#angesorci

[obstrict]

Blood Everywhere / @angesorci

The laugh grated.

It wasn't the sound itself that bothered him, but what it stood for in this situation: mockery sharpened into something Gyumin knew would dig under his skin. Zero's teeth clenched, jaw aching in an effort to suppress the irritation threatening to tear him apart. But he said nothing. Not yet, at least. Shadows stirred at his heels like a restless tide, his patience fraying with each pulse of light that threatened to flicker against the wizard's smirk.

His body moved on its own, without so much of a thought having been entertained. The dark carried him forward, each step swallowed by the silence until the air itself thinned around them. One hand shot out in a swift motion, seizing the elder's wrist. Cold flooded through his palm, shadows pouring over the flesh, binding it tight. He felt the twitch of a pulse falter beneath his grip and for a fleeting second he wanted to snap it, to hear bone split and watch that damn grin drain from Gyumin's face.

The thought burned hotter than he meant it to. His breath dragged ragged between his teeth, chest tight as if rage itself were choking him from within. The room began to dim around the edges, the weight of his fury pressing outward. Glass trembling, wood splitting under the coil of darkness that seeped from his body. He caught himself in it, felt how close he was to losing the last thread of control.

Zero's gaze never faltered, crimson hues boring into Gyumin's. he wanted them to feel it, the hunger of the dark, the promise of what would happen if he let it spill free. The thought of silencing them permanently clawed at his restraint, and for a moment, he imagined it.

His grip tightened once before he forced himself to release. The recoil of restraint lashed though him, sharp and bitter. Shadows snapped back into his skin, the room heavy; stripped of warmth, silence broken only by the unsteady rise and fall of his chest.

"Gyumin, get the fuck out of my sight."

[inferism]

sender gently dabs the blood from receiver's face with a wet cloth. (from Haneul)

The night pressed close around them, softened only by the steady hush of rain threading against the windowpanes. A lantern smoldered low on the floorboards, its flames swaying with each faint draft that passed by them. The air carried the metallic tang of blood, diluted now by water, but still sharp enough to linger on the tongue.

Haneul sat in front of him, their posture composed, though the cloth in their hand moved with a tenderness that betrayed the precision of a healer’s touch. The other dipped and pressed, slow arcs across Daon’s cheekbone, where the crimson clung stubbornly to his pale skin. Their fingers brushed too close, and they withdraw only slightly, their lashes lowering as though in apology. Every movement they made felt deliberate in its nature, an unspoken vow to not let the brutality of what had passed leave its stain here.

Daon, on the other hand, was a portrait of ease and arrogance. One arm draped over the ridge of his bent knee, fingers tapping idly against the fabric of his trousers, the other leg stretched outward in a careless sprawl that claimed the space between them. The lantern light carved across his mouth, catching the faint curl of amusement that had been there since the first touch. His eyes never left Haneul, dark and gleaming with something both predatory and playful.

Then, with a slow shift, he leaned forward, closing the scant distance as though it had always belonged to him. The shadows bent with him, the air thickening where their breaths began to mingle. His smirk deepened, the words unfurling from his lips in a low murmur. “Careful, sweetheart,” he drawled, his gaze narrowing, sharp and unrelenting. “Keep touching me like that, and I’ll start to think you’re enjoying this.”

[wintxeu]

[ carry ] (from Haneul)

Consciousness returned in fragments, delicate as glass.

The first thing she recognized was motion, the steady rhythm of steps echoing through rain-washed streets, each one measured and unhurried. Then there was warmth, pressing against her front, a quiet anchor against the chill night. Her body shifted with each rise and fall, not of her own accord but borne along as though she were weightless.

Her lashes lifted with effort, the world swam before her eyes. Blurred neon bending into rivers of color across wet pavement, shadows spilling long and distorted. Slowly, albeit sluggishly, she realized her arms were looped around someone’s shoulders, her legs draped to either sides. She was being carried, her cheek resting heavily against the stranger’s shoulder.

Unease prickled faintly through the fog of her mind. Who was he? Where was she? The question flared sharp, but exhaustion dulled their edge almost at once. Her body felt too heavy, her thoughts too slow to hold panic for long.

Instead, she listened.

The stride beneath her was even, almost deliberate, carrying her as though she were precious cargo rather than a burden. Rain whispered across her skin, but the warmth holding her steady never faltered. Beneath her ear, she caught the muted cadence of breath, the deep rhythm of a heartbeat, steady and unbroken; an anchor that kept her grounded amidst the haze.

Without thought, her arms moved.

Her fingers twitched weakly in the fabric of his coat, trembling on the edge of letting go. But then, as though her body decided in her stead, her grip tightened. Her arms drew closer around his shoulders, pulling herself in with a faint, instinctive strength that did not stem from fear, but something quieter; a need for the solidity he offered.

Her cheek nestled closer against the slope of his shoulder. The fabric smelled faintly of rain and ash, unfamiliar yet comforting. The motion lulled her, gentle and protective, as if the night had softened only for her.

Minjeong was still wary though, confusion stirring faintly at the edges of her thoughts, but the wariness dulled beneath the comfort of his steady steps. There was no menace in the way he carried her, only solace; the unwavering sense that she was safe.

Her lashes lowered once more, heavy with exhaustion. Everything around her blurred and faded away, but this time, she did not try to resist it. Against the warmth of his back, the soothing rhythm of his stride, and the hush of rain wavering through the silence, she surrendered to the certainty her body had already chosen: in his arms, there was no reason to be afraid.