by all rights, she should be dead. sunk into that horrific abyss beyond this place’s false sky, or coming back coughing up dark fluid from her lungs, lazarus gone twisted and wrong. she thinks she can still feel the phantom ache of struggling to keep the thing’s tendrils away from her body, even as she knows that her wounds have been healed by whatever strange science or magic keeps this hellscape together.
sitting now by the edge of the campfire, yun-jin’s gaze lifts from her once-polished manicured hands to the young american woman who had rescued her on her last hook. she should be dead, except for her. no one is who they pretend to be in times of crisis. yun-jin has learned this well throughout her life. the reason people disliked her was because she wore her callousness openly instead of trying to hide it. except for this woman, who seemed to be every bit the heroine, the -- what was the term? -- final girl that she appeared as.
“why did you save me?” she asks finally, honest in her directness. yun-jin rarely speaks to the other survivors -- what’s the point? why does she need to get to know the other members of this purgatory? so that it can hurt her watching them die and die again? -- but she must know, so she makes an exception. “it wasn’t the smart decision. you couldn’t have known we’d both get out.”
@adrenlne ♡’d for yun-jin