his lips curve into something of a smile -- lee jaehwan. there were little, lasting impressions of the male, but that was perhaps all the more reason to be glad for their living arrangements.
for the moment, he was just as much a victim to chance as the rest of his "schoolmates" --
down to his affliction of a personality shift that he couldn't quite shake.
that was why one didn't create new worlds with a bad mood. no wonder everyone seemed to have sticks up their--
or were they all like this before?
his smile falters a little, stricken by the thought of the mayhem of the greater reality outside of this bubble. just waiting to come crashing in the moment he let his guard down.
he had to make it out of busan alive.
the male refocuses on his path, walking down the hallways on a certain path to meet his roommate.
hello, my name is 「 lee jaehwan. 」 and my chosen word is 「 fortitude 」!
the tattoo of your chosen word appears on your calf as soon as your hand finishes the last stroke — you’ve been granted the ability of fortitude weakening, and must follow the guidelines below :
done only through disintegration.
only applicable through touch.
large objects as well as animate objects take longer to break down.
protect: my character rescues / protects you from harm.
she doesn’t know when it started.
when she wakes up, she can feel that something’s wrong. there’s too much movement outside, too many struggling lungs and high pitched screams. the scent of smoke is solid as she stumbles out of bed, grasping for the nearest pair of jeans and shoving her legs in them. she winces a bit at her own roughness, but it’s quickly forgotten —
"sandara!"
ken. there is a second of hesitance before dara fumbles for the doorknob and opens her door to find a wide-eyed jaehwan before her, rid of his usual light and basked in uncharacteristic shades of worry. she wants to ask him what’s happening, who’s attacking the institute, why — but there are heavy footfalls coming down the hall and there’s no time to ask him things.
there’s no time for anything but running.
she gropes for his hand blindly and starts the other way, ignoring the slight tremor of her leg as she weaved between carnage and chaos, mutants and soldiers — they were here to capture them, or exterminate them.
dara didn’t want to wait around to find out which.
a group of men clad in black who reek of sweat and metal press into their path, and the blonde barely manages to keep herself upright as jaehwan turned sharply to the left, the leader becoming the follower. a protest is absent, and the accumulating shouts and smell of blood has her pressing into his side in an act of panic ( and it’s not something she’s proud of — ). numerous pleas scratch at her ears, synonymous to nails on a chalkboard — they can’t leave everyone here like this. they can’t help everyone. they can’t do anything. guilt and pain seem to color her vision, hints of red blurred into her sight and the sudden stiffness of her leg has her chest tightening in a wicked form of recognition.
if her fucking leg gives out right now —
"ken." quick, clipped.
"ken." he’s panicking, too.
so badly that he can’t even hear her.
"ken —" her teeth clamp down together as her knee buckles, causing the pair to careen to the side and slam their shoulders into one of the walls, temporarily ceasing movement. she grunts and squeezes the palm against hers apologetically, because she is more of a hindrance than anything with her stupid injuries and endangering her friend’s life like this. she rests her weight against plaster, a moment to get a hold of herself.
"dara —" platinum tresses snap at the echo of armored footsteps, slipping her fingers from his’s vice-like grip and ushering him backwards with flat palms and steps right before his own. of course they ended up in a dead-end — when there’s no room left, nothing but jaehwan’s shoulders sliding against the wall and herself standing unmoving before him, dara growls.
there is the firm weight of hands on her shoulders — jaehwan’s — and the smaller mutant feels adrenaline infiltrate her system and a pure ache to keep him safe ignite within her chest. they won’t touch him — not if she can help it.
her posture is more feral when she hears jaehwan behind her, feels the prickle of electricity lick the fabric of her t-shirt, smells the pheromones that define his fear; she blinks once, twice,
three times.
"sick ‘em."
it is an attempt at normalcy, at lightening a life-threatening situation, an act of purely lee jaehwan.
she almost smiles.
there’s no warning, because wolves never really announce their arrival — her bones rearrange themselves into the frame of a undomestic canine, of the hounds of the forest and the hunters of the moon. her squeal of pain shifs into a guttural snarl mid-throat; the second time her feet make contact with the ground, there is no teenage girl to be found.
the last thing that pierces her mind through movement is protect the members of your pack.
and by latching onto the closest soldier’s throat, it serves as a minor execution.
[text] hakkie [text] how are you holding up with that wing of yours? [text] one day you'll give me a heart attack you know????? [text] i'm going to visit you with food when i finish studying~
{` her pencil tapped against the desk in a steady rhythm, because woori was nothing if not particular about that sort of thing. it was funny, this kind of noise would infuriate her, get under her skin and pick at her until she unleashed her annoyance on the source, and yet there she was, doing it herself. the boy next to her didn't seem to mind. in fact, he really didn't seem to be completely there in the first place.} - {` the slide changed and woori stopped her tapping to jot down some notes. she was always very prompt and precise with her note-taking; it was like an art form to her and should not be messed with. her notes were her life line when it came down to the wire. as she wrote, she began pressing down harder and harder on her pencil, her fingers cramping up, until the tip snapped. annoyed, she groaned and searched in her bag for a pencil sharpener or, better yet, another pencil, but she came up empty handed.} Hey {` she whispered, poking her neighbor in the arm with the butt of her broken pencil} Got a pencil or something? {` she gave a quick half-smile} Please.
