(`mystère)

Choi Junhong; zelos, invidia. 17. Tent #3 : Cottage #236 Is our skin to keep the world out or our bodies in? ( 18+ closed rp. )

[angelslovefan]

[freak-junhong]

The Red || Junhong & Yongguk

[freak-yongguk]

Yongguk had been long asleep on his ever so uncomfortable cot – oh how he wished they’d get proper mattresses one day, a thing he tended to miss at times when there were phases that he couldn’t fall asleep, and he really wished they had more space in their trucks for stuff like this. Sleeping on a bed that wasn’t much more comfortable than the ground it was put on wasn’t the best premise to get past that state of light sleep and hit REM.

Recently he had noticed that he couldn’t get a good night rest all too often, probably because they had gotten a bunch of new tent mates. He was used to sharing the tent with only one person, now there were two more people in here and it felt like a major change – not only because one of them was a girl, but it was suddenly beginning to feel too crowded, and he hadn’t yet decided if he was comfortable with that feeling or not.

What made him uncomfortable at this moment though was rather the perception of something digging into his skin, and he suddenly was pulled out of his light sleep, his eyes wide open as he spotted the tall boy Junhong who he would since not long call his new tentmate towered over him, in hands a knife colored so red it looked like he had murdered people.

Everyone probably knew this feeling, most likely from when they were kids; the feeling when they got hurt but only realize the pain after a while of putting together what is happening or only when seeing the actual blood. Probably. In the end, adrenaline would always fail to do wonders about killing the pain, and it would start to hurt, dull at first, but soon stinging, piercing, burning as if it was needles and fires and knives twisting deep under the skin all at once.

And as soon as Yongguk realized that the knife was the reason for him waking up, that the bloody sharp blade wasn’t only in the boy’s hand but also carved fine yet deep cuts in his skin, his eyes widened in shock and the pain and fear and unfortunately the paralyzation as well came all at once, while dark shadows uncontrollably tried to confuse the assailant though he didn’t seem to be bothered by it at all.

He wanted to move away, but he couldn’t. He wanted to scream, but he couldn’t. Yongguk could only watch in absolute terror how the boy seemed to practically draw on him – with a knife. And with every second, the pain became more and more unbearable to stand, his terrified state only worsening and his eyes wandered restlessly, trying to look for a way out. Why was no one helping him?

He squeezed his eyes shut for a few seconds – seconds that he still had to endure in silence – and finally, when he opened them again, he managed to move his paralyzed body, push himself off the cot and away from the boy with the knife. Yongguk stumbled as he took careful steps backwards into the corner of the tent, by now breathing heavily and fast as he finally got a proper look at the damage made to his skin, blood welling out of the cuts. The dark matter around him seemed to be hissing, aggressively, protectively shooting in circles around the man who had honestly no control of his rather harmless ability at this time.

What the hell was wrong with this boy? He had seemed so nice whenever they talked, why was he raising a knife at him suddenly? Should he run? But then again the others… He couldn’t just leave. “Stop” Yongguk tried, his voice shaky. He didn’t know what the right thing to say or do was right now. All he knew was that this boy screamed danger, and that he sure didn’t want to die yet.

[freak-junhong]

Junhong had been long unaware of his current state. Stuck in a seemingly never-ending cycle of comatose which had proved to be incredibly dangerous for everyone in his vicinity. All he could figure out was that everything just felt so real—yet it was a dream, wasn't it? A vivid nightmare that he had wanted to blame on an abundance of horror flicks. Yet as the dream kept on, Junhong felt deep down that something was horribly wrong. 

He could feel it was wrong, yet couldn't stop himself even if he tried. By now it was like his limbs were not his own as they carved and carved and carved away at smooth flesh. This helplessness mirrored back projections of himself that the silver-haired boy didn't want to see ever again. The boy was struggling to claim back his own mind—maybe the sight and thought of blood was just too much for him. Maybe he really was a terrible, horrible monster just like he had heard so often as a child. Maybe this was all sparked and fueled by the anger and loneliness he's kept hidden away all these years.

The thought was shameful.

It was sudden, the feeling of heavy breaths being shoved from his lungs—the feeling of being knocked away without actually seeing the presence responsible. Junhong hissed and his fingers clenched around the blade, poised as if to attack what had threatened him. Brows were drawn, eyes dark and set deep into a narrow...he no longer looked like a child. He looked like everything and nothing at all—like a vehement rage—ugly.

The boy couldn't hear the shadows hissing and whirring about in obvious attempt to protect the other, but he felt a presence. A presence that was not lingering in his dream but seemed to be incredibly real; who would turn out to be his tent mate Yongguk. And though he felt this, his body continued to be puppeteered by some unknown assailant, heavy footsteps taken forward toward the man now backed into a corner. A man that the boy had spoken to before and seen as a nice person in general. He didn't deserve this. Junhong felt his heart rate increase, felt that this was no longer just a dream (that it never had been), and it terrified him because the boy had no idea what would be waiting for him once his eyes had really opened. 

He could smell blood, he could feel the slippery substance dribbling thickly down the shaft of the blade and onto himself, his clothes. It was only the utterance of the word "stop" that had pulled him back home, back into the conscious—or so he thought. 

Junhong's eyes were wide open, the glossy finish seemingly fading away as his body got heavier and the image set in before him. Yongguk was bloody and the marks were hardly visible under the harsh contrast of crimson against ivory. Pain twisted at the other's usually gentle features and the boy wished to reach out and make it go away. To apologize, to save him, to say he hadn't meant it. His mind reeled and all he could think was "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." It wasn't until after moments of gaping that Junhong noticed he still barely had control of his body, and he had no clue how to gain it back. 

[freak-junhong]

Of Broken Strings and Fresh Air || Junhong & Himchan

[freak-himchan]

When the boy offered the end of his bow to Himchan, the blond took it and held it carefully, not sure what he was meant to do.  Just… hold it?  Keep it from wiggling this way or that, he supposed.  His slender fingers gripped it tight, but not too tight, and he focused his thoughts on making sure that there would be no finger prints engrained in its surface when he let go.

"Of course not from a stork.  One would expect they’d come from mockingjays."  He glanced at the boy, a little thrown off by the sudden change from laughter to seriousness, but really who knew what to expect of anyone here?  Certainly Himchan didn’t.  He leaned in just a hair closer to hear what the boy was saying.  "That sounds rather time consuming."

How would one even… he supposed the boy had to buy some wood, a tree branch or a plank or something?  The bow Himchan was gripping wasn’t very wide, but the sweeping way it bent in… and did he whittle it?  Like an old person in those American movies, the ones who just sat on their porches in rocking chairs with a knife and a piece of tree?  Or did he use power tools of some sort to make the process go faster?

He seemed too young to have the patience required for this.  Himchan knew he wouldn’t have had it at his age.

"I’ve not really adjusted to the circus’s schedule yet."  The exhaustion he felt in his bones sometimes should have meant he’d adjust, but it just hadn’t happened.  His eyes moved along the string as the boy’s did, and he let the slightest smile tip his lips.  "Hopefully soon, though… Are you having troubles sleeping as well?  I’ve only ever seen Yongguk wandering at this time of day."

And Yongguk this boy was definitely not.

[freak-junhong]

Junhong hadn't noticed any hesitance in the way the other took hold of the bow, just the way it seemed secure in his hold. Which was a good thing. If it were to fall from the man's grasp, then stringing it would probably go awry. Even so, he supposes, he's grateful the other had offered the help—that's more than some might get these days. Honestly, the silver-haired boy would probably have found colorful prints very characteristic, if they were to be left behind against the brown of his bow.

"Mockingjays," he repeated, amused, though he had cut himself off from a small fit of laughter. "Are those...um, real?" It was a rather childish question but that didn't stop him from asking. Dark eyes, both wide and curious, had flicked upward again to land on the man's face before shaking with the latter's remark. "Or—well, at first it is, you're right," Junhong had felt the corners of his lips curl up in the slightest, "but when you've not got much to do...when you like it enough, it's not time wasted, at least." 

He had whittled it, just like a grandfather would, and it did take a while at first. Creating a European replica recurve bow wasn't anything to take lightly, really. It was a freeing feeling...finally being able to sit down and sand the jagged edges down until he could finally bend the wood and swaddle above and below the handle in dark brown varnished leather before stringing the top and bottom.

Junhong didn't have much, but out of what he did, patience is definitely something he was blessed with—or rather taught at a young age (maybe a bit forcefully at that).  

The boy let out a soft sound of understanding, head nodding in responding action. "I hope you'll be able to rest normally too. It's a weird feeling, being awake and tired but not able to sleep..." he had shown a small smile, fingers wrapping the string at the opposite end from where his visitor was holding. Eventually, Junhong had tied the finishing knot, leading the bow from the other's grasp with a thankful, slightly shy duck of his head. "Yes, but I've always had trouble falling asleep," the boy plucked at the string a few times, moving to pull it back and snap it forward.

"I heard if you think a lot then it's harder to fall asleep," he mused, thumbing at the top of the bow absentmindedly. "Do you think a lot?"

[freak-junhong]

Spirit of Inquiry || Junhong & Jia

[freak-jia]

It wasn’t common to see Jia on the circus grounds with the intention of using her ability. She typically shied away from the voices, earbuds firmly placed in her ears, blocking out what she wasn’t supposed to hear. She didn’t usually feel control and she was admittedly afraid of transferring her thoughts to others—an annoying possibility that she had dealt with with harsh consequences while still living in China. If anything, she wanted to live in a hole alone, but that wasn’t the best option for someone that liked the occasional human interaction. "Let’s give it a shot," Jia whispered to herself in her native tongue, wiggling as she adjusted her position in her chair, tapping her fingernails on the table she had sat up in between booths, a crude sign sitting atop of the wood that read ‘mind reading’—easy, simple, to the point. Her earbuds hung loosely against her chest, leaving her open to the voices that filled her ears, speaking voices and thoughts ringing loudly in her ears. She lifted an arm, wiggling her fingers at the people that passed her, hiding her disappointment in their indifference with a bright smile, ruby red lips framing her perfect set of teeth. Even with the most welcoming of expressions, she felt invisible with the amount of people that were ignoring her existence, hardly paying any mind to the sign that she had whipped together for the occasion. After a few minutes of confusion, Jia heard gasps coming from nearby, making her head snap in the direction of the noises, frightened voices filling the air (or at least her head). Her eyes finally fixed on the origin of the fear—a tall figure that seemed to tower over the other people around him. She hadn’t understood the fear that she heard until she heard the boy’s voice and caught onto the thought, tilting her head, unsure of why he was hurting. She hadn’t seen the blade or the actual act—the prequel to the story that he seemed to make in the air. Regardless of the origin of the mystery liquid, the female rose from her spot and moved a bit closer to hear more, curious as ever. "What the—" Jia whispered to herself, eyes moving over the male’s body, her legs ceasing to move when she spotted the deep cut in his skin. The beautiful shapes had been formed with blood and the female suddenly felt weak at the sight of it, face suddenly showing a sour expression. She tried to keep her disgust hidden, but her vocal chords seemed to disobey her, words tumbling out of her mouth in response to what she was witnessing. "That’s nasty!" she said in the best Korean that she had spoken in quite some time, eliciting glares from the people around her. These people must have known that this is inappropriate, right? 

[freak-junhong]

Had Junhong known he was stealing thunder from the nearby booths, he would have settled himself a little more ways away, but alas—he was still new to this. He would have to work on his wandering placement on other occasions. Observing more would probably be helpful as well, or actually trying to speak with other performers...especially since he was keen on trying to be respectful of the others. He had been around for a little over week or so by now, and the boy only really knew his tent mates and one other. 

The boy preened under all of the attention given by the viewers, tilting his arm ever-so-slightly so that the lights around them would catch against the shining crimson shapes. Red had always been a beautiful color to him, maybe he was just...biased, in a way. Adrenaline surged through his veins no matter the fact that his arm was practically scorching with the sting of the night's breeze gliding over his the edges of his wound. Of course there had been faces of disgust, but even those had melted into awe at the sight of what he could do—as long as he couldn't hear the hate, Junhong didn't care. Well, for the most part. Being able to entertain instead of scare those around him was a feeling that made his chest swell, unlike the harsh verbal treatment from his father.

Against his better judgement, the boy passed along a line of people who had watched, letting their fingertips glide over the hardened rosebuds. "What if they have dirty fingers?" His nose had wrinkled momentarily in distaste at the thought, but Junhong was quick to flash a charming smile, bringing his arm back closer to himself. During that moment, he noticed the woman from earlier, the one sitting in her own little booth. "Was she curious too?" She must have been, because watching her once wondering expression twist sour among all the rest was definitely an indicator. It was only slightly embarrassing because she was one of the performers of the circus as well. 

"Ahh, is it really that nasty?" Junhong thought, eyes wide and blinking, and the boy bit at his lower lip to worry the skin with pearly whites—a nervous habit. He didn't really know how to react to such a blatant call out, so he kept quiet instead, showing a sheepish smile and polite nod to those who would spare him another glance. It had poked at his pride a little bit, but that was natural, just as opinions were and Junhong wasn't the type to fire down another's opinion just because it was different from his own. 

[mireutic]

[freak-junhong]

Of Broken Strings and Fresh Air || Junhong & Himchan

[freak-himchan]

The bowstring coming loose and flinging itself up into the air startled Himchan a bit, and he shifted his weight onto one foot automatically, leaning back just a half step.  Things like that could hurt someone if they were tense enough, and though his experience with bows was rather less than his experience with most everything else in this world, he figured it was best to stay out of its way.  When it landed on the boy’s head, however, he couldn’t hide the quiet chuckle that escaped him.

It was cute, even if he felt a little guilt at the momentary expression of confusion and being lost.  The boy was cute.  He also looked awfully young to be here.  He nodded and moved to sit where he indicated; before sitting, he reached very carefully for the boy’s head and plucked the string off his hair.

"Tell me what to do. I’ll be careful."  To, you know, not destroy his property with fingerprints. He glanced at his hand and offered the string out to the boy, unsure if he still wanted it or not.  Could these be reused if they’d broken or pulled off?  Probably not.  "I’ve never seen anyone try to put a string on those before, usually they just… you know, come with one."

He must have been new. Yongguk had said he never saw people during the day, because everyone else slept… and Himchan hadn’t seen him in the previous few days either.  Then again, it was just as possible that he’d been here a while and had decided to stay up during the day today for whatever reasons.

Himchan wasn’t sure which it was, but it didn’t seem appropriate to ask at that moment.

[freak-junhong]

The boy's eyes had widened a considerable amount with the sound of a faint chuckle coming from behind him. It didn't scare Junhong so much as make him wonder just how long this person had been standing there. He didn't ask about it, though, because the man seemed pretty nice so far and Junhong knew he had a problem with staring and observing others maybe a little too much—whether they knew he was there or not.

Being young, Junhong always found himself torn between finding everyone as nice people, and being scared that they would somehow betray him in the end. After all, that's what his father had taught him—though he wasn't quite ready to believe it yet. The boy ended up showing the stranger a rather sheepish smile as he plucked the string from his mop of silver hair, ducking his head down in a small bow of polite thanks. 

He continued to watch the man momentarily before slowly tilting the top end of the bow towards him, thankfully taking the string from between the other's fingers in the process. "Could you hold this end for me?" Junhong shifted his weight with a sudden curiousness as to what the other's power could possibly be, but it was probably very rude to ask out loud—at least for now. 

"Bows aren't like babies, they aren't dropped off into homes by a stork—" the boy laughed at his light tease before his back straightened and lips pursed almost instantly to cut off the sound. Would the man be mad at him for joking around? He cleared his throat and lifted the string. "I make my own bows," his voice was lowered again, quiet. It had been too long since he had a casual conversation with anyone.

For him it wasn't strange to see people around during the day despite this being a nighttime circus, and it definitely wasn't weird during actual night hours. Everything just seemed rather...natural. But that didn't stop Junhong from being curious about the man sitting with him, nonetheless. 

"Do you, um... could you not sleep either?" Junhong lifted his eyes from examining the string, making sure he wouldn't have to get another from his tent—this one was fine, it just hadn't been secure enough.

[infinityinkpop-blog]

[freak-junhong]

The Red || Junhong & Yongguk

It had been too long since Junhong was able to get a good night's sleep. Generally he struggled to fall asleep even before joining the Circus, but being among strangers just worsened his anxiety (even if his tent-mates were actually very nice from what he's gathered), thus keeping him awake at the most inconvenient hours of both day and night. So when the silver-haired boy found himself becoming sluggish, he ate as quickly as possible before heading back to tent number three. After collapsing in bed, he closed his eyes and let the comatose take over.

 Except his mind did not want to follow, it did not want to sleep.

Junhong found himself running, but not knowing from what. His vision flickered to black, lids fluttering with the onslaught of dirt and dust being blown from the ground, the walls... everything smelled like blood. He was bleeding, his arm and mouth and—around him was like that of a cave. A cave with markings and runes. Things he hadn't ever seen before.

He had no idea that it was a nightmare or that he was sleepwalking, (maybe he did, in the very depths of his mind). Junhong was used to sleep terrors but not this. In turn, the boy had no idea that he was sitting up in bed, fingertips against his lower lip, rocking rocking rocking—why wasn't he waking up? In an instance, nails pushed into the skin of his upper forearm, the palm of his hand soon to follow. Blood bubbled to the surface immediately the more he clawed and peeled at the pale skin, wounds gushing, already taking the form of a blade. If he had been looking at anyone, he certainly wasn't able to see or hear them, nonetheless feel.

His nightmare was just as disturbing as what he was doing unconsciously, especially for a seventeen year old. A voice traveled along the shell of his ear, hot breath sending chills crawling down his spine... but no matter where the boy looked, there wasn't a soul. He stood straight, eyes wide and watchful—hypersensitive and aware. 

Junhong had been confused and very much fear-stricken as anyone would be during a nightmare. The trepidation settled deep in his bones and the boy bit at his lower lip—not knowing that his action followed him into the conscious world—hard enough to break skin. It was a habit, but it sparked the flame. The flame that had him clenching his fist around the now hardened blade of blood in his hand both in a state of sleep and sleepwalk. 

"Do it," the voice practically purred, "do it, mark them, and then you can leave. I'll let them live." As the words drawled out Junhong was drawn towards a separate hallway, leading to an area of others. They stood as if they were waiting and he worried at his lip again, a surge of what felt like anger coursed through his veins and for some reason it felt like he had no other choice.

With his lack of better judgement and puppeteered mind, Junhong lunged, blade in hand and upper lip curled into a snarl. Little did he know, the action wasn't just playing out in his dream, but the real world as well.

[freak-junhong]

Of Broken Strings and Fresh Air || Junhong & Himchan

[freak-himchan]

Himchan’s sleeping schedule hadn’t quite caught up with him yet.  He’d been around for a few days, had even stayed up all night to wander the Circus grounds, but his body seemed to hit second wind right as everyone else was going to sleep, which left him wandering around for a short period in a state of mental deterioration as he couldn’t make himself sleep but couldn’t fully make himself think clearly, either.  

It was also extremely unhelpful that being overtired made Himchan more likely to attempt conversation with everybody and anybody.  Nobody was around during daylight hours, thankfully, but if they were… Himchan would be babbling at them about anything and everything his fragmented thought processes could bring up until his adrenaline actually kicked in and made him more normal.  Earlier, he had had a burning desire to discuss with someone the fact that he thought badgers were just an elaborate hoax.  That had passed, thank the heavens, but Himchan still felt the need to talk to someone, interact with them…

Yongguk was sleeping, and Himchan wasn’t enough of an asshole to wake him up.  Not yet.  He sighed and moved instead toward the area where Yongguk had first found him.

…there was a very tall, very young person there.  Himchan’s footsteps stalled as he noticed him, keeping him what he felt was a safe distance away as the silver-haired boy struggled over what looked like a bow.  He was one of the many people Himchan had yet to meet, which meant… he was one of the many people it was better not to sneak up on or surprise.  Who knew what he could do.

If caution were Himchan’s strong suit, he would have remained completely silent.  But it wasn’t.

"Do you need any help?" he called quietly, hands sliding into his pockets almost automatically.

[freak-junhong]

It was only until he tasted a familiar tang of iron burst against his tongue that Junhong noticed his teeth had broken the thin skin of his lower lip. Concentration was always like that for him; intense and hardly broken easily... and the boy always ended up with a bloody lip. And maybe it was because of his ability, maybe it wasn't, but he always rather enjoyed the taste of blood. Weirdly enough — it didn’t even have to be his own.

He yawned despite not being very sleepy, eyes wide open and determination set deep in his bones. Maybe it was just an idle reaction to sitting there all hunched over and working. The boy slept nearly all day after a long travel full of that weird half-sleep one gets while in a moving vehicle. But because of that, Junhong had missed meeting his tent-mates as well as others living within the Circus. It was lonely at the moment, but that was normal, expected.

Sitting there, he continued to pull at the string until he was sure it was secure, bringing it up closer to inspect-which ended up making him go cross-eyed. It was slightly painful, so he tried to rub away the dull ache. It only hardly worked, and in the next moment when he plucked at the string, it unraveled and whipped up into the air. Junhong groaned when it landed like a piece of lone ramyun on top of his head.

Then someone else spoke.

His back straightened almost instantly, bristling from being caught so off-guard, but he turned around nonetheless—lips parted and eyes blinking, brows drawn. “I, oh, um…” Junhong blinked again, face relaxing back to normal before glancing to his bow and the string still resting atop his silver head. 

He sat there for a moment, looking back to his new company before scooting over as if offering the other a spot next to him. "Ah... if you wouldn't mind?" he would have smiled, but he was too curious and still a bit flustered having been caught not on his toes. That was something his father wouldn't have liked to see.

[freak-junhong]

Spirit of Inquiry || Junhong & Jia

Junhong glanced around, dark eyes wandering and weaving throughout the people and tents; just taking in the place he'd hopefully be able to call home. It dawned on him then that he hadn't really met any of his fellow circus members (not yet anyways,) and for some reason the thought had him feeling lonelier than ever.

"I'll get used to it," he thought, teeth worrying at full lower lip as nimble fingers worked on the last button of his white sleeveless dress shirt. His costume was simple — if you would even call it one, with it just being a rather tight white shirt and comfortable black leather pants that clung just as much. He had assumed people would want to see everything creepy and crawly and just flat out cool. So in that case, creepy was his forte. Blood would show the best contrast against white if it had happened to... splatter or drip in transit.

With a bag slung over his shoulder, the silver-haired boy of just seventeen made his way out of his tent and among the people of the circus. Except soon enough, Junhong had found himself near a few booths, eyeing those of his new-found kin dwelling and waiting for curious souls to bumble forward with questioning eyes. He offered a small smile to those in passing before dropping his bag to the one closest, somehow noticing the young woman inside. The thought was fleeting, but it was there; "pretty eyes."

After a small, polite bow, pulling out a blade was all it took to get people gasping, but what had them really curious was what he was going to do with it. Since Junhong had decided not to go into acrobatics or dance today, he would instead be making objects at random — kind of like a balloon animal maker with a gruesome twist (and a lot less balloons).

“I hope none of these people are too queasy… what if they vomit?” Junhong’s nose wrinkled at the thought, and for a moment he felt that same stab of loneliness from earlier surge through him. That hurt more than any knife could, but he’d never admit it out loud. Was it really possible for him to meet others that could accept every part of him? That was why he came here, there’s always hope even in the darkest of moments, there has to be. Seconds later the blade pressed to his skin, slicing a line from the inside of his elbow a little longer than halfway down his forearm.

It hurt, simply put, but the boy had learned by now to grin and bear it with hitched breath, friendly posture. “Oh fuck me, that went too deep,” and it was rare for Junhong to curse, but no one could hear him anyways… right? Fingertips and buck knife playfully wiggled above the wound as fresh blood blossomed to the surface in the shape of roses, as if they were real flowers sprouting up and blooming into something magnificent—something beautiful. The boy stared at their expressions and took in every twist of wonder and disgust as they gaped and silently hoped he wouldn't bleed out after this because of his little mistake.

[bapassion-deactivated20200311]

maknae line doing nothing and yet they’re cute

[freak-junhong]

Of Broken Strings and Fresh Air || Junhong & Himchan

The silver-haired boy huffed, dark eyes taking in the state of his bow after unpacking it from their rather tedious trip from Sapporo. The string had somehow escaped from its groove on the lower limb and it looked like he would have to reconstruct a new handle completely before this old one snapped on him. What a shame it would be to have his bow snap on him during a performance.

It had happened once before while he was playing in the back yard of his old home. The wood was kindled, therefore brittle, and the splinters took hours to be pulled from his cheek. Especially with the depth of the scrapes left behind. 

"I should have gotten a case..." he trailed off, murmuring lowly to himself. Pearly whites worried at his lower lip as fingertips started tugging lightly at the string, little by little, pulling it down and into the groove once again. It was difficult to wrap at first but once he fixed it into place, all was well—until it frayed right at the nocking point. There was no way he could use it this way, even during his free time.

Frustrated, Junhong tugged the string completely free and discarded it in favor of grabbing a replacement from his bag, making his way out of the tent. Eventually, long legs guided the boy away to a place more peaceful and less suffocating. He didn't know exactly where, but it was nice and in no time he was seated and wrapping away; tying, tugging, pulling—repeat. So wrapped up in his own little world, the young one hadn't even noticed if anyone was around.