What is a lost wolf?A where-wolf! @racoon-knight - Tumblr Blog

A small blender for your consideration:

Celine who wants her girls to be happy and fully themselves. Who will ignore every law and spend any money and build an empire from nothing, to get Mira surgery so she doesn't have to be dysphoric and get Zoey adderall so she can focus on her writing and get Rumi the Golden Honmoon so she doesn't have to be afraid of her patterns.

Celine who also wants her girls to be safe, and so has impressed on them that no one can *know* about their faults because it would be dangerous, and has put a lot of time and money into keeping doctors and reporters quiet about meds and birth certificates and buying Rumi increasingly lengthy shirts.

Celine who understands post-film that this strategy uh. Did not work out for Rumi, to put it lightly. Celine who is not necessarily emotionally competent enough to understand the difference between Rumi's experience of this strategy and Zoey and Mira's. Celine who immediately starts spiraling about not only what she did to Rumi, but her sudden conviction that she must have driven Zoey and Mira into suicidal shame spirals as well.

Mmmmm yes yes yes

Because, of course, these things aren’t faults

secondtolastrow

@the-fallen-blue yes!!!

fakelawyerbug

Oh see I know that upper management/Celine's team will be trying to keep everything quiet until they can issue a public statement once everything is sorted out and Celine officially separates from SLE.

But people talk. And there's going to be rumors flying around that office of why Celine is doing this and why now.

(She's sick, she's dying, she has a drug problem, there's some sort of scandal she's trying to get ahead of, etc.)

And you know Celine isn't telling anyone shit so rumors are basically all anyone has to go off of.

lightpartyadventures

God dammit this is hilarious.

Its basically the reverse of the 'celine gets therapy and redoes her will causing Huntrix too freak the fuck out.' Idea

Except, this is a legit reason to freak out and I give it 3 days of this (none of them are signing shit and the process has been stalled) before they track Celine down and demand what the fuck is going on.

stories-i-guess

Eventually, when they do find Celine, she sees them first and starts BOLTING in the opposite direction, causing a relatively underwhelming chase to take place, as Celine is NOT functioning well right now. They pick her up off the ground by her shirt’s collar after she face-plants, and when they hold her up, they get to see the absolutely wonderful image of their mentor in demon hunting, their boss in Kpop Idol-ing, and their emotional rock in life… ugly crying. Snot globs and everything.

Through the heavy sobbing sounds, they figure out that Celine has the same amount of self hate as Rumi, and yet 0 times the emotional support girlfriends. And also other friends in general.

Mira picks her up and throws her over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes, walking home and not saying another word. Zoey and Rumi are just standing there, still trying to process whatever the hell just happened

secondtolastrow

Celine: but I’m a MONSTER!!!

Mira, adjusting her grip: wow, Rumi, she’s just like you

Rumi, finally startling out of her head: hey!

Celine: [renewed sobbing because this is confirmation that she’s literally taught all of them to hate themselves and she’s the worst mommentor ever]

secondtolastrow

Now to be fair. All of these girls do have internalized shame to deal with

On the spectrum from Rumi (literally suicidal at one point) on up though, Mira and Zoey are doing much better.

For Zoey, it’s more… okay yeah it’s not like she can tell someone “I’m having really bad executive dysfunction and that’s why I’m sitting here staring at this task and look like I’m about to cry.” She can’t be weak. She also can’t admit that this has to do with thinking her neurodiversity is Bad without reinforcing Celine’s belief that she hurt them (amongst several other layers of repression), so it’ll take her a bit of get there

For Mira, like, there’s not a light and jokey version of “I’m a trans woman” for her to let slip to the public. She’s known that saying that came with consequences her entire life and as a kid she was immeasurably grateful to Celine for helping her not only transition (which was its own matter of holy shit, in spite of how it should be basic human decency and medical care) but hide any connection to her birth identity

But she is aware on some level that being stealth isn’t the most comfortable place to live her life anymore, and the reason she’s still doing it is out of fear—herself, their careers, the Honmoon. Telling herself that if she’s that selfish then everything could go wrong

And she’s very aware that that’s a her thing, not a Celine thing. Celine might not have helped by pointing out the way she could deal with it, but Mira’s a grown woman who can make her own dumb choices thank you

Which is, very firmly, what she ends up saying

And Celine’s like “…what”

And Mira’s like “you’re not in charge of my choices”

Which is when Rumi, in a careful way because all of this is incredibly fresh and painful, points out that if anyone is responsible for what she asked Celine other than her, it’s the guy who orchestrated her own personal hell night. Thanks, Jinu!

And at this point, Celine is so deeply confused by the fact that, unlike in her head where the girls both hate her and are completely consumed by the shame she’s taught them, reality is fairly calmly thumping her in the face, that she does have to take a pause from the crying

secondtolastrow

Blood cult au part seventeen (first, most recent, masterpost)

Currently: the gang are hiding out at Miyeong’s apartment, and had a party where Minji and Miyeong finally kissed! …And Rumi finally made it clear to everyone that she’s homophobic. I’m sure they’ll all get a great night’s sleep!

the-fallen-blue

Someone in a neighboring building has put string lights on their balcony, and the color slips through the window of Miyeong's guest room-slash-office, painting the ceiling above the air mattress in glowing blue and purple. Mira had made some kind of joke about mood lighting, the first night, and they'd agreed to keep the curtains open, liking the effect.

Tonight, staring up at it, Zoey thinks it makes the plaster look bruised.

The little Adderall bujeok Celine made for her rolls in her fingers, over and over, thumb tracing the faint ridge around the outside edge, flip, tighten the string in the little borehole, flip, an anxious tic that Zoey wants to stop, she's done very well so far at smothering any overt stimming while actively in bed with Mira, she remembers how irritating it was to try to get any homework done over lunch when Joy wouldn't stop bouncing her leg, will not be the person who keeps Mira awake with her neurosis, but—

Flip. Thumb along the edge. Flip. Tighten.

A sliver of yellow flickers into being, under the edge of the door. The bathroom light. Celine must have turned it on; Rumi wouldn't have done it herself, she's still pretending she's not afraid of the dark, or at least that the rest of them haven't noticed.

"Do you think…" English, she realizes, and half-caught in her throat. Mira is fine at the language but obviously less comfortable with it than Zoey is with Korean. A coarse cough to clear the drunken knot from her vocal cords, and Zoey switches over. "Do you think they're okay out there?"

"… I think Celine is an adult. I offered to let her sleep with us, she knows Minji and Miyeong would take her, she knows she could kick Rumi out. If she stayed it's because she can handle it."

She sounds like she at least half believes it, which Zoey supposes is better than nothing.

"... and Rumi?"

"I don't think I care if Rumi's okay."

She's not really even pretending she actually believes that, so Zoey doesn't argue. She gets it. She doesn't want to care either.

Flip. Thumb along the edge.

"Could we, maybe." Celine absolutely could have slept in here with them, Mira leaves easily a whole human body of space between them every night. Zoey wakes up most mornings with a stray pillow or the entire bunched-up comforter dividing the mattress, kicked off by Mira who is ice cold falling asleep and then turns to a furnace within thirty seconds of hitting REM. And Zoey has been respecting that boundary like her life depends on it, but— "Would it be okay if…. do you mind…"

Mira reaches out, a gentle, steady hand landing solid on Zoey's shoulder, warm through her oversized Great Barrier Reef shirt. "What do you need, Zo?"

Minji called a woman who could cut her in half a bigot, Celine swallowed a shattered quarter century of hero worship and her own identity on the line and calmly found the truth. Zoey can be brave about this.

"Can you, can we hug? For a bit?"

In the dark, under the shadowy bruise-light, Mira looks somehow relieved. "Yeah. Yeah, we can do that."

And she wraps Zoey in her arms, and Zoey tucks her head under Mira's chin and clutches the bujeok to her sternum with one hand and tightens the other around Mira's hip, and if she sniffles, a bit, Mira is kind enough not to mention it.

secondtolastrow

(CW: Rumi’s internalized homophobia continues to be of the queer = predatory sort, including her having thoughts about assaulting zoemira, further brief mentions of historical csa)

As ever, Rumi does not sleep easily.

the-fallen-blue

Rumi wakes to the sound of the honored shaman stretching, as she pulls herself out of bed; they tighten the sheets, fold the comforter, maneuver the frame back into the couch, in the dim silence of the morning.

None of this is unusual, but there is an uncomfortable tension to the quiet that has never been there, before. The honored shaman makes coffee, and does not speak. Rumi pulls on her clothing, and does not speak. The honored shaman takes a shower— as ever, done in minutes, faster than anyone else in the apartment— and does not speak when she returns, and this, the extended, deliberate silence, is unusual indeed.

The others wake slowly, trickling into the kitchen and sitting room. Rumi places herself in a corner, and watches as the morning unfolds around her as though she were not there. They all glance at her as they come for their coffee or tea— Mira, Minji-nim, Miyeong-nim, Zoey— and Rumi remains still, and quiet, and they accept her silence, and the space around her becomes a strange bubble that they do not acknowledge and will not pass.

They will need to discuss strategy, create a plan, engage the servant of the cult before more wraiths can be created, but Rumi cannot lead, like this, and she cannot begin to imagine how to fix it.

You have refused to see.

Rumi watches as Miyeong-nim crowds into the honored shaman's space, to help her with breakfast, as she has always done, and the honored shaman does not flinch or stiffen, but bears it with a fond smile, as she has always done. She watches as Zoey drapes herself over Minji-nim's back and shoulder to steal a peice of fruit from her plate, and Minji-nim tugs Zoey's hair in absent retaliation, neither at all concerned by the other's touch.

But of course, Kyungja's husband was always kind to Kyungja—

Yet Minji-nim and Miyeong-nim, too, are just as they have always been. It is possible that Miyeong-nim touches Minji-nim more frequently, this morning, finds more excuses to brush a hand across an arm when exchanging dishes or bump her weight against her when they pass, but if so, it is a change only in frequency, not in kind, and they both act as if it is fine, even welcomed, just as they always have.

Or perhaps they are not fine, and it has never been fine, and Rumi is simply an even poorer judge of others' behavior than she believed. Because everyone else in the apartment has cycled through the kitchen, the sitting room, the shower, through the course of the morning. But the honored shaman has not left Rumi's line of sight, and Rumi thinks nothing of it, until Miyeong-nim steps so far into the other woman's space that she is forced to back up, and complains, exasperated,

"How are you and Minji the same goddamn person. Take a break."

The honored shaman blinks down in confused alarm. "Miyeong—"

"No. Do not 'Miyeong' me, we're not doing that." Her eyes flash over to Rumi, and Rumi startles at the sensation of being fully acknowledged, without a hint of anger or pain or discomfort, for the first time since Mira woke up. "Rumi, are you planning on starting a fight this morning?"

"I… no, Miyeong-nim, I have no such intention."

"Yeah? Good. I'm not going to either. Minji? Mira? Zoey?"

They all look at Rumi, and Rumi, like a coward, looks down at her feet.

They must make some gesture of agreement, though, because Miyeong-nim makes a satisfied sound, and tells the honored shaman, "See? Crisis over, everyone's behaving themselves. Go cry on the balcony for twenty minutes or go in my room and lock the door and take a nap or walk down the block and bum a cigarette off old man Kwon, I don't care, just take a fucking break."

The honored shaman simply continues to stare down at Miyeong-nim with a bewildered expression for another few heartbeats, and Miyeong-nim pokes her directly in the sternum. "Celine. Now."

One last beat, and the honored shaman looks around the room, as if to verify for herself that she is not immediately required. Then she takes one more step back to give herself space to bow. "As you command, sajangnim," and she's not facing Rumi, but it sounds like there's a grin in it. "I will go to the roof, for a while. Do not hesitate to call for me if I am needed," and she directs that, Rumi thinks, at Zoey, perhaps not trusting Miyeong-nim's evaluation of need. (Rumi is trying not to have opinions on any of her companions, right now, but from what she has learned of Miyeong-nim through all this, she cannot disagree).

And then the honored shaman is gone, and Rumi is alone with four people who she has angered quite deeply, and she hopes, very much, that none of them were lying when they said they weren't looking for a fight.

secondtolastrow

Minji’s narrative of the night before takes a sharp left turn as she watches Miyeong herd Celine out of the apartment: Idiot! She was supposed to be getting them together.

And, knowing Miyeong, she would refuse to listen to any arguments about how perfect she and Celine clearly are for each other, or about Celine’s comparable stability.

And, knowing Celine—or, really, just having any grasp of the stupid love triangle narratives she’s seen on television—there is no way that she would accept an attempt by Minji to step aside.

Again, she returns to: Idiot!

…Reasonably, Minji supposes, sipping her coffee, the actual answer is to bring this alternate possibility up to Miyeong during any upcoming what-are-we conversations, and make it clear to her that Minji has no issue with Celine being a far more ideal prospect than herself. Miyeong deserves nothing but the best, and the caring, gorgeous, ridiculous woman she’s just kicked out is exactly that.

At least that will be less of a mess than… Rumi.

As if hearing her thoughts, Mira pushes a plate at Zoey and points her jaw roughly towards the particular corner where Rumi has sat watching them all morning.

Minji worries the scab on her tongue, considering.

She should apologize, probably. She went too far in the face of what was clearly learned ignorance. But she’s not going to do that without some sign that Rumi actually regrets what she said.

(Minji always does. She isn’t good at judging the line. Another good reason to push Miyeong towards Celine instead. She deserves someone she can trust wholeheartedly.)

Zoey takes up the plate, walking over to Rumi with an uncertain expression rather than one of her usual smiles. “I, uh, I have food. For you. To eat. If you want it!”

“Thank you,” Rumi says, standing to make an exceedingly low bow before she accepts the plate in both hands.

Minji exchanges a glance with Miyeong. Apparently, her trust in Celine was not misplaced—however inappropriate it was for her to tell Celine that it was her job to handle things, especially knowing how much responsibility she already takes for everything around her.

(Drunk Minji, you idiot!)

frozenwolftemplar

Celine steps on the roof and is greeted by the magpie spirit, looking very pleased with herself.

Spirits deserve our utmost respect. Her mentor's words repeat themselves in her head as she walks stiffly across the cement, a cordial smile plastered on her face. The blessing of their presence outweighs any small inconvenience.

Of course, her mentor said that as she cleaned up after a spirit that had a tendency to knock over flower pots then fixate on righting them (or at least trying to). As far as Celine knew she had never encountered a magpie who delighted in humiliating people before proposing games that brought their worst tendencies to light.

Pity she wasn't still here; she had some questions about loopholes.

"Honorable Kkachi-ssi." Celine bowed as deep as duty demanded (even though her sense of righteousness balked several centimeters too soon). "To what do I owe the-" ("Respect, Celine; humility is a virtue") "-pleasure of your company this fine morning?"

The spirit ruffled her feathers. Liar. It is not a fine morning.

True. The air is heavy and charged, with a damp tang that promised later rain. When she tips her head skyward, thick rolls of clouds, not black but on their way to it, obscure the bright and cheerful blue of yesterday's sky that had smiled down on her and Minji as they wandered around the neighborhood. A sky that knew anguish; a sky that felt the worst was yet to come.

She frowns. Hopefully that isn't a portent.

When she turns back to Kkachi-ssi, though, she keeps the smile in place. "It is your presence that makes the morning fine."

Kkachi-ssi must know she is far from Celine's favorite spirit at the moment, but she preens anyway, more than happy to accept any compliment and, quite honestly, probably feeling it is the truth (since spirits were not part of the Order and, thus, not concerned with adherence to virtues).

I thank you for the fine party last night, she croaks, smirking as she settles on the edge of an air intake vent. It was a good one.

Yes, Celine thinks grimly. Nothing marks a party a success like revealing someone's homophobic tendencies.

"I am glad you enjoyed it," Celine dips her head. That makes one of them. "Now, if you'll please excuse me:" She starts to turn towards the half-wall bordering the roof. The uncomfortable knot that had been lodged in her chest since last night has only grown tighter with the morning, particularly the sight of Rumi-nim sitting dejected and alone in the self-imposed isolation of the corner, combined with the cool demeanors of Zoey and especially Mira, and she desperately needs to be alone to try and unravel it.

(there's a second knot, one that has her own name wound through it along with the realization of how Rumi-nim would view her if she knew, but that is unimportant)

Leaning on the half-wall, she draws a deep breath of the city air, scents of asphalt and exhaust tangling with the myriad songs of human habitation and life, engines and air conditioners and a car alarm blaring in the distance.

It's not very calming; they vibrate the air so her calming breath jangles unmusically in her nerves, amplifying the discontent rather than allaying it.

She misses the countryside.

Even more, she misses yesterday morning, when dynamics were relatively simple and their biggest concerns were Miyeong's trust issues and the aftermath of Rumi and Mira's excursion to retrieve the latter's family's books.

There's a rustling of feathers and Kkachi-ssi alights next to her. Wonderful.

This would have come out eventually, she croaks, shooting Celine a very judgmental look. Surely you know that.

She supposes the spirit is right; it would have; the disgust on Rumi-nim's face, and the vehemence of her justification of it, were too intense and deep to have ever stayed hidden. This reveal was inevitable.

And…she also supposes that she should have perhaps seen this coming. Even if that part of Rumi-nim's story- the poor abused theater boys- had not been passed down there was probably documentation of it elsewhere, and part of her order was being a bit of a scholar of the era. Should have pulled her aside and explained- as gently as she could- that two women- or two men for that matter- could show their love for each other and have it be as real and right and good as any display between a man and a woman. If not erased that vestige of her era then at least softened the edges so no one would be cut too deeply.

Guilt cinches the knot tighter. Another way she has failed.

There's a sharp burst of pain on her hand and she just barely swallows a very undignified yelp as the spirit pecks her.

Yes, definitely not among her favorite spirits.

All six of the spirit's eyes are narrowed impatiently. You are not so important that all the world's miseries come back to you. Or even all your companions.'

Her mentor also said to not argue with a spirit, so Celine keeps her opinions on that remark to herself.

Besides, Kkachi-ssi continues. You'll have enough trouble today without borrowing more.

Celine thinks she means cleaning up the interpersonal fallout back in Miyeong's apartment, but the magpie spirit instead wings off towards the northern part of the city. To her eyes, it does not look any different from the rest of the surrounding neighborhoods.

Her soul tells a different story.

secondtolastrow

Rumi doesn’t just take the food, but actually eats it, which is… good.

Mira hopes. And hates that she hopes, because she wants to be angry right now, because Rumi was a dick and Zoey’s done literally nothing wrong and neither have Minji and Miyeong and so wanting her to like them again is stupid, but she still feels like someone hit her every time she sees Rumi sitting over there. Away from them.

She felt stupid last night, too, and she feels stupid right now, but then she thinks about Rumi telling her she was distracted by how pretty Mira was and what the hell was she supposed to think? Who just says that platonically?

Sixteenth century noblewomen, apparently.

There’s no point in hoping, anyway. It took them hours to get their last “miscommunication” straightened out, last night’s argument certainly wouldn’t have fixed her.

Rumi finishes her plate efficiently, one food at a time demolished, and then stands.

Conversation stops.

“I will wash the dishes,” she says. It sounds mostly like asking, maybe begging, even before she looks somewhere around Miyeong’s hands and adds, “If… that is acceptable to you?”

“Yeah,” Miyeong says. “We can do them together.”

Mira wants to grab her and shake her and ask her why the fuck she isn’t angry, how she can talk to Rumi without yelling. But she doesn’t.

“Are you done with that?” Miyeong asks.

Mira nods and pushes her plate slightly away. “Thank you.”

“Could you fill her glass again?” Minji asks, pulling that towards Miyeong too. “I doubt any of us want to nurse these hangovers all day.”

She doesn’t look in Rumi’s direction. Her voice is flatter than usual. Anger on her sleeve. Mira appreciates it even as her hackles raise, wary.

Rumi walks around them to the sink. She’s suddenly too close. Mira wants to scream.

“Do you have painkillers in the bathroom cabinet?” she asks. “Zoey and I couldn’t find them this morning.”

“Oh, yeah—“ Miyeong starts.

That’s all Mira needs to hear before, like a coward, she flees.

the-fallen-blue

The morning after the day of Miyeong's 39th birthday, Yeonggi woke her with flowers, and took her to breakfast at a place that everyone in the hospital had been talking about for months but neither she nor Yeonggi could afford.

And she had been so relieved, so happy to be wrong, to know that she had been crazy and catastrophizing. To have proof that he did care and did pay attention and it was true, it was reasonable, that he got caught up at work. That anyone could have, that having other higher priorities didn't have to mean she wasn't even on his list at all. She had smiled, and laughed, all through breakfast, and when they got back to the apartment she had his pants off half a meter through the door, but he had stopped her, for a moment, and given her the oddest, saddest look.

And he had said, "I know I'm the last person who should be complaining, but you forgive too easily, Miyeong."

She'd brushed him off, then. Told him she'd have to be a hypocrite not to, because look at her, the unprincipled muckraker, and he hadn't said anything else about it. But it sat with her, in the back of her mind, and for five years she's poked at it, on and off, like an uncomfortable loose tooth.

She pokes at it now, as she washes dishes next to Rumi, who is drawn in on herself like she's walking through a crowded antique store and if she dares to take up an inch too much space, a dozen impossibly valuable things will shatter.

Because it's not that Miyeong forgives her, exactly. She can't imagine what Celine is feeling right now, but she can certainly see what Zoey and Mira are. And maybe that means Yeonggi was right, because Rumi hasn't even apologized, and here Miyeong is, extending her a hand, unprompted and unearned. But Rumi is clearly more than suffering the consequences of her actions, and Miyeong was young and stupid once, too. She's not angry, anymore, just sad, and there's nothing she can do about that, no capacity in her to manufacture an emotion she doesn't feel, no matter how righteous or appropriate, even if she wanted to.

So she tells Rumi, "I was able to get some good information out of that license plate," because she should probably say something and it feels like the most neutral available topic. "I think there's at least one more wraith who's never been to the new base, but I'm pretty sure I know where to find her. It?"

"That is… reassuring," says Rumi, who does not sound reassured. And who does not make any effort to pick up her half of the conversation, letting her response sit, there, and continuing to wash dishes in silent misery.

Miyeong gives her a minute, and then starts, "Rumi—"

"I do not—" Rumi cuts her off, winces, and then, when Miyeong gestures for her to continue, bows her head lightly and gratefully and then stares, determined, into the sink. "I do not… understand. That much has been made very clear to me. But… I am trying to."

She scrubs a moment longer, working the sponge around a perfectly clean plate.

"I know that is not enough. I... rest assured that I will not speak of the matter again, regardless. You are—"

Her hands still, on the plate, half-buried in the suds, her shoulders hunch, and her voice loses what little confidence it had, making her sound small, and lost.

"I do not wish for there to be discord between us."

You forgive too easily, Miyeong.

"Then there isn't."

Rumi's shoulders relax, just a fraction, and yeah, fine. Maybe Yeonggi was right.

But Miyeong can live with it.

secondtolastrow

It only takes another moment or two for Rumi to fish herself out of the sink and turn in Minji’s direction, which… isn’t nearly as smiley as Miyeong’s. Zoey wants to admire it, but she wants even more for this all to be over and for them to just be okay again.

“I can only offer the same words to you. My words were ill-conceived and I will not repeat them,” she says, all guilty and quiet, bowing now that there’s not a sink in her way.

Minji studies her for a moment, expression quietly torn. “I… I told you last night that I didn’t care why. I—that’s—you can ask questions. Good faith questions.”

“Thank you,” Rumi says. She looks, Zoey thinks, like someone way too scared to ask any questions at all.

When the dishes are done, though, she comes to sit carefully on the armchair, closer than before but still at a distance. Hard to tell if she’s scared of gay crush cooties or of having someone else yell at her. Mira’s scowl definitely isn’t helping, and Zoey’s not sure of whether to elbow her about it or not.

Like the sky’s been listening in, and decided it needs to let Zoey know that no more apologies are forthcoming, the first fat droplets of rain start splattering against the windowpane.

“Shouldn’t have bothered with watering,” Miyeong grumbles, sliding onto the couch (and halfway into Minji’s lap).

“It didn’t look like rain,” Minji points out, looping an arm around Miyeong’s waist seemingly on autopilot.

They’re cute. Zoey should be thinking about how they’re cute.

(She is instead watching Rumi watch them.)

“Well, Celine should be back soon,” Miyeong sighs, watching at the rain swiftly starts turning into massive sheets. Then she smirks. “Unless she got locked out.”

Mira snorts.

Zoey’s meds must not have kicked in yet, though, because what comes out of her mouth in response to the joke is “Hey, how many umbrellas do you have?”

Miyeong blinks.

The look on her face is not that of someone who owns enough umbrellas for six grown adults.

“…Umbrella?” Rumi asks tentatively. She winces as they turn to look at her, but still carries on. “As in?” She sketches the rough shape of one in the air.

Which is good. Because Zoey was a little scared of finding out that the umbrella was invented in, like, 1950.

Miyeong nods.

Rumi blinks, startled, and maybe a little impressed. This is usually when she’d say something about an age of wonders. But she doesn’t.

“I have two,” Miyeong says, turning back to Zoey.

The door opens. Enter Celine: only slightly drowned.

“Neither of which was with her, clearly,” she adds, and the force of her smile is enough to make Zoey smile back, regardless of everything else.

the-fallen-blue

When Celine comes back from the bathroom, clothes changed and hair toweled and mug of tea in hand, she plops down on the couch next to Minji. There's plenty of space, with Miyeong halfway in Minji's lap, but Mira is not the least bit surprised when Celine sits at her usual almost-touching proximity regardless.

For her part, Mira is pressed shamelessly against Zoey on the loveseat, Zoey's arms now wrapped around TeeJay, who never made it back to the bedroom after the Distilled Passions marathon. Mira found him half tucked into the couch cushions when she sat down, and Zoey's tiny, grateful smile might just get her through the rest of today alive.

And then Celine says, "We need to decide how to approach the wraith situation," and Mira is abruptly reminded that only some of the threats to her life right now are actually figurative.

Rumi wrings her hands, and summons a shaky facsimile of her usual confident tone. "Broadly, two strategies of attack are available to us. From Kkachi-nim's report, the wraiths come and go at intervals, overlapping once in the afternoon. We could attack early, and face only one or two, alongside whichever servant of the cult is preparing the new ritual, then eliminate other wraiths as they arrive."

"Sounds safest," says Minji, suspicious. "Why is there another option?"

"Wraiths communicate through Gwi-Ma, when they have his attention," says Celine. "Which they almost certainly do, right now."

"So we kill a couple, the others go to ground, we start all over," Zoey concludes, face scrunching in distaste.

Rumi nods, grave. "It is indeed likely. We might also attack at the hour when we know they gather, to prevent this. If the patterns observed by Kkachi-nim hold, this would mean facing five to six wraiths at once, and the summoner as well, but would leave at most two wraiths at large."

There's a long moment of quiet.

"… an apartment complex is a sieve," says Miyeong, eventually. "If we're worried about runners, we need to be able to cover exits. That means splitting up, or fighting inside. Close quarters nerfs one of our big guns, splitting up means there aren't enough big guns to go around."

Celine taps her fingers on her mug. "I would prefer to teach you all more, but you would not be helpless without us."

A ringing endorsement.

"I got us a floor plan," says Miyeong. "The printer's an expensive paperweight at the moment, but if I bring it up on my laptop, maybe you guys can point out some… I don't know, chokepoints or whatever?"

"A map would be most advantageous," says Rumi, with the first spark of life in her eyes to be seen all morning, and Mira's traitorous little heart kicks in her chest.

grundpfeiler

Minji closed her eyes and leaned her forehead into Miyeong's back. The others were ignoring something - and probably would not be happy about her pointing it out. But... what was it that Celine had said - that Gwi-Ma worked on shame? She'd need to ask again - and nail it down so that she understood what was meant.

Give her a block of wood and she'd find a way to make it complicated or misconstrue it if she wasn't careful. Usually by categorizing it and then hear a description that didn't fit that category. And that was something physical, tangible that could be pointed at and people could identify the object pointed at. Something emotional was so much worse- was regret mistakes in the past (in which case - she was a walking weak point. Medicine meant living with the question of whether you could have done something different. And not being the hospital, the pandemic, the times she lost her temper...) or was it Gwi-Ma finding hooks in people wanting what they hadn't earned.

Minji breathed in - letting herself feel the weight. People wanting to keep what they couldn't maintain. To change things that cannot be changed - the past, realities about inherent limitations.

So much easier to make a wish than admit that you made the wrong choice, were the wrong person.

Enough warmth for a lifetime. Minji was tired of collecting regrets.

Her goals yesterday had been...

Everyone getting out of this alive.

Keeping her family out of this.

Apologies to her coworkers families.

Do not let Miyeong talk herself out of actually trying with Celine.

Keeping Miyeong, Celine and the kids as part of her life.

...was she asking, wishing for too much?

Well, keeping her family out of it was failing and she needed to accept that but Celine had reassured Halmeoni and wasn't worrying so that must be a failure but stabilized.

Everyone getting out alive was not optional, including her - Minji needed to get through everything if she was to give those apologies.

Pretending that she was acceptable for Miyeong - probably was something that Gwi-Ma could fit in.

... If she could keep everyone as part of her life, she wanted it so desperately.

Gwi-Ma fed on shame, and he made people think he could give them what they wanted. Never mind that it would be a monkey's paw granting wishes. Demons and monsters did not give you what you wanted - if they did it was at the cost of something you weren't willing to pay. Or it was something you only thought you wanted.

Minji needed to let the cards fall as they may with holding onto the others. (If you love someone let them go.) Maybe she would be lucky, maybe she wouldn't. But that was the thing she wanted most desperately. (Maybe when she talked with Celine she would be able to tell her that the shame was something else. Maybe she could still dream. Maybe.)

But she would not add to her regrets, if only because if anything happened to the others in the room because she stayed silent the grief would bury her alive. She finally lifted her forehead off Miyeong and opened her eyes.

"Are we sure those are the only two options?" She asked the room. "Have we figured out why they've been looking for me so damn much? Is it something that could be useful?" She would need to talk to Rumi - probably in private. (Another way that drunk Minji had made her life more difficult - keep the biting turtle away from the most recent target was not the most difficult conflict resolution to think of. ) If the only reason for not going for the safer option was lack of ability to find them afterwards... Their group did have bait. The fact she was a millstone around their collective neck burned. The others would not have stepped away from the fight anyways - but adding someone actively hunted... That had made it personally with all these wonderful, courageous fools. Maybe she could still be useful, maybe-

No. No. No wishing. No hoping. Not until the all clear is sounded.

Acceptance. Her friends outside of this room and her family were dead. And Minji had only ever been able to earn a place around the fire in a hospital. This was the best she could be - and changes would either be worse or Gwi-Ma bait worse. And she was already wraith bait.

secondtolastrow

Rumi pauses, waiting for the honored shaman to answer. It is clear that Minji-nim is still angry with her, and she would not like to worsen the issue by speaking out of turn.

“A wraith has two governances,” the honored shaman offers, thankfully. “You exist at the intersection of both Gwi-Ma’s whims and the summoner’s stated purpose, and so…”

How polite a way of putting it.

Gwi-Ma’s whim is to destroy those who stand against him. To destroy Rumi. It is only by associating with her that Minji-nim has become a target.

“The summoner’s stated purpose?” Minji-nim echoes, frowning.

Mira coughs to draw attention to herself without moving from where her arm is draped over Zoey’s shoulders. “Keeping anyone from noticing he kidnapped me. Or tracking me down.”

“Ah. Right.“ Minji-nim presses a thumb against her temple. “Okay.”

“It is unlikely that they would come for you on the day of the summoning, even if we attempted to get their attention,” Rumi offers, carefully. “Though they might target you excessively on our attack.”

She would not want Minji-nim unaware of the dangers, or even attempting to sacrifice herself.

“Okay, well, back to splitting up,” Zoey says, leaning forward on her knees, still not dislodging Mira. “Do you want to keep out of the fighting? Do any of you?”

She does not even think to include herself. Something strange and painful wrenches in Rumi’s chest, where yesterday it would have been warm with admiration.

Minji-nim is the only one who answers. “No, no, I’m—I’m not staying behind. I’m going to help.“

“Minji—“ Miyeong-nim started, concerned.

Minji-nim shook her head. “I’m the best fighter after Rumi. It might not be saying much in this situation, but I am.”

Part of Rumi bristled worriedly at the exchange, fearful of cruelty between them. Yet—

Miyeong-nim took Minji-nim’s hand in hers, a familiar gesture of tenderness. “I know you are. It doesn’t mean I can’t worry when you start talking about being useful all ‘come back with your shield or on it’ like that.”

Does it truly not matter that they are both women? Are her fears misplaced? Is she blinding herself to truths?

the-fallen-blue

"We will take every precaution," Celine tells Miyeong, tells all of them. "This will be dangerous, and in combat, nothing is certain. But neither of us would accept a plan of attack that we did not believe you would all walk away from."

Us means her and Rumi, of course, given the context, but it's unusual of Celine to be so imprecise. It's something Minji appreciates about her, how carefully she chooses her words, how important it is to her to be clear and kind. But she's been avoiding direct reference to Rumi since they woke up, the usual elegant formality she uses only for their time-lost warrior conspicuously missing from the communal conversation; outside of Rumi's not-quite-apologies, Minji hasn't heard a single -nida verb, a single -nim all morning.

Minji doesn't know what to make of it, but she can't imagine it means anything good.

"Is that… that's the plan, then?" Zoey asks. "We go at twilight when they're all there?"

Rumi and Celine take one last look at each other, and Rumi nods.

"I'll go start preparing the spiritual tools we'll need, then," says Celine. "Zoey, I could use your assistance. Miyeong, if you'd like to pull up that floor plan—"

Miyeong slips out of Minji's loose grasp, with a last squeeze of her hand, to go get her laptop, and Minji stands, after her. "Celine, before you get too in the talisman weeds, can we talk for a minute?"

Celine glances at Zoey, who immediately sits back down on the couch and leans into Mira, evidently perfectly content to wait. Minji leads Celine into Miyeong's room; by the time it occurs to her that that's maybe a little presumptuous, Celine has already shut the door softly behind them.

"How can I help?"

She wanted to ask about shame, mostly, to make sure she's not a liability tonight, but the moment she looks at Celine's face, open and warm and sincere, a dozen other thoughts crash into a pile-up behind her throat and tangle her tongue into uselessness.

She digs her thumbnail into the corner of her first finger, lets the pain order the chaos. Celine's eyes flick down, but she doesn't say anything, so Minji starts, "First, I wanted to apologize. For last night. I shouldn't have put that on you."

Celine just smiles, small but genuine. "You're a charge nurse, aren't you? There was an emergency, you distributed resources appropriately. Honestly, it's rather validating that you considered me up to the task."

Minji has to laugh at that, though it feels more like a scoff. "I don't know if I can think of a task you wouldn't be up to. That doesn't mean it was fair to ask it of you."

"Duty is seldom fair." She's a little more sober, now, the smile is gone, but she still doesn't seem upset. "That doesn't make it less necessary."

Which… Minji can't argue with. She watches Celine's gaze flick down to her hand again, the nail worrying at her skin, but the shaman still doesn't mention it, just continues,

"Actually, on the topic of last night, I want to thank you. It was… substantially easier, to deal with the situation, knowing that Miyeong was in your care."

Instead of in Celine's, where she should have been. Not that Minji would have been remotely capable of doing whatever Celine did, last night, that has all three of the kids so functional this morning, but—

"I didn't mean—" The nail breaks skin, a sliver of blood beading under her thumb, and Celine steps forward, taking Minji's hand in her own. Her fingers are warm, steady, as they gently pry Minji's hand open, and she presses a handkerchief— of course Celine has a handkerchief on her— against the tiny wound.

Her eyes on Minji are dark, inscrutable.

"You, and Miyeong. I wasn't— You're good, together. I'm not, I can't— I didn't mean to. Interfere."

Celine turns Minji's hand over in hers, thumb brushing gently over the knuckles, examining the wound, generously sparing Minji any further eye contact. "You don't think she's serious about you?"

"I'm not sure she should be," and… it hurts to say, a deep, sharp pang, because Miyeong is—

"That's not quite the same thing, is it," says Celine, calm and reasonable, pressing the handkerchief back down. "Miyeong deserves to have what she wants. If she wants you, do you really want to argue with her that she doesn't actually know what will make her happy, or should you give her what she has asked for very clearly, and which you very much want to give?"

secondtolastrow

Minji hesitates, long enough for Celine to prompt her again.

“Minji-ssi,” she says. Then, almost impulsively, squeezing that small, warm, dry-skinned hand in hers, “Minji. Please.”

“I respect Miyeong. A lot. I do not—this shouldn’t sound like—“ Minji frowns to herself, hands twitching under Celine’s with the urge to move. “Calling those men 'scum’ is an insult to scum. And I am—I bite. Metaphorically, not just literally.”

It’s much of what she’d said the day before—the line about scum is an almost exact repetition, in fact, but more importantly, she’s repeating her thoughts on herself. Someone who hurts others.

“You think Miyeong’s choosing you is more proof that you’re no good for her?” she asks, aiming for gentle and teasing as she lets go to allow Minji to fidget freely. “How would I be any better?”

Her temper is… not what it was when she first found her way into the order, certainly, but it made a fair showing the night before.

And she’s never been much good with people in the long term. That hasn’t changed since she was an angry teenage runaway, alone in the foreign country of her birth. Even if Minji weren’t in the picture, she rather doubts that Miyeong’s flirtations would go anywhere. She’s amazed to have gotten—

“You.”

Minji makes a soft, frustrated sound, shaking her hand in a gesture that is thankfully less likely to draw blood than her previous attempts at holding herself together. (It is, however, far more noticeable, which might be part of her tendency towards self-injury. Hm.)

“Gwi-Ma thrives off of shame,” Celine says, redirecting to a less personal version of the subject. “He wants you to turn away from the people that care for you and the community that needs you because you look at yourself and you cannot stand it. But I promise you, Minji, that the rest of us see more clearly.”

Again, Minji does not speak for a long time, studying the floor with a soft color growing in her round cheeks.

Finally she says, almost petulantly, “I yelled.”

the-fallen-blue

Celine just smiles at Minji's last unimpressive protest, small and lopsided and complicated, and Minji wishes for a moment that Miyeong were here to tell her what it means.

Though, of course, if she were, she would be agreeing with Celine, and Minji is losing this conversation badly enough without being outnumbered.

"Do you think," says Celine, and it's not a question, "that yelling was unwarranted."

"... I think it's possible to take things too far." Minji's hand folds, unfolds, folds again at her side.

She watches Celine think about her answer. The shaman didn't step back, after she let go of Minji; she's close, close enough that Minji's neck will regret it if she keeps craning up to see her face like this. Minji, without really thinking, reaches out and pulls them both over to the bed, instead, to sit side-by-side.

It puts Minji in mind, as the mattress dips beneath them, of the hotel, right before the wraith attack. Of the brief glimpse she'd gotten of old, heavy, unspoken wounds crowding Celine's heart as they sat next to each other, just like this; Celine weighing every word as she tried to talk Minji out of her guilt, indifferent to her own burdens, just like this.

Celine hasn't said anything, yet. Minji wonders why, glances over, and follows Celine's rather intent gaze down to her thigh. Celine's hand is there, loose and supine, the flat silver band with its arcane carvings that she sometimes wears on her first finger glinting in the light.

Because Minji, who did not quite let go of Celine's hand, has been absently spinning it around that long elegant digit since they sat down.

".... sorry," is all Minji can say, skin a roaring flame, flushed crimson from face to ears to her very toes.

Celine just slips the warm metal off her finger and places it wordlessly in Minji's palm, and this time her smile is a fond and simple thing that even Minji can read.

Minji rolls the ring between her fingers, for another little while, the tips of her ears still warm, and despite the lingering embarrassment, the better part of her wishes that she could just stay, in this moment, in this easy silence. A turtle on a river stone, nothing to snap at, nothing to hurt, no fear-eating monsters or impossible fires or hateful, baffled, earnest children. Just an unruffled reptile, basking in the sun of Celine's quiet regard.

But she thinks of the unfinished conversation at the hotel, and of do you think that yelling was unwarranted, and of Celine coming back so soaked that she'd needed to change from a roof where she can't have been ten steps from the door.

"Tell me," she says, "about you and Rumi."

secondtolastrow

Celine blinks, startled by the change of subject—and, admittedly, none too pleased to have someone poking right back at her own wounds, for all that Minji has been… “What do you mean?”

“You still haven’t referred to her directly,” Minji points out. “You’ll have to pick a register eventually.”

She considers not saying anything. She considers the ring in Minji’s fingers, so easily given.

“Yes, well, I found myself using hae-che last night. I… haven’t used such informal speech in a long time.” She pauses. “If, two months ago, one had told me that I would be addressing the great Rumi-nim herself in such a fashion—not only that, but doing it with the intent to insult her, I would never have believed them.”

“She means a great deal to you,” Minji says neutrally. Accurate. Showing that she’s listening.

“Yes,” Celine says. She thinks on it for a moment, on this awfulness inside of her. “Rumi of Jeju is a monster to most, but she has always been the opposite to me because I knew the truth of her. And yet…”

She’s just a child, very far from home. Wondering at cars and pre-packaged sandwiches and running from the washing machine.

But Celine can’t excuse it, not when she can recite stories of the great Rumi-nim fighting against the rest of society for women, for children, for sex workers, for slaves—not when she was once a child very far from home, living off of kindness given in her name.

And the violence of the emotion makes no sense, because she has known Rumi for barely any time at all.

It’s foolish of her to be so betrayed.

“I feel as if I’ve been looking past her faults in favor of that truth,” she says, at last. “I should’ve been more aware.”

Minji flips the ring over in her palm. “And you tell me I’m not seeing clearly. Celine—“

(And the sound of her name, alone, does something odd to Celine’s chest. Too many foolish things, lately.)

“—I believe we were all under the impression that she was that way herself.”

“I should’ve known,” Celine protests.

“Hm.” Minji gives her an entirely unsympathetic look—not unkind, just… honest. “If you know what you did, and you know why you did it, the only question is whether you’re going to do it again.”

frozenwolftemplar

That…is a very good question. Celine wishes she had an equally good answer.

Part of her…part of her wants to say 'yes.' One learns a great deal, running away to a new country and being taken in by a shamanic order, including that that holding on to anger and hurt was not conducive to anything, except providing fertile ground for Gwi-Ma's machinations. But it had still hurt, especially coming from Rumi, and the heat of anger was still its own kind of warm.

The other part does not.

She sighs, frowns, folds her hands in her lap. It's frustrating; from the moment Mira and Zoey appeared in her office with broken jaw and a story she almost couldn't believe, her role in this endeavor had been to provide answers. About Rumi, Gwi-Ma, wraiths; even comparatively smaller-scale conundrums like providing Zoey with what she's taken to calling 'magic Adderall.' To not have one for a question so relevant, so crucial to the harmony of their little party, was shameful.

No doubt Kkachi-ssi would be cackling if she were here.

Minji continues to blindly play with her ring, watching Celine order her thoughts, steady and patient. For someone who thinks so poorly of her people skills, she's a very patient audience. Her parents would have snapped at her to "hurry up and out with it" minutes ago.

"I…would rather not," she says at last. "What she said was wrong."

"Very," Minji nods, agreeing.

"It hurt Mira and Zoey. And you and Miyeong."

Minji arched a brow. "Forgetting someone?"

Celine sighed, lips pursed. Minji had been honest with her, it was right to grant her the same level of trust. And…she was a very good listener, the sort that one wanted to tell things to (how long had it been since she had one in her life?)

"Alright," she nods. "All of us."

Minji gave a satisfied little huff and rolled the ring back and forth between her thumb and forefinger; the light glinted off the curve of it, a metallic little smirk, like the elements are pleased with the cant of the conversation.

Celine watches her continue to play with it. "And I do not wish to excuse it."

"Same."

The ring rolled again, expertly, and Celine grimaced. "But it is a different sort of wrong to expect her to see and understand her error by being rude."

Minji matches her expression; the ring slides to her palm, then back to her fingers; slips on one, then off at the behest of a fingertip. "Unfortunately."

"So I suppose it's best that last night's…lapse" (what a kind way of putting it…) "remain in last night."

"Hopefully with a lot of other things," Minji remarks dryly, spinning the ring in a dazzling maneuver Celine can't help but fasten her eyes to. Minji must notice, because she does it again, this time with a little extra flourish, the ring dancing amidst fingers rough from being washed too many times with unforgiving hospital soap.

They're nice hands, that had, in spite of the chapped skin, felt nice in hers. Like…

…like another question she didn't have an answer to, but wanted to hold on to.

A rap on the door yanks her, mercifully, out of that train of thought before she can do something almost as foolish as dropping to the lowest possible formality level with Rumi and reach for one of Minji's beautiful hands.

secondtolastrow

There’s a beat of awkwardness when Celine and Minji disappear, leaving Mira and Zoey alone with Rumi—well, not alone-alone, Miyeong’s literally just getting her laptop, but alone enough, and Zoey hates that, because just yesterday it would’ve been so easy to start joking about what Minji and Celine are up to but now—

It’s not like Rumi would know what Seven Minutes in Heaven is anyway.

Miyeong comes back. She and Rumi start talking about how to read the floor plan.

“This is… highly populated,” Rumi mumbles. “The wraiths will want to use the other residents as human shields once they are threatened.”

“So we pull the fire alarm,” Mira suggests, and then they have to have a whole conversation about what that is and whether it would work and whether they can deal with first responders coming around before discarding the idea.

Then it’s on to breaking building safety codes, how to keep the wraiths contained from emergency exits, and Rumi’s eyes keep lighting up about how safe it is and how into the problem she is and Zoey really, really hates it because she’s still so pretty and she’s also homophobic. And it’s never going to happen.

“Minji and Celine are taking a while, huh?” she asks, when someone takes a breath. “I’ll go check on them.”

“I guess so,” Miyeong says, and just for a moment, she looks… something. Zoey’s not good enough with faces to be sure.

But it’s probably nothing.

She goes back and knocks, and then opens the door, and finds Minji and Celine sitting on the edge of Miyeong’s bed.

And promptly realizes she doesn’t have a plan for anything to say. “Sorry, I didn’t… mean to interrupt or anything. Just, uh—just… sorry, we—I’ll—“

“I believe our brains are being summoned,” Celine says smoothly, offering out a hand to Minji as she stands.

Minji doesn’t take it, but puts her own out over it to drop something in—Celine’s ring.

Weird.

Celine looks just as surprised, as if Minji had been showing off her secret pickpocket skills or something, and Zoey doesn’t quite get it, but she’ll roll with it.

“We’ve got floor plans!” she says, brightly. “Rumi’s been talking about kill corridors, which I think means we want to be creating anything you have that’ll act as a barrier?”

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