heavy mentions of death, so if you’re due an existential crisis i would probably give this one a miss
they all said it would come one day. experts predicting the fall of society, the dismantling of humanity and detailing the chaos to ensue afterwards.
but you had never expected it to come during your lifetime.
accepting the end of the world had been difficult, but as time went on and the inevitable drew closer, the kinder death as an option seemed.
the past week had been the hardest. monday, the radio stations and television channels instructed people to stay indoors, to not panic and assured the public that help was on the way. tuesday, nobody came. wednesday, you were beginning to wonder if the copious amounts of pasta and baked beans in your student apartment would see you through to the end. by thursday, still nobody had come. on friday, an emergency broadcast was sent out, telling civilians to get to a giant, communal safehouse in the middle of city by noon on saturday.
saturday morning, your boyfriend san showed up. he told you grab what you could; you were leaving. one hour before noon, the usual, panicked news broadcast was interrupted.
the newsanchor told you and everybody else watching that death was imminent. the cause of the destruction was going to be eliminated, as were you.
the phrase 'for the greater good' had never seemed so bittersweet.
you watched as san flopped lifelessly onto your small, worn out couch.
the man on the screen informed you that all safehouses across the country were full, and that the people inside them would be the next generation.
"the generation of hope" he called them.
he then went on to explain the governments plan to bomb the remaining parts of the country. deeming such extreme measures the "only way to exterminate the threat of extinction".
it was at that exact moment both you and san knew you would die.
sunday morning, sitting on the rooftop with the love of your life, watching the sunrise with your hands clasped tightly as if to never, ever let go.
the burnt orange hue across the horizon cast a warm glow across the city below your building. broken down cars litter the middle of the streets, when a week ago the early morning rush would just have been starting.
you remember how you would complain to san about how the honking of horns and yelling of angry businessmen below your apartment would always wake you up.
how silly that seems now.
the two of you sit in silence, neither of you able to find anything to say despite these being some of your last living moments.
the feeling of his thumb slowly ghosting over the skin of your hand reminds you that you are alive, and that the nightmare you are living in is inescapable.
"i love you, y/n." san says suddenly, speaking softly as he faces out over the city.
"I love you too, san."
you couldn't estimate how long you had been sat there with him, keeping a tight grip on his hand to remind yourself that he was there. only when the sun had reached directly above your heads did you realise it had been hours.
you could feel it's hot rays beating down on your neck, your instincts yelling at you to go inside and put on sunscreen. but you have to keep reminding yourself that nothing matters anymore. everything you do now is meaningless, eating breakfast, making the bed, putting trash in the correct bin.
nothing matters when there is nobody left to care.
"i'm going to marry you in the next life, y/n."
"what?"
"that was the only thing i was sure that i wanted in this life. and now it's being ripped away from me. so in the next life, i'm going to marry you, and nothing, and nobody can stop me."
"okay."
you hated the fact you couldn't give san a proper response, only staring numbly at the quiet, desolate expanse below you.
some time later, you hear the rumbling of armoured trucks making their way to the center of the city. above you, helicopters hover hundreds of metres above your head.
you always thought that you would be scared, or that you would be a fighter and survive your way through the end of the world and come out the other side unscathed.
but with san's slender fingers wrapped around your own, none of that really matters anymore.
"i wish i could've had it all with you, san. marriage, children, pets. coming home after a long day and arguing over whose turn it was to do the dishes, going to parties and leaving early to watch movies in bed, going on road trips and getting flat tires, reading our children to sleep, forgetting to put the eggs in the brownie mix and making a mess, celebrating your next big promotion at work, everything that seems so meaningless, i want it, and i only want it with you."
the emotions spill out through the cracks in your voice, the tears welling up in your eyes and the tightening of your hand over san's.
he says nothing, but the squeeze he gives you is his way of saying me too.
the sun begins to set behind you, san stands up and tugs you up too, bringing you to the other side of the roof to watch the sunset.
"i wish i had appreciated the sunset more," he tells you. "i wish i had appreciated a lot of things more than i have done."
"we have eternity to do that now." you whisper to him.
he reclasps your hand and the two of you return to your tranquil state of sitting in silence, watching the entire world go by with the comforting presence of each other.
ironically, the city is encased in peace. the usual bustle of life has vanished, leaving san's shallow breathing the only thing left for you to hear. it's poetic, really.
the world's sound has disappeared and manifested itself in san, who now is your world.
no, he's your universe.
night brings with her darkness, that she sweeps over the empty houses and abandoned stores, cafes and playgrounds. an unwelcome guest she too brings with her.
chaos is hard at work, the silence broken by a distance boom, indicating the beginning of the cull.
san's hand tightens on yours once more, and this time you both truly know you don't have long left.
the explosions are getting louder and more frequent, the blackness of night shielding your view from the smoke and destruction in neighbouring cities.
"i love you."
"i love you too."
you were content at that moment.
when it was just you and san, together, at the end of the world.
happy new year everyone! thank you so much for all the support during 2021! i hope you all have fun celebrating!
cw; heavy alcohol use, nothing sexually graphic but a lil suggestive, swearing
every year you found yourself roped into the annual office new year party.
every year you drank a little too much to get through the painful awkwardness of celebrating a holiday with people you merely tolerated.
well, everyone except for seonghwa, who was the only person on your floor that you had managed to strike up a friendship with. each working day consisted of playful jokes and light, flirtatious touches, but that was it.
that was it, right?
seonghwa was nothing more to you than a co-worker.
a devastatingly handsome, incredibly sweet and funny co-worker.
be honest, you weren’t fooling anyone at all. everyone could see the sly glances you gave each other across the office, when the other was engrossed in work and the other would take the chance to peer fondly at them.
to you, it was harmless, with an added splash of denial. to your co-workers, it was a pathetically sappy play of mutual pining and avoiding emotions.
your boss, hongjoong, insisted on exchanging presents every new year, completely enamored with the tradition of secret santa that started at one and now continues onto every christmas office party, and now he demands that every holiday party has a gift exchanging ceremony.
the amount of chocolate you recieve for every secret easter bunny is ridiculous.
but you, surprisingly, were looking forward to the office new year party this time. the christmas period had been stressful enough, and nobody likes going back to work after multiple days of doing nothing but lounging around and stuffing your face full of festive food.
“i hope they have flavoured vodka this year,” seonghwa says to your over lunch that afternoon. “i just can’t stomach the regular kind, not after last year.”
you chuckle as you recall a totally wasted seonghwa puking into the paper tray of the office’s communal printer. safe to say the receptionist was less than impressed when she used the printer the next morning.
“hopefully mingi doesn’t eat all the finger food this year,” you sigh. “i spent hours baking those cookies and i didn’t even get to eat them.”
“don’t worry, i’ll keep him away from the food until you get some, i’ll handcuff him to his desk if i have to.” seonghwa chuckles, spooning yoghurt into his mouth.
“so…,” you look at seonghwa playfully. “who have you got for secret new years?”
“seriously? it’s called secret for a reason you know, y/n”
“i know! but i thought we were closer than that, just tell me!” you pout a little and bat your eyelashes at him, in a (cringey) attempt to get him to give in.
he throws a leaf of lettuce from his salad at you instead.
“no way! besides, you might find out later anyway, nobody in this office can keep secrets.”
seonghwa has a point, you think, remembering the time wooyoung accidentally let it slip that san was sleeping with somebody from the floor below, after swearing over his dead body he wouldn’t tell another soul.
“i’ll find out who you have, park, you mark my words.” with a dramatic flourish, you stand up, tossing your empty lunch package into the trash before leaving the lunch room.
seonghwa stares after you, shaking his head fondly.
usually, he couldn’t care about the secret gift giving at all, but this year, he’s put more thought and effort into this present than he has his actual job.
scraping the last of the yoghurt from the pot and shoving it into his mouth, he stands up, gives one last glance over to you at your desk, where you sit typing away furiously. he smiles warmly.
this is gonna be the best new year party ever.
-----
hongjoong had convinced the building manager to give him a spare key for the night to allow you all back for the party that evening. unfortunately for you, that meant finishing your shift at 5pm, going home and coming back at 8pm to help set up for the party. initially, you were excited to have been assigned a specific part of the party to plan, but as the time drew closer you only grew more anxious. you grab a handful of glittery silver and gold decorations, wall banners reading ‘2022’ in great gold letters, silver table ornaments and matching gold paper plates with silver cups. a table had been set up against the wall opposite the door, covered in a plain white table cloth.
“hey, yeosang.” you wave at your co-worker, who stands on top of a wheeled desk chair pinning multicoloured lights to the highest point of the walls. every time he tries to push a pin into the hard brick, the chair wheels him backwards.
“oh, hey y/n. can you help me for a sec?”
you nod, moving to keep the chair steady, and finally, he gets the pin in the wall.
“i’ve been trying to do that for at least twenty minutes.” he laughs sheepishly as he climbs down from the chair. it was unfortunate for you that all of the men you worked with were incredibly handsome, and yeosang was no exception. bright blonde hair, always wearing a neat, fitted shirt and tie with pressed black pants and shiny shoes. he wasn’t your type (he was everyone’s type), but still, you can appreciate some good looks.
“you could’ve used tape?” you suggest, pointing to the roll of sellotape on top of the table.
“oh…” yeosang’s face falls a little, and you can’t help but feel bad for him.
“anyway,” changing the subject here is probably for the best. “excited for the party?” reaching into the loaded bag, you begin to pull out the array of twinkly decor.
“i’m excited to get black-out drunk again,” he responds, gathering a handful of sparkly ‘2022’ decorations. “san has been pissing me off all week and this is exactly what i need.”
“ah yes, who could forget last year’s missing drunk yeosang fiasco.”
“it’s not my fault i ended up passing out in the women’s bathroom,” he says shrugging. “the people on the doors look exactly the same.”
“they look nothing alike, ‘sang, you’re just a messy drunk.” seonghwa says, striding into the room with wooyoung and yunho in tow. each of them are carrying two heavy plastic shopping bags. the three men are dressed almost identical to yeosang, smart white shirts accompanied with a festive tie, wooyoung’s black one covered in champagne glasses earns a chuckle from you, black suit trousers and their usual work shoes.
seonghwa though, looks extra nice this evening. you had always had a little thing for a man in business clothes (not great considering your work environment, it’s a miracle you manage to get any work done), but the look suits him deliciously. the sleeves on his white shirt are rolled up to his elbows, showing off his firm forearms and ever so slightly flexing his veins. his hair is also immaculately styled, having recently cut off most of the bang that hung heavily over one of his eyes, his raven black hair is long but parted neatly. he looks exquisite.
“got anything nice for me, boys?” you joke, hiding the effect seonghwa has on you and meandering over towards them.
“i do, actually.” seonghwa nods, reaching in and fumbling through the bag until he pulls out a large tupperware box. “here, these are for you, so mingi doesn’t leave you going hungry.”
with an excited gasp, you rip the lid open and find various mini sandwiches, mini muffins and an assortment of bite size crackers.
“thank you!” you grin at him. “where did you get them from? i’ll pay you back.”
he suddenly bites his lip, looking down at the floor and awkwardly scratching the back of his neck.
“actually, i uh, i made them. for you.”
your heart skips a beat, and you can feel your face heat up.
“oh, i- thank you, seonghwa.” you smile shyly up at him, the thoughtful gesture rendering your typical playful banter into a bashful grin.
“that’s okay, i wasn’t sure what you liked so there’s some cheese sandwiches, that one has sausage in it-”
“y/n got seonghwa’s sausage? well, aren’t you lucky?” wooyoung snickers, glancing between your embarrased face and seonghwa’s unimpressed one.
“shut it, wooyoung.” seonghwa snaps, swiping a hand at the younger boy who jumps back with a yelp, still immaturely chuckling at his joke.
“it’s very thoughtful of him,” you retort once you gathered your composure. “besides, i bet his sausage is nicer than yours, wooyoung.”
with that, you march out of the party room, ignoring the cackles of yeosang and yunho behind you as you head to the kitchen to put the food into the refrigerator. you clear some space on one of the shelves when the door thuds, indicating somebody walking in.
“sorry about them,” you turn to see seonghwa, cheeks flushed. “you know how they are.”
“it’s okay,” you giggle at their immature jokes. “i don’t mind the jokes.”
“you don’t?”
“no? they’re only jokes, aren’t they?”
“yeah…” seonghwa nods, cracking one of his knuckles. “just jokes.”
he smiles at you again, suggesting that you both go back to the party room to help the others finish set up. he tells you that him, wooyoung and yunho were put in charge of purchasing the alcohol and food.
“woo almost spent the entire budget on cheap vodka and tortilla chips.” yunho sighs, placing stacks of colourful paper cups on the table. “we had to remind him we aren’t going to a college party.”
“nothing gets you drunk quicker than cheap vodka and tortilla chips!” wooyoung cries from the other side of the room, jolting the small step ladder seonghwa had found in the supply closet and almost knocking yeosang off of it.
“dibs on not carrying wooyoung home tonight.” seonghwa scoffs, taking a bottle of vodka from wooyoung’s hands and putting it on the table.
“only because you wanna ba-”
“i left the chip dips in my car,” seonghwa abruptly interrupts the younger male, throwing his car keys at him. “go get them.”
as wooyoung leaves, a few more of your colleagues enter the room. hongjoong, followed by mingi and the newest employee, jongho. hongjoong is dressed slightly more professionally than everybody else, wearing a black blazer and red tie with the white shirt all of the men here seem to wear. you wonder how a manager is allowed to have a thick, brown mullet and still be considered a business man but hey, who are you to judge. the same could be said for mingi, who’s had a cloud of red hair since the day he started at the company.
“what’s with the silver and gold colour scheme you guys?” hongjoong asks, wrinkling his nose as he observes the room. “this isn’t prom.”
“well, i thought- i- i-”
your cheeks burn in humiliation, knowing that you were in charge of choosing the party theme and colour of the decorations. looking around the room though, you realise that maybe he’s right. the decorations you once thought were glamourous now look tacky and cheap, the gold balloons taped to the walls just look sad and withered. you knew you should’ve gone for black and white! silver and gold? what were you thinki-
“i think it’s great actually, boss,” seonghwa interjects your embarrased rambling. “silver and gold are classy, right? a good party always has a classy colour scheme.” he sends you a subtle thumbs up, throwing a quick wink in your direction too.
your heart jumps.
“yeah…” hongjoong nods slowly, pondering seonghwa’s words until he comes to a full agreement. “yeah! very classy, nice work y/n.”
“thanks, hongjoong.” you look over at seonghwa and mouth an appreciative ‘thank you’.
wooyoung strides into the room seconds later, clutching a plastic tray full of tasty dips and two extra bottles of vodka in his other hand. following him is san, who looks incredibly disheveled. his white shirt is crumpled, and his tie is thrown over his shoulder. his hair, rumpled and slightly damp, resembles a bird’s nest caught in a halestorm.
“look who i bumped into coming out of the downstairs store room!” wooyoung loudly announces, poking san’s flushed cheeks. “how nice of you to join us, bro!”
“you, uh, you gotta a little something there, buddy.” mingi points at a red smudge on san’s collarbone, to which the latter hurries off to the bathroom at lightening speed.
“young love.” wooyoung sighs contentedly, shaking his head and lining up the extra two bottles of spirit with the others.
“isn’t san older than you?” jongho asks.
“zip it, temp.”
you glance over at seonghwa, who happens to be looking at you also, and you widen your eyes a little and chuckle at san’s public humiliation.
“okay everybody!” hongjoong clinks the neck of a bottle of fruity gin with a fork he found buried at the bottom of his desk drawer. “secret new year gifts are to be placed on the table outside the room, and we wil start the ceremony at ten o’clock sharp. be there, or be square! an-”
“and nobody wants to be square.” yunho finishes hongjoong’s annual announcement, which earns him a scowl and a death stare. “what? you say the same thing every year.”
with the party fully set up, you begin your quest to get totally, utterly, and completely drunk. at the drinks table, you grab a bottle of the fruity gin, which smells like some sort of sweet berry, and pour a generous amount into a plastic cup, topping the rest up with lemonade.
“drinking gin out of a plastic up, real classy.” you mutter to yourself.
“i thought about bringing champagne flutes, but wooyoung would smash them all the second i set them on the table.” yeosang says from beside you with a short chuckle.
“we’d spend all night cleaning up glass instead of partying.” you laugh back, turning properly to face him.
seonghwa, on the other side of the room, glances slyly in your direction, frowning slightly when he sees you and yeosang chatting animatedly. he frowns deeper when you grab yeosang’s arm, laughing so hard at his joke that you need to lean on him for support. he knows that nothing would happen between the two of you, the ever observant kang yeosang being the first person to connect the shy eyes across the room and confronting seonghwa about his feelings at a christmas party a year or two ago.
“dude, stop pining already, it makes me wanna puke.” mingi rolls at his eyes at the older, the eyes he’s making towards you completely obvious.
“what are you on about, mingi?” seonghwa tries to play it cool, but mingi knows him better than that.
“you’re ridiculous, park. do you really wanna spend even more years making heart eyes at her? just tell her already, before somebody else does.” mingi leaves to talk to wooyoung by the food table, his words worming their way into poor seonghwa’s head.
he had never meant for it to develop this far. at first, it was only light banter between you, which eventually became light (heavy) flirting. he himself hadn’t noticed how obvious his ‘subtle’ looks were, or how loaded with meaning his playful comments had become. seonghwa had only viewed it as a work ‘thing’, nothing serious, just something mutual between you both that kept the work day sufferable. but now, with mingi’s words lingering in his head, things make a little more sense. the thought of yeosang, hell, the thought of anyone else besides him being with you makes his heart ache. but he wasnt interested in dating, he would always tell himself. he didn’t want a relationship right now, his career was more important. he hadn’t dated anybody since he started the job at this company, since he met you. everyone he attempted to date since meeting you just didn’t cut it. they wouldn’t compare to y/n.
maybe mingi had some sense after all.
the few drinks you had already consumed had gone straight to your head, the slight dizziness and light headed feeling that comes with being tipsy had gotten to you. it had also kicked in that you were absolutely starving, and mingi, as if on brand, had eaten most of the party food. grateful, you remember seonghwa’s thoughtful tupperware that you had hidden in the fridge, and you sneak carefully away from the party and head towards the break room.
seonghwa finds you ten minutes later, sitting legs splayed out on the break room floor, in front of an open refrigerator, slowly chewing a mini sandwhich.
“hey, y/n.” he says softly.
you drunk eyes snap open and you look up at him. he notices the way your face lights up and his heart does a flip in his chest.
“seonghwa!”
he sits down beside you and peers into the almost empty tupperware box.
“you like the food?”
“oh, yeah. your sausage is incredible.” the drunken attempt at flirting doesn’t quite hit the spot, seonghwa snorting into his cup as your cheeks flame up again.
“don’t tell me you’re learning flirting techniques from woo, y/n.”
“not a chance.” you scoff, clicking the lid back onto the box. “i don’t need to learn anyway, i’m an expert at flirting.”
“is that so?” seonghwa’s eyebrows rise in amusement. “go on then.”
“go on what?”
“flirt with me.” he says. “an expert in flirting should be able to sweep me off my feet, right?”
“well, i-”
“go on!” he encourages you with a smirk plastered on his face, clearly enjoying the position he had you in. “hit me with your best.”
you gaze up at him for a solid minute, wracking your intoxicated brain for anything, anything, you could say until-
“besides being sexy, what else do you do for a living?” you ask.
seonghwa stares at you for what feels like an eternity, before bursting into laughter.
“what?” you demand. “what’s so funny?”
“we work together, y/n! that doesn’t make any sense! you already know what i do for a living!” his head falls backwards against the wall as his shoulders shake with laughter, and you can’t help but notice how attracive he looks right now. the way the fabric of the dress shirt hugs his broad shoulders, and the way his sleeves are rolled up. jesus christ.
“alright then,” you scowl. “you try and do any better.”
“you want me to flirt with you?” he replies once he manages to stop laughing. “i don’t think you’re prepared for that.”
“oh yeah?” the alcohol coursing through your veins pushes you to challenge him. “try me.”
seonghwa observes your features for a few moments before shrugging and setting his cup down beside him. why not? he thinks. it’s only a bit of harmless fun.
you turn to look at him from your position of sitting next to one another, watching him intently. he runs a hand through his jet black hair, and looks at you.
“by the way, you look great tonight, y/n,”
“oh, thank y-”
suddenly, his left hand comes to cup your cheek, and he leans down, pressing his lips ever so gently on the shell of your right ear. you can feel the heat radiating from him, his chest pressing against your shoulder at the awkward angle.
“but your outfit would look so much better on my bedroom floor.” he murmurs, voice dropping to an impossibly low octave that has your entire body tingling.
a century later, he pulls away, and you don’t even have to look at him to know he’s got a smug grin all over his face.
“well?” he questions. “how did i do, o’ great expert of flirting?”
you stare at him with disbelief, how can he something so… so… like that and not take you to bed immediately? you decide to play it off casually, as if the sinful words clouding your brain aren’t doing just that.
“i think you could do better,” you shrug. “just saying.”
“oh, really?” his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek in fake annoyance. “in that case, i could probably do one better.”
the alcohol mixes with the sexual tension between you, and you’re so far gone by this point you’re more curious to see where it leads.
“alright, go on then.”
you internally brace yourself to feel seonghwa’s lips against your ear once more, but this time you don’t. his hand finds itself on your knee, and his face moves closer to yours. instinctually, you close your eyes, and your breath hitches when you feel his lips ghosting over your own.
“you must be my homework,” he whispers so quietly you’re not even sure if he’s speaking. “because i’m not doing you, but i definitely should be.”
“seonghwa!” you squeal, jumping back. “that’s so cheesy!”
he chuckles lowly at your flushed face and shocked expression.
“but did it work?”
“ma-”
“what are you guys up to?” yunho’s voice from the door makes you and seonghwa jump, bringing you back to earth and reminding you that you’re at a work party for goodness sake. not exactly the best place to be mentally undressing each other.
“hey, yunho!” you stand up, flustered. “i’m gonna get another drink, you coming?”
“i’ll be there in a sec, you go ahead,” he smiles. ”i think san wanted to talk to you about a client or something too, by the way.”
you nod and rush off to the party room, not looking seonghwa in the eyes when you pass him.
“you smuggling bottles home, park?” yunho asks, motioning towards seonghwa’s dress pants. “you might want to take care of that before you come back.” yunho gives seonghwa a knowing look before following you.
“fuck.” seonghwa looks down, leaning against the wall. “fuck.”
-----
“presents!” hongjoong yells at exactly ten o’clock.
chairs have been arranged in a neat circle (yeosang’s work, you guess), and the presents from the middle of the table have been heaped into a pile in the middle of the chairs.
“you all know the rules,” hongjoong claps his hands together. “i hand out the gifts, you open them, and no revealing who you gave your gift to, okay?”
everyone nods unenthusiastically, already tired of hongjoong’s energy.
he grabs the first package from the pile, twisting and turning until he finds the name tag.
“this is for mr handsome himself, seonghwa!”
seonghwa tears into the wrapping paper until a pair of huge, fluffy yellow duck shaped slippers are sitting in his lap. you cover your mouth with your hand to stifle a giggle.
“thank you…” he trails off. “these are ducking awesome.” he earns a laugh from everyone, including you. you don’t notice his quick glance at you to check if you found it funny or not.
the next secret present was for mingi, who, after savagely ripping the wrapping paper you spent half an hour trying to get right, discovers he has recieved a grow your own coffee bean plant. you noticed how often he would get up during the work day to make a cup of coffee. it was never a problem, until you realised he was eating (drinking?) into your own personal instant coffee jar, and this was the politest, and most conviniently timed solution.
“damn, that’s pretty cool,” mingi says, turning the box around and inspecting it. “thanks secret gift giver.”
all the presents are handed out, yeosang getting a cool new pair of headphones after san accidentally crushed his old pair, wooyoung recieving a large, stylish bag that hands over his shoulder, san was given three boxes of condoms with a note reading ‘keep it out of work’ in bold sharpie, jongho’s gift was a mug with ‘world’s best temp’ printed on it, yunho got a plush puppy because it ‘matched his personality’ and finally, hongjoong recieved a three thousand piece jigsaw puzzle that when put together, depicted a closeup of his face.
“lastly, but not least…ly, a gift for our lovely y/n!” hongjoong practically throws the gift in your lap; the present ceremony was taking so painfully long, there was only forty minutes until midnight.
carefully, you pull the wrapping paper away, letting it fall to the floor. after all the paper is removed, you gasp, finding a beautiful, powder blue teapot in your hands.
“it’s so cute, i love it!” you grin. “thank you!”
you run your fingers over the smooth ceramic of the pot, relishing the coolness it leaves on your skin in the hot, stuffy room. everyone else grabs their gifts and put them away, heading back to the party room to drink for the remaining twenty minutes of the year. as you stand up, you hear and feel a faint rattling from inside the teapot.
is there something inside it?
leaving everybody else, you wander over to your desk to sit down. gently, you tip the pot upside down and a small slip of paper floats out. unfolding it, you notice there is a short note written.
‘meet me on the rooftop at five minutes to midnight. this isn’t your full gift :)’
rapidly you check the time on the clock by the front door. Quarter to midnight. ten minutes to go. rising from your desk, you head into the party room to grab another drink, the almost two hour present ceremony had almost completely sobered you up, and you couldn’t face going up to the rooftop stone cold sober.
impatiently, you lean against the table in the party room, making small talk with wooyoung, san and hongjoong. meaning that you nod while they speak, your mind overrun with thoughts about the rooftop and your mysterious gift giver.
“i’m just saying, it doesn’t make sense to call it a building when it’s already been built!”
“what have you been smoking, wooyoung?”
you glance up at the party room clock, and it says seven minutes to midnight. grabbing your cup, you head towards the door.
“y/n? where are you going? it’s almost midnight, you’ll miss the countdown!” jongho frowns.
“i’m just heading to the bathroom, i’ll be right back.” you lie through your teeth, smiling at them and feeling relieved when they believe it.
you rush out of the room and hurry towards the exit, scurrying up the stairs as quickly as you can to make a beeline for the rooftop entrance.
finally, you push open the heavy door, terrified that you took too long and that you’ve missed the midnight countdown. until you look around, and you see him standing there. looking stupidly attractive in his white shirt and black trousers, black hair styled perfectly, leaning against the edge and looking down over the dark and bustling city.
“seonghwa?” you breathe.
he turns at the sound of your voice, giving you a short wave.
“hey, y/n. sorry for ruining the whole, ‘no spoiling the secret thing’,” you slowly make your way over to him. “i couldn’t really give you this part of your present anonymously.”
“more sandwiches?” you tease. “they were really good, though. thanks for those.”
the light wind caresses your cheeks, leaving them with a tinge of red that spreads over the bridge of your nose. seonghwa takes the sight in, your hair floating in the night air, your dress dancing along, and the way you’re looking up at him. so perfect, so beautiful. he almost doesn’t want to carry on in fear of ruining the moment.
“sadly no, no more sandwiches.” he laughs with you, before his face falls into a slightly more serious expression. his nerves begin to take over, as he plays with his fingers, cracking each knuckle slowly.
“what’s wrong?” you ask with concern. “is everything okay?”
“yeah! yeah, i’m good, i just… don’t know how to say it.” he laughs awkwardly.
“what happened to confident seonghwa from earlier?” you joke. “the one that said he would take my clothes off and ‘do me’?”
seonghwa’s cheeks flush a violent crimson, and you find it adorable.
“i was a lot drunker then…”
“so you didn’t mean it?”
“what?”
“you didn’t mean it, did you?” you turn your body to face him. “it was just the alcohol talking, right seonghwa?”
your co-worker looks silently down at you, trying to convey every feeling he’s had over the pat few years into one look. you stare back at him, equally quiet, in an attempt to understand what his eyes are trying to tell you.
“right, seonghwa?”
“ten! nine!-”
“it’s midnight already.” seonghwa states the obvious.
“yeah.”
“six! five!-"
neither of you break eye contact, and neither of you say a word. neither of you wants to. the comfortable silence between you is saying enough. years of concealed emotions spilling out in one slightly tipsy evening. the way he looks at you when you’re not looking, and more recently, even when you are looking, are sickening to everyone else you work with. for years, egging seonghwa on to finally ask you out before somebody else sweeps you off your feet. but nobody had, you had never really been interested in anyone, but you didn’t know why.
although, maybe now you do.
“three! two!-”
“happy new year y/n.”
“one!-”
“happy ne-”
seonghwa’s large palm rushes in and finds its way onto your cheek, and suddenly, his face follows and his lips are pushed onto your own. they’re soft, sweet and right.
“happy new year!”
your lips melt into seonghwa’s as the cheering erupts from a couple floors down, and also in the streets below. like the two final pieces of a puzzle, your mouths fit into one another perfectly, moulding into shape like a lock and key. you feel his tongue lightly graze your bottom lip and the slight drunken buzz still in your blood allows you to open your mouth.
the fireworks start then, booming and exploding in the night sky, creating a painting onto the black canvas above you.
eventually, you pull away gasping for air.
“happy new year, seonghwa.” you smile shyly.
“happy new year.” he grins back.
you guess it was a pretty good party after all.
something a little different from me! thank you for reading, i hope you liked it :)
The book crashes heavily onto the stone floor, your arms darting out in a panicked effort to catch it. Hopelessly, you watch as it clatters loudly, though as it hits the ground, it falls shut, not allowing the intruder to see the contents of the page.
"Iris? What are you doing down here?"
You peek upwards, and you see the confused figure of San standing before you, bewildered.
But you can't answer him, all too consumed by the fizzling feeling darting through your body. The burning from before simmering to a halt like a cauldron taken away from roaring flames. Your breathing becomes erratic and heavy, a weight pressing down on your chest rendering you in tears.
"Oh gods," San mumbles and rushes to your figure, mimicing your own position of sitting on your knees. "Oh gods, oh gods."
You kneel, trembling and yet somehow completely motionless opposite San.
"Iris?" he calls to you gently. "Can I touch you?"
You don't register the movement, but you assume you must've nodded, as San slowly reaches out and places both of his palms on your cheeks, lifting your head up and forcing your streaming eyes to look into the concerned, inky wells of his own.
"Breathe slowly, okay? Slowly... There you go." San slows his own breathing down, allowing you to match the rhythm and soothe the manic pace your lungs were working at.
A few minutes pass, and your breathing returns to it's original pace. San is still sat across from you, his hands in his lap as he waits for you to explain what on earth just happened.
"I'm so tired of feeling useless..." you frown, and pull your knees up to your chest, hugging them tightly to your body. "It's my fault everybody is involved in this mess, and they only let me help when they need it.
"I thought maybe... maybe if I learnt something useful and showed them that I am capable then they would be forced to listen to me." Sniffling, you wipe the tears from your eyes with the sleeve of your shirt.
"I know how you feel." San sighs, and you study his frown. His cold, defensive demeanour from the last few weeks melting away and being replaced with a sadder, vulnerable version of him.
"I know that I'm the court jester," he continues. "But I'm more than just jokes and silly costumes. I can do much more than that, and... and I wish people would let me prove that to them."
"It isn't fair." You whine.
"Life isn't fair." San agrees.
"You won't... tell anyone about this, will you?" You ask timidly after a few moments silence.
"Were you doing anything bad?" He asks.
You shake your head. "Just studying." You weren't technically lying. Just concealing the truth.
"Alright," San nods. "I won't say anything. But I better not catch you doing it again."
He stands up and brushes the dirt from his knees, then extends a rough palm out towards you. Gratefully, you take it, quickly bundling up Yunho's book and clutching it to your chest to conceal it from San's view.
"I hope you're prepared for the ball tomorrow," San says suddenly. "If your dancing is as shocking as it was the other day then there's zero hope for you."
"I'll be fine. Wooyoung'll teach me how to dance."
San rolls his eyes and shrugs, telling you that he'll see you around and that you should go to bed before somebody else catches you. You watch him leave, peering at his raven black hair bouncing as he walks until he was finally out of view.
It's not until you hear the distance clunk of the door closing that you release a breath you didn't know you were holding. You grip slackens on the book and your arm muscles sigh in relief. Letting go of the book, you study your right hand curiously, turning it over to examine your palm and fingers, trying to remember the fizzing feeling in your blood.
The tingling had stopped now, only the tiniest remnant of power was left in your body, slowly dissipating until it disappeared entirely. Never in your life had you expected to feel something like that, something so exciting and yet so dangerous. Staring down at your outstretched hand, you imagined red hot trails of angry, bubbling lava, slowly seeping into the crevices between your fingers and wrapping down your wrist, crawling down the expanse of your forearm.
It felt... good.
But nobody else can know, you remind yourself. If Yunho found out you stole his book, he'd kill you. If Yeosang found out you were learning magic, he'd kill you. You didn't want to think about what Wooyoung would do.
You figured that anybody detecting magic from the castle wouldn't be a problem, concluding that there's no way you'll be able to produce any substantial power that could be detected. Yeosang had told you that anybody could do magic, but only certain people could wield the chaos enough to do any damage. There was no way you would be able to do that. Besides, you were teaching yourself, so there's definitely no chance of anyone being able to rat you out.
You tuck the book under your arm, and start the quiet creeping back to your room.
Nobody will catch you. You won't let them.
-----
"I really don't- Ow! I really don't see why I have to wear this ghastly thing." You grunt in pain as the poor woman behind you tugs harshly at your outfit.
She's got a foot on your lower back and she yanks at the strings of the corset that is built into your - admittedly, very beautiful - dress. It is an incredibly elegant, sky blue silk gown that grazes the wooden floor beneath you. Complete with flowing sleeves that end past your fingertips, made of a crystal blue, sheer material that makes you feel like a princess of a fairy kingdom in a land very, very far from Ateez.
The sheer fabric also lays atop the baby blue silk of the skirt, with small, rose pink butterflies sewn into them at various points. The bodice is tightly laced both at the front and the back, luckily the neckline doesn't sweep too low, only showing your collarbones.
"Because, His Majesty says you have to." The woman, named Callonetta, tells you. "Besides, you look wonderful in this dress."
She's right too. You do look amazing in the gown, but you frown at yourself as you catch your own gaze in the mirror ahead of you. Inspecting your right arm, clad in ocean blue sleeve, and admiring how serene your blood feels compared to the way it was angrily boiling not even a whole day ago. Your gaze falls onto one of the light pink butterflies stitched to the bodice, the way it's wings have been poised make it look like its about to take flight, rip its tiny little legs free of its string prison and soar out the open window.
But of course, it can't. Because it isn't real, it's fake body pinned down to the bodice and you imagine it wriggling and writhing in pain as the seamstress pushes her needle into its frail wings. Such pain caused only to look beautiful. Totally restricted, unable to live life the way it was intended to be; free, happy, uncontrolled.
Another sharp jerk of the bodice strings from behind snaps your attention back to the mirror, allowing you to survey yourself properly.
Your hair, braided tightly and pinned back to form a crown around the base of your skull, with small curls pulled out to frame the sides of your face. Tied together with a sparkling silver circlet, the sides hidden under the expanse of hair, the metal twisting together to form a intricate design that presses against your forehead. In the center, encased in silver, is a single, circular sapphire that glitters in the candlelight everytime you move. Small, yet detailed silver leaves surround the gorgeous gem, and you even notice tiny, metal roses trailing up the sides of the circlet and disappearing underneath your hair.
You wonder if the late Queen had a tiara or crown as impressively beautiful as your circlet.
"The circlet belonged to Her Majesty," Callonetta informs you suddenly, as if she could read your thoughts. "This was the one she wore when she and the King announced the birth of King Hongjoong."
You could imagine how graceful Hongjoong's mother had looked. Radiant from the miracle of childbirth, tired yet still regal and proud of her newborn son. Sapphire circlet glistening in the rainbow coloured light of the main hall.
"What about this dress?" You whisper.
Somehow, you couldn't picture the Queen wearing a gown such as this. Sure, it was stunning, but for a Queen, much too simple. And yet you couldn't ignore the definitive lack of women in the castle, Callonetta and the cook being the only two you had met thus far.
"Heavens no," Callonetta scoffs, throwing her messy, ginger plait over her shoulder as she refocuses her attention on tying your bodice, "This dress was made for you specifcally. His Majesty has a personal tailor, he will refuse to wear anything made by anyone else."
Your face flushes at that, an embarrasing, startling shade of pink that puts the butterflies on your dress to shame.
"The tailor is renowned for his work," she continues, "All his garments have his printed emblem inside the back of the neckline, a small, roaring bear. Nobody knows why he chose a bear of all things, but it certainly is striking."
Your mind is cast back to the bear at the inn you and Yeosang stayed at on the journey to Wooyoung's. It all seemed so long ago now.
“Did you hear that?” you whisper to Yeosang.
“It’s just a bear.” He mumbles in response, making you jump slightly because you thought he was still asleep.
"A bear?” you hiss.
“I know,” he says sarcastically. “Un-bear-lieveable.”
You retrieve one of your pillows and launch it at his figure, smirking triumphantly when he grunts in surprise.
“That was a terrible joke.” you complain and bury yourself back into your improvised bed.
“Whatever,” Yeosang yawns. “just go to sleep, we’ll be meeting the astrologer tomorrow so you need to rest.”
Finally deciding to listen to the mage, you squeeze your eyes shut tightly in hopes you’ll fall asleep quickly. Luckily, you do just that, sleeping peacefully and dreaming about the bear in the forest outside. He’s wounded, bleeding heavily from a nasty gash on his neck and panting in pain. You reach out to help him, but of course it’s just a dream; he’ll be okay. You hope.
You think about that bear more often that you'd like to admit, imagining his large, brown eyes, watery with pain and the wounded yelping haunted your dreams.
A final, squeezing tug of the laces and Callonetta sighs in relief. She tells you that you're ready for the ball, and that you should wait in the dressing room until somebody comes to get you. Before you can ask who, or when, she hurries out of the door and you hear her shuffling quickly down the stone hallway.
Once again, you stare miserably at yourself in the mirror, wishing that you could attend the ball in your typical white shirt and plain black breeches.
Maybe Wooyoung is right though, perhaps the ball will bring some enjoyment into your life, away from all the secrets and worrying and death.
You suspect that nobody will be coming to get you for quite some time, so you perch yourself at the window seat opposite the mirror. Reaching under the cushions, you retrieve Yunho's book, which you expertly hid before Callonetta arrived.
Flicking through the pages, you spot the spell you learnt yesterday and your heart freezes between your ribs. Holding your breath, you decide to ignore that one, and flip the pages eagerly. Eventually, you come across a double page spread that piques your interest. You can't decipher Yunho's messy drawing of the hand movements this time (perhaps for the best), but you can make out his scrawled handwriting of 'circular' just below it.
"Aevon bleidd." you whisper aloud, the language feeling foreign on your tongue.
After repeating the phrase multiple times, you realise you must have nailed the pronounciation as there's a dull pounding in your skull, and your fingertips are turning a concerning shade of blue. From your nails all the way down to the tip of your elbow, you feel a travelling freezing feeling flowing through your veins like a great and powerful river. Your veins pulsate a vivid blue, much like the way Yeosang's thundered with lightening the first time you met him.
“I’m a mage,” he had told you suddenly over porridge one morning. He clenched his large palms into equally large fists and laid his forearm upon the table, facing upwards towards the canopy of jade leaves above your heads. “You see those blue lines? They’re called veins, and our blood runs through these.”
You nodded silently, unsure of what his point was.
“In mine, flows blood as well as chaos,” he explained. “Almost anybody can do basic magic, provided you’re taught by the right people.”
Using his other hand, he ran a gentle finger down the stripe of his prominent veins, and the cerulean bumps bubbled and boiled into a startling shade of sunlight. You squinted in awe; you swore you could see a lightning storm rattling around inside of his arm.
“But only those born into chaos possess the abilities to truly wield it.” Yeosang snapped his fingers, and the bolts of lightning in his veins returned to the cool, sea blue they were before.
Snapping the book shut abruptly, you clutch your forearm to your chest and squeeze your eyes tightly shut. This is wrong, you think. Everything about this is wrong. Is magic supposed to feel this way? Make your insides wriggle and writhe and struggle in a desperate attempt to become your outsides? Yeosang had said only certain people had the ability to properly wield chaos into magic, did this mean that you were one of those people?
Ordinary peoples veins didn't stream like rivers.
Ordinary peoples blood didn't burn like fire.
Stuffing the book back between the cushions, you stare out of the window at the castle gardens below. Despite spending the majority of your time amoungst the flowers, it is only from up in the window you notice the penstemons - beardtongues, representative of bravery - arranged to spell 'HJ'.
It was surreal, your life, when you truly sat down to think about it. How barely a handful of months ago you were just a poor, lowly thief stealing bread to make it through the day, and now here you were, sitting in a dressing room within the castle of the most powerful kingdom on the planet, wearing a dress and jewels so expensive you felt dizzy at the thought.
Surrounded by elves, mages, kings, bards, magic and with all of those came danger.
A light tapping on the door, then the creaking of the door slowly opening catches your attention, and you look over to see a very proud looking kingsguard.
"I must say little thief," Seonghwa glides towards you with a small smile on his perfect face, watching you attentively through his narrow eye, the other eye obstructed by his hair. "You do scrub up incredibly well."
Hopping off the window seat, you offer Seonghwa a grin of your own. His hair, as always, is not a single bit out of place, shiny black and hanging over his left eye. Uniform pristine and blacker than the night sky, with various medals and badges pinned to each breast.
"I could say the same about you, sire." You mockingly sweep down into a curtsey, and Seonghwa scoffs.
"Enough joking around," he says seriously. "Are you ready to go? His Majesty is just finishing his preparations, you must take your seat at the head table before he arrives."
Your blood runs cold, sudden panic sprinting through your body, and you're not sure whether this feeling is worse than the spells or not.
You nod, ignoring the anxieties, trusting Wooyoung's words and making a silent pact with yourself to have a good time.
"Excellent." Seonghwa holds his arm out to you, and with a final smirk leads you towards the door.
"Your elven prince awaits, m'lady."
hi! sorry this took so long to get out, things have been very busy lately! thank u for reading and i hope u enjoyed!
once again, the language for the spell is taken from the witcher 3′s elder speech!
firstly i apologise for how long this took me,,, university has been a nightmare and a blessing all in one and my sleep pattern is still getting worse
that being said,, here (finally) is chapter thirteen!
to those of you who have been waiting eagerly and showing your support, i thank you so much for giving me the motivation to keep this series going,
lots of love - hades x
Prophecy Masterlist
wc;2825
The next morning, Hongjoong called you, Yeosang and Wooyoung into his office to discuss your temporary residence. He had stood before you, like a teacher lecturing his naughty students and informed you that under no circumstances were any of you to perform magic.
Easy for you, you thought. You didn't even know how to use it.
"Witch hunters will be able to trace you if they detect any magical source coming from the kingdom," The king explained. "If there is rumour of any magic beings within my court, the other kingdoms will pick up on it immediately, and it will result in bloodshed."
The way Hongjoong had looked at the three of you as he instructed you was terrifying. It was bordering on begging, and deeper behind his golden eyes he looked frightened. And you supposed you would be too, if you had to go to war for such a ridiculous reason.
You could barely comprehend the thought of Yeosang and Wooyoung being killed just because they were non-human. It made it worse how they insisted it was okay because they were 'used to it', as if that justified anything.
Still, they complied to the king's request and agreed to not use any magic within the kingdom, especially in the castle and the grounds.
"We've managed to cover up your appearance here yesterday, so you don't need to be concerned about that. However, I am half tempted to charge you for causing emotional damage to my kingsguard. You gave him quite the fright."
You stifled a laugh at hearing the extent of Seonghwa's reaction to your intrusion, the scary kingsguard perhaps being much softer in demeanour than you had initially thought.
After the briefing, Hongjoong had dismissed you to once again talk over the prophecy with Yeosang and Wooyoung.
The astrologer had informed you that they were making steady progress, they had deciphered some of the constellation meanings and were working on how to avoid the outcomes of their predictions.
"It's very easy to avoid a war," Wooyoung had scoffed that morning whilst tying up his boot laces. "We needn't worry about the Ara constellation because we simply just do not engage in a war."
"But what if somebody goes to war with us?" You asked timidly, staring nervously at the floor.
Wooyoung paced over to you and gently raised your chin with the tip of his finger.
"We won't go to war, Iris. Nobody has any reason to go to war with us. Besides, you'd probably be more worried about the Ball than fighting in a battle."
He had ruffled your hair and swiftly left the room, leaving you gazing at the ceiling with a feeling in your chest you couldn't quite understand. Something had changed with you and Wooyoung recently; he'd been standing closer to you than usual, smiling at you more, being kinder than he used to and truthfully you had no idea what to make of it.
You thought that maybe he felt more comfortable in your presence considering you had to share a room with him.
But that didn't excuse the way your heart raced and stomach fluttered whenever he would flash his killer smile at you or whined like a puppy when you refused to share any of the cook's baked treats with him.
Your current course of action was to completely ignore every single one of those feelings. Either that or take a visit to Yunho and get him to perform a medical examination on you, because you were absolutely convinced you were dying slowly from the inside out. Had some kind of magical parasite burrowed into your skin while you slept and had gradually been sucking the life out of you without you noticing? Or maybe some evil witch had snuck into the kitchens, managed to figure out which delicious looking apple you had been eyeing up the previous afternoon, poison it and cackle mysteriously as she watched you take a giant bite of the apple through the window?
Or perhaps you had been reading too many fairytales and storybooks.
That was probably it.
Yet, you couldn't help yourself. Not when Hongjoong's castle had such a beautiful library, full to the brim with all ranges of books. Even though there was such an extensive selection, immediately you were drawn to the wonderfully illustrated tales of woeful princesses stuck in their towers, powerful dragons aiming to conquer worlds and daring wizards yearning for adventure.
You had yet to find a book about an angry king and his weak-hearted kingsguard, but you didn't really need to read a fictional account to experience that.
It wasn't like you had much to do either; the ball was still a few weeks away and you still weren't allowed to help Yeosang and Wooyoung with the prophecy under Hongjoong's guidance. You saw less and less of Mingi as his lute practice was being upped due to the fast-approaching ball. So you spent most of your days holed up in the corner of the typically empty library.
In fact, that was exactly what you planned on spending the whole day doing.
You raced down the intricately decorated hallways of the castle, brushing your fingertips against the crimson velvet sashes that hung from ceiling to floor. Sunlight filtered in gently through the stained-glass windows, leaving rainbow shards on the plush rugs underneath your boots. In time, you're outside the familiar library door, a much cooler shade of oak than the other doors in this hallway, you notice. It's smoother to the touch too, like whoever designed this room centuries ago took special care in it's creation.
Pushing the door open, you enter the library. The scent is slightly dusty, with a lingering smell of untouched parchment and slowly decaying leather. The room itself is huge, bookshelves line the walls from top to bottom, almost encaging you in with towers of tales and stories hidden within leather-bound shells. The wall to your right is bare of shelves, in its space is a large bay window, with a cushioned area for somebody to sit and read. Coincedentally, your favourite place to lounge and waste the day away getting lost in foreign, mystical worlds.
Unfortunately, your seat appears to be occupied.
"Excuse me," you call politely, making your way over to the lounging figure who has their nose buried in a book. "You're sitting in my spot."
His attention snaps to yours lightening fast. So fast that you're shocked he didn't give himself whiplash or any other injury.
His gaze, much like his face and eyes, are narrow. Slender cheekbones and an unimpressed scowl are directed your way and the feeling of regret settles deep in your core.
"Your spot?" He repeats with a scoff. "And who are you to claim this seat?"
He sets his book down onto the soft window-seat, and swings his long legs round so he can stand up. Even from a distance, you can tell he's got a considerable amount of height on him. Everything about him is slim; his nose, jaw, torso. He takes a couple of steps towards you, and you notice he makes little to no sound. Agile, you think. He reminds you of a cat, his attentive gaze unwavering from your puzzled face, the way he moves concise and utterly silent. Unruly, raven black hair swept atop his head and glittering golden eyes evoke memories of the black cats from home. Slinking quietly through the market stalls, stalking mice or keeping an eye out for danger.
"Iris, right?" he asks.
You nod. "Ye-"
"Wrong." He interrupts you before you finish speaking, and he's standing right before you. So close that if you look up you can see every fleck of fire in his eyes.
"W-what? What do you mean?"
"Your name isn't Iris at all, is it?"
How does he know that?
He smirks at you, thinking he's figured out your deepest darkest secret.
"No, it isn't. How did you know? Did Yeosang tell you?"
"I've been keeping an eye on you, because I don't trust you. Hongjoong may have let you and your friends into the castle without batting an eyelid, but I'm not as easily fooled as him."
"I don't know what you think I'm planning," you glare at him, astounded that he's actually accusing you of plotting something. "But you're greatly mistaken."
He remains silent for a few moments as he eyes you up and down, taking in your hand-me-down clothes (a mixture of Wooyoung and Yeosang's) and untidy, unkempt hair.
"When our name is called," he begins to explain. "We have a physical reaction. Our eyes light up, our ears perk up, our head swivels round as we try to identify who is calling for us."
"Your point?" Somehow you find it in you to challenge him, despite the fact his glare is weighing down on you so heavily you think your knees might actually buckle with pressure.
"You do none of these things when your name is called."
"Okay. So you know that Iris isn't my real name. Yeosang knows that too. Now what?"
"I think if you're going to be living in this castle, free of charge, without doing any work to earn your keep, the least you can do is give me your real name."
In any other circumstance, you would've told him to stick it. Probably with a punch, too. But there's something so intimidating about him, something so covertly dangerous that you can't decipher.
"And why should I tell you that when I don't even know your name?" you bite back, and you see the spark of realisation on his face that he is also a complete stranger to you.
"San." he replies simply.
"Haneul." you answer.
"Haneul?" San echoes. "You don't seem like a Haneul."
"People used to call me Hana."
"Hana? Like the number one?"
You nod.
"Yeosang just gave me the name Iris when I met him, by the way." A part of you felt compelled to explain why you were going by a different alias. Not that you owed San anything anyway. After all, he had been incredibly rude to you despite having met literally five minutes ago.
"And you didn't think to correct him?"
"Evidently not."
San rolls his eyes at your curt response, shaking his head a little and pushing his cheek from the inside with his tongue, the same way that Wooyoung does when he gets annoyed with you. You think that they'd probably get on quite well.
"So, do you actually do anything around here?" You throw the questions back in San's direction, feeling quite fed up of being interrogated for one day. "Or do you make a habit of ambushing young women in libraries and demanding their life stories?"
He gives you another unimpressed look before he goes back over to his book at the window-seat.
"I'm the Ateez court jester," he answers you calmly. "I entertain company with jokes, stories, songs, you name it."
"A jester? I thought you wore silly costumes and hats with bells on?"
San scowls at you from across the room. Does he actually know how to smile?
"You read too much." He deadpans. "I'm not a character in a storybook. I'm a person who has a job like everyone else here. I wear ordinary clothes, I don't wear a hat, and I do more than just tell jokes."
San crosses the room with an air of anger, yet he still manages to walk gracefully without making a sound. He places his book back on the shelf, then approaches you at the door.
"Now if you'll excuse me, I have a ball to prepare material for."
You side-step out of the way, and San slips past you and you listen as the soft pattering of his footsteps gradually fade, and then disappear altogether.
What the f-
"Oh, there you are!"
Wooyoung's lanky frame comes barreling into you, the slight panic laced in his voice making you worry.
"Here I am," you confirm. "What's wrong?"
"Hongjoong wants to see you." He breathes. "About the prophecy."
-----
"I've already told you! I don't know anything more than you do!"
Hongjoong had summoned you into his office, and the atmosphere in the room told you everything you needed to know. You could cut through it with a knife. A strong knife though, as the tension was so thick a regular butter knife wouldn't dent it one little bit. And the way Hongjoong was leaning against his desk with his arms fully stretched out, head hanging down and exhaling out of his nose like a furious cattle ready to charge.
You assumed that perhaps their work wasn't going swimmingly.
"The deadline to solve this is approaching fast, thief. Do you understand that? My people will die if we don't crack this soon."
"What exactly do you want me to do about it?" You angrily retort. "If you've forgotten, you've kept me in the dark for weeks!"
"Because you were of no use." Hongjoong replies simply. He wanders around the side of his desk and meanders his way to stand in front of you, his arms loosely behind his back.
"However, seeing as it was you who intially offered to help with the prophecy, I thought that perhaps reverting to our roots would prove more fruitful." He lowers himself slightly and stares at you directly with his dangerous, poisonous gaze.
His demand renders you silent. You stand frozen in his office, the worried glances of Yeosang and Wooyoung piercing into the back of your skull. You will your mouth to open and scream internally at yourself to speak, to say absolutely anything you can conjure to get out of the situation but nothing comes. Finally, the web of lies you've been spinning since day one is about to unravel itself.
And you can do nothing except for watch.
Is this where you get caught out? After so long? You were beginning to like it here too; the beautiful garden, getting closer to Wooyoung, making friends with Mingi. You had even planned to ask him to teach you how to play the lute. Hell, even making enemies with San was something you were looking forward to. And you hadn't tried the cook's famous apple pie that Mingi raved about. No. No, instead Hongjoong was going to catch out your lies, the stories you had told him and he was going to lock you up in the prison under the castle for the rest of your life. You were going to die, ancient, magicless, friendless, alone, all because you couldn't just tell the damn truth. What were you doi-
"What if it isn't a man?" your tongue expertly blurts out the first thing your racing brain can pluck out of thin air to try and save your back, and you have to stop yourself from squeaking out in shock.
"What do you mean?" Hongjoong asks, with genuine curiousity written across his features.
"Well, the prophecy says Man, doesn't it? But you've been taking it literally. As in, A Man. But what if it means anyone from the human race?"
Hongjoong stands stunned before you for a few seconds, as if he physically cannot comprehend what you have suggested.
"Are you suggesting that a woman will destroy my kingdom?"
"I-, well, no-"
"I think what Iris is trying to say," Yeosang pushes himself off the wall he was leaning against and approaches you and Hongjoong. "Is that we should broaden our horizons a little bit. You know, branch out from searching monstrously powerful men. Look into witches, sirens, even dragons and the like."
"None of those are human, mage." Hongjoong sneers.
Yeosang merely shrugs in response.
"Just a suggestion. Besides, Iris is right. It doesn't state a singular man. The gods haven't always made sense, have they? Perhaps expanding our criteria would be a good thing."
"It could also be somebody disguised as a human," Wooyoung pipes up. "Like a shape-shifter or even a halfling."
"Halfling?" you echo, confused.
"Somebody that is half human and half something else." Yeosang explains. "So a half human half elf would be called a halfling, as would a half human half giant and so on."
"So you really think that we might have something worse than a human on our hands?" Hongjoong asks. He nibbles his bottom lip in a way that makes you concerned for him. It's that moment you remember that he is an exceedingly young king, and that at times he's probably way out of his depth.
He pulls his tawny fur coat tighter over his shoulders and straightens up his posture. It reminds you of a wild fox, and his mannerisms in themselves remind you of a fox cub too. He moves quietly (a running theme of the key figures in this castle, you've noticed), and when he's calm he appears very serene.
You, Wooyoung and Yeosang all nod, and Hongjoong takes that as a sign to proceed.
"Very well. I will have orders out to search and interrogate anyone, and anything that seems suspicious. Let's hope we're right."
hi my loves! probably the last update of the year so in advance, happy holidays and a wonderful new year to all my lovely readers! i adore every single one of you <3
Prophecy Masterlist
wc; 3199
No. Absolutely not. Not a chance in hell.
"We've been through this, Iris." Yeosang sighs. "You have to go!"
You stare up at your mentor, gritting your teeth and trying to contain your rage as best you can. He had found you in the castle gardens, sitting contentedly amoung the radiant blooms to completely ruin your day by telling you Hongjoong was arranging dancing lessons for you.
Because you didn't 'look as though you knew how to dance', apparently. (He was right.)
The prospect of going to the ball was bad enough, let alone have one of his stupid cronies teach you how to dance.
"Why can't you teach me?" you splutter, bursting into your room in an attempt to get away from him.
"Because I won't be dancing." he explains, following you into the room and standing in the threshold. "I'm just a guest. But you, you're an honourary guest."
Honourary guest?! What does that even mean?!
In the end, Yeosang pleads with you to please just do as he asks, and not to cause a fuss. So reluctantly, you agree. He tells you that he doesn't know who your dance teacher will be, and that you should also look for a dance partner to go to the ball with.
"You can't attend a ball alone." Yeosang says as if that is common knowledge.
He turns to walk away, but suddenly remembers something he had forgotten to tell you.
"You also have a dress fitting, by the way. You'll have to talk to Hongjoong or someone about it."
And with that he leaves your room, missing the way you collapse onto your bed with an overwhelmed grunt.
A ball, a dance partner, an elegant ball gown? It was all too much at once, especially for somebody who had never been introduced to anything remotely regal before. How were you supposed to act? What were you meant to say? What if the others could tell you came from a poor background and laughed at you? How were you supposed to dance in a dress? What if-
"Hey, are you alright?"
You snap your head up to the door frame, where the sight of Wooyoung's concerned face soothes your growing panic. He strides across the room and sits down beside you, throwing an arm over your shoulder and pulling you against his chest. He's wearing a billowy white shirt, which you've noticed he likes to leave fairly unbuttoned, plain black trousers and shiny black boots, that you assume have just been freshly polished.
"Are you alright?" He echoes his previous question, knitting his eyebrows together and leaning closer to your face, causing you to flush and rapidly turn your head away.
"Yes," you lie. "I'm just worried about the ball, that's all."
"You're worried? Why? It's going to be so much fun!"
Glancing up at him, you notice how genuinely excited he is, and it settles your worries for a split second. You imagine Wooyoung is an excellent dancer, incredibly graceful on his feet and one who loses himself to the feeling of the music.
"I have no idea how to dance." you shyly admit.
"Really?" The elf shoots up, grabbing your arms along the way. He tugs you roughly so you're standing before him, yet he fails to understand his own strength, and you crash into his chest. Luckily he catches you, with your arms trapped uncomfortably between you both, and he grins, hot breath fanning over your face.
"Then I'll teach you."
"Is that so?" You question sarcastically, wrenching yourself from his grip to hide how flustered you are.
Wooyoung pulls your body back towards him, this time wrapping your arms around his slim neck and settling one his large hands comfortably on your waist.
"Yes." He answers confidently. "All good elves know how to dance."
You glare up at him for a few moments, but you quickly realise his mind is set, and that he isn't letting you go anytime soon. So you yield, relaxing your arms and your legs and Wooyoung grins triumphantly as you do so.
"First of all," he instructs you. "You move your left foot backwards, and simultaneously, I move my left foot forwards.
Hesitantly, you take a step back with only your left leg, and Wooyoung follows suit and moves his left forward.
"See?" He breathes, smiling warmly at you. "Just like that."
He takes you through some more steps, moving your right leg this time, how to move your torso fluidly, and not 'shifting it bulkily from one place to another like an orc'. He teaches you where you should rest your hands, one on his shoulder, and the other clasped firmly, but not tightly, in his own. He scolds you for being too tense, grabbing you by the shoulders and shaking you like a ragdoll to loosen you up a bit.
Soon, the two of you are twirling about your shared bedroom. Clumsily twirling, but twirling nonetheless. Wooyoung's grip on you is gentle, guiding and despite how cheesy it sounds, it's right. In the last few weeks you've felt increasingly comfortable around him. He is your comfort zone, your safe space and happy place all rolled into one, lanky, pointy-eared, star-loving, amethyst-eyed living being. It's shocking too, how long it has taken you to realise just how much you care about him.
And it's shocking how you remain oblivious to how he feels the exact same way.
To the way his heart speeds up when he knows you're close, the way his stomach lurches when your hand squeezes his as you spin around the room. His gaze on you growing softer as you both relax into each other's hold. Even to the way he subtley glances at you when you're both attending meeting with the king. Like he knows deep down it's wrong, that the two of you shouldn't be getting close in this way.
But it makes him so happy.
And that's all Wooyoung wants.
And heaven knows what Yeosang would say if he found out about Wooyoung's feelings for you.
But he'll cross that bridge when he comes to it, he thinks, and decides to instead concentrate on not stepping on your toes and not letting his hand accidentally fall too far down your waist.
You both continue to dance in silence. There's a definitive lack of music in the room, but you're both hearing the same melody in your heads, feeling the same beat in your bones and nothing could interrupt the harmony between you.
Wooyoung guides you once more through the room, but this time, in one grand gesture, dips you down whilst keeping a secure hand in the middle of your back. You tip your head backwards and close your eyes, trusting that Wooyoung won't let you fall.
Your eyes pop open to see Wooyoung leaning over you, his face so close to yours you can feel his breath on you.
"See?" He pants, flashing his killer smile. "You're a natural."
You shrug shyly, and he pulls you up so you're both stood facing one another.
"So, about the ball..." Wooyoung begins, suddenly looking nervously down at the floor and beginning to play with your fingers. "Can I tak-"
"Iris!" You and Wooyoung jump apart at Yeosang's bellow into the room. "I've been looking everywhere for you! Where on earth have you-"
Yeosang stops in his tracks, taking in the sight before him; Wooyoung's hands planted firmly on your waist, the deep blush spread across your cheeks.
"What are you two doing?" He asks suspiciously. No answer. "Whatever. Iris, you're late for your dance lessons. And Wooyoung, Hongjoong wants to speak with you."
Wooyoung bows his head respectfully, shot you a half sad smile and quickly hurries out of the room. Yeosang's curious gaze watches after him, then the mage suddenly turns to you.
"Well?" he snaps. "Off you go!"
With a start, you jump and scuttle off towards the grand hall where your mystery dance instructor was waiting for you.
Panic begins to flow through you then; who are they? Do they dance better than Wooyoung? Probably not. Are they going to be a strict teacher? You don't think you could handle anybody barking orders at you today.
You round the corner and discover the giant doors held open, not firmly closed like they usually are. Standing in the threshold, you take in the sight before you.
A collosal hall, stretching so far either side of you, you think it could probably fit double the entire kingdom's population within it. The floors are a pristine, freshly polished beige tile that looks perfect to dance on. You can imagine how amazing the clicking sounds of twirling heels would sound ricocheting off each of the mountain-high, stone walls. Embedded into the walls are multiple stained-glassed depictions. To name a few, you spot a man of impressive stature working away at his glass anvil, smithing something you've never seen before, something both round and spiky. You'll ask Yeosang later, you think. He'll know. On another window, there's powerful bears made out of honey-coloured glass, tearing into their prey; a venison of sorts. Through the years, the crimson dye of the wound had bled through the other panels, making it look as if the venison truly was writhing in pain and trying to escape the picture.
You frown.
The long, mahogany tables are pushed against the wall opposite you, presumably to create space for your lessons. There are benches stacked atop them neatly, and you salute the poor soul who was forced to put them there.
To your left, set proudly on a platform so as to raise its occupant higher than everybody else, is the throne. The centerpiece, the main focus, the pièce de résistance, is Hongjoong's special, reserved seat. Carved out of the richest, darkest wood the entire continent has to offer, you know that there probably isn't a finer throne to be seen. The backrest boasts an intricate design of swirls and stars, which run all the way across the armrests and even down to the bottom of the seat. The ends of the armrests curl inwards, and then curl in on themselves even more like a snailshell. A velvet cushion the colour of Wooyoung's vibrant amethyst eyes sits on the seat of the chair and you can't even begin to comprehend how comfortable it must be.
What catches your attention most though, is the exquisite, intricately detailed fox head, sculpted into the middle of the backrest. The light from the vast windows behind the throne shines through the gaps in the carving, forming the face of the fox in a natural way.
You imagine Hongjoong lounging in the chair, glittering crown upon his head, royal cloak draped over the armrests as he watches his subjects with a bored expression. The king strikes you as somebody who would find balls and banquets just as mundane as you do.
Seonghwa is stood in the middle of the hall, facing your direction and is mid-conversation with somebody else. He spots you and waves you over, extending a long arm well above his head. The other person turns to face you, and you scowl as your eyes meet with-
"San." you growl as you approach the men.
"Good morning, Iris." he smiles at you, but the look in his eyes is pure poison.
The kingsguard doesn't catch on however, and claps his hands togther before addressing you both.
"Great, you're finally here! San here," he gestures to the younger man who is sporting an incredibly unimpressed frown. "will be teaching you how to dance, and how one should conduct themselves at a royal function."
"Lovely." you speak through gritted teeth.
Seonghwa wishes the two of you luck, and informs you he will be back in two hours to check your progress. If you haven't gotten any better, he says, you'll have to keep practising until Hongjoong decides you're good enough.
Brilliant. A minimum of two hours being stuck with an-
"Idiot." San snarls. "You're holding your arms completely wrong."
You glance at your arms which are rung hesitantly around his neck.
"Shut up, clown. My arms are perfectly fine."
"I'm a jester, not a clown." He seethes. And no, your arms are too heavy. You need to relax them, or you'll crush the poor soul who has the misfortune of dancing with you."
You glare furiously at him, but relax your arms nonetheless. As much as it bruises your dignity to listen to him, you don't want to spend any longer with this insufferable human being than you have to.
"Fine." you huff, and let your arms hang more loosely.
"Better." San nods.
Luckily, your training with Wooyoung proved extremely helpful. You could see on San's face he was impressed with the way you moved your feet less clumsily than he had originally anticipated. Of course, he wouldn't ever admit that to you. Dancing with San was fairly straightforward, but it felt totally different to dancing with Wooyoung.
Probably because you couldn't stand San's guts. But whatever.
San's hands on your waist were easy to ignore, the fact that his face was ridiculously close to yours didn't bother you in the slightest. Almost the polar opposite to the way your heart would race and your palms would sweat when Wooyoung even breathed near you. All you could hear was the echoing of shoes on the polished tile floor and San's steady breathing in your ear.
The jester was in the middle of teaching you a new step when Seonghwa entered the room, tailed by a certain, nervous looking elf.
"So," Seonghwa looked at San. "how's it going?"
"Well. She seems to know what she's doing." San replied simply.
You shot Wooyoung a knowing, shy glance and his heart lurched up into this throat.
"Satisfactory enough for the ball?"
"Most likely, your time will be better spent teaching her royal manners rather than dancing."
You glare at San, about to berate him for insulting you, but you're interrupted.
"What exactly are you implying?" Wooyoung spits, his pupils narrowing in anger.
"The pigs in the courtyard have more elegance than she does." San retorts. "Step down, elf, I wouldn't try anything. I'm sure you're more than aware of what your fate will be if you even dare to start anything."
Wooyoung grits his teeth, knowing full well what would happen to him. He growls lowly in frustration before falling back to your side, and you can almost feel the anger radiating off him.
"Anyway..." Seonghwa's gaze flicks between the three of you, awkwardly trying to defuse the situation. "I think we'll leave the dancing lessons at that for now. San, join Mingi in the music room. There's a new routine for both of you to go over."
San nods, shoots both you and Wooyoung an irritated look, before hurrying proudly out of the hall.
"Apologies for him." Seonghwa addresses you both, straightening his posture and fixing the black strand of hair that hangs over his left eye. "He doesn't take to newcomers very well, I'm sure he'll warm up to you both in no time."
He adjusts his pristine uniform, bows shortly to you and follows San out of the room, leaving you and the elf alone in the hall.
"How stra-"
"Go to the ball with me."
"W-what?"
Peering up at Wooyoung, you notice his pupils are still dilated in fury. His nostrils are flared too, yet he speaks in the same calm tone he always holds.
"Go to the ball with me." He repeats, this time grabbing your hand tenderly in his and bending his head down a little to match your height. "Nobody has asked you already, have they?"
"No, but-"
"Then, I would be honoured if you would accompany me to the dance."
"Wooyoung I-" you lock eye contact with him, searching his amethyst eyes for any hint of malice or intent to humiliate you, but you find none.
He's dead serious.
And just like that, you're frozen. Of course your brain is screaming at you to say yes, and your heart is roaring at you to say yes. In fact, every part of you is blaring 'say yes', but the shock renders you speechless. You could sense something between you and Wooyoung had changed, but does this mean Wooyoung had sensed it too?
Sure, friends could dance at balls together too but-
It was different.
"Yes." you blurt, finally. "I would love to."
His face lights up like a kingdom parade, his eyes practically sparkle in the light and he smiles wider than you've ever seen, flashing a glimpse of his sharper, elfin canines.
"Really?" he grins. "Okay. Okay!"
"You're going to have to teach me more dancing, I'm still pretty bad at it."
"Nonsense." He says, leaning down to kiss the tip of your nose. "You're an excellent dancer."
Wooyoung waves goodbye to you then, stating he has some 'important business to attend to, immediately'
You wave back meekly, stunned from the peck on your nose. He disappears into the hallway and now your worries about the ball have increased tenfold. Now that you actually have somebody to impress? You'll be tripping over your feet and stepping all over Wooyoung's toes. But the thought of Wooyoung wanting to go with you makes you feel giddy.
So giddy in fact you practically skip up the castle stairs to your room. You grab your cloak and sling it over your shoulders, yanking the hood up and over to hide as much as your face as possible.
Like a ghost, you pad through the hallways until you're met with a small side-door underneath the stairs that you're convinced nobody knows about. Perhaps only San and Mingi, but they're busy. You steal out the door, closing it silently behind you. Rushing through the dingy stone hallway, you find another door with sunlight filtering out underneath it.
Just what you were looking for.
-----
You push the door open with a determined hand, flinching slightly as the bell above you obnoxiously announces your arrival.
"Welcome to the Ateez Apothecary! What can I- oh, why, long time no see, little lady!"
"Afternoon, Yunho." You respond to his usual, cheery grin with a small smile of your own. He's as tall and baby-faced as ever, this time donning a summery blonde mop in place of the gingerbread hair he had the last time you saw him.
"No Yeosang with you today?" He notices. "You're not doing anything sneaky, are you?" he chuckles playfully, fully expecting you to laugh along.
But you don't. You keep your face kind, but serious as you reply.
"Actually... yes. Kind of."
Yunho's face falls a little, but an intrigued glint flickers in his eyeballs.
"Oh? And am I correct in assuming you require my assisstance? And that you would prefer it if this was kept from Yeosang's knowledge?"
You nod.
Yunho smirks, leaning forward onto his elbows on the wooden countertop.
"Then what exactly can I help you with?"
You adjust your hood anxiously, biting your lip as you watch Yunho's excited demenour. You wonder if this is something that you should be doing. The obvious answer being no. But you refuse to be a pushover. You refuse to blindly follow the rules put in place by other people who have no obligation to follow those same rules. And you know that there's nobody else who would help you. Except maybe Yunho.
hello!!! sorry this took an entire month to get out! life has been manic recently, but finally here is chapter 12!
i’m not sure how i feel about this one but i wanted to get it out so as always thoughts and opinions are welcome! enjoy!
Prophecy Masterlist
wc; 2966
Seonghwa was not impressed at your sudden arrival, dropping the book in his hands and creasing his immaculate black uniform as he jumped back in fright.
"What are you doing!?" He screeched at the three of you, a clumsy pile of limbs on the floor of his study. In fact, he had screamed so loudly that the king himself came barreling through the doors with panic written all over his face.
"Oh." Hongjoong rolls his eyes at the sight of you, Wooyoung and Yeosang clambering over each other like an energetic litter of puppies. "It's you."
"Nice to see you too, your majesty." Yeosang mocks, managing to escape from the cluster of bodies and stand up, brushing dirt and dust from his clothes whilst you try and wrestle Wooyoung off you.
"Can you explain why you've just... appeared in my office!?" Seonghwa shrieks. He's clutching at his chest, eyes still blown wide in fright. So much for the intimidating kingsguard you know and love.
Yeosang sighs and runs a hand over his face, up through his platinum hair before he settles for picking the dirt from underneath his fingernails. Something he only does when he's stressed, you've noticed. His eyes, shocking cobalt blue flicker between You and Wooyoung (now standing), Hongjoong and Seonghwa.
Why was he so nervous?
"We ran into a spot of trouble," The mage begins to explain, avoiding the steely gaze of the king. "Wooyoung here, our astrologer, was already targeted by a bunch of witch hunters when we recruited his help. We managed around a week or so of work on the prophecy-"
"Where?" Hongjoong barks. "This pathetic tale of woe means nothing to me unless you provide any evidence, mage. That is what i employed you to do, after all."
Yeosang flushes a furious red and anger flashes up inside you. People spoke to the mage in any manner they fancies, and Yeosang had never let it bother him, until now. You'd never seen him like this; shoulders hunched in humiliation, eyes darting across the room nervously as he plays with his fingers and the hem of his shirt.
You hated it.
But you say nothing, instead keeping your mouth quiet and gently grasping the sleeve of Wooyoung's white, billowy shirt and watching Yeosang embarrass himself in front of the king.
"We were attacked, twice." The elf speaks up. "We gathered as much work as we could before we left my home, but we were ambushed at Yeosang's house too."
"Ambushed?" The king echoed. "By whom?"
"We'll talk about that later," Yeosang mutters, throwing a look in your direction which thankfully, you don't catch. "I apologise for disturbing you at the castle, but this was the first place I could think of where would be safe."
Yeosang looks over to Seonghwa, who had regained his physical composure, but still looked a little spooked in the eyes.
Hongjoong stood before you, glaring between the three of you as he thought over his options.
"Let me examine the work you've done so far." He demands suddenly. "Then I shall decide what to do with you."
"What about me?" You pipe up, correct in your assumption that there's absolutely no way the king would let you help.
He dismisses you with a wave of his hand. "Explore the castle, the grounds, whatever, I don't care. Just don't make a mess or disturb my staff."
After retrieving all the wads and rolls of parchments from your pockets and socks, Hongjoong leads Yeosang, Seonghwa and Wooyoung out of the office and down the hall, presumably to his own study upstairs.
You figure that perhaps the gardens would be a good place to look around. Maybe you'd find Hongjoong's queen wandering amoungst the flowers, barefoot and clad in a snowy, flowing dress. Or maybe your own royal fantasies were merging too much with reality. You didn't even know if Hongjoong had a queen. You doubt that anybody would be able to put up with his obnoxious, bossy personality, let alone marry him.
Still, you skip down the steps and stroll mindlessly throughout the castle trying to find a door that leads you outside. Eventually, you come across the kitchen, where you find somebody ransacking the contents of the cupboards.
"Are you a thief?" You ask loudly, scaring the burglar in the process, who ends up dropping the loaf of bread he was attempting to stuff up his shirt.
"No!" He declares, and whips around to plead his innocence. "I work here!"
He's a giant, lanky young man, with a cloud of red hair covering most of his eyes. His pointy nose and plush lips are gentle and youthful , a total opposite to his sheer height and narrow eyes.
"If you work here, why are you stealing?"
"I was hungry." He pouts, dropping his shoulders a little in the shame of being caught.
"I won't tell if you share." You offer, which he immediately accepts, tearing the loaf in half and handing it out to you from one of his massive hands.
"I'm Mingi by the way," he says through a mouthful of bread, spraying crumbs all over the kitchen tiles. "I'm the king's bard."
"Iris." you reply simply, and take a bite out of your own hunk of bread. "You're a bard? What's that?"
Mingi strides past you, out of the kitchen and back the way you came in and you decide you have no other choice but to follow him like a lost child.
He turns left and shoves a slightly ajar wooden door open with the sole of his freshly polished boot, flying down the steps and you have a hard time keeping up with him.
"I entertain the king's guests," he explains as he takes you down more stairs. "Balls, parties, celebrations, I simply play the lute and sing for the people."
"Do you enjoy it?"
Mingi blushes almost as deep a red as his hair and stops at a huge, iron gate.
"I'm not a very good singer, so I tried another technique, where I speak words incredibly fast but keeping to a rhythm and a beat. But the king doesn't allow me to do it in company, so I just stick to the lute."
"What do you call this... speaking very fast technique?" you question.
The bard's eyes light up at your reply, the poor boy not used to somebody taking interest in his passion.
"I call it rapping!" he grins. "It's a name in progress, though!" you can't help but reciprocate Mingi's wide smile, finding his child-like excitement endearing.
He unlatches the gate and motions for you to go ahead, shutting the gate behind him and pointing towards the gorgeous gardens in front of you.
"This garden is the king's pride and joy," Mingi says. You reach out brush your fingers against flowers and foliage that you've never seen before. Sunny yellows and ocean blues stretch out as far as your eyes can see, with lush greens entwined within each and and every pot and planter in the area. He leads you to the center of the garden, to a circular planter filled to the brim with icy white and soft pink flowers.
"These are carnations," he says gently. "after the king's mother died, he ordered the gardener to plant an entire box full of them."
"It's very beautiful." you nod.
"Carnations, particularly pink ones, symbolize a mother's love. And the white ones mean innocence and pure love." Mingi smiles warmly. "Nobody loved the queen as much as her only son, her death struck him terribly."
You could only find it in you to nod again. The sudden impact of the hidden, emotional meaning behind the centerpiece weighing down on you heavily. A mother's love is entirely different from any other feeling in the world, you guessed.
"The first winter after the king had them planted, we expected the flowers to die as a result of the harsh weather, but they didn't. In fact, these petals are the same as when they were planted all those years ago. The king would never admit it to anyone, but he thinks her love is still present in the castle, and it radiates so strongly it refuses to let the flowers die."
"What do you think?" you ask quietly. Mingi looks up at you from his crouching position by the planter.
"It doesn't matter what I think. It gives the king great comfort, so who am I to challenge that?"
"Yeah," you frown. "You're right."
"Iris! There you are! I've been looking for you for ages!" You snap your attention to the gate and see Wooyoung charging towards you, waving his arm so frantically that you think it might tear off.
Wooyoung stands beside you, about to reach out to clasp your shoulder before he notices Mingi's crouched figure on the ground.
"Who are you?" The elf asks, in an almost protective way.
The bard stands up, displaying his much bigger height advantage over the two of you, and you stifle a laugh as you feel Wooyoung shrink beside you.
But the innocent Mingi offers his hand out to the astrologer and bursts out his kindly smile.
"I'm Mingi!" He and Wooyoung shake hands briefly, Wooyoung taken aback from the bard's warm demeanor. "I'd best go, I have lute practice soon and the king would have my head if I missed it again, he doesn't really approve of San and I stealing his swords and playfighting with them, especially when I have lute practice... See you later!"
The tall red-head rushes off up the cobbled path towards the gate, and you watch him hurtle back up the castle steps before he disappears inside completely.
"Watch out for him," Wooyoung sniffs. "I don't like the way he looks at you."
"Looks at me?" you scoff. "And what exactly do you mean by that?"
"He- He looks at you like you're a piece of meat."
"No he does not!" you splutter, feeling the heat rise up on your cheeks. "Besides, even if he did it has nothing to do with you, Wooyoung!"
You manage to keep your glare fixed on him, shocked and somewhat mortified that he brought that up with you. His amethyst eyes burn into your own and there's silence between you for a few, long moments. He's the first to break eye contact, glancing towards the castle with his tongue in his cheek, before he turns back to you with a new found air of calm.
"I came to tell you that Hongjoong is letting us stay here, in the castle while we finish conducting our research."
"Really?! That's great-"
"The only problem is," Wooyoung interrupts you. "There's only two rooms available, and Yeosang called dibs on the single."
"What does that mean, Wooyoung?" you demand dangerously, gritting your teeth and balling your fists, because if he says what you think he's about to say then-
"We have to share a room."
Gods help you.
"Please tell me... please tell me there are two beds."
"What? Yes of course there's two beds."
"Great!" you yell sarcastically. "Any other wonderful news you have to tell me?"
"Yes actually, there is one more thing."
"And what would that be?"
"Hongjoong says that because we're technically residents of the castle for the foreseeable future, we have to attend the ball in a few weeks time."
"Attend the what!?"
-----
"The Ball?" Hongjoong repeats cooly, "What about it?"
"I refuse to attend." You turn your nose up at him, having barged into his private quarters with Wooyoung trailing behind you, nursing a bleeding nose (courtesy of yours truly).
"I'm afraid you simply have no choice, Iris." The king sighs and shrugs on his tawny furred coat. "It's my Ball, you live in my castle, so I decide who attends, and who doesn't. Do I make myself clear?"
"But-"
"I said, Do I make myself clear?" Hongjoong's knees are bent slightly so he's directly face to face with you and his tone replicates that of an adult talking to a child they've just caught misbehaving.
You stay quiet, keeping your mouth closed and shooting Hongjoong an angry stare instead.
"Good." He says patronisingly, even ruffling your hair before he casually exits the room.
"Maybe the Ball will be fun?" Wooyoung tries, shrugging a little and keeping a distance from you, the dull ache in his nose a stark reminder not to piss you off anymore.
"I doubt it." you sigh, and with a final huff, you too march out of the room and make a beeline for the garden you and Mingi were sat in earlier in the day.
To the same garden that occupied your thoughts as you lay awake in bed that night, Wooyoung's deep breathing on the other side of the room. You couldn't get the image of a heartbroken, young Hongjoong out of your mind. You imagined him ordering the gardener around, organising his own pattern of pink and white carnations the exact way he wanted in order to commemorate his late mother.
At times, you didn't know what to make of Hongjoong and his hot and cold personality; he could be incredibly harsh and unforgiving, but kind and merciful in the same breath, and it was confusing. But you supposed even the most cruel people could still feel love. You wondered if Mingi had ever loved anyone. A girlfriend? His music? The people that he worked with? After all, there are many different types of love; romantic, familial, platonic, the list goes on. And what about Yeosang? Did he have parents who showered him with affection? Was he married before he became a recluse in his stunning little shack? Did everybody feel love?
"Wooyoung?" you blurt out suddenly in the darkness.
"Yes?" He replies almost immediately, making you jump in your skin.
"Have you ever felt love?"
The elf remains silent for a few moments before speaking, and you hear him turn over onto his side to face you.
"Once. I was in love, and I thought they were in love with me too."
"You thought?" you whisper.
"Yes. It turned out they had used me for my skills, for my work. It was so long ago now that I can hardly remember, but we lived together in a kingdom not too far from here. One morning, I woke up to find they were gone. No note, no hint as to where they might be. So I waited. I waited and waited for them to return for weeks."
"And then what happened?" You voice had reduced to barely a whisper, speaking so lightly as if even the quietest of sounds could shatter the heavy air in the room.
"About a month or so after they had disappeared, the kingdom guards tried to arrest me. They had turned me in to them, claiming that I was plotting against the kingdom, and of course all they had to do was to take one look at an elf and that was enough grounds to declare me guilty." You caught the way Wooyoung's voice cracked at he finished his sentence, and you felt your own heart shatter.
"I'm so sorry, Woo. That's awful."
"It was so long ago now, but the pain doesn't disappear, it just gets easier to deal with."
After a few moments deliberating, you slip out of bed and pad over to Wooyoung's.
"Are you okay?" you ask him gently.
"I'm fine." He replies dryly, but you don't miss the sniffle or the tear rolling down his cheek and how it glistens in the moonlight filtering in through the window.
Which is why you shove lightly at his shoulder to make him move over, and you crawl in beside him. You wrap your arms around his torso and bury your face into his chest. He freezes momentarily, before pulling you close and frowning into your hair.
"Don't get used to this." You deadpan. "I'm only doing this because you're sad."
Wooyoung chuckles and you can feel it rumble in his chest against your head. The two of you lay in silence and admittedly, it's nice. He exudes a warmth and a comfort you hadn't noticed before now, and the way his hand lays gently on the back of your head is soothing. It breaks your heart how somebody could have their entire world destroyed and still show compassion and affection.
"What about you?" The elf whispers softly. "Have you ever felt love?"
You shake your head.
"No. I hadn't really been shown kindness either, up until I met Yeosang."
"What about your parents?"
"I-" You inhale deeply and screw your eyes shut; you hadn't told anybody about your previous life, who you used to be. In a way, you liked the separation between the two different versions of you. This one was worth something, actually meant something to people whilst the older version of you was just... there.
"I didn't know my parents." You answer. "I grew up in an orphange, and I would steal from the local market in order to survive."
Wooyoung says nothing, just lays there running his palm up and down your back.
"That was how I ended up here, actually. I got caught stealing, and my only option was to get in a boat and row off as far as I could. Then I ran into that giant storm and- well, you know the rest."
"Does Yeosang know this?"
You shake your head once more.
"I didn't want him to think less of me, for doing the things I did. I- I have a purpose thanks to him, I don't want to let him down and show him I'm less than what I am now." Tears threaten to pour out of your eyes, so you bury your face deeper into Wooyoung's shirt.
"He wouldn't think any less of you for that, Iris. I'm sure of it. He cares a great deal about you, you know. I think he'd rather give his own life over yours." The elf begins to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear over and over again, creating a calming pattern that makes your eyes slide closed.
"Go to sleep," he whispers. "You must be exhausted."
And so you do, feeling the most loved you've ever felt.
And you had to admit, your affections for the Elven mage were growing. Quickly.
The past evenings had consisted mainly of Wooyoung and Yeosang plotting in the tower, while you sat idley by and attempted to help to no avail. It was really beginning to frustrate you now; how the mage would constantly remind you how it was your fault, yet he wouldn't let you help them.
They had both insisted it was 'too dangerous for a young girl to get involved in', as if anything about your lifestyle was remotely safe.
You had argued with Yeosang on the second evening, demanding that they let you get involved, that you might be able to provide something useful. But they had once again dismissed you, telling you that even if they did tell you, you wouldn't understand it anyway.
So you spent your evenings outside, plucking flowers and knotting them together until the sun disappears and the petals become as dark as Wooyoung's hair.
You sigh and throw yourself back down onto the grass, exhaling heavily in irritation.
All you wanted to do was help, to suggest something that could be important. And the fact they won't let you just because you're a girl was ridiculous. If they blamed it on the fact they were more educated on the stars or whatever, you'd probably understand more. But because you're not a male?
Ludicrous.
You lay there, staring up at the sky and stewing in your emotions until finally, your aggravation finally gets the best of you, and you fly upright, charging up the stairs of the tower and bursting into Wooyoung's room, where you find the mage and the astrologer deep in discussion.
"I want to help." you declare, hands on your hips as you watch Yeosang roll his eyes at you.
"Iris, we told yo-"
"I don't care, Yeosang." you snap, Wooyoung's eyes widening a little in shock. "I'm tired of you pushing me aside! I want to help you. Isn't this my fault in the first place?"
"Well yes bu-"
"Then let me help, for goodness sake!"
Yeosang stands frozen, taken aback by your sudden outburst. Were you really that mad at him?
"Okay, fine. You can help." Wooyoung shrugs.
"Wooy-"
"What? She wants to help, let her help."
Wooyoung motions you over to the table littered with parchments, while Yeosang recovers from being interrupted once again. If the mage had known how adamant you were on assisting them, he would've let you.
He had promised himself, the day he found you half-dead on the beach and decided to take you under his wing, that he would do his best to protect you, even if it killed him. He simply couldn't live with himself if he had yet more blood on his hands. But he knew that you were a force to be reckoned with, determined as you were stubborn. Maybe keeping you in the dark would have worse concequences than letting you help.
Yeosang joins the two of you at the table, opting to stay silent as Wooyoung gathers together the diagrams and papers they had been deciphering for hours.
"Yeosang and I have been studying all relevant constellations from the important dates noted in the prophecy," Wooyoung begins, his serious expression constrasted by the way his amethyst eyes light up with passion whenever he talks about the stars. "And the first mentioned date, many, many moons ago, is the first time the Monster in the prophecy attempts to destroy the kingdom."
"Monster?" you echo. "I thought it was just a man?"
"The writings describe him in many ways; monster, beast, man." Yeosang explains. "There's hardly a difference between them."
"Constellation wise," the elf continues. "the single most prevalent form is that of Ara. You are familiar, yes?"
Wooyoung takes your wide-eyed silence in the negative.
"Ara is a constellation named after the altar where the gods formed an alliance before entering war with the Titans."
"Okay.." you trail off, not quite sure how that relates to any of your situation. "And what does that mean for us?"
Wooyoung bites his lip, glancing towards Yeosang before settling his gaze back on you.
"It could possibly indicate a war between Ateez and another kingdom. For what reason, I'm yet to discover."
"A war!?" you shriek, and both Yeosang and Wooyoung place a hand on each of your shoulders to calm you down.
"It's not certain!" Wooyoung tries to reassure you, but he falls on deaf ears.
"I can't fight in a war!" you cry. "I don't know any combat, I don't know any magic! I'm going to die!"
Yeosang grabs you tightly at arms length, leaning down a little to match your line of sight.
"You won't die in a war, Iris!" Yeosang explodes, ignoring the concern on the elven man's face. "We won't let you, I won't let you. Understand?"
You nod, Yeosang's direct (and slightly harshly toned) claim settling your nerves for the time being. Perhaps it's time to pester him again about teaching you some magic.
Yeosang redirects your attention back to the astrologer, who is holding a new set of pictures and messy scrawlings.
"The second constellation I noted was that of Cetus, which was present on a different occasion where the monsterous being turned up to wreak havoc on Ateez. Cetus was also present recently, specifically on the date where you washed up on Yeosang's beach after a nasty storm."
"And what does Cetus have to do with the storm?" you ask.
"In mythology, Cetus was some kind of sea monster," Wooyoung explains, and you have to hide your awe at how much knowledge one person could have. "Typically described as a serpent, whale, shark, what-have-you, Cetus was sent by Poseidon to punish Queen Cassiopeia and her daughter Andromeda for boasting that they were far more beautiful than the Nereids, or sea nymphs."
"So, we think there's a high chance that a sea monster of our own was released during the storm we had not so long ago." Yeosang informs you, you heart sinking as the danger only rises.
"A war and a sea monster?" your voice increases in pitch, your panic once again growing rapidly.
"The monster is probably dead," Wooyoung reasons. "The storm threw you about as it was, it's a miracle you survived, to be honest."
Not wanting to dwell on the fact the astrologer just told you that you shouldn't be alive, you ask him if there's any other constellations of any significance.
"On the same day as the storm, not far from Cetus, I just managed to make out the faintest Libra, just to the north of it. As a result, I took a look at when Libra is next supposed to shine the brightest, and it's predicted to be relatively soon. Within the next month or so."
"That's great," you reply sarcastically. "But what does Libra mean? We aren't all star experts, you know."
Wooyoung blushes deeply, crimson burning his ears as he smiles sheepishly at you.
"Libra represents the scales held by Dike (dai-ki), the goddess of justice and moral order. It could indicate some injustice that will occur between then and now, or something similar. Of course, none of this is absolutely guranteed," Wooyoung reminds you. "I simply read the stars, take their meaning and theorise about what they may mean to us."
"Well, your theories seem pretty realistic to me." you mutter mockingly. "I'm not buying any of this nonsense."
"I haven't been wrong about a single hypothesis yet." Wooyoung's tone turns cold, and his gaze on you narrows. He understands that this might be overwhelming, but it doesn't give you the right to insult his life's work. He devotes every waking moment to this, and he will not let some girl diminish everything he's built up. And sure, he's beginning to warm up to you, finding the way you gently pluck the flowers in his garden and fashion jewellery out of them rather endearing. He'd never admit that to you, or to himself, but slandering the only constant in his life? He won't allow it.
"Besides," he adds on. "You insisted on getting involved, so show some respect, or get out of my house." Wooyoung snarls, violet eyes radiating venomously as he glowers angrily at you.
You shift your stare down to the ground, guilt and embarrasment washing over you like a harsh ocean wave.
"I'm sorry." you squeak, not daring to look up into his piercing, purple eyes.
"I also decided to check the constellations from the night you both arrived." Wooyoung says tightly, dismissing your brief argument and continuing on as smoothly as he good. "The only one that stood out to me was Ursa Major, although I am still unsure of what it means, if anything at all."
"What's Ursa Major?" you question.
"The Big Bear," the astrologer answers immediately. "I doubt either of you are secretly bears, so I'm assuming it has zero relevance."
"I heard a bear at the inn we stayed at the night before we arrived here." You blurt out hurridly, not catching the way Yeosang's eyes roll back into this skull. "Then I dreamt that the bear was attacked... I was worried he died."
"And I told you it was exactly that," Yeosang interrupts you with a huff. "A dream."
Wooyoung glances between the two of you, pouting and scratching the pointed tip of his ear in thought.
"Have you ever considered visiting an oneiromancer?" Wooyoung asks seriously, breaking the silence and causing Yeosang to scoff.
"Oneiromancy is a myth," the mage scowls. "Just a bunch of made-up bullshit in an attempt to earn some coin."
"Is anybody going to explain to me what ironmancy is?" you speak up, crossing your arms in annoyance; why do they always have to talk about subjects you don't understand?
"Oneiromancy (on-eye-ro-man-see)," Wooyoung corrects your pronounciation, stifling a small smile. "Is a form of divination using dreams to predict the future. The divination I do uses the stars, Oneiromancers interpret your dreams."
"So, my dream might actually come true?" you gasp, your eyes flying wide open.
"No." Yeosang growls.
"What's your beef with dream interpreters?" The elf teases the mage, who is leering at him with irritance.
"Nothing." Yeosang replies sternly. "I just think it's a bunch of bullshit."
"One could say the same about your strange plant addiction."
"It's not an addiction! I require an extremely extensive knowledge in order to carry on my work!"
"That sounds like something somebody with an addiction to plants would say."
"Listen here, elf-"
"Uh, guys? I hate to break up your lover's quarrel but... who are they?" you put their arguing to an abrupt halt, collecting their attention to where you're standing before the giant window in Wooyoung's tower.
There's a faint glow, just over the hills behind the astrologer's home. It burns a radiant orange, and all three of you know that it's definitely not the sunset.
"Shit." Wooyoung curses aloud. "They found me."
"Who are they?"
"Bad people, Iris." Yeosang grabs you and yanks you away from the window, motioning to the paper strewn throughout the room. "Pick up what you can, we'll need almost all of it."
The next few minutes are spent frantically stuffing loose parchments into pockets, bags, anything the three of you can find that you can carry. You grab handfuls of diagrams and shove them into the pockets of your trousers, even rolling a few up and tucking them into the soles of your boots.
By the time you've gathered as much of the work you can, you quickly glance out the window to scope out where the bad people are. Every single one of your organs drops to the floor, as you notice the gang of torch-wielders are marching up Wooyoung's front garden, trampling and burning the flowers and ferns you played in just hours before.
"We need to leave. Now."
You quickly scan the room, eyes darting left and right to try and spot something you might've missed. You see it abandoned on Wooyoung's bed, and you dart out rapidly to retrieve it. Clutching it against your chest, you hear the thunderous stamping of the mob charging up the stairs, mirroring the pounding of your heart against your ribcage.
Yeosang bundles you and Wooyoung in his arms, gripping you both tightly as he breathes in deeply. Your nose is pressed against the elf's chest, and in any other situation you would be blushing furiously. But right now, you're terrified for your life. For Yeosang's life, for Wooyoung's life. And in any other situation you would've slapped the elf for the way his arm winds around your waist to shuffle you into their man-made cage. But ironically, you feel safer than you've ever felt in your entire life.
"Close your eyes," Yeosang mumbles. "It's gonna be a harsh landing."
You and Wooyoung screw your eyes shut tightly, and you bunch his shirt up in your hands so there's zero chance of you getting separated.
There's no human words you can summon to describe how it feels to teleport. Both feeling as light a feather, but also feeling like iron weights have been fused to your ankles. You're both present and absent at the same time. Simultaneously existing, yet one inch, one misstep away from disappearing forever. It both passes in a second, and drags on for eternity. Your mere consciousness physically cannot comprehend such an experience.
What you can describe however, is the instant pain that shoots through your body upon impact. Yeosang's teleportation hurling you onto the ground, your arm trapped behind you, bent at an awkward angle, while both you and your poor arm are crushed by Wooyoung's entire frame landing on top of you.
,You could describe it very well, given the chance, but you think a simple 'owch.' will suffice.
"Wooyoung," you grunt and attempt to push him off you using your free hand. "Get off me."
He apologises quickly, rolling onto the grass and standing up. He offers a hand out to you which you accept, brushing the dirt off your clothes. Looking around you, you realise you're in a very familiar garden.
"Hey, Yeosang! We're hom-"
The smell of burning smoke and the sound of crackling flames hits you all in one go, and you're scared to turn around.
"Oh my god..." You hear Wooyoung whisper behind you, and the dread weighs down on you like a tonne of bricks.
Slowly, you turn around and the sight before you twists your stomach into knots.
Yeosang's home- your home- is entirely consumed by raging fire. The blaze has crept up the trunk of the tree, destroying the heart of the house directly. The flames lick at the walls and have already destroyed the majority of the roof. You can see into Yeosang's study, the aqua flourescent room now glowing a fiery orange, plunging the once ocean-like room into the deepest depths of hell.
Yeosang himself is stood in front of you, just off to the side, and looking at his eyes you can see the inferno reflecting in his tears. You've never seen anyone so broken.
"Yeosang, I'm so sorry-" Wooyoung begins to apologise, but the mage cuts him off before he can finish.
"It wasn't them," he cries, voice hoarse and cracking with despair and rage. "It- It wasn't the same people after you."
"Then who was it?" you wonder quietly.
But neither Wooyoung or Yeosang get to answer your question, as the culprits make themselves known. Barreling through the woods surrounding the house, swords drawn, grinning evilly at you. They form a circle around you, forcing the three of your backs to collide as you're stood defenseless.
"Well, well, well." One of them sneers. "Look what the cat dragged in." He slowly walks around you, smirking smugly at the way he's trapped you all. He's got dark, black hair, almost as long as Wooyoung's but styled much more neatly. Parted in the middle and flowing down into soft waves. You'd compare him visually to an angel, but underneath his innocent exterior lies something much, much more sinister.
"What are you doing here, J-"
"Don't even think about speaking my name, mage." The man seethes. "Besides, it's Commander to you."
"Alright, Commander," Yeosang finds the energy within him to mock the stranger, and you can't help but giggle. "Why are you here?"
"You see, it has been brought to my attention that there was magic present in these neck of the woods," The stranger's grin widens wickedly, eyeing the way Yeosang's jaw tightens with fury. "And I'm sure you agree, that simply will not do."
"So your solution was to burn a man's house down?!" Wooyoung bursts angrily, flinching a little when the man's gaze burns into his own.
"Oh? What's this?" He approaches Wooyoung in a fascinated trance, tilting his head slightly as he examines the elven features. He places the tip of his sword against Wooyoung's jaw, exerting just enough pressure to force his head to the side and exposing pointed ears that were raging red in humiliation. "An elf?" His voice raises an octace from excitement, something that chills you to the bone.
"I can do so much worse than burn a man's house down." The stranger's previous, eerily calm demeanour is gone, as he dangerously leans in to Wooyoung's face, teeth gritted and black eyes pulsing with hatred. "Believe me."
You're trembling with fear, the panic running through you that this could be the end of the road for you. This unknown villian turning up out of the blue with his gang of stupid merry men might kill you right this very second and snap shut the book containing the story that is your life. This could be your destined demise.
Yeosang though, has other plans.
In your frightened inner rambling, you don't notice his hand tighten around yours from behind your back. And from your position you certainly don't notice the way brilliant white bolts flash around his pupils, or the yellow sparks that shoot through his arms and neck like lightning during a storm.
"I've had enough of indulging your questions." The stranger sniffs, backing away from Wooyoung with a final, repulsed leer.
"Boys," he meanders back over to where he climbed out of the thicket, holstering his sword at the hip and looking dead into your eyes with a bored expression. "Kill them."
The band of men (you guess there's around eleven of them, but with the anxiety settling in, you could be seeing double) close in on the three of you, like a pack of ravenous wolves stealthily hunting down a tiny, vulnerable rabbit.
You feel the wind rush past your face, the down-swing of a sharp sword being aimed at your face, but it doesn't make contact with you.
Instead, you're momentarily weightless, floating through the stars, the planets and the worlds between you and the furthest reaches of the galaxy.
In the same breath, you make contact with a hard, wooden floor, groaning in pain as the three of you land in a painful, crumpled heap. Nursing your head, you survey the room, jumping out of your skin when a shriek pierces your ears.
"How many times do I have to tell you people to knock?!"
Chapter Twelve
hello,, i just wanted to note that even though i did research for this, i’m nowhere near an expert so, if you happen to work at nasa or something and everything i’ve said is incorrect, no it isn’t <3
