@dvydrcm:
continued from here.
bloodied body and bruised ego . ian’s head rests against the cold surface of the gym locker . scent of sweat , blood and piss ( ? ) fills her nose but what was she to expect from a danky underground fighting arena ? the witch was convinced that her aunt was out to kill her , what other reason would the madwoman offer the younger for warm up match? granted ; ian didn’t go down without a fight but there she was . lost the battle but at least her face was still recognizable .
no one was allowed in the lower section of the arena . only fighters so when she felt a soft hand on her shoulder , the witch’s attention was pulled back at the view of a young female beside her . invasion of privacy and this girl was sure she knew that by the way the enchantress stared at the unknown figure as she began to move about the locker room . she hadn’t asked for any help but here this woman was . delicate hands meeting rough ones when the girl came back ; aid kit on hand and a clean towel as well.
‘i’ve got you ‘
it’s a hiss that comes from her bruised lips ; the coldness of the damped towel against her features had ian squirming with discomfort . she could easily clean the blood off but the other wouldn’t allow it . instead , she had slapped ian’s hands away and continued to wash away the crimson of her own doing . every wipe removed the evidence of her fight —- aside from the bruises but ian’s brown gaze falls on the beauty in front of her with curiosity . the girl is focused on every risen , squeeze and wipe that she has to do in order to keep the wounds from being infected . eyes watch how the white towel is squeezed clean of its tainted essence .
❛ you know , only fighters are allowed the locker rooms . and you don’t look like a fighter to me . ❜ thank you ..
there’s one thing her cousins always insist on about her: that she’s not as much of a rebel as she claims to be. even with her newfound devil-may-care attitude, they keep saying deep down inside she’s not a bad person. inherently, she’s good.
well, she can’t comment on that really, but they repeat those words like broken records. especially her older cousin, hanbin. fucking hanbin and his self-righteous tendencies. hanbin who’s out there being a vigilante, dragging her into this mess.
‘why don’t you visit the fight ring and help me get intel? you can use your powers for good,’ he said, ignoring the fact that leah can’t enter the astral plane without her body being vulnerable.
it’s not the best idea, but she did promise hanbin she was going to get his ‘intel’ (ugh, she hates it when he uses that word. what are they? the special ops?) to get him off her back, so she goes just as she is.
she wants to get in and get out as quickly as possible, but what can you do when you find someone bruised and bleeding? if leah isn’t in the mood, she could easily shrug it off. fortunately, something tugged on leah’s heartstrings and she feels the pull to help the stranger—probably because the girl is close to her oldest cousin, solji’s, age or maybe because leah hates the sight of blood and this girl looks like she might struggle wiping it off herself.
“oh, do i look that weak?” she teases as she takes out some band aid from the first aid kit after she’s finished wiping down the woman.
(this first aid kit could not get anymore disgusting. bloody fingerprints taint the box. its maroon hue contrasting the eggshell white. this is unsanitary.)
“i think i can hold my own in a fight.” she peels the band aid and put it upon the woman’s forehead, brushing aside the hair that had fallen. “you’re welcome,” she says as she packs the equipment and finishes her work.
“this place is a dump anyway. i don’t understand why you’d continue fighting.”









