#mwxcastor

[mwxfox-blog]

▹run.

     he probably should've been perched on the branch, but fox wasn't exactly prepared for his plan. fox was a smart man. (not). the original plan was to wait out the forest and see if he could find a deer or some sort of an animal. were bears on this island? surely not..

     but.. again, perched would have supplied ample room for movement and silence while he did move. instead the man had one leg along the branch, the other crossed over the first, ankles touching if not for his shoes in the way. it was sort of comfortable, and minho preferred comfort over readiness. the handgun picked off a dead woman could be used for defense or offense-- considering he hadn’t died yet offense was the way to go. perhaps life for himself meant death for another.

     now fox wasn’t the kind of man to shoot and kill someone just to run away. this island was fucking boring sometimes, moreso than his office back at home. and that was an accomplishment; paperwork won the trophy for describing the word ‘boring’. but as he sat in the tree, the plan twisted and turned to a tired mind. many different versions of the same idea came about, but agreeing with himself on one was a difficult feat.

     finally he had no time to come to a decision. he acted; he sat up silently, shifted his weight, balanced, and shot. one shot to the leg. fox had no chance to determine who it was he shot. leaping down from the tree with a bag swinging over one shoulder and a thump to the ground, fox shot once more at the brush just to assure the girl would run. once she took off, the chase began and the game was on. minho ran close behind.

[mwxpollux-blog]

altered alliance

“There are three conditions to terrify someone: One, the monster can’t speak. Two, the monster has to be unidentifiable. Three, it’s meaningless if the monster can die.”

[mwxshinhoseok-blog]

“Just don’t die.”

What was that? Was that concern in the others voice… or was it a deep rooted sarcasm? Like Wonho’s death was inevitable and warning him not to get himself killed was about as useful as telling the day not to end. Still, if it was the former then Wonho didn’t know quite how to react - he wasn’t exactly used to sincerity after all his ability alone caused people around him to react in a way that was in every sense, a lie.

He smiled awkwardly, shrugging his shoulders. “I’ll try but-” he laughed. “-you know how it is. One minute you think you’re safe and then boom. Stabbed in the back by the person you least expected.” He turned his back, hands now in his pockets as he prepared to walk away.

“Same goes to you too I guess.” That was lame.

[mwxdisglair-blog]

“I don’t like mirrors.”

     [ ☆ ]–a minute ago, he was quite sure he was alone.

it was one of those rare times where they allowed themselves to be idle in the murderworld, and haejin decided that it would be good to just sit by a stream and study the flowers that grew by its banks. everything was going smoothly until the elder decided to appear (so suddenly too–curse those adaptational powers for masking his pheromones) and engage him in unwanted banter.

“i can see why,”was his saucy answer, not even bothering to look up from the hibiscus he was observing. maybe he’d leave him alone–castor was one of the few who could, after all (advantage? perhaps.) and he bet what remained of his sanity on that small hope. 

[mwxpollux-blog]

*✱ we are gods at the dawning of the world

in the distance, the sound of shrill laughter could be heard, breaking the still silence of the dense forest rudely like the ringing of cell phone in the middle of an important board meeting. it was a feminine voice, that was certain, and it held a childish quality to it -- a rarity in these parts of the island. if one were to train their ears a little harder, they’d recognise the sound of hooves pounding on solid ground, intermingled with harsh grunts with the occasional wheeze. listen any harder and one could appreciate a noise akin to something heavy being dragged. that wouldn’t be too far from the truth because in the real picture, a young lady could be seen, arms wound tightly around a deer’s neck, a wide smile plastered on her lips as she got dragged along the trail by the sheer force of the sprinting deer.

“stop!” she screamed at the poor animal and steered it out of the way of a tree looming up ahead. she was one of the gifteds, of course, but she simply refused to use her abilities though her fingers were beginning to tire, numbness creeping onto the soft pads. it was for the sake of pure hunting, she had stated rather exuberantly earlier on, and she stayed true to her words. but this deer here -- this buck -- simply refused to give up and serve its purpose as the comfort to her growling belly. the pair of trousers she had on were no longer in mint condition: they were covered in mud and dry leaves, and there was a long rip on the left leg. and just as she was attempting to climb onto the poor animal, it made a sharp turn around the bend, resulting in her arms letting loose, her body tumbling and rolling across the damp forest floor following inertia, an earsplitting scream spilling from her lips.