping into the bathroom later to sit on the edge of the tub and cry.
Baebi and Jiah slow dance under a hallway light with pink film grain floating over them like dust. Their joy is infectious, but it is framed narrowly.
Noah and Blue sit on the rooftop smoking, silent. The camera lingers in the stillness.
Hajin and Londyn are soaked by a garden hose under fairy lights, caught in overexposed lens flares.
Juni, Yonghyung, and Hwihun are filmed through fogged mirrors and iPhone flashes in a neon-lit bathroom.
Kaleina and Kaori scream into a busted mic under garage light, the camera jerking with their movement.
Hanjae skates through the hall as if the party is happening around him in a different dimension.
Ania is framed like a painting, champagne glass in hand, never speaking.
It’s past 3AM now. The beat is slower, warped. Half the guests are gone. The floor is sticky. The camera drifts from room to room, soft and dazed, like it’s forgotten what it came for.
THIS IS THE COME DOWN...
Noah and Blue sit shoulder-to-shoulder, passing a cigarette without looking at each other. They’re bathed in dull blue light. The skyline blinks behind them.
Zion leans against the front door, eyes on his phone. Chloe walks past him, jacket on, heels in hand. He doesn’t stop her. She doesn’t look back.
The bathroom’s abandoned now. The lights flicker. Ayun sits in the dry tub with her knees drawn up to her chest, still wearing her full makeup. There’s a glitter-streaked ring around the porcelain, like someone cried there earlier. Maybe her. Maybe not.
She mouths along to the outro of the song, barely audible.
Outside, Minsi sits on the porch steps, wrapped in someone else’s coat. Her eyes are glassy. She’s not drunk. She’s exhausted. In the background, silhouettes dance through an upstairs window, but she doesn’t look up.
The camera catches a small detail: her nails chipped, her phone screen cracked, the bracelet Eme wore earlier now on her wrist.
Inside, Eme is alone. The same couch from earlier, where she and Minsi had sat with Finn. Now just her. She’s scrolled too far back in her camera roll. Her phone lights her face with something like regret.
No words. Just the door opening. Hyun walks out first. Geni follows a few seconds later. She doesn’t take his hand, but she walks beside him.
The camera catches it through the window. Framed like a secret
Sitting on the kitchen counter, legs swinging. Baebi traces hearts on Drew's thigh with an empty eyeliner pen. They’re whispering something neither of them will remember tomorrow.
Londyn sneaks out through the back, stilettos in hand, wearing a hoodie. Her lipstick’s still perfect. She disappears into a waiting cab.
Nami is at the bottom of the stairs, phone to her ear. No one picks up. Her lipstick is smudged like someone kissed her mid-sentence.
Juni is still in the foggy pink bathroom, alone now. She uses her lipstick to scribble a heart onto the mirror and walks away, leaving the room empty and foggy.
Yonghyung & Hwihun push each other on a shopping cart outside the house. Laughing like they didn’t witness five emotional breakdowns an hour ago.
Kaori & Kaleina still scream over the karaoke mic in the garage. Everyone else has left the room. The power cuts out mid-line. They continue to perform as if they're on an actual stage.
Ania is still in that silent, gold-lit room. This time, the camera slowly pushes in. She’s seated exactly the same. The only thing that’s changed is us.
On the staircase, Akiko leans on the banister. She's the only one looking directly at the camera.
She sips from a half-full glass, tilts her head like she knows something no one else does, and smirks.
The front door swings open again. The camera stumbles backward out of it. Someone (whom we never see) throws a handful of glitter. It hits the lens. Everything blurs.
Then black.
MASSIVE THANK YOU TO ALL THE CREATORS OF THE OCS MENTIONED ! @venusvity @toointoo @bluwavez @bleumae @iissayah @snspice @hrtbrkrz @dreamdate @daecheonsa
CHOCOLAT is a single by South Korean boy group DAM.NATION, released as a pre-single to their as-of-yet unnamed upcoming project. The track was released on June 20th, 2025, alongside an accompanying music video uploaded to OHJANG ENTERTAINMENT's official YouTube channel. Despite failing to enter any domestic charts, CHOCOLAT recieved praise among online fan communities for it's narrative music video, as well as sparking debate about the group's sudden shift in tone and vibe.
An upbeat, electronic bubblegum pop song, CHOCOLAT is described in it's press release as 'an infectious and addictive song, about 'rushing headfirst into positivity before it's too late.' Contrasting the sound of their debut album, GOING DOWN, which largely took influence from rock, this shift in sound was met with surprise from fans, especially given the fact that CHOCOLAT was produced by JANG KITAE, the man who had conceptualised DAM.NATION's sound in the first place. The genreshift is pretty easily contextualised, however, by the fact the group's name across all social media platforms has been switched to BLESSED NATION, with each account suddenly overwraught with angelic imagery.
Although they're still credited as DAM.NATION everywhere where it matters, even the title of their music video upload bills the group as BLESSED NATION; and such is the role they play in the music video. The boys themselves are nothing but background characters. Instead, the lead roles are various characters living ordinary lives in a small, rural town in South Korea. Scenes of first love, friendship breakups, birthday parties, teen delinquincy, and private emotional breakdowns are watched over by BLESSED NATION from staticy televisions, cellphones hidden under schooldesks, noraebang screens, and posters on walls. It's not until the final chorus of the song that the group appears in person, performing a concert for the town. As each of the characters from the video is shown dancing and cheering, the boys wrap their performance as a bright, white light fills the screen on the final note. When it fades, the crowd is seen staring blankly up at the boys with glowing golden eyes; and the shot cuts to a closing card which reads 'DON'T YOU WANT TO BE BETTER?'
Though a little left-field in genre, the structure of CHOCOLAT still follows that of a rock song in spite of it's pop execution, and it's soaring choruses help blend the song into their musical canon. It's evident that whatever BLESSED NATION are, DAM.NATION still linger under the surface.
damn i wish MY favourite nugu boy group had 500k yt subs /lh
if you’re noticing the subscriber count you’ll probably be able to notice that the channel it was uploaded to doesn’t say dam.nation, it says ohjang entertainment. dam.nation don’t have 500k yt subs. their record label, who‘s channel hosts the videos of like 7 other artists and has existed since probably around 2007-2009, have 500k subs. 🫶🏻
여긴 지옥이야 (yeogin jiogiya (lit. 'this is hell' ; 'YOU'RE IN HELL') is a special single released by the South Korean boyband DAM.NATION, as the fourth and final overall single to spawn from their debut album, GOING DOWN. 여긴 지옥이야 was released on February 14th, 2025, two months after the release of the album in December 2024. Despite being met with some suspicion that OHJANG ENTERTAINMENT were drawing out the album promotions out of desperation to increase it's so-far unimpressive sales, the song actually performed relatively well for the small-time group. 여긴 지옥이야 would become the group's first entry into the top 100, reaching a peak of 98 on BUGS.
The song attracted minor attention due to it's melodramatic, almost orchestral production and elegant choreography, around which the accompanying music video primarily focused. This video became the highest viewed music video released by DAM.NATION, though it should be noted that this wasn't a massively difficult record to break. The vocal performance was also praised, showcasing SHOGO, HWIHUN and SASUNG's abilities most prominently. The bridge and final chorus were seen to have particularly highlighted the capabilities of all the members. The fact that the boys' singing abilities was spreading word of mouth seemed to reach OHJANG's ears; as shortly after the release of 여긴 지옥이야, a live clip was uploaded to the label's YouTube channel, where normally any content outside of music videos would be hosted on the group's own channel. The live clip quickly outnumbered the music video in views- though, to once again note, in the grand ocean of K-pop, this accomplishment was still just a ripple among waves. Still, it's popularity was enough to finally boost the boys onto a chart. The song also received some positive critical reception, though the string-accompanied, Valentine's Day break-up ballad was a little too angsty for everyone to follow. However, Jang Kitae's production was resoundingly well-received, particularly for his incorporation of drums, bass and guitar in the song's chorus, managing to take a left in sound without totally divorcing the group's usual rock-influenced sound. It was also noted that, where the styling of the track 소년만화 (Boy Comics) resembled an anime opening, 여긴 지옥이야, as the album's closing single, seems to take similar inspiration from anime ending themes.
Alongside clips of the boys dancing in the snow, the video was cut with several scenes of the members through television screens. Amongst quick flashes, one can see the boys smoking cigarettes in school uniforms, drinking alcohol, trashing a noraebang room, getting into fights on the street, as well as sweeter moments such as cleaning each other's (street-fight inflicted) wounds, falling asleep on one another's shoulder in the back of a taxi, and playing in the snow. As the video ends on a television flickering off; a subtitle instructs the viewer: 'DO NOT QUESTION YOUR TELEVISION SCREEN,' which some fans have taken to be a hint towards the group's first comeback.
STARRING: Shin Hwihun. (The Noblechild)
FEATURING: Na Younghwa (The Noblewoman), Hwihun's father (The Composer), ?. (The Teacher)
WORD COUNT: 2k.
SUMMARY: Music is repitition ; fame is a monster.
CW: The drinking of blood. Alcohol (and pressure to drink it unwillingly.) Assault and grooming. Reference to public execution. Maybe light body horror? Note that although the word ‘child’ is used frequently to represent Hwihun, the corresponding events took place when he was around the age of nineteen. Simply put, he is referred to as such because he is Younghwa’s child. Regardless, in the context of this piece, a young person is preyed upon, so read with care.
This shouldn't be taken literally, but that's not to say it's not canon.
ㅤㅤㅤTHOUGH he’d already learned that it was unbefitting to say it, the noblechild had grown lonely. His family name was now dirt, so there was no sympathy left in this world for him. Nobody wanted to hear of his melancholy.
It had only been a few months since they had taken the noblewoman away and strung her up. Without his mother, the noblechild had been left with no companion in their cold, dreary castle. He understands why she could not be allowed to stay. She had done the unthinkable and altered her mind, and an existence beyond reality was one with no logic nor God. She had become a danger, to herself and to him, though this knowledge brought nothing that could soothe him. When the townspeople had dragged her past the castle’s heavy wooden doors and turned her from woman to a dangling, cautionary spectacle, they’d torn a hole in the noblechild’s sternum that he didn’t know how to close.
They had once revered her, painted her portrait and honoured her fairness, begged to hear her beautiful singing voice, but now she was little more than a dirty word that needn’t ever be said aloud.
Like any mammal must, the noblechild had a father, the composer, though he’d since locked himself in his chambers and refused to come out. The noblechild would worry that he had joined his mother above, if not for the fact that the bland, talentless meals he’d hopelessly prepare and leave outside the composer’s door would vanish once a day.
And so he’d wander the halls of the castle. The staff who once up-kept it had long stopped appearing, as the composer had stopped compensating their efforts, and with nothing to the noblechild’s own personal name, there was nothing he could do to help. The nanny who had raised him, the handmaids who had pressed his clothes and set the dining table, the cook who had never forgotten the noblechild’s favourites, they had all treated him delicately, with affection and love. The noblechild had never expected to be without them, but their kindness had run out alongside the gold.
He was alone except for the teacher.
The teacher, despite his title, was never a face the noblechild would see in the schoolhouse. Instead, he’d visit on a Sunday evening, week after week, never late and never missing an appointment. Even after the composer had stopped rewarding him, he came.
After all, the noblechild had not been his only student. Before him, he’d given lessons to both the composer and the noblewoman; had known them since their own childhood. It had been the teacher who had introduced the townspeople to the noblewoman’s song of enchantment, and, indeed, from him she had learned it. The noblechild was yet to learn to sing it. One day, the teacher would teach it to him, but for now they simply focused on the dusty old piano in the drawing room.
The evenings would pass by quickly, and with nobody else in the entire world to talk to, the noblechild began to yearn for them. The teacher was at least understanding; he never spoke badly of the noblewoman, even though she had turned to dark activity in the end. He continued to revere her, and perhaps just out of sheer gratitude, the noblechild had grown to revere the teacher in return. Every week, as the child grew nearer and nearer to manhood, he’d fear that the teacher would stop showing up. After all, he was soon to stop attending the schoolhouse and venture out to become something like a composer or a teacher of his own right, and earn his own title. Sunday evenings in the dreary old castle, enduring the noblechild’s mediocre piano-playing and the composer’s sealed door and the heavy absence of the noblewoman was nothing more than charity, and the noblechild was forever waiting for that charity to run dry.
The teacher was not a handsome or young man, not even a particularly kind one, taking no qualms in letting the noblechild know that he had inherited none of his father’s gift for the instrument they’d spend every lesson in front of. There wasn’t much good of the composer, as far as the teacher was concerned, that the noblechild had inherited at all. All of his positives had come from the noblewoman, and this was something that the teacher seemed happy of. The child certainly could not blame anyone for missing his mother. In fact, he was so happy to meet someone who did that he would eagerly overlook the bulk of the mean old man’s flaws.
One night, the noblechild would interrupt the lesson to ask a question; what was his mother like in her youth, before she had met the composer, long before the noblechild had been an imagination?
The answer had taken an age. The teacher had a bibles’ worth of stories and just as much veneration. He’d spoken until there was no more orange left in the sky, and evening had turned to night, the piano keys hard to see and blinking away under the sleepy light of the petering candles. At some point, the teacher had asked for permission to open a bottle of red wine that had lived, never unsealed, on the mantle for almost as long as the noblechild had been alive; and with no understanding of why one might keep wine unconsumed, the child had granted it.
As the teacher drank, the noblechild had simply watched until he was offered a glass of his own. He’d refused four or five times, inexperienced with alcohol and opposed to the strong taste and smell, but as the insistence persisted, he eventually agreed to partake in a single glass.
Two extra glasses later, unable to keep his head up straight, the noblechild put his foot down and excused himself for bed, showing the drunken teacher to the guest chambers before retiring himself.
The long night heavy on his mind, the child tosses and turns, desperate to be granted mercy from the slush in his head, the nausea that had sunk itself into him threatening to spew out at any second. He’d flung his window open, in hopes that the fresh air would wisen him up some, but all it achieves is giving him a chill, even under the heavy quilt that his mother had once imported for him from a faraway land, which had never failed to warm him before. Still, as his body trembles, he eventually accepts the necessity of shutting out the cold air.
Forcing himself out of bed, still in his school clothes from the day before but far too unwell to bother undressing, the noblechild takes drunken, wobbly steps towards the window and pulls the glass panes shut. Just as he fastens the lock, he hears his chamber door creak open; from the fading candlelight in the hallway, he can make out a figure as tall and wide as his piano teacher, standing silently in the door frame even as the child questions what he’s doing out of bed.
He does not shift as the child suggests he return to his chambers, and only moves when he instead requests he at least come closer so the child may speak without straining his voice.
Yet the teacher’s movement is staggered and strange, shuffling slowly towards the noblechild. He steps out of the light of the doorway, cloaked in more darkness still, taking jilted and jagged steps towards the child without uttering a single word. A tension grows in the air, it feels as if with each step the room grows colder and the child rubs groggily at his eyes, willing them to adjust to the dark. It’s not until the teacher steps into the light of the window that the child sees that, whatever he has invited into his bedchamber, it is not the teacher at all.
It has his teacher’s build. It’s wearing his clothes. But the face, mean to begin with, has warped beyond any sense of human cruelty, is twisted and snarled. Broken, bloodied lips pulled back to reveal monstrous, rotten teeth. Shards of yellow bone that shoot out sharply, several inches long and each pointed like knives. This is no man. This is something animal; or worse, this is something from below.
When the noblechild tries to scream, the teacher- or rather, the thing, suddenly appears before him in a blink. A hand clamps over his mouth and silences him. The creature’s flesh is cold as ice, long, curled fingernails scraping the side of his face, flattening his ear and curling around the back of the noblechild’s head. The creature leans it’s ghastly face in close, eyes so wide they make perfect circles, intense and hungry like a wild fox might look upon a rabbit, pupils dilated so wide that there is no iris to be seen. When it takes it’s hand away, somehow, the child understands to be quiet.
The noblechild cannot move, paralysed with fear as the creature’s long, clawed fingers wrap around his necktie, untangling the striped, violet fabric with none of the difficulty the child himself usually had. This close, he can smell the beast, rancid and foul like carrion. Sweat begins to pool under the noblechild’s arms and clam up his palms; his heart erupting in his chest as his mind shrieks to run and to free himself, though his body refuses to listen, locked in place as the necktie flutters to the ground, the silver thread of the embroidered emblem of his schoolhouse twinkling in the moonlight.
The wine has clouded him, blackened the edges of his vision and unsteadied him. He feels lightheaded and ill, losing focus as disgusting, calloused fingers pry open his fastened collar, cold air hitting the notch of his neck.
You will do fine in her stead, says the monster, though he says it in the noblechild’s head and not through his own mouth, voice harsh and metallic like the screech of a bat, tearing through him like a dagger to the temple. You will fill her shoes.
And the teacher, no longer a man, now a nightmare, lurches forward, sinking his teeth deep into the noblechild’s neck, so sudden that despite the pain that fills him, that ripples through every nerve and travels down every vein until it reaches his heart and blackens it, the child still cannot holler for his father. Cannot scream, cannot fight and cannot run, can only stand there, to be drunk from, and to be in her stead.
His body crumples against the beast, and the noblechild sees nothing though his eyes do not close.
When the sun rises late the following morn, the noblechild awakens once more, a sickness in the pit of his belly, a thumping in his skull and a cold sheen of sweat across his brow. Sunlight filters through the drapery of his bed, illuminating the otherwise invisible dance of the dust in the air and burning at his skin. The second his eyelids creak open, his insides throw themselves over one another, and he all but falls out of his empirical bed and must untangle himself from the gossamer poster draped across it’s frame before he can burst from his chambers, scrambling down the twisted hallways of the cold old castle and into the latrine. He throws himself over the toilet and empties his stomach, a panic squeezing his lungs as the white porcelain is painted a dark, brownish red.
Wine, he reminds himself, when the fear truly begins to kick in. He’d been plied with wine.
When there feels as if there is nothing left inside him to cast outwards, he forces himself onto shaky knees and then slippery feet, steadying himself against the wall as he pushes upright, where his eyes meet himself in the looking glass and he flinches backwards.
Before him, the child does not see the face he has become accustomed to. His ink-coloured hair is plastered to his forehead with old sweat, twisted and tangled like the tendrils of a terrible sea-creature, under whose intimidation lays two sunken and dilated eyes, underlined with purple shadow, whites vividly red and eyelids hanging heavy, struggling to hold themselves up under the morninglight - why did the world feel so bright and mockingly cheerful in what should be the cold, unforgiving December?
His lips are without any of their rosy colour, cold and grey and breaking across their curves, and his usually-golden skin is waxy and blanched, as though someone had poured dirty water in him and diluted away the sunny complexion he’d been given by the noblewoman, who had passed unto her son all of her wicked beauty and trusted him to look after it.
A trembling hand lays across his face. His loveliness, his youth, gone. The noblechild’s pinky finger pokes into his mouth, hooking around his sore and flaking upper lip and yanking it roughly upwards. Underneath it, a knifelife tooth protrudes, sharp and aggressive, like that of the frightening hound the next estate over, who had once jumped against the child’s chest and flattened him to the ground, gnashing it’s jaws in the air as means to terrify him out of pestering it to play as it tried to rest.
The sistertooth is the same - in place of his small, overclean canines are someone - something else’s angry, yellowed teeth, something inhuman and vicious, something which must bring harm to survive. They were sharp and too big for the child’s mouth, had cut into his lower gums and polished his lower set with a pinkish coating — and though he should be in pain, he is not.
And the noblechild, staring in shock at the creature in the glass, stripped of it’s humanity and spirit, bellows like an animal in turn and grieves.
He had been changed. He had been changed and he had been killed.
And he had been made into a monster too.
