A Humble Observer.

"I find better company among the dead than I do the living."

[seokjinxobs]

under the weather

[obsxjiho]

seokjinxobs:

(...)

Oh yeah. The bucket hat.

As he wanders around,Seokjin tries not to be too put off by the odd smell of the water. This is brand new to him, of course. He’s visited the coast before, but not of his own choice. He tries to jog his memory about when or if he’d visited this place, but it yields no results. Seokjin huffs. Whatever.

Seokjin checks the time on his wrist and hums, proud of himself for making it here on time. He’s a punctual kind of guy, but this satisfies him in the strangest sort of way, almost as if it’s an accomplishment. “Hello?” He calls out, swaying a little childishly on his feet as he peeks around the area, stopping in front of, well, a boat. “I have an appointment?” Common sense usually says that this is when people get mugged and assaulted, at an empty dock, by people who jump out of the shadows. Seokjin isn’t a super rich guy. The worst they could do, he thinks, is steal his (stupid) bucket hat. “Hello?” he calls out, louder and more insistent this time. If an answer doesn’t come back, Seokjin thinks to himself as he scuffs his heel on the floor, he’ll just go home and demand a refund or something. For the appointment and the bucket hat.

He manages to catch the sound just before dozing off. Jiho springs from his chair with all the livelihood of a crippled sloth. That must be the customer… He isn’t too eager to come face to face with another gruff old man who’ll surely give him a mouthful about professionalism and responsibility. He feels bad, but he isn’t in the mood for another lecture from a middle-aged adult. He sighs and emerges around the corner of the cabin.

He pauses for a moment and his eyes lock with the kid. While he doesn’t look too much older or younger than Jiho, he certainly feels like his job has pushed him a few years forward from stressful nights like this, not to mention everything else he’s been through. Nonetheless, he stares at the guy with his tired expression that undoubtedly might cause him to be mistaken for an asylum escapee. His hair is ruffled and his eyes are heavy and dry, but looking at this kid on the docks sends a jolt of energy down his spine.

“I..”

He barely manages to force that much out in one go. The kid has so much excitement in his eyes, a stupid smile of that teeters on the edge of innocence and childhood wonder, and a crooked bucket hat that makes him look like an old man trying to fit in with teenagers. He’s adorable.

He would have a preferred a lecture to something like this.

Jiho brings himself to walk to the side of the boat across from the kid, in spite of his exhaustion and redoubled guilt, and puts a knee up on the railing. He takes a deep breath.

“You Kim Seokjin?” He does his best to keep it together. Those eyes are burning right through him. “I-uh, I am-,”

Jiho would be appalled if he was on the other end of this ordeal. He brings up a hand and quickly slaps himself across the face for a burst of adrenaline.

“I’m sorry but the engine is broken! I can’t take you out to sea today!”

He widens his eyes and does his best to force a smile on to his face. He fails spectacularly, but at least his left cheek is red.

[obsxjiho]

Garbage Day

[obsxjiho]

obsxjuri:

(...)

Her fangs are bared in a snarl long before he shuts his horrid mouth; even after he stops, the violent ringing in her ears remains, keeping her deafened and dizzy. Yet she stands her ground nonetheless, with claws extended and form stiff, tension coiling in her muscles as she prepares to strike him down where he stands — a reprimand for his sheer audacity. 

And so she pounces, throwing herself at him like a cat to a particularly brave bird. She may be thrown off balance, her movements much sloppier than they would be at any other time, but she’s far from blind and he’s far from a tiny target; she won’t rest until she feels those stupid feathers caught between her fingers. 

One of the most important things about being a predator is to know how to properly pick your fights. No prey should ever have a risk that outweighs the reward, and a predator has to know which targets are worth the hassle. Pick out the small, the weak, and make it easier for yourself. This girl was clearly small, but Jiho, despite having optimal night vision, wasn’t able to see this girl’s true colors until she bared her fangs and lunged at him.

This wasn’t part of the plan.

He wasn’t too eager to make the effort to litter this alleyway with even more bodies. He merely thought that a menacing shriek would’ve sent the small girl running away in fear, making her think twice about ever stepping foot on his turf ever again. That’s how prey was supposed to respond when confronted with a monstrous predator. This was intended to be quick, painless, and conclusive. She was supposed to be afraid.

She cleary was not.

She didn’t seem to waste anytime before retaliating. She still appeared to be dazed by the mere reverberations of his warning cry, yet she was more than eager to attempt to strike the first blow. Jiho’s no fool. Vampires are predators of substantial worth in their own right, but he wasn’t about to surrender his territory, and worse still, his reputation to a bloodsucking brat that didn’t even know how to take out the trash properly. There was only a few seconds to react, but he hadn’t taken his seemingly pale eyes off her and she was reckless to boot. Evading was as simple as taking a decisive step back.

He squawks sharply at her stumbling attack as she barely misses. He isn’t about to tuck tail and take flight now; that would only boost her confidence and encourage her to return. He has to resolve this here and now, and while violence still isn’t his go-to, should she persist, he may not have a choice. For now, he aims to continue in ruffling his feathers and making himself look as big and menacing as possible, letting out small shrieks of hostility. Another loud warcry might wake up the whole neighborhood, if the first one hadn’t already. He needs to resolve this fast.

He’s not afraid, and this wasn’t totally uncalled for. Even the smallest mouse will attempt to bite back when cornered. When the adrenaline wears off, he hopes that maybe she’ll realize just how outclassed she really is.

[obsxjiho]

Ruffled Feathers

[obsxjiho]

obshoseok:

(...)

He adverts his eyes as the male proceeds to spit out an alarming amount of the blood, Hoseok starting to grow concerned with his worsening condition. He already had them walking en-route to the nearest hospital, though he stops dead in his tracks at the male’s request. “Home?” He repeats, peeking at the other male making sure he heard him correctly? “You.. you want me to take you home?” He frowns slightly, unsure if that was the smartest thing to do. He didn’t know the extent of the other male’s were abilities, but he was certain that even his own healing factor would need medical assistance if the situation had been any different. 

Though, he didn’t want to flat out deny the male’s request, perhaps through some persuasion he could be at least convinced to see to some medical attention. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” He asked, worry heavily laced in his tone. Their walking had ceased, the male shifting slightly to be able to support the other were’s weight a little bit better than before. 

He was beginning to drift again, but he managed to snap himself out of it in time to hear the small man’s response. He begins the vain attempt to argue but his words are only mixed with a plethora of raspy coughs and stray amounts of blood. He can feel his head growing lighter; any excessive activity would only put him to sleep faster, but it’s inevitable either way. Helpless in the care of this total stranger, he has to choose his words carefully before he passes out again.

He takes a hand and shakily grabs the other guy’s shirt collar, and slowly turns his head to face him. He can feel the stranger’s body readjust to his movements. A glazed look in his eye, Jiho looks more tired than anything, but his movements indicate a severe loss of physical strength. He makes the best attempt to make eye contact, even if it’s only for a few stray moments. A shaky nod is the best he can manage, but the motion is so soft that it is likely easy to miss.

“P...please..”

In that moment, Jiho finds his eyelids to feel heavier than stone, and it almost seems to weigh his entire body down. He goes limp as he drifts away, and his grip loosens. In his last spare moments of consciousness, he can almost feel a magnetic connection between him and the ground, stronger than gravity. He’s out before he hits the sidewalk.

Just before he drops, he had comes to terms with leaving himself in the arms of this stranger, though it isn’t as if he had a choice. He hoped that despite all logic, the man would heed his insistent pleas to deliver him to his familiar bed where he could rest the pain off like a bad hangover. Yet despite his best efforts, Jiho had the lapse of foresight to mention one rather tiny detail,

He never gave the man an address to go to.

[obsxsora-deactivated20171018]

the scent of decay | jiho

[obsxjiho]

obsxsora:

(...)

He looked so uncomfortable that she couldn’t help but feel slightly uncomfortable too. Had he been coming to grieve and she was sitting on the grave of his ancestor, or otherwise next to the person he intended to mourn. She flushed a deep shade of pink and shook her head quickly.

“No! You weren’t bothering me!” she looked around her frantically. What on earth must he think she was doing out here, in the dead of night, dressed in all black and looking like a banshee. She was shocked, frankly that his reaction was as rational as it was, once she took in the scene he had happened upon.

“I was just…” her voice trailed off. What was she doing? Absorbing the literal aura of death that people in a graveyard emitted so that she could live on another day? Yeah, that seemed like a perfectly normal and reasonable thing to say to a complete stranger who may hate and hunt supernaturals for all she knew.

“Going for a walk,” she finished lamely, scratching the back of her head awkwardly. “Were you coming here to visit someone? I’m sorry if I interrupted…”

His hunger had subsided in place of confusion upon her reaction. A walk? In a cemetery? He couldn’t help but squint, but a condescending mindset was the farthest thing from his train of thought right now. He had no place to question or judge; he ran in here like an animal, to a resting place of the dead, only with the intent of adding another corpse to the mass of buried men and women below. He straightened himself up and relaxed as he realized what he had been planning to do. He couldn’t have just got a hot dog somewhere, no, he had to appease his predatory instincts yet again at the expense of everything about him that was still human.

He felt ashamed, and it showed.

Though upon returning his attention to the girl, he was only more confused. She assumed he was the one here to mourn, but she was more than dressed for the part, and honestly seemed to be more visually accommodating to the environment than he was. And despite her claim of going for a ‘walk,’ she appeared to be awfully comfortable on that tombstone. Or at least she was, before he showed up. He couldn’t help but sneer slightly at the skepticism he held toward that statement. He wasn’t buying it, but it wasn’t his business, and he saw no reason to pry.

“M-mourn? No, I was just...passing through. I’m...sorry to bother you miss.”

His stomach rumbled again, louder than before.

He couldn’t help but quickly glance around again. There was indeed no animal nearby, but the scent was stronger than ever. He stood silently for a moment to take in the air. His nose never failed to find a corpse before; it was one thing he could always rely on..

It didn’t take him that long to make the connection. He found himself facing away from her, but was compelled to turn his eyes back, then his head slowly followed, his brow furrowed. He scoffed at himself for being so ignorant; he couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed it sooner.

The smell, the scent of fresh blood, was coming from her.

He took a step back and hunched over as he could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand up. How careless of him to not notice, he thought. His eyes locked with hers; he had no idea what she was but he wasn’t about to risk looking away again. He felt it now. There was an aura about her that felt uneasy, or maybe he was just scared. No, that couldn’t be it. Jiho isn’t afraid of anything, or that’s at least what he preached to himself in the mirror at least twice a week. In any case, his gaze was affixed on her.

His stomach growled again, this time almost in an aggressive fashion. He felt embarrassed, but did his best to hide it.

“What...what are you?”

He wanted to run, and yet,

He was stuck.

He couldn’t pull himself away from the scent. The blood in the air felt so thick that he couldn’t help but lick his lips, and found his mouth starting to water. He didn’t trust this stranger, not like he had trusted any stranger, but he wasn’t about to loosen up, even though the aroma was so,

Distracting.

[jiminobs]

All Hands on Deck! [ SJH 🙵 PJM ]

[obsxjiho]

jiminobs:

(...)

Jimin was excited to see Jiho’s vessel docked as he jogged down the wharf. He wasn’t decked out in his uniform this time, not at all! He wore a pair of tattered jeans, a tee, and old sneakers, with a backwards baseball cap flattening down fluffy blonde hair. The department could genuinely use Jiho’s assistance on their overflowing backlog of missing person cases, but - Jimin had learned well from his hyung’s mistake! He wasn’t going to come begging and hope he could puppy dog the man into helping them, although, the tactic had never failed in the past.

He stopped a few paces away from the boat and immediately halted and bowed ninety degrees when Jiho looked his way. He cautiously continued closer, flashing a painfully sweet smile. “Hi there…I don’t know if you remember me but, I’m Jimin. I work for the police department,” he started. “I was wondering if you maybe needed some help with anything; on your boat or with your catch - whatever you want. I’m yours all day,” he offered and continued to smile since he knew his offer probably sounded like there was a catch.

It was another one of those days.

He wasn’t the type to get out much, aside from work. A severe lack of social contacts with an additional lack of interest to find any only had one logical outcome. Jiho’s regular schedule for the past month had more or less been refined down to a simplistic lifestyle of work, eat, sleep, repeat. He was one fortunate enough to actually enjoy his career, but a rut is still a rut. He had fallen into going through with the motions of repetition without even realizing it, and his lack of a necessity for social skills in this environment had taken its toll. Anyone who didn’t know him better, or in other words, nearly everyone, might have mistaken his expressionless visage for sadness or possibly even depression. In truth, his apathy had just found its way to the surface, and he didn’t see any point in trying to correct his attitude.

So there he was, a seemingly melancholy mess, scrubbing the deck of his ship when the repetition was utterly shattered in a matter of moments. He pauses for a moment, and can’t help but squint in confusion at the strange fellow addressing him from the docks. A policeman? It’s been awhile since one of those came by to bother him, but never had one shown up at the docks or in such casual clothes. He instinctively cocks his head to the side, like a confused bird, and darts his eyes around to make sure this isn’t some kind of prank. Once he determines the kid is alone, he puffs his chest up slightly and lets out a sigh.

“You’re..looking for work?”

His expression hardly shifts beyond a quizzical squint, with the occasional confused lip raise. Policemen aside, no one has ever just walked up and offered to help him like this. He’d never do such a thing for a stranger, and has little understanding as to what would stimulate someone to do so either. It’s not natural, not by his standards. To stick one’s neck out like that; such an idea is foreign to him. People are always out for themselves in the end. There’s no way this alleged police officer would offer his help without expecting something in return. It’s how the world works, laws of nature aside. Jiho knows better than anyone, police officer or not, nobody would make such an offer without a catch. There’s always a catch.

On any normal day, Jiho would have turned this guy away without a second thought. Nine times out of ten, he’d have spurned any offer of that sort to avoid the risk of being tied down to any responsibilities or obligations. Not to mention his past experiences with lawmen; that certainly wouldn’t have done the poor fellow any favors. On any normal day, he’d have said ‘no,’ as concisely as possible, and resume his otherwise mundane schedule.

But this was already enough of a break from the norm, simply upon the fellow’s intrusion. Everything had gotten so...boring. He hadn’t the energy to toss away his apathy and fly off somewhere just to experience change for once, but he at least had the energy to do this.

“Grab a mop,” his expression hardly changes. “You can clean up the deck while I cut some fish.”

At least he’ll get to go home early, if nothing else.

[obsxsora-deactivated20171018]

the scent of decay | jiho

[obsxjiho]

obsxsora:

(...)

She thought, dully, that she wouldn’t even mind if someone mistook her for a ghost tonight. It was more common when she went lurking in her true form, but her human appearance could scare off a child just as well.

The skirt of her long dress brushed past tombstones as she looked down at them. Sora liked to read about the people beneath her. She stayed away from graves that denoted a child. That just felt… wrong. She gravitated towards the older look stones, the ones that had clearly seen decades of weather. Finding one that looked particularly comfortable, seeing how wide it was, Sora sat on top of it. This was one of the few graves that had no flowers, meaning it wasn’t visited often, if at all, anymore. It made her sad to think that some people could be forgotten with the passing years as generations moved on without them. She wished, however, that she could be one of them, a memory that would fade from the minds of the people she met. Instead, she was doomed to wander the earth, looking for death in order to strengthen herself.

He felt like death today, for lack of a better term. His entire day from sunrise to sunset was forfeit to the sea this time around. He certainly could think of worse places to be, and you would never catch him complaining about his job. Yet as uplifting as it was to be so far away from the hustle and bustle of the city and its swarms of irritating people that littered the streets like a plague, Jiho is still only human. Or rather, he used to be. Everyone has their limits, and twelve hours at work was roughly his. After a long day of hunting, even the most ferocious predators had to turn in for a hard-earned rest. Jiho was such a predator, a lowly scavenger on his way to his garbage dump of a home. Needless to say, he was exhausted, and the only thing keeping him up as he sulked through the city streets was meeting the soft embrace of his admittedly messy, yet all too enticing bed.

The difference between him and an actual predator, however, was that the real thing usually received sustenance on the job. Jiho wasn't above claiming some of his catch for a quick snack on the spot; as much as he loved dead animals, there was always something particularly savory about biting into a struggling and helpless fish fresh from the ocean. He'd done this before, as well as claim some raw meat at the end of a long day, but this time he couldn't bring himself to take anymore seafood. He craved something else, something new. As he shambled along the lonely sidewalk far away from the more active parts of town, he kept his avian eyes open for a late-night snack. A street vendor, a fast food joint, a dead rat; anything with meat on the menu sounded like a dream at this hour.

He did his best to focus, but he always had the horrible habit of letting his predatory nature influence his actions when he was tired like this, even if only slightly. He tried to focus, really, he did, yet when he found himself lacking of a suitable source of food, he fell back upon following his nose. He felt lighter and lighter as he walked, his body almost moving on its own along the trail of some scent. It was imprecise, but he followed the path. Something had been through here. Something that smelled like blood. He was low on options, and the aroma was too alluring to ignore.

He wasn't sure for how long, but he gave himself to chasing down the source. In that time, his body grew lighter, his fatigue and exhaustion swept away. Without a single feather to his skin, he was flying. At least it filled him with an uplifting sensation. What he assumed to be an injured stray animal had such an unusual scent as it grew stronger, he had never smelt anything like it. His stomach may have been fantasizing the smell and getting his hopes up in the process, but at this point, he felt as though he could pry someone's pocket dog right from their arms if it was bleeding or sick enough to warrant a pity kill.

It wasn’t long after until the rosey trail led him to a cemetery. It was close, and the smell was nearly overbearing. He didn't think much of it as he passed under the ornate metal entrance, but it almost felt fitting. A dying creature to meet its end amidst the dead, and to be preyed upon by only the most qualified scavenger for miles. His tongue found itself licking his lips, and his mouth watered in anticipation for the taste to be as satisfying as the smell. He could feel it. The air was so thick of blood and death. Another victory for his nose.

He opened his eyes.

And was met with utter confusion, which was shortly followed by disappointment.

A lady sat before him, with her back turned, atop a rather fancy looking tombstone. He quickly glanced around, and saw no small sickly dog, or any animal for that matter, within sight. The thickness of the smell had faded, and with it, he slowly returned to his senses. He stared for a moment, then realized his folly. He stumbled, she turned her head to meet him. Her black dress flowing in the wind, her solemn expression, it only made sense that she had come here to mourn whoever was buried here.

And here he was, seeking out a false lead of a meal only to interrupt her so rudely. He felt tired again, and his hunger was nearly painful, but neither compared to how embarrassed he felt. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck shifting into feathers as he sweated like a fool. He abruptly bowed his head in shame.

“I-I'm so sorry to b-bother you!”

[obsxjiho]

Ruffled Feathers

[obsxjiho]

obshoseok:

(...)

Thankfully, the transformation back was less painful to watch, though Hoseok did take note in his noticeably destroyed articles of clothing. Hobi debated offering his work shoes as a temporary substitute for the pair he had just lost, the less-than-comfy loafers placed neatly in his charcoal backpack. He starts to reach for his backpack, but stops dead in his tracks as soon as a hand is placed on his shoulder. He soon wraps a hand over Jiho’s shoulder, in an attempt to help the other male regain his balance

“Y-Yah..It’s fine.. I feel for you.”

He says weakly, hoping to never have to witness that again. At least, one good thing did come out of it, a lot of his major wounds seemed less critical. They would still need to go to a hospital, but now they had more time. 

It’s the middle of the night, but even amidst the flashing neon lights, it’s getting darker.

Jiho’s eyes flicker as he struggles to keep himself awake. The brunt of the pain is behind him, but his body is incredibly sore and unresponsive to most of his commands. His limbs are mostly numb, and his breathing is raspy at best, but he’s rather sure he’ll be fine. He’s certainly been worse off, but he’d be in a deep hole right now if it wasn’t for this other guy. Not only did he refrain from running off in fear, but he still had the heart to help Jiho stay upright. He decides to trust in this stranger, and while that’s a huge leap for Jiho, he didn’t have very many options to begin with.

Nonetheless, Jiho puts more of his weight on the stranger as he holds him up, and he releases a deep breath that loosens up his whole body simultaneously. He does his best to do his fair share of the lifting, but he couldn’t push himself even if he wanted to at this point. They walk off in silence for some amount of distance as he fades back in and out, though it’s entirely possible that his brain currently is even struggling to properly interpret the sounds that his ears are receiving. After he manages to get a solid grasp on staying conscious, he tries to muster up the energy to vocalize some sounds of his own...

“...Th..Thank y-you..”

Though he barely manages to squeeze the words out from his formerly bleeding mouth, he can’t even bring his head around to look at the stranger’s face. Jiho wonders what he looks like; it’s hard to remember a face during circumstances like this. For such a total stranger to be helping him like this… he finds it hard to believe that someone would be so courteous. His brain trails off for a moment, and he pulls himself back. He needs to focus. For the time being, he focuses on his breathing. He isn’t entirely sure where they’re going, so he needs to stay awake. He needs to try… to bring out more words. He coughs rather coarsely, and coughs up an unpleasant amount of blood.

He spits to the side, somehow finding enough energy in the moment to jerk his head over without much thought. He readjusts himself a bit and tries again, managing to get out a somewhat comprehensible sentence out in-between coughs.

“Pl...ease..t-..take me...home...”

He could assume what the stranger might be thinking; he’s going to be taken over to a hospital or clinic of some kind. Jiho scowls at the mere thought of it. He always despised hospitals, and had seldom had the need to visit one ever since he obtained his abilities.

His left side tightens up out of nowhere, and he brings an arm over to grab it. The pain, as it seems, hasn’t entirely gone away. He can’t help but wince and cough at the sensation.

He’s been through worse. He’ll certainly be fine.

[seokjinxobs]

under the weather

[obsxjiho]

seokjinxobs:

(...)

Fishing was not something that was his immediate idea as for what he was going to do this weekend. Seokjin did though read an article that was titled “Best Ways to Destress” and for whatever reason, fishing was the number one spot. Good thing that Seokjin was in the number one spot for desperation, otherwise he would have possibly never gathered it in himself to look up someone that could help - some fishing guy? Some guy with a fishing boat? A fishing boater? Fisher? Whatever the hell he was “officially” titled, all Seokjin knew was that the other wouldn’t try to kill him, and that Seokjin could enjoy whatever moment of peace that he could muster at that time.

Scheduling a vacation was never that hard. All he had to do was submit a form to the person in charge of scheduling (aka himself) and then that person would change work schedules accordingly. It would have to be cleared by payroll (aka the presumably only shi-blooded citizen of the city) and then approved by his boss (aka Kim Seokjin). Seokjin hated playing the waiting game, but found that as the weekend rolled closer, he was more excited to try this new thing than he had originally thought that he was going to be. Hell, Seokjin even bought some proper, boring clothes and a nice hat for the occasion! When the weekend rolled around, Seokjin waited patiently at the dock, almost jittering like an excited child.

“I’m ready to catch fish!” He declares in hope that his guide for the day could sense his excitement.

“AAAGH!”

He throws his head into his hands and rears back in exhaustion and agony. He collapses his head and hides it in his arms along the back end of the boat’s railing. A small trail of smoke rises from the boat’s broken engine. The day had only started, and the sun wasn’t even off the horizon yet, and he was already stressed out of his mind.

Jiho was excited as always to get a call for another request to spend an afternoon out at sea. It was one of the few things that was always a guarantee to lift his spirits, even if only a little. He had been rather busy with commercial fishing for the city market for most of the week thus far, but he would never get tired of the sea. The same, however, could not be said of his vessel. He hadn’t the time to perform any sort of maintenance on the engine until it was too late, the night before his scheduled fishing trip with a brand new client. He had spent nearly all of yesterday out at sea, and there was hardly a problem until he pulled the boat into the docks, and its engine let out an ear-wrenching sound. It wasn’t long before it was consumed in smoke, and Jiho, while certainly capable of regular maintenance of all his tiny ship’s devices, had never seen such a sudden and drastic engine failure in all his years as a fisherman. The severity of the situation didn’t set in right away, as he immediately turned his attention to solving the problem as soon as he was docked safely. After he failed in his attempt, he soon realized that it was far too late to call for any repairman to get it done in time for tomorrow. He always hated to reschedule things like this, and though he had been out fishing all week, he always saw taking a client out for a trip to be more relaxing than cumbersome. He spent hours trying to fix it, but none of his tools, expertise, or access to do-it-yourself internet tutorials presented him with any effective results. He was there for hours that night, desperately trying to make his engine seaworthy in time for tomorrow morning with some spare time to go home and rest after a hard day’s work.

He sacrificed his entire night on the deck of his small ship, and received neither a proper engine or any proper rest; he felt so close and was determined to complete it in time, but this kind of motor failure was beyond his limited knowledge. Before he knew it, the sun was upon the sea before him, and he had no progress to show for it.

Jiho pushes himself off, and stands up. He isn’t sure when the last time he stood up and walked around was, and his uncertainty is met with his vision growing black the moment blood starts pumping back into his legs. He rubs his eyes and stumbles over to the cabin to check the time. His glossy, lifeless eyes lose the last of their color when he sees that his client is expected to arrive in five minutes. He puts a hand to his face and glances over at the mess of an engine that has become his worst nightmare in a record time of ten hours. “There’s no way I can fix this…” he finally thinks with just minutes before his appointment. He feels like a mess, and probably doesn’t look much better, but he has no choice but to break the sad news to his client once he gets here.

In the meantime, Jiho decides to take this opportunity to, at the very least, rest his eyes. He flops into his captain’s chair and leans back, almost instantly feeling the weight of his eyelids do him in. Just a few minutes of rest is all he needs; he’s put up with worse.

[obsxjiho]

Scavengers.

@obsxduri

It's mid morning, and it’s unnaturally cold today. Fog rolls down through the trees of Sunseong’s southern forests, and there's a slight chill in the air. There's always an eerie silence that sweeps through this area every morning after a full moon, with the only respite from the tranquility breaking through the mist is the occasional call of a waking denizen of the woods, like a single bird or frog crying out to let the world know that it survived the night. The most consistent sound that travels throughout the trees is not more than a melodious gust of wind that rattles their branches while whistling away at an inharmonious tune. Not even the cicadas dare to break the ominous silence with their otherwise ceaseless chatter. It’s as if the forest itself is in mourning, and is still recuperating from the horrors of the moon the night before.

No sane person would dare to venture out here during this hour; you never know what you might run into. A good number of lunatic weres retire themselves to these woods to wait out their primal impulses while under the moon’s influences, so as to avoid bringing harm to others, or themselves. It isn’t the most refined strategy; one still runs the risk of running into another bloodthirsty were, only for the two to scratch and tear away until only one is left standing. There’s also been rumors of hunters catching wind of this routine, and sweeping through certain parts of the forest during the morning to ‘clean up’ any defenseless weres that might be sleeping off their involuntary hunting like a bad hangover. There’s also always the chance of running into a were that’s a bit more aware than others at this time, and bit less friendly than they would be under normal circumstances. Needless to say, traveling through this place willingly isn’t the average person’s idea of a good time.

For Jiho, on the other hand, it’s worth the risk.

He has the benefit of being able to shackle himself down on a boat over a dozen miles offshore overnight, but that comes with a price. Every morning after a full moon, without fail, he finds himself to be insatiably hungry. It only makes sense to him; he prevents his body from fulfilling its natural desires in favor of his own morality, so it’s no wonder that he feels so starved. He has a pounding headache as well, and while he would love nothing more than to sleep it off, his hunger outweighs any desire to rest by a substantial margin. He flies above the treetops, circling the skies for a suitable breakfast. His vulture form may be large, but the guise of the fog coupled with his elevation from the ground provide the illusion that he is nothing more than a dark bird-shaped silhouette of an unidentifiable size. Though his vision is usually nothing short of impeccable, he feels incredibly groggy from the night before, and the thick fog isn’t doing him any favors, either. Fortunately, his sense of smell is better suited for this sort of thing anyway. He only needs to pick up the scent of some poor animal that was caught in the chaos of the lunatics’ rampage, and smelling corpses is the one thing he does better than anything else.

He circles around the area a few times; a fresh corpse wouldn’t give off a very distinguishable scent, especially from this altitude. He also wants to be sure this is an actual animal and not a were corpse. It isn’t that hard to differentiate the two, and he can’t bring himself to consciously feast on another were, no matter how alluring the stench might be. He wobbles around in the air a few times, with minor struggles to keep his aerial balance. Coming out here like this is particularly dangerous for him. In addition to the normal risks this place provides, Jiho is still recovering from his own lunacy. It’s hard to stay awake and focused; most carnivorous weres would either be asleep or considerably irritable this early in the morning. Staying awake and in control is quite difficult right now, let alone staying airborne, but he desperately needs this meal.

His eyes become heavy; the chilly morning air is drawing him to drowsiness. He drifts, slowly. Slowly, he falls. He leans to one side as he descends, unwillingly. The gentle and soothing breeze begins to transition into a sharp wind as he accelerates downward. He breaks through the foggy clouds and draws ever closer to the treetops. His eyes are all but closed, and what little vision he has left is only becoming cloudier. He lets himself go; he’s too far gone. He falls another fifty feet, just a few meters above the tallest of the trees. Abruptly, he’s awakened by a sharp rumbling, and an alluring aroma. He catches himself just in time, shooting himself back upward with his powerful wings, only barely grazing by a branch or two. At least he’s awake now. The rumbling he felt is easily recognized as his own stomach, and the aroma…

It’s close.

It smells like a fallen wild boar, and his mouth waters at the mere thought of it. Based off the strength of the smell, he should get there in a few minutes. He glides swiftly, now just above the trees, and with redoubled resolve to get his breakfast. His hunger drives him forward, and nothing, not even sleep, is going to stand in the way of his meal.

[obsxjiho]

Chaotic Conflicts

[obsxjiho]

obsmin:

(...)

An unmistakable glow of crimson bursts up from Minkwang’s scars and over his sleeves, colliding with his opponent’s magic—burning through it, allowing Minkwang to grab hold of the attacker’s arm and twist it as the wannabe witch (he just has a charm in hand, he probably doesn’t have any real magic) cries out from the burning sensation of the ghoul’s aura. He has to move quickly, hearing the others behind him closing in, so he merely uses the opportunity to duck to the side—it’s about that time that he hears a scream and sees feathers falling, forcing his gaze upward.

Bird guy has a problem—but at least it looks like the crossbow guy has a bigger problem, for the moment, and it’s a saving grace that these amateurs are easily distracted by the scene overhead too. It gives Minkwang an opening to put a little more space between him and the others as he shrugs his jacket off, letting the translucent glow of his wards brighten and stop threatening to burn his own skin from their leather-clad prison.

Jiho clambers to his feet, stumbling across a desecrated pile of what used to be neatly stacked garbage bags. He smells like trash, but that isn't the worst of his problems. As he tries to get to his feet, he has troubling staying upright. The wound from the crossbow is more disorienting to him than painful, though a few lapses of muscle control in his left arm are more than inconveniencing as he makes repeated attempts to get back up. His cone of vision is surrounded by a black ring that keeps waning back and forth in size; he feels like he could topple over at any second. He’s never been struck with silver of any kind before; the unique and painful sensation it brings almost makes him want to throw up. It takes all of his focus and a nearby wall to reorient himself to his surroundings. Once he's aware, he softly pulls a previously unnoticed banana peel from his head and flings it to the ground with disgust.

It's hard enough to maintain a respectable level of personal hygiene when you smell like you've killed twelve small mammals and you're almost certain your mouth contains at least 50 types of flesh-decomposing bacteria. It isn't his fault, but he tries his best to stay as clean as possible, and becoming one with the trash isn't his idea of a good time.

This really isn't his day.

His vision is slowly returning, and as he looks up, he can make out the vague impression of the people he left behind. They seem to still be fighting, but it's far too difficult to recognize individuals beyond a general idea based off of color and shape. One figure, the closest one to him, seems to be glowing slightly, with his back turned. It's quite distracting, and makes it harder for him to focus on other details. He can at least gather that since they're still fighting, it must mean that the red haired guy isn't associated with them, and must have just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Coincidences aside, Jiho isn't in the mood to leave this fight, and he begins to make his way back to the group. His instincts have taken hold of him; his dazed condition is causing him to temporarily ride off of his adrenaline and innate desire to hunt.

He shambles in that direction with a slight limp, and no one seems to pay him any mind. They all seem to be preoccupied with the other guy. He stumbles not but fifteen feet from the group, and he nearly trips over something. He looks down to find an opened, busted, melted, and now stepped-on bucket of strawberry ice cream. It trickles through the cracks of the sidewalk and down into the street, and for a moment, it breaks him. He snaps out of the trance he was in, and all of his aching and queasiness seems to vanish instantly. He stares at the ground for a moment, ignorant of all else around him. One of the thugs spots him standing there, and rushes him with a knife. He sees the charge out of the corner of his eye, and grabs his attacker’s arm by the wrist with one hand.

He looks up. He's angry.

Jiho’s grip is like a vice. The thug pulls and struggles to break free, becoming increasingly panicked with each passing second. He's a step down from the crossbow guy; he seems horridly untrained and more than a bit out of place. Jiho might have wondered about how such a greenhorn got in with this crowd if he wasn't so livid. He tightens his grip, causing the thug to drop the knife he was holding. Jiho glares for a moment, and breaks the thug’s wrist, forcing it to bend backwards. The thug drops to his knees and recoils in pain, but Jiho doesn't let go. He only decides to loosen his grip after he’s thrown the thug over his head and slammed him into the sidewalk behind him.

“That’s two down..” he mumbles under his breath.

By now, he's gained the attention of the others. He doesn't waste any time rushing into the center of the group and throwing wild swipes and punches. He brushes past Minkwang on his way back in, only barely noticing the red hair in time to avoid sending an enraged punch his way. In a bit of a mild frenzy, he flails around in a fashion that's a cross between a wild animal and a spoiled child. Jiho holds his own, and takes a few stray hits, but is mostly negligent of the pain at this point. He just needs to blow off some steam, and that's all he cares about right now.

[odminsung]

foul.

[obsxjiho]

obshyerin:

(...)

hyerin hauls the beast blooded to their feet, one hand on the back of their shirt as he picks the man up off the floor, dragging them outside. he’s not about to reprimand the man where everyone can see. dsem’s reputation has never been good, but he can’t count on it helping him out in a dingy bar on this side of town. and now with the recent issues with the chaos controller, the fact that they’d executed the wrong girl: it makes sense that he’d be worried revealing he works for the people that arrested her.

he finally pulls the other outside and lets go of them, hissing as he turns to scold them. “you realize what you just did? that was a wanted man and you gave him the chance to get away.”

It had been a while since Jiho had gotten into a good bar fight, unless that fiasco with Haechul counted for something. That aside, he didn't come here with the intention of starting something; he just came here to forget, to drown out his sorrows in light of recent events. He had been doing his best to cope with the loss, but nothing seemed to be working. He wanted to forget about her, about all of this.

But that guy was making it a little too difficult to forget.

Some pompous oaf had taken one too many shots and was rambling freely amongst his friends about the news. They not only seemed to believe the media, but agree with it as well. They were loud enough one could have assumed that they were intending to include the entire bar in their conversation. A few comments about the Chaos Controller getting what she deserved escalated into that distinct individual standing up and shouting in a drunken stupor about how much he enjoyed the look on her face right before she died.

Insensitive prick.

Jiho was doing his best to keep his cool. What did the opinions of those nobodies mean to him? It wasn't his business; it wasn't his problem. He came here to remind himself that he didn't care about anyone else. He was far better off that way. He endured their boisterous ramblings for as long as he could muster, gradually sinking further into his hood and feathery collar with each comment. He did his best to ignore them, but that guy pushed him over the edge.

He enjoyed watching her cry?!

In that moment, Jiho didn't care what happened. He didn't care if every last person in the bar reported him to the authorities. He didn't care if the bartender was the head of DSEM. He didn't care if that guy was right. All he could think about

was bashing that guy’s head in.

Upon hearing that final straw of a comment, he abruptly jumped halfway on top of his seat up at the bar and spun around to face the table of drunk men, his hood falling off in the process. The entirety of the bar recoiled when he let out a high-pitched shriek. Some were smart enough to book it at their first chance, others were too scared to move. The man of honor was the latter, and Jiho wasted no time before launching himself from his seat and onto the table in the center of the room. He pounced on top of his prey and brought him to the ground in one fell swoop. His eyes burned with a bright yellow as he relentlessly punched away at the man’s face.

Before he could paint his fists to a satisfactory shade of red, he found himself being flung off of the man and shoved to the side. He almost instantly returned to a level head. He noticed a few feathers littered about the area, and a number of horrified people eyeing him down as he sat there like a confused child. He brought a hand to his head and dug it through his hair.

“I'm so stupid,” he mumbled to himself.

He didn't have time to think before he found himself being dragged outside by the same girl who stopped his assault on the guy. She’s scolding him for attacking a wanted man? Jiho had no idea that guy was some kind of criminal, but she seems to be rather upset with him nonetheless. He avoids making eye contact and pouts, almost embarrassed for losing control.

“He had it coming.”

This stranger doesn't seem to look the part for being law enforcement, but she does seem to act like she knows what she's talking about.

“What are you, some kind of undercover cop?”

[obsdongwoo-blog]

property damage

[obsxjiho]

obsdongwoo:

(...)

The werewolf sniffs the air. He turns in a circle, tilting his head at different angles and trying to trace where the rotting order hails from. “Why am I surprised?” he mutters. “What’s a creepy building without dead bodies, yeah? If this shit is haunted…”

He hears footsteps and looks over his shoulder. A person? A living person that smells like they’ve been dead for a week? Dongwoo just can’t help but bound over, almost tripping over his sneakers like an excitable puppy, and sniff away. His nose wriggles and his nostrils flare, but his body stays completely human. There’s nothing overtly canine about him, yet.

“Woah, you’ve got some zombie undertones,” he says. “Not that I’ve ever smelled a zombie before, but – hey, are you a zombie?”

The city offered very few escapes from the constant clatter of noise it provided. Jiho wanted nothing more than to fly away, to take a vacation from this place while all the political nonsense sorted itself out. He had just up and left this place before, when times were tough and he needed to clear his head, but this time there was no such option. The city was on high-alert, and any suspicious supernatural activity, like a giant bird leaving the city limits, would probably have been met with extreme prejudice. He didn’t feel like taking the risk of getting caught in the crossfire.

So with the removal of the choice for a vacation, Jiho had to settle for the next best thing. His headache was nigh unbearable, and he couldn’t tolerate being surrounded by the swarms of journalists and the sheer muck of riots, interviews, and other crowd-based activities. He fortunately knew about a few abandoned buildings large enough to muffle a large portion of the chatter from the outside world. He was still more than disheartened about the catalyst for all these uprisings; more than anything else, he just wanted to be left alone. The mossy old factory that had been marked for demolition was safe. It was tranquil.

He had been meandering about the property for quite some time; he had been there since late afternoon, just admiring the decayed architecture, the carcass of a building. His footsteps echoed across the crumbling corridors, his voice lost to the ambience of solitude. In a matter of hours, his headache and his worries had dispersed themselves among the rafters, and before he knew it, the sun had begun its descent.

Natural light pierces through the broken windows and fills the interior with an orange hue, save for numerous unlit corners that the sun cannot reach. He was nearing peace of mind, but he wasn’t expecting to find someone else here. Jiho saw them first, and attempted to back away into the shadows, and he moved so nonchalantly and without a sound, but the stranger noticed him without fail. Before he could react, they were right up in his face, and with their intrusion, his mood came flooding back to him. The sadness, the frustration; it had only been set aside. He had no way to rid himself of these feelings, and nothing to take them out on. A facet of his life was forever lost to him, and here he is, listening to this guy’s borderline asinine question. He seems oblivious, almost like a child, but Jiho isn’t really in the mood to entertain this guy. He isn’t in the mood to put up with this; he just wants to be left alone.

As irritable as he is at the moment, such a question feels almost like an insult. He isn’t sure what he looks like right now, but he can only assume he looks rather unkempt after spending a day in a rundown building. He also certainly could pass as an undead in the smell department, but that doesn’t seem quite as obvious.

“I’m not a zombie,” he turns only halfway to greet the stranger with a scowl.

He doesn’t really feel like sharing this building, and to a much greater extent, his personal space. He takes a step sideways to get some distance between himself and this overzealous photographer. Is this guy a lost reporter? It doesn’t really matter what he is, Jiho just wants him gone.

“What are you doing here?”

[obsluhan-blog]

Moon Cycle Dispute

[obsxjiho]

obsxjiho:

obsluhan:

(...)

His eyes glint in the darkness as he looks the were over yet again. He hunches over a bit more- resting an arm on his knee as he continues to stare. In the dark like this, he can see perfectly. He can tell that the bird looks- if only a little- hyped up. Maybe it’s fear. It’s not like Lu can smell it. It’s just the way the bird acts… He can’t blame him. There’s a corpse, a monster, and a whole lot of blood. Sounds like a picturesque horror movie. Lu is relaxing a bit more, though. His mind is starting to stop with it’s constant frazzling. He can start to see things less as color and shape and more as what they are. He can identify buildings as just that- tell the windows apart. He can remember what all those words mean.

“You think I up and murdered him because I wanted, right?” He doesn’t look at the corpse as he talks- just continues staring at the bird. “I’m some sort of killer? Monster? Cold-blooded and out to ruin anything I can? You’re probably scared I’ll attack you the same way, right? That’s the response I usually get if someone sees.” He shakes his head at that. He almost wants to laugh- to smile, but truthfully he can’t bring himself too. He’s frowning- glaring more at himself than anything else.

“I don’t eat birds… I’d rather not eat people, either.”

He blinks twice, once for each set of eyelids, and curiously cocks his head to the side. He hunches downward, extending his neck out while retaining his gaze at the deer fellow above him. He squints, more confused than anything else at this point. This guy doesn’t make any sense. Jiho certainly doesn’t know what he is, but this guy almost seems as equally unsure about himself, if not moreso.

Observation has always been one of Jiho’s strong suits, at least when he’s paying attention. He’s had more than enough time to analyze his situation. The only real uncertainty in this scenario is whether or not this strange creature means him no harm, and he is certainly not about to leave that up to chance. One thing he was never good at was ‘reading’ people, and it is quite dark. His lack of people skills aside, he has to work with what he’s got, and with that, he devises a plan.

“A monster, you say? ‘Monster’ is a subjective term.”

He meticulously shuffles from side to side, as if he was uncomfortable. It’s intended to keep his blood flowing so he’ll remain alert. He can’t stand still with all this adrenaline pumping through him, but he’ll have to settle for shimmying back and forth on this light pole for now.

“No, it’s obvious what you are. You’re a predator.”

He stiffens up in his huddled position. He fans his wings briefly only to stretch them out. Certainly this creature has the means to attack if it wants, even if he can’t fully control his transformations. He definitely seems to have calmed down, however, and despite his snarling voice and unpleasant demeanor, he only seems to be getting calmer. Undoubtedly, this is an improvement from the hulking antlered monstrosity that Jiho first saw when he met him. Oddly enough, this course of action, talking, seems to be working out so far in Jiho’s favor. He is still alive, unscathed in fact. He decides to play this out, but he isn’t about to let his guard down even slightly. It’s too risky.

“I saw you back there,” he glances in the general direction of the corpse in the alley once more, without moving his head. “You were eating that guy. You didn’t kill him for fun. You killed him for food. That’s what predators do.”

He pauses for a moment, making sure to choose his words carefully. The last thing he wants is to set this guy off, offend him in some unforeseen way. He shows no fear, no signs of unease.

“No, you certainly wouldn’t like the taste of me, I can assure you.” He musters up a crooked smile, that quickly fades away. “I mostly eat rotten things. I’d probably make you sick.”

His nictitating eyelids slide slowly across his eyes once more, remaining closed for a moment. His eyes appear pale and foggy as he looks up to the bloodied man with a curious expression.

“Of course you wouldn’t prefer to kill. But what choice do you have? What choice do I have but to act upon instinct and my desire for self-preservation?”

His eyelids open up again, his expression is almost sympathetic.

“It’s only natural.”

[obsxjiho]

Ruffled Feathers

[obsxjiho]

obshoseok:

(…)

He was about to ask if he needed help of any sort, but the other male managed to speak before him, the fox unsure of how to respond. He stares at Jiho momentarily, amazed that he was even able to talk in his condition. He quickly snaps himself out of this, and clears his throat before responding. 

“Ah.. I’m alright..?” 

He replies slowly, taking not of the small pool of blood that was starting to form. He wanted to offer his assistance almost immediately after responding, but he held himself back. He decides to wait a few minutes before speaking again.

“A..Are you okay?”

He asks, realizing how dumb his question must sound seconds later. Jiho was obviously in an great amount of pain, and Hoseok wanted to help out as much as he possibly could. Expressing that however, seemed to be more troublesome that it should be.  

He focuses on taking deep breaths, staring blankly up at the night sky for a moment. It’s actually a really nice night out, and the air is clean, at least by this city’s standards. He loses himself for a moment, but snaps back to reality. He always had a bad habit of drifting off and daydreaming, but this was quite possibly the worst possible time to do something like that.

He glances back at the stranger, still breathing heavily through his mouth. It feels like his healing factor is doing its job; the pain is subsiding, or maybe he’s starting to go numb. Hard to tell. Regardless, this isn’t nearly enough to stop the bleeding, and he’s running out of time. Between breathes, he manages to cough out a response.

“Yeah, I’m *cough* doin’ alright. *C-cough* T-thanks for askin’.”

The sarcasm is about as helpful as daydreaming, and his voice is too raspy for it to even sound as sarcastic as intended. It’s clear enough that asking for help isn’t something he can manage right now, so he’s left with one option. He doesn’t like it, and not just because he knows from experience how much this is going to hurt. But pain was never really a factor to Jiho. No, his only concern is regarding this guy. He doesn’t want to scare him, but he’s put this off long enough, and he’s bleeding out. Now’s as good of a time as any to suck it up and embrace self-preservation. If this guy turns out to be a hunter or something, well, Jiho couldn’t be any worse off than he is now.

He struggles to push his back off the ground, and he reaches a hand out towards Hoseok, hoping he’ll ignore the blood.

“H-hey, give me a hand?”

Before the stranger can even respond, Jiho grabs his hand and pulls himself forward and onto his knees next to Hoseok. He’s halfway there. Well, not really, but saying that is a good motivator to keep going. He attempts to stand up on his own, but doesn’t make it very far before falling forward. He manages to catch himself before face-planting the ground again.

This appears to be as far as he’s going to get.

He takes a deep breath.

Blood drips from his torso and onto the pavement beneath him. He pauses for a moment, readying himself for what’s to come. Then he begins shifting. His transformation is not at all a pleasant or cohesive one. Different body parts fluctuate individually in size and shape. His shoes tear apart to reveal talons, The seams of his jacket rip from the increase in size, and his sleeves turn to ribbons at the formation of his massive wings. He was fortunate enough to be wearing one of his magic shifting-resistant pairs of pants, but the rest of his clothes have seen better days. As his skin is covered with dark feathers, he vibrates and wriggles about as the transformation takes hold of him. It is excruciating. He lets out several brief squawks amidst the pain, and as his body shifts to present his avian forme, several bullets are forced out of his body due to the rapid acceleration of his anatomy. They each make a light clanging sound as they bounce off the concrete, and a few moments later, his transformation is complete.

He exhales heavily from his curved beak, and still with his “hands” and knees to the ground, his body begins morphing again. The second transformation is anything but graceful; each body part vibrates and shifts back independently of every other part. He isn’t really going for style points here; he just wants to be done with this. If anything, the second transformation is considerably less painful as well as much quicker, but it is still far from enjoyable. His body shrinks back down and the feathers that adorned his skin fall off like leaves from a tree. He’s effectively shifted forward and back in a matter of minutes, not something he’s entirely accustomed to.

After a brief minute of reverting his first transformation, Jiho pauses to catch his breath. He inspects his wounds with one of his hands before pushing himself back up into a sitting position, then he checks his body with his eyes. The rapid change his body experienced managed to accelerate his natural healing, reducing the severity of his wounds by a substantial margin. His jacket has been turned into a sleeveless hoodie, and he’ll need to find a new pair of shoes, but at least he’s stopped the worst of the bleeding. He’s still bruised and the pain isn’t going away anytime soon, but the worst is behind him.

At least, that’s what he assumes.

He manages to finally stand up on his own two feet, though his balance is questionable at best. He stumbles and throws a hand on Hoseok’s shoulder to catch himself before he falls, somewhat relieved that he stuck around after witnessing that horror of a magic trick.

“Hey, uh. Sorry you…had to see that.”

Jiho’s still struggling to keep himself upright, and could fall over any minute, but he’s feeling rather accomplished at the moment. He feels as though he’s deserved the right to stand up; that wasn’t easy by any means.

[obsxjiho]

Shock Therapy

[obsxjiho]

obsyuki:

(...)

“I’m sorry,” the apology falls off his lips immediately, two words he’s grown up far too used to saying in similar circumstances. “Are you oka—“

Yuki’s words are abruptly cut off, pale eyes narrowing on the pavement at the other man’s feet. Between the two of them, they’ve managed to cause a roadblock on the side of the road. The mob milling around them is displeased by this interruption to say the least, but he can’t be bothered by them now, not when he’s noticed something…interesting? strange? about this person he’s bumped into. Yuki isn’t entirely sure, given the busy atmosphere, but he could’ve sworn a couple feathers fell out of the stranger’s coat sleeves when he’d pulled away.

“Um…you’re uh, you’ve dropped something there…”

His head is spinning, his vision blurry. The jolt snaps him out of his anxiety, at least for the time being. His mind went from a tempest of stress and fear to static in an instant upon hitting the ground. He managed to fall backwards and catch the ground with his hands before his back hit the concrete, but he may have collided with one or two people on his way down. He sits there, dazed, and not wholly certain of his predicament. He can make out figures among the crowd, standing there, watching him. They all look down at him, and he can’t make out any individual words, as all of them seem to be chattering at once.

It’s strange, but he isn’t panicking anymore, far from it; he’s almost calm, despite the terrible headache and distorted senses. This situation is precisely what he was afraid of, to be stared down by so many judgemental strangers simultaneously. It appeared as if the shock made him come around full-circle, mitigating the panic that consumed him moments ago. The real reason, although not entirely dissimilar, is quite moderately worse.

Without thinking, he slowly rises to his feet. He stumbles slightly on his way up. One or two people behind him try to reach out to give him a hand, but his staggered movements deter them from committing. He grabs his forehead with the same hand that instigated the shock, and he hunches over for a moment, shuddering. He lets out a bloodcurdling scream, like a large bird in pain echoing on top of itself. The noise doesn’t carry far, due to the sheer number of bustling people on the street, but those immediately around him have no trouble catching the ear-wrenching shriek. Many cover their ears in response, and every civilian around Jiho either backs away slowly, or runs off in terror.

The shock, when coupled with his panicked state of mind, was just enough to knock him into his subconscious. Temporarily blacked out, he’s acting solely on instinct. It’s all he can manage right now.

He lifts his hand from his head, and stares at it for a moment. His vision comes back into focus on his hand, and he lowers it. He straightens his body as his eyes meet with the man standing across from him. He sees him in full detail, though the world around the stranger is still but a blur. Jiho’s eyes shifted on their own, after his avian instincts took over. His piercing, yellow gaze locks with that of the pale-eyed man before him. His second eyelids blink sideways, covering his eyes in a foggy white for only a moment. It readjusts his focus, and surely, this is the same guy from before.

His thoughts are unintelligible, but concise enough to draw a conclusion. “He...attack...ATTACKED ME….must defend….must ATTACK!”

Despite acting upon the will of the predator inside of him, he’s hardly physically shifted beyond his eyes and a few stray feathers, some of which litter the ground between them. His stance grows increasingly hostile, arching forward and curving his hands out like talons. Some people catch wind of the tension, and back an appropriate distance away. The crowd seems to have dispersed considerably after these events, but enough people stare on or simply remain uninterested.

Jiho lets out a less reverberating shriek than the last one, but one still considerably imposing, and pushes the young man back at the shoulders with both hands. He makes skin contact yet again in the exchange, receiving another jolt of electricity. It’s impact is certainly not as unexpected as the first, but he still wasn’t quite expecting that a second time, and he staggers backwards accordingly.

[obsxjiho]

Garbage Day

[obsxjiho]

obsxjuri:

(...)

With her job ─ if one could stand to call it that ─ done, she turns on her heel, making her way back to the open mouth of the alley. The rest of her night is free for whatever she pleases ─ maybe a trip to the bar would suffice, given the elated mood she finds herself in. There’s nearly a skip in her step despite how she’d slayed yet another hunter ─ or perhaps it’s because of such a thing that she finds the night to be in good graces. Really, times like these seem to come few and far between these days; she likes to think ridding the world of more humans as ‘doing everyone a favor’, and in the moment, the sentiment only seems to be of truth.

Now’s his chance. He doesn’t waste any time once she turns to leave the alley; he immediately pushes himself from the edge of the roof, almost horizontally, and with such force that the tiles and gutter crack and bend to the whim of his talons. His transformation is complete, and he is now an avian monstrosity that would deliver any unsuspecting pedestrian fear for its life. He jettisons himself through the night sky; he needs but only one mighty flap of his wings to glide to his destination. As he passes over her blissfully unaware head, he takes notice of her rather upbeat demeanor. She has no business to act so carefree after dumping her trash in his territory. He isn’t a mere scavenger. He’s a predator, and he intends to clarify that exact misconception.

He lands in the alleyway, not more than a few meters in front of her. His back is turned, and his wings remain unfurled and rest just above the ground, almost like a large cape. He slowly turns his head to face her, his piercing yellow eye latches onto her presence as soon as soon as he regains line of sight. His body then quickly turns to face her. He slowly leers back his entire body as he stretches his wings outward, blocking the path out of the corridor in a wall of feathers. He stands as tall and imposing as he can make himself out to be, and the lack of daylight helps to blur his dark body among itself. The only thing that stands out amidst the silhouette are his eyes, glaring right at hers with all the intent to make her cower in fear. Once he has made his form visible to her, he abruptly folds his wings and hunches forward, as if he was about to pounce. He takes one silent step forward, and pauses for a moment.

Then he screams.

His shriek reverberates across the enclosed walls of the alley. It echoes and reaches far beyond the meek girl that stands before him, as if a dozen raptors cried out in unison. He puts all of the strength behind his lungs into the creation of the unholy sound, and directs the brunt of it right at her face. Even after he has closed his beak, he can still hear the faint echoes in the distance. Anyone within three blocks must have heard that sound, but the only recipient that he cares about is the one in front of him.

He intends to show this girl he isn’t to be taken lightly, and from his point of view, that was a lovely first impression.

[obsxjiho]

The Punch Line

[obsxjiho]

obshaechul:

(...)

“Long time no see!! Did you come to see my show?” Haechul chuckles heartily as he sits next to Jiho and continues to harass him.

“Hey, barkeep, let’s get this man a hamburger, and his next drink is on me.” He slaps Jiho’s back again to emphasize his point, and gestures widely as he continues. “I’ll also have more of those bread things from earlier, and a fuzzy navel.”

The drinks arrive before the food does, and Haechul sips his down as he continues this time to Jiho. “Man, you’re in for a treat tonight. This show is gonna be ‘lit’ as the kids in the corner who are smoking would say.”

Just when he was under the impression that things couldn’t be worse, his sulking was abruptly interrupted with a swift strike on his back. He recoiled instantly, and nearly let out an avian-esque shriek, but he was able to hold himself together. His restraint was rewarded with another slap, coupled with a voice that stung his ears with its familiar tone. The second slap was appreciated even less than the first, and once he was sure he wouldn’t be struck again, he turned his head only slightly, just enough to confirm his suspicions through his peripheral vision.

Haechul.

You could see all of his sadness transition to shock, then despair, and then anger, all in mere seconds. He turns back to face the bar and puts a hand to his forehead, as if that would prevent his brain from exploding. Of all the bars for him to just stumble into, it just had to be the same one that the obnoxious comedian fae was performing in. Why did he always keep running into this guy? And why, why was he always so insistent about getting physical and acting all “buddy-buddy?” It was annoying, and Jiho was far from being in a mood that was capable of tolerating this guy, much less actually respond to him.

The hamburger arrives, and it actually looks quite good. He glares at it in stern disapproval. His stomach cries out for a suitable sacrifice, but he isn’t in the mood to eat anything associated with Haechul. It could be an illusion, or hiding hot sauce, or explosive. He gently pushes the plate away from him with only two fingers. It isn’t worth the risk.

He had the displeasure of meeting Haechul several times before; he always had a knack for showing up out of thin air when Jiho wanted him around the least. It was never a particularly enjoyable interaction. He had always spurned people for their manipulative ways, but fae, and to a lesser extent, vampires, had the potential to take this to deplorable levels. Haechul in particular put a bad taste in Jiho’s mouth in regards to his disposition towards fae. He’d do anything for a laugh, even if it was at the expense of others. As far as Jiho’s concerned, it’s no different from draining your blood. He sharply moves his eyes away from the fae and the burger. In spite of his pain tolerance, it hurts Jiho physically to listen to this guy, while knowing what he’s capable of.

He does his very best to ignore Haechul’s chattering, but deep down, he knows it’ll only make things worse. If nothing else, at least he isn’t sad anymore.