#deepspace:open

[memvriae]

footsteps in the sand open.

time: 15:55

it is quiet in the business district.

paper, plastic, cardboard, and electronic signs cover doors and windows and streetlight poles; their myriad and colorful messages announcing the candlelight vigils and early closures to accommodate a city set to mourn. and jung haejin wonders, not for the first time, if this had been intentional. support a public event, sway those public hearts and keep the gala and its inhabitants away from the public eye.

it is so quiet that each of his footfalls echo across those empty roads. his voice too. a subtle introduction to the evening's coming symphony.

"i know, meimei. i won't."

the world glitters in heaving petal pinks before falling back to a rumbling aquamarine, metaflux forever in pulsating motion. its nebulous movement one he tracks across his destination's visible floors. but there's nothing amiss. so far. he keeps watching as jung jaehee's stern tone continues to fill his ear, demanding promises he won't be able to keep now. haejin waits for the moment she has to breathe. and when she does —

"i've arrived. i will text you when i get home tonight. call me if there's any trouble at the vigil. have a good night, meimei."

hour: 16:03

"but sir, you're early."

pearl white teeth shine in the auction house lights as delta's captain smiles at the guards before him. it is a warning unheeded.

"yes. intentionally so. have you called your manager yet?"

the dim bulbs lighting their brains visibly flicker before one guard breaks from the pack. jung haejin waits. until, white-faced, wide-eyed, and breathless:

"open the door."

hour: 16:10

bare fingertips drag along the final table set up in the rotunda.

( cold dishes hitting its surface, idle gossip whispered nearby as decorations were hung into place, a layer of dust from too many months ago, scissors, a vigorous crayon ripping through paper and — )

as unremarkable as the rest despite faint concentrations of metaflux along its edges. black leather slips back over his hands while he weighs the options. an evolver? older materials? metaflux infused tools?

only, there in the distance: a form he recognizes eating up the distance between them. his contemplations hide themselves in the shadows of his mind as the mantel of captain hangs itself across his shoulders. dark eyes fall to the ground for a split second.

"watch your step," he calls. "there's a hidden sunken hole in the path by your right foot."

[soughtlight]

𝗶𝗻  𝗽𝗹𝗮𝗶𝗻  𝘀𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 capping at 3 ! ( 0 / 3 )

like  with  most  things,  it's  his  fault,  and  it's  because  he  didn't  think  things  through.  it  wouldn't  do  to  skulk  to  the  walls,  because  there  are  precious  paintings  on  them  and  he  doesn't  want  to  inadvertently  knock  over  something  fragile,  especially  if  someone's  already  bid  on  it.  neither  does  he  want  to  hop  into  the  stairwell,  because  what  if  someone  is  looking  for  him?  (they're  always  looking  for  him.  everyone  wants  something  from  the  captain  of  team  alpha.)  when  people  call  him  shadow  lumiere,  it's  inaccurate  in  multiple  ways  —  for  one,  he's  nothing  like  lumiere,  who  is  as  elusive  as  he  is  powerful  (and  okay,  maybe  eunho  can  see  where  people  are  coming  from  now),  and  secondly,  his  powers  have  nothing  to  do  with  shadow.  they're  about  light,  about  the  way  it  bends,  not  the  absence  of  it.

so,  in  conclusion,  he  does  not  have  to  find  darkness  to  hide.  he  can  disappear  just  by  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  room  and  using  his  evol.

frankly,  it's  a  miracle  this  is  the  first  time  someone's  run  into  him.  the  other  unicorns  agents  must  be  able  to  at  least  sense  the  evol  energy  at  play,  but  the  regular  fundraiser  attendees  would  have  no  idea  a  giant  roadblock  is  right  in  their  path.  eunho's  trying  to  be  cognizant  of  his  surroundings,  mindful  of  who's  coming  close  so  he  can  sidestep  them  without  the  pedestrian  any  the  wiser.  technically  speaking,  one  might  be  able  to  spot  two  floating  dots  shifting  around  the  space,  right  about  where  his  eyes  would  be,  but  they  don't  take  in  any  information  coming  in  from  behind,  and  so  it  seems  both  of  them  are  equally  as  helpless  as  they  collide.

“ah,”  is  eunho's  response  to  the  crash,  a  staccato  half-word.  he  drops  his  evol  and  his  whole  self  comes  into  view,  earning  himself  a  more  appropriate  squeak  of  surprise  from  nearby.  he  leans  over  his  temporarily-fallen  comrade  with  outstretched,  uncertain  hands.  “sorry.  are  you  all  right…?”