#ecxlilith

[ecxkjongdae]

lights out; consequences

ecxlilith said: It only takes minutes for his consequences to arrive, starting with a fizzle in his fingertips, nondescript. It spreads, until it covers his entire arm-- pins and needles digging in painfully, as the limb turns ashen, muscles trembling. The pain spreads enough that he's rendered inconsolable, stranded in the middle of the street, a ringing noise echoing in his ears while he gasps for relief from whatever it was which plagued him. Inert, the only thing he can hope for is help-- from someone else.

A hiss matches the fizzing sound that starts at the finger tips and they drop the crisp paper bag already softening beneath his sweaty palms. His only mission was to get downtown and get back up to his room, equipped with candles and food for the next few days, but luck turns the tides against him and Jongdae shoves himself against the nearest wall he could stumble to, chest heaving in and out, harder and harder, feeling suffocated.

Fuck. Fuck, what is--?

His eyes search for the source of pain, paper bag just a few centimeters out of his reach. His shoulder roll backwards, shedding the jacket that protected him from the gusts of wind that roamed the city, clammy hand peeling the sleeve off little by little as he gasps, the pins and needles climbing up over his elbow and towards his shoulder. Being tapped into his body at a cellular level made pain more sensitive when he was caught off guard; this particular pain brimming his eyes with tears as the seconds pass. It’s hot; too hot; the pins and needles have reached his ears. Panic sets in; ashen skin was scarier to see at first hand than to read about; it wasn’t a symptom he should be experiencing, but here it was, climbing higher and higher, the charcoal gray contrasting starkly against his paler skin. 

Jongdae cries out, disregarding the embarrassment that coupled the inability to hold pain; his pride goes out the window as the he sinks towards the asphalt, back to the wall, the roughed material catching the fabric of his shirt. He curls up as small as he could, knees to his chest as his ashened arm lays limp and the color creeps over his chest and up his neck. It burns; everything is too acute for his senses and he feels his blood boil against his veins. 

The paper bag is just within reach, but what seemed so important just minutes ago looked incredibly minute in this scale. In what was left of his rational mind, he regrets ever stepping outside today, knowing that first flicker of electricity was an ominous sign. 

[ecxjet-blog]

An apple can be found on the man's doorstep-- nondescript but perfect, in every aspect, a glowing red. Utterly tempting, only one thing accompanies the fruit: a note, scrawled in fair handwriting; 'a gift.'

Jet was in a hurry and practically running round the apartment grabbing everything he needed. Stuffing the things into his bag. Jet wasn’t usually one to be late and hurrying around but he had been so tired from last nights shift he decided to nap. In the hopes of regaining sleep for an hour, but he had overslept and gone over by 5 hours causing him to now be late for work.

Once opening the door, his eyes immediately looked down to the apple that was placed perfectly on the doorstep. He stopped and looked down at it, a look on his face that was puzzled. 

He studied it for a while before his eyes caught the note that was attached. Upon seeing the note he bent down to pick up the apple. Getting a better view he read what it said ‘a gift.’ 

‘A gift’. the words ran over and over through his mind coming up with things to explain it. He Questioned it for a good few minutes and to say the least he was very wary. But at the same time he kinda felt admired, obviously someone liked him enough to get him the apple and go through all the trouble to leave it at his doorstep. But it all seemed a little too good to be true.

With no more time to waste he shrugged his shoulders, shoving the apple into his bag. A ‘treat for his break at work’ he told himself. And with that he shut the door and carried on in a hurry. 

[ecxjiyeon]

An apple can be found on the woman's doorstep-- nondescript but perfect, in every aspect, a glowing red. Utterly tempting, only one thing accompanies the fruit: a note, scrawled in fair handwriting; 'a gift.'

Jiyeon wasn’t expecting anything other than her morning newspaper. And, truth be told, she had only signed up for the paper because she found a coupon code attached to a newspaper on the train — free news for three months (not that she perused it thoroughly anyway) seemed harmless. So when she found an apple on top of her newspaper, she was intrigued. And a little bit worried. But mostly intrigued.

“Hmm,” she said, blinking her eyes a couple of times to make sure it wasn't the lack of sleep playing tricks on her. She was immediately reminded of Snow White — the fairy-tale her kindergarten kept on repeating for gods know what reasons. It was a poor excuse for a children’s story: did they not realize that there was implied necrophilia? Now, how appropriate was that for a children’s book? And, shouldn't they have known  never to retell a Grimms story? 

But, she felt as Snow White did, the immense temptation of the apple. It was perfect in every way yet utterly indistinguishable. There were nothing that she could garner from the apple, nothing she could remember for a later date except that it was glowing. No bruises, no labels... nothing. But there was a note that accompanied it: “a gift”. 

Shrugging slightly — it was a gift, after all —, she took a decisive bite of the apple. 

[ecxkjongdae]

An apple can be found on the man's doorstep-- nondescript but perfect, in every aspect, a glowing red. Utterly tempting, only one thing accompanies the fruit: a note, scrawled in fair handwriting; 'a gift.'

Though, of course, even someone as well read as Jongdae was would stop in his track immediately at the sight of something so out of place. The shiny red apple was harmless, except for ‘a gift’, resting perfectly on the swell of the apple. It melts Jongdae’s bravery to the core and he collapses onto his butt, sitting at his doorstep cross-legged and defeated. He pouts at it, studying it from his vantage point, taking in every detail without touching it. The handwriting could be deduced as a woman’s; it was too fair for a man’s (at least too fair for what Jongdae has seen). In the dim hallway it gleamed so pretty with the lack of light. 

But Jongdae’s brain his whirring; it’s calculating, analyzing, deducing, concluding.. Why, why would someone be dropping off gifts in the midst of an obvious crisis? Jongdae even flips through the calendar in his head, counting off the holidays that have passed since January 1st to see if someone was just nice enough to leave an anonymous present for an upcoming holiday. But Easter didn’t involve apples and no one else in his hallway had one in front of their doors (unless, of course, it was already picked up by the recipients). 

Jongdae sighs heavily, eyebrows knitting and lips twisting into a soft pout. He shouldn’t touch it; he should just leave it be and get on his way to get candles and something to eat for tonight while the power is out. But the longer he stared, analyzed, deduced, the more it seemed to call to him. Eden wasn’t normal; it could never be, no matter what or how things played out for him. Cold fingers pick up the fruit in a shaky palm, feeling the weight and the shape of the apple between his hands and bringing it up to his face. It smelled fresh, it looked fresh.. 

The calculations stop. Analysis deduced. Teeth sink into the flesh and the crispness of the fruit fills the room with its sound. 

[ecxlizzy]

An apple can be found on the girl's doorstep-- nondescript but perfect, in every aspect, a glowing red. Utterly tempting, only one thing accompanies the fruit: a note, scrawled in fair handwriting; 'a gift.'

she can’t say she’s not surprised.

it takes a lot to throw park sooyoung off guard -- the most effective, usually being threats on her life, an experience she’d recently become very well acquainted with thanks to a certain fanged asshole -- and normally, fruit doesn’t do it. but here she is, standing there -- staring down at the perfect little thing, uncertainty filling into her heart.

a gift.

but from who? the government wouldn’t -- but it still astonished her, regardless, staring down at it. it looked good -- and despite whispers of her mother’s reminders not to take food from strangers, she picked it up, examining it in the palm of her hand.

no imperfections, no blemishes. perfect. beautiful, even -- sooyoung wasn’t the kind to marvel over fruit, but she was entranced, gravitated towards it.

one bite wouldn’t hurt.

[ecxsunggyu]

An apple can be found on the man's doorstep-- nondescript but perfect, in every aspect, a glowing red. Utterly tempting, only one thing accompanies the fruit: a note, scrawled in fair handwriting; 'a gift.'

The tree of knowledge of good and evil. 

Sunggyu had never been religious and yet the apple sitting so prettily outside his door brought to mind a story he had heard a few times before. There was no serpent here however…

Lifting the note in one hand and the apple in the other he peered at the letters before him. The hand writing was unfamiliar to him and his gaze shifted once more to the fruit. 

In the story hadn’t the people been expelled from the garden of Eden for eating the apple? Or had that been a pomegranate? The thought brought a small smile to his lips and he chuckled. 

It was enough to give him a moment of defiance, if not clarity. Despite all better judgement he gave into the temptation and took a bite.