#bnd.openstarter

[bendear]

go see a man about a dog  /  open (0/2)

some classes take forever. donggu sinks his head into the cold wooden floor and sighs his fifth sigh of the hour. (the grandfather clock waiting in the hallway with him says it’s only been five minutes since the door took eunjae.) frustration becomes anger in a blink. he resists a growing urge to open his mouth and let the door know exactly what he thinks. he’s wondered if it’s this body and how much smaller it is, if that makes it harder to hold emotions in. he’s been told that for a human, he’s pretty big. one of the teachers gave him a look and told him, as a human, he’s not as... reactive.

he shifts. the door stops taunting him. 

his clipped ear twitches at the sound of footsteps.

here comes that teacher now, the one he was just thinking about. donggu doesn't believe in coincidence—it’s magic. it has a way of knowing. they come with someone in tow, ask him if he’s busy. he notices the grandfather clock saying it’s only been seven minutes. they tell him this one needs help with something, to take care of them, then they leave.

donggu stands, smiles. “hi. what’d you need?”

[linguaste]

╋━ post - blood moon ﹐ 𝙰𝙻𝙲𝙾𝚅𝙴 . open the day after the hunt location: open library ✦

𝓽he waft of tea and bergamot gently permeates the air, as hajun feels the heat around the rim of the cup, his thumb pressing onto the top of its ear. he's usually not an early riser, just enough, but he prefers not to sleep in either. by looking at the windows, he can sense the chill and remnants of the night, several hours before the dawn breaks, while he takes quiet steps across the open library. light as a feather, as if he may mimic the ghosts that haunt its corridors.

hajun seeks whimsy in little things like this. moments where stories like this pop in his head, and he can hear himself reading the narrative. where he finds peace in the quiet, alleviating the pressures of thoughts by dismantling them through recreation and if not, walking barefoot in the woods or simply blocking the noise with Commands when it gets overbearing. even if he lived with it since he can remember the first signs, Resonance Perception is still a double - edged sword.

the entire school hums with magic, similar to how a city thrums with electricity under its streets; how one can hear neon buzz from the shop signs in the dark. he once described the sensation as if ants creep along his skin, barely noticeable but the itch remains; and the urge to align everything and leave nothing for disarray calls him at opportune times when his flow is out of rhythm and the structure set within himself collapses.

but as hajun finds his usual corner to sip his tea and gaze into the void to wait for the sunrise, he realises that it's not the same, after all. if there is one thing he gets from the two months he's been back, it would be change. it's inevitable. routines, interests, work, people. his entire world shifted when she died and he arrived, receiving the last gift she thoughtfully concealed from him until he realises that he will go, because she said so. because she told him so.

speaking of, something in the air changes.

❛   the dorms are at the other side of the building, not here. i must say, it's too early to be breaking curfews now.  ❜    hajun speaks before he takes another sip. he feels the magical residues from another, mixed in with the crowd and energy of this space, and he pulls a mental catalogue from his mind; browsing through the pages until he finds the information he is looking for. hajun tilts his head sideways, didn't need to look at who entered the room;

for this person is ――― who are you?

[heartlockct]

𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐒  𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍.   --    open starter.

nabi  is  quick  to  slip  away  from  the  rowdy  crowd  --  luckily  for  her,  everyone  seems  to  be  enamoured  by  the  atmosphere  and  the  thought  of  the  upcoming  hunt.  however,  the  unfortunate  part  is  the  fact  that  she  is  also  required  to  participate  with  the  rest.  sure,  nabi  wouldn't  mind  the  bragging  rights  she'd  earn  if  she  did  ever  capture  the  redretch,  yet  what  were  the  chances?  she  would  much  rather  spend  the  night  in  her  room.  although,  she  had  to  admit  --  the  moon  was  indeed  ethereal,  she  wonders  how  much  prettier  it'd  be  at  its  highest.

she  takes  a  seat  on  a  nearby  bench  and  nabi's  fingers  curl  as  she  slowly  forms  a  kitten  made  out  of  shadows  —  petting  the  creature  before  she  slips  on  her  headphones.  the  sound  of  the  party  gradually  tunes  out  and  nabi  figures  that  this  is  the  only  remaining  opportunity  for  solitude  before  the  chaotic  hunt  officially  starts  ;  well,  that  is  until  a  sense  of  foreboding  stole  over  her.  why  had  she  felt  someone's  eyes  upon  her?  a  gust  of  wind  rushes  through  her  black  locks  as  she  stands  up,  resting  the  headphones  on  her  neck.  what  was  once  a  kitten  transforming  into  a  wolf-like  creature  at  the  flick  of  her  fingers.  ❝  who's  there?  ❞

nabi  turns  around,  catching  sight  of  the  disturber  of  her  peace  --  quickly  dispersing  the  wolf  into  the  wind,  checking  her  watch  to  confirm  exactly  how  much  time  she  had  until  it  started.  ❝  why  are  you  here?  aren't  you  supposed  to  be  with..  the  rest  of  them?  ❞  she  pauses  for  a  moment,  letting  the  words  hang  in  the  air  before  continuing.  ❝  and  it's  also  really  weird  to  just  stand  there  watching  me  without  making  a  sound.  ❞  she  was  surprised  to  say  the  least.  nabi  figured  that  practically  everyone  would  be  gathered  around  the  bonfire,  clinking  glasses  and  making  pointless  conversation.

[foxlunar]

— recovery.

open starter with jung hyejin. takes place the day after the blood moon hunt.

the ringing in her ears is particularly dreadful today. 

it’s like the moon itself has been torn to shreds and pieced back together by faulty magic, and its agonizing screams are being broadcast directly into her skull. it’s not the first time hyejin has to deal with the hangover of a blood moon, yet it hurts just as if it was. if not worse.

her light coat is barely enough to keep her warm, but her body would feel too heavy with any other layers. so she seeks the comfort of a beautiful sunny day, legs sprawled out in a comfortable chair outside. in the distance, mostly silence; a few students practice celebratory spells in a dorm room a few buildings over, staff members do their rounds around the school grounds, and even from so far away she can feel the forest animals breathing in relief after yet another successful hunt.

hyejin enjoys the fresh air while noting down what all supplies she’ll need to replace during her next trip into town. she’ll have to return to her duties soon, however, as there are a lot of ingredients to prepare before nightfall. being a moon witch means you are stuck brewing pick-me-up potions well past midnight for the handful of students that don’t handle the blood moon well. 

well. does anyone, really?

before she realizes it, she is lost in thoughts again, the annotated notebook on her lap now mostly forgotten. and she only realizes it because she finds herself suddenly very aware of a set of eyes fixated on her. how long have they been staring? she’s unsure.

she bids her time. gives them a chance to move. ends up making a move herself. “you can come say hi, you know.” she is not angry — in fact, she’s mostly used to this kind of stuff by now. her smile is soft. her eyes never leave the horizon and the trees. “i’d love the company.”

[pyobeom]

open starter ➔ closed for anyone who's interested! location: student lounge

irang should have known better than to succumb at the sight of sunlight. should have known its warmth would be a relentless lure, bringing him down to his knees at sleep's mercy. but how could he even think straight? the blood moon hunt had drained him; the preparation, the hunt and all. he was but a hollow vessel of a throbbing headache and sore muscles.

with yet another yawn, he stumbles towards solace. five minutes, he tries to reason with himself when his eyes land on a worn leather armchair: perfectly angled before a window, steeped in the afternoon heat for hours.

unceremoniously shoving his body onto the seat, 187 cm worth of limbs and all, he lets out a bone-deep sigh. then, within seconds, he's out cold. shallow breaths escape his parted lips, sleep softening his sharp features. curled up like a not-so-little lap kitten, he may as well be purring. exhaustion lapses all control, and he is completely unaware as a sleek, midnight-black tail uncoils, escaping his waistband. lazily twitching back and forth across the carpet like a moving obstacle—an accident waiting to happen.

[dodoremifasoll]

LIGHTS OUT ft. @jadecharms

the lab was supposed to be empty at this hour—just taeyang, his half-finished potion, and the quiet hum of his own off-key singing as he stirred the mixture for what felt like the hundredth time. the recipe should have worked. he’d double-checked the ingredients, adjusted the ratios, even hummed a steady tuning note to stabilize the emotional resonance. but the liquid in the vial remained stubbornly dull, refusing to shimmer the way it was supposed to. he exhaled through his nose, rubbing at his tired eyes with the back of his wrist, smudging ink across his cheek. “come on,” he muttered, tapping the rim of the vial with his finger, “just—just work already.” he was so close. he could feel it. if he just—

the lights cut out.

taeyang yelped, the vial slipping from his fingers and shattering against the stone floor. “shit—!” he fumbled for the candle, knocking over a stack of notes in the process, heart hammering in his chest. the academy’s power outages weren’t uncommon, but the timing was perfect, because of course it was. he swallowed hard, straining his ears against the sudden silence. “okay. okay, it’s fine. just—just a fuse or something.” he reached blindly for his bag, fingers brushing against the familiar shape of his harmonica—his makeshift nightlight, his comfort. but before he could pull it out, a slow, deliberate click echoed from the doorway. taeyang froze. the hair on the back of his neck stood up. “uh. hello?” his voice cracked. “i—i mean, not that i’m scared! just. surprised. very surprised. who’s there?” he cleared his throat, trying to sound casual, trying to ignore the way his pulse was roaring in his ears. “if this is a prank, it’s not funny. i’ve got glass everywhere now.”

[prometheeeus]

scarlet print — open starter ( 0/2 )

"you little prick," methe hisses as he quints up at the cat threateningly. "get down here before i knock you down."

where he stands beneath the tree, a plump grey cat is watching him from a branch above with a smug look. behind methe on the green bench he'd been seated at, the wrapper of a half eaten kimbap roll is maimed. pieces of salmon kimbap is smeared and smashed against the plastic, a mixture of rice and red paw prints staining the bench and sidewalk. the proof of the sudden thievery that had occurred is apparent, alongside the small pawprints on methe's white shirt.

a small puddle of lemonade gathers beneath the bench with the aluminum can that had housed it laying on its side, the last drops of lemonade dripping from its mouth. on the side of the bench sat methe's wearing backpack, flap closed securing his meager possessions.

everything lay abandoned as methe waited beneath the tree, confronting the creature that had not only ruined his lunch but stole right from his hands as he was eating. after a minute of glaring down the cat, methe walked up to the tree and began shaking it forcefully.

months on the road had taught methe nothing but the struggle of scarcity. but never in the past six months, had he experienced an animal targeting him so viciously. so disrespectfully.

methe squinted in frustration as he observed the cat again. there was no collar, but it looked well-fed. "you're pretty fat for a stray." he says it out loud as if to insult the small animal before he begins shaking the tree again. this time with a little more energy as he's filled with a new sense of vengeance over the idea that the cat likely wasn't hungry. that it simply targeted him for its own amusement.

[neretiics]

𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐃 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 | open (0/2)

she has never not been hungry.

since the day she was born, doused in magic, sena has never not known famine. the third horsemen hangs over her, arm over shoulder, bone mouth against the soft of her head like a blessing and a curse. in the crux of her hearth, the black horse places a quivering fissure and seals it with a kiss. over the span of years, it grows no matter she puts in it—each passing infatuation is simply that, never enough.

with magic, it's always the same.

it's always the hunger. the need to know more and want more. it wasn't enough as she was then, versed in the teachings and magics of her coven but tied, arms and legs, to hanno; nor is it enough now, nestled comfortably within the school's library, hunched over open textbooks and magic theory.

all of which would've made a lick more sense, if she could comprehend the text at a more fluent level. she exhales out of her nose, muted vexation etched clear against dainty features. if there had been a spell to instantly learn a language, let someone pass it to her now. but till then—and here her eyes wander for a passing victim—here, she cites the horsemen's voracious curse/blessing as a reason for her clear lack of manners.

her hand reaches out, grasping onto the passing body's sleeve. "hey," sena starts, free hand tapping against the page opened on top of the table, invoking of the spirit, witch's circles and the works. "can you help me with this?" for her impertinence, she follows with a disarming smile, head tilting slightly.

"please?"