[wtcjoohyun-blog]

— inhale fire, exhale desire.

[vmxkrystal-blog]

vmxhongbin:

**hongbin hums, and the pretty bartender from the bar stops to place another round of shots on the table. she bats an eye at hongbin and places his glass closest to him, refilled to what he knows to be different than the rest, before he’s staring at the staring stranger with an awkward smile on his face. his inspector moves back to his seat, and the trainee scoots over a bit, gesturing to an open seat next to him. “i’m sorry, where are my manners? would you like a seat, miss?”

she had come because she was beckoned—called forth by the promise of some sort of deal. the recluse had often sent her on such missions to gather illegal weapons from their traders and reward their valiant efforts with a large sum of cash. she slips the money, she gets the goods, and she leaves and pretends she had not touched scum. it was not uncommon to find the men themselves had been dirty, unbathed and unshaved and as unclean as the homes they so tenderly welcome her into. she had always bathed, vigorously scrubbing at her skin after in hopes of removing their stench.

even now, perched in her own little booth, across from a heavy set man with a neck prickled with hair, she felt that same revolting urge to scrub at her skin. the bar he had lead her to, after their business had taken place and he had urged her into drinking with him, was not nearly as dirty as he. it was a basic place, with holes in the barstools and strings of outdoor lights overhead, their little bulbs flickering as they gradually had begun to die out, one by one. the food was lathered in grease and the drinks were poured by pretty women with heavy hands. it had offered soojung no surprise to find dealer a frequent here. his eyes lit up as the women passed, eyes flickered and neck craning to watch them as they passed by.

she felt her face twist into a crooked sneer and diverted her eyes to something else.

they had fallen, rather quickly, on the group of officers that had walked in—their badges and their guns immediately bringing a stiff panic upon her shoulders. it’s natural, she chimes to herself, to fear your hunters. and she bites back the anxious build in her chest and wills herself to breathe and watch. and by natural occurrence they fall on the slender male who slides in with them, hair dyed to match the petals of a rose and eyes awake.

he’s handsome, she notes, lips curling. it makes her uneasy.

but her eyes find him and catch him and they are pulled to only him. she loosely listens to her dealer, who only attempts at her attention when he cannot gain the eyes of the flittering waitresses.  

it is when he approaches the bartender, offers her money and watches her as she pours a clear liqueur in all glasses but one. his glass is topped with water, and it brings a snort of laughter to soojung’s lips.

he returns, tosses the glass back like it holds liquor, takes his coworker’s praise and smiles about—like a well trained child who’s parents had hung another a upon the growing collection on the fridge. it makes soojung all but snort, eyes rolling and fingers tapping at the rim of her own glass.

the night progresses, he takes several more shots, eyes clear as the day as he watches the officers around him trip and stumble and slur. she isn’t sure if she prefers the liar or the drunks.

he catches her eye—several times, and the curiosity burns like fire and she can feel its heat from across the bar.

his fellow officer catches him returning her stare and he smiles, slurs something to him that makes his eyes wake with panic, before moving his way over towards her.

initially it makes her heart burn with fear, but she swallows it back and flashes him a charm of a smile, something saccharine by nature. the dealer glares at him as he offers her an invitation to their party. it almost makes her lose her calm, a hysteric laugh bubbling in the back of her throat ( how his cheeks burned as he gazed at them from afar, it fueled her in some twisted sort of way ). she fights back her urge to laugh outright, and nods—muttering an agreeance to join them and offering the drunken man a thank you. her dealer goes to protest, and she slips him another bill, thanks him and promises to speak with him later.

then she rises from her seat and finds him across the bar. he plays sheepish, drops his gaze and only returns it when she approaches him, close enough to breathe him in, and his superior speaks.

she smiles at him, warmly, and slips quietly into the seat beside him. “thank you—“ another grin, she lets the mischief seep into the corner of her lips this time. “i’m krystal.” she offers him a fake name, and a smile to match. “and you are?”

his officers come up from behind and answer for him—“that’s hongbin, miss. best trainee on our team. best be careful though, he’s quiet the charmer.” the man elbows the younger, face red from the drinks.

she giggles, a cute sound ( and so very counterfeit ). “ahh—well hongbin-ssi,” soojung leans in her seat and peers down at his now emptied glass. “it looks like you’ve ran out of your drink. i’ll fetch you another.

she raises a hand and flags down at the bartender. “as a thank you for my invination.”

[vmxkrystal-blog]

*nameless / initiation task

You are accompanying two other members in your affiliation—for your assignment, it is one on impulsive and spontaneity. On a mission, a member of your small group has been gravely injured; your other companion has run off to finish the job, leaving you alone with the injured. On your form is a variety of medical equipment, standards for most first aid kids. Using your knowledge, do your best to close your companions wound and stabilize the bleeding, long enough for your other member to return to help you get out of there. You must work quick, and you must keep a calm mind. Do your best, and best of luck to you!

it was dark, the sun hidden and the sky tainted and the streets lit with flicking yellow blubs. it was always night, a preferred time of operation for the arachnid children, and soojung had often found herself fighting to remember the touch of sunlight and what it had been like to live a life that did not burn on moonlight and stardust alone.

behind her, her teammates swear and it pulls her from memories ( her brother smile still burns her chest with a sick twist of longing, like a heavy, cotton blanket, wrapped over her face and pulled tight against her mouth and nose ). one female, like she, and the other male. the female is pressing against his wound, a hole that had torn through his chest and left his black shirt glistening with red. he is pale, sweat pilling at the top of his forehead and down his neck. it takes soojung a single glance, at him, a take on his features as they pull from the pain and the large swimming pool of life underneath him, and she knows he will not live. but the woman fights beside him, fingers stained with his life and vicious tears swelling at the corner of her eyes.

soojung crawls—keeps her back low and her shoulders tight, towards them. behind her she hears the scanning voices of the police members, calling commands in codes the three recluse members do not recall, demanding for them to be found. their guns slap against their thighs as the march through the halls—the warehouse crumpling around them and empty excluding the criminals and their pursuers. it makes the woman sigh before she turns her face to the man.

she didn’t learn their names, she never does. the members come as quickly as they go and soojung had never been one to attach herself to another. they were not her brother, with pure faces and eyes that fold when they smile—so she does not care.

“you need to get the information—“ she shoots the other female a look of dismal, and when she raises her lips to snarl a protest, soojung is quick to shoo her once more. “get the files from their cars, then go get help. protesting burns time, which we lack. the longer you play around here, the more likely he is to die.”

he will die, soojung knows it. but hope and fear are a powerful play, and it gives the woman enough of a push to gather her limbs, nod, and kiss the man hard on the mouth before streaking through the shadows once more.

it’s quiet, only his labored breathing filling the small space of the room, and the occasional click of an officer’s gun or an echo of their boots. soojung pulls her medical kit—a basic and small box she carries in her bag on every occasion she leaves her home. quickly she lifts the lid, dumps it contents across the dirt floor and begins to work on the wound. she strips a knife from her belt, cuts open the shirt of the man and squints through the dark of the room. several bullets had pierced through his stomach, the metal as unforgiving, leaving his skin in a rupture of red and yellow.

she gags back her disgust, finds the small bottle of alcohol and a cloth. she tears it in half, stuffs one part in his mouth ( because whether he bites his tongue from the pain or screams, the enemy will hear and soojung does not plan to die beside him ) and wets the other with the liquid. she dabs it at his wound, and sure enough he groans into the cloth, letting the fabric catch his pain as his fingers reach for soojung. he grabs at her sleeve, squeezing the fabric in his palm.

“i know—“ she whispers, hand still blotting as her free hand moves to brush the beads of sweat from his forehead. “it’ll be over with soon.”

he doesn’t hear her, all he knows is pain, that soojung knows. when the wound is clean, or as clean as it will allow, she begins to press cloth to the bullet holes in small hope it stops it bleeding. they fill with blood quickly, and it paints her hands ( days after, when she’s home and resting, her fingernails will remain stained and she will look at them and remember and she will frown ).

she leans her weight into his wounds, relaxing against him and letting him calm. after moments of silence and shaking breathing, spits the cloth from his mouth and allows himself to calm.

“where did she go?” he’s hoarse, and is stomach moves when he speaks from under her.

“i made her finish the mission.” she doesn’t look at him, doesn’t want to. it is hard enough to stare into the eyes of those who have passed, but harder to lie into the eyes of the living.

he’s quiet, but for a moment, before taking another shaking breath that moves her.

“she’ll be back soon though, right?”

soojung just nods, fingers moving to pluck the loose threads of the bloodied cloth. the blood still seeps, its on her clothes and in her hair by now and she knows even the hottest of showers will not wash him away from her skin tonight.

a small part of her feels the guilt, but an even larger part of her commands her to be unmoving. unchanged. he is a person, and people die. it is a part of the life she lives, a life he and the others around them had sworn upon. she should not pity a man because he is dead, rather she should pity the ones who live.

it doesn’t stop her chest from caving in, weak under the weight of her own emotions ( the very emotions she had sworn to rid herself of years ago ), when he dies. his chest heaves, stills, and does not rise once more moments later. the night air was colder in that instant, colder than when the snow falls in the winter months and colder than the nights she had spent curled against the porcelain bathtub of her foster home. she, with limbs that prick at movement, stiff and awkward, rises. her fingers find his neck, waiting for the beat of a pulse that never comes. she shuts the lids of his eyes, gathers her blood stained medical box, shoves it into her bag and slowly makes her way through shadows to the front of the building.

when she sees the other female return, her frame so much small when painted against the street, she no longer fears the gaze of the officers and their guns.

she almost wished she had learned his name.

[kricetal]

[kricetal]

Krystal for Elle Korea

[4meandu]

Krystal’s solo shots from Daisy Illusive - W Korea