— cʰᵘʳᶜʰ

TAEHYUNG: CHECK.
SEOKJIN: CHECK.
SEHUN: CHECK.
JIMIN: CHECK.
JAIJIN: CHECK.
HOSEOK: CHECK.
EUNWOO: CHECK.

[part 9]

"Ahh~ Aah Aah Haah Oh my- Jeez, move more! Aahng~~"

Yes, exactly what you are imagining, was happening. Eunwoo was half-sitting, half-lying in the confessional. His back hurt and he was disoriented. In his lap was a cute girl whom he vaguely recognized. The strange sounds continued as the priest in training, who had just woken up from a drunken daze, stared at her flushed and somehow.. face. 'I wonder why she looks like that..', he thought to himself and pursed his lips slightly. It seemed his brain was having trouble recognizing linking cause and effect together. It was only about half a minute later when Eunwoo realized her lack of clothing and strange positioning... as well as an odd sensation coming from down below... "...." With each passing second, his face become a lighter shade of white. In all his life, Eunwoo had never had any ual contact with others. He had, of course, tried ing a couple years back.. but it seemed that these types of things were just not his thing. His drive was shockingly low. And yet here he was, desecrating what he immediately recognized as a confessional. Eunwoo just barely stopped himself from screaming as he stared at the girl as if she was an evil succubus. A split second later he unceremoniously shoved the confused girl away, tears in his eyes as he burst out of the cramped space. Tripping over his feet, he just barely managed to pull his pants over his before vanishing into a corner of the church. "Oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god [...]" Eunwoo was out of his mind. His hands were trembling and he could not bring himself to look down at the now wilted tent in his pants. What had he done. Worst of all... in his fuzzy memories there was yet another ual encounter, arguably even more shameful than this one. What had he done! A very dirty sensation was starting to spread from the pit of his stomach. He had lost himself to temptation. He had behaved shamefully. Tears spilled down his cheeks (mainly due to the simple shock of having "awoken" to such a situation). He felt disgusted with himself. Eunwoo was not truly religious (or so he thought), but he nonetheless invested a considerable amount of time into his faith and he was proud of being able to follow its teachings. In the midst of his sorrow, he suddenly remembered the confused girl he had rudely shoved away and immediately rushed back to where he had left here. He had forgotten about her. "I- I am so sorry! Are you alright? I was just surpri-" The sound of skin hitting skin ran through the cathedral. Eunwoo stared at some random saint in shock, while the girl clutched her clothes to her bare body and ran off angrily. Gritting his teeth, the male looked down silently. His head hurt. He was hungry. This was such a terrible development. His hands were still trembling as he thought back to the vile parade that was the cause of all his misery. He could not believe that he had engaged in such... behaviour. He had lost his ity to drugs and alcohol. It was truly shameful. Another tear trickled down his cheek as he felt a painful throb in his lower back. After 10-20 minutes of kneeling on the ground, silently repenting, Eunwoo shakily rose to his feet and steadily made his way out of the church. He could not raise his head until he was a good 500 meters away from the church.

TAEHYUNG: CHECK.
SEOKJIN: CHECK.
SEHUN: CHECK.
JIMIN: CHECK.
JAIJIN: CHECK.
HOSEOK: CHECK.

[ 9 / 9 anonymous - part deux ]

Deciding to leave the area Jajin stops when he notices a small pond. It's about ten feet wide, painting a darker picture of the dreary sky up above. Drawn to the water Jaijin nears and looks down. His reflection in the shadowy water glares up at him - as if some other version of himself is waiting on the other side. Another pulse, this time in the area of his diaphragm, stretches Jaijin's skin against his white shirt. /It's still there./ As the /thing/ settles Jaijin begins kneeling, lowering his face to the pond. He must be imagining things, he must be.

Fantasy.

That's what this feels like. A book or a movie or some form of something that /isn't/ real. Is he imagining this? Things crawling around inside him, and a monster very much like a werewolf. Preposterous.

'Save me.'

Jolted out of his reverie Jaijin straightens up, looking around the foggy area and searching.

'Save me.'

He looks back down at the glassy water, reflection no longer peaceful. Blue hair, black eyes - they stare at him and plead. 'Save me. Save me. Save.' Hexes and teeth and scars align within Jaijin's brain. Jinx.

Shoving his hands into the water Jaijin s for something that isn't there. He's splashing wildly, pulling at weeds and gritty sand. Dirt collects beneath his fingernails and he grunts in frustration, still searching, looking for any sign of the other.

'Save me.'

/I'm trying./

In the end he leans just a little too close, over the surface just a little too far. He tumbles headfirst, encased by wet plants and bubbly silence.

'Save me.'

He's sinking - down, down, down.

'Save me.'

Screaming.

* 15 MINUTES LATER *

Unaware of what's going on, waterlogged and unconscious, Jaijin is breathing again because of the man over top of him. The figure is gently pushed aside by paramedics that load his weak body onto a stretcher and begin wheeling him over to the ambulance. Bleary eyes open and ears begin to hear, catching the soft sound of sirens and a voice leaning into his ear. Jaijin can't pay attention. Instead, his eyes remain on the man still standing by the lake in a tall black coat. He waves to Jaijin, grinning toothily before the doors of the ambulance slam shut.

[ 9 / 9 anonymous - part un ]

He wretches in a pile of bushes on his way to the cathedral. More blood, this time tinged with flakes of gold that he does not know the origin of. It stains the rotting leaves with something magical. Huh, what a strange thought to have. As he continues walking Jaijin's headache persists, a reminder of what's happened. He asks himself why he didn't take any pain medication before leaving the hotel. Memories of the body come back, and he pushes forward. The real cause of this new mission is Jinx. What's happened to him? Jaijin needs to find out. He needs to know because if it's something terrible...if there's someone responsible...

Choosing not to dwell on the thought for too long he finds himself at the church in no time, white walls looming above him. The sky is downcast, imprinting new shadows onto the metal figures lining the gardens. Looking this way and that, struggling to find the entrance, Jaijin nears a smaller area of the church. It seems to be a chapel, overlooking the edge of a small wood and complete with one colored window pane.

Jaijin walks up the small series of steps, reaching up to knock before deciding to just walk inside. It's empty, save for a man in white robes kneeling in front of a table towards the very end. He walks down the aisle as quietly as possible so not to disturb him. Is this the priest he's looking for? Eventually the man turns around, old face sagging a bit at the edges, barely raising when he gives Jaijin a smile. "Are you the one called Jaijin?" he asks, speaking in very broken Korean. Jaijin nods, and sits in the front pew when the priest gestures for him to do so. He then sits next to him and sighs, as if preparing to deliver bad news. "You're friend, eh, Toothy? They told me that you had a little problem with your head. Nothing that can't be fixed with the right amount of service and devotion. Tell me, Jaijin, why is it that you believe Jinx is real?"

It's as if the question struck Jaijin to his core. 'Why do you, believe, believe, that Jinx is real, Jinx is real? Why? Believe, Jinx is real?' The priest's words repeat in his head over and over, and Jaijin eventually shakes his head. "Ah, I see. So you still think of him as another person?" Putting a hand on Jaijin's thigh the old man's expression turns sympathetic. "I'm sorry to be the one that tells you this, but Jinx doesn't actually exist."

Slap!

Jaijin is quick to stand up, glaring at the man and taking some form of satisfaction at the way his cheek reddens. Then he stomps away, out through a rickety wooden door to the left and into property branching just off the cathedral. What does he mean by Jinx doesn't exist? Of course he does. This 'toothy' - whoever they are - must just want to mess with him. Yeah, that's it...

[ Part 9 ]

Honey-brown eyes cast their gaze upon the tall, looming structure in front of him. Stained glasses were fit on almost every corner of the church, making it look like a kaleidoscope with its iridescent reflections at the right angle of observation. This was a place where people came to repent; they came here seeking solace, forgiveness, both or none, in his case. There was a malicious churning in his stomach — what he was about to do went against all his moral and ethical values. Hoseok may not have believed in God or the existence of a divine strength, but he knew it was wrong to meddle with other people's beliefs. However, he was very selfish right now — it was either his values or his freedom. Plus, he had been an assassin. Willingly or not, the male had taken several lives, even if it had not been ethical to do so. It was a horrible way of thinking, but Hoseok was tunnelling hard on the freedom dangling just a few inches in front of him.

Scaling the deserted side of the church, Hoseok nimbly made his way into the building via the service doors at the back. Once in, he snuck along the shadows in the hallway, finally reaching the main chamber. What a sight it was. The ceiling was still some ways up, but below him spread the pews and the statues and the tapestry and everything was just so majestic and elegant it overwhelmed Hoseok momentarily. He didn't believe in God, but this place felt so.. sacrosanct that the thought of him assassinating someone in such a sacred place disgusted him. But it was already set in his mind.

Hoseok snuck past the pillars, lightly treading over the carpet to reach the place above the altar where the priest was settled. Thankfully, the church was empty at this time, so he didn't have to take care of any witnesses. Crouching behind the balcony overlooking the chamber, the male ped his backpack, getting out his special crossbow. Instead of a normal dart, this was designed to fire a needle made of a soluble but rare poison. The person hit by this high-velocity needle would feel the prick, but the effects don't set in until after a few minutes, so Hoseok had ample time to escape whilst making sure that the priest was no more. The thought kept bringing up the bile, so he switched into his default mode: emotionless. Everything he did he analysed and calculated logically, discarding his feelings or emotions because they were a hindrance.

After loading the needle and setting the crossbow on the ledge, Hoseok glanced around once more, accounting the slight breeze and height of the balcony in adjusting the angle of his bow. He had only one shot. Taking aim when the coast was clear, Hoseok fired. The needle noiselessly shot through the air and sunk itself into the priest's neck. Startled, the priest clasped a hand to his neck, thinking it was an insect of sort that had disturbed him. Finding nothing threatening in the vicinity, the priest went back to his work.

Five minutes later, the priest collapsed. A security guard came in, yelling in distress. More people poured in, hows of concern reverberating in the chamber. And in the shadows, a figure quietly cleaned his equipment and slipped back into the shadows.

TAEHYUNG: CHECK.
SEOKJIN: CHECK.
SEHUN: CHECK.
JIMIN: CHECK.

Vendetta oo2

I dragged my blood soaked body into the church, where I stood in front of the altar and brought both palms together in a simple prayer pose. I had no idea why I wanted to come here, or why I even wanted to pray. But I had so much on my mind that needed to come out before I let myself break into a million pieces. I wasn't going to mourn the death of my creator, or the death of my siblings. I was going to mourn the person that once was. Me…

The person that was once Subject 158, was now dead and buried at the side of his creator. He had died long ago since the escaped, he bled to death when I cut myself open and took out the chip. I let him rot within me because I was too afraid to let go of my past. I let his nightmares become my own, and through that I've let myself get to his point. Covered in the blood of my creator and many others.

“I must… repent,” I press my hands to my lips and sigh through my nose. Tears begin to fall as I say a silent but desperate prayer of forgiveness.

I didn't even believe in god.

I just wanted to talk, to get my thoughts out, and I was told by a local that coming here would help me do just that. She didn't even question my attire, just gave me a smile and walked along her own path. Not without putting something in my hand. I presume it was a charm but I was too far into my head to give it much thought.

It was still shoved deep into my pocket. I finished my prayer and steadily rose from the altar, staring up at the man on the cross that called Jesus Christ.

“I never understood why you let yourself get killed for the sake of others’ well being. I think it's rather foolish but selfless. I wish to be like you one day. Selfless.” And with that, I left the church with a charm in my pocket and destination set.

@jeongguk j. 〈 jeon |H| TAEHYUNG: CHECK.
SEOKJIN: CHECK.
SEHUN: CHECK.

[ 9 ]
This place honestly reminded him of that one show he used to watch on Netflix - American Horror Story? That was honestly such a good show - to him at least. Taehyung whispers to himself as he trudges through the sacred grounds. Hands falling softly against the tombstones that lay just behind the church, taking care to not step on the graves. Best not disturb the dead, especially when he created them.

He was expecting immediate burning as he walks into the cathedral, hearing the doors creak closed behind him. No one lifts their head though, the six there too focused on their own whispers to the lord. Taehyung takes a seat in the back, his head tucked down… Wasn’t he supposed to speak with a priest? Or .. How did religions work? Was it a pastor here?

“Hello,” There is a kind man sitting next to him now, dressed in long, modest robes. Smile lines creasing his face and careful curiosity brimming in his bright, blue eyes. “Hello.” Taehyung responds, voice low and tone aquiver. His fingers pull the aviators off of him, the windows to his soul now exposed to the priest before him. “Oh.. My son,” The soothing words hit him and he’s wanting to cry.

V was nowhere near here anymore, his protective persona long gone, it was just Taehyung that the priest was seeing. “I … Did something.. Bad. Very bad.” His words are hushed and full of tears, thick and heavy and accented, but the hand on his shoulder is reassuring. Like the man was trying to tell him it was going to be alright. “We all did – we all do. God created us so that we could live our lives the way we need to. It is hard, in the beginning, but you are a very young looking fellow.” Taehyung could barely follow his words, only nodding along while his chin tucks to his chest once more.

“Come.” The priest stands, holding both palms out to Taehyung. Taehyung takes them, ready to stand, but a terse, but kind, tone sets him back down with a ‘wait.’. Wait. “Close your eyes and feel, with me.” He whispers, and Taehyung watches as he closes his es -- He should to. They drop closed and he lets out a deep breath, and even though he doesn’t understand the prayer that the priest spills, he feels .. Better. Despite it being 2 in the morning, despite him having done .. That. There were so many people at the island that had done much worse things--

What would Bobby think.

The priest was drowned out with that one thought. What would Bobby think? His fingers grip his slacks after the priest leaves him with his blessing. When would this night end? Taehyung feels the burning in another form as he limps out of the church, feeling the burning of hating himself. Feeling that quell of sadness rising in his chest.

[Same.]

[ FRIGGIN WHEEZES DDGJKHFDH ]

With each flutter of the butterfly's wing, a ripple effect could be felt throughout reality: the butterfly effect. It's a novel theory and somewhat credible. In terms to his own life, Seokjin had many regrets, whether it be his choice of occupation, his parents' demise, or even his last boyfriend. Nevertheless, the past always had an almost coincidental method of catching up with you. It wasn't a coincidence that New Orleans happened to be the burial place of his grandmother. It was almost like fate's cruel joke.

Each passing moment was accompanied with the flutter of leaves along the emerald surface bowing beneath Seokjin's feet. The gust of wind danced along each and every strand of Seokjin's chocolate locks, leaving behind a path of destruction within his product-less locks. Mentally preparing himself for the visit, Seokjin began to card his lissome digits throughout his hair, desperately trying to calm the quick, labored breaths bursting past his rosy tiers. His heartbeat throbbed within his chest, almost like a cruel, ironic chronological reminder of his mortality; he could die at any moment and once the clock stopped, so did he.

Taking a hesitant step forward, Seokjin entered the actual graveyard, each breath contrasting the frigid air and morphing into a cloud of mist. Glancing at the familiar cobblestone tomb, Seokjin felt the tears begin to form within his ebony irises, clouding his vision. Perhaps the situation symbolized a deeper, unclear mental instability ingrained within his very being. The thought forced a buckle within Seokjin's knees that collided with the emerald fauna. Huddled over with his head in his hands, Seokjin released all his deepest, most tormenting regret that plagued his conscience since the day it happened: "Grandma- I'm so sorry....I-I didn't mean to do it..I just- snapped. One minute we were arguing and then it all went black. When my vision came back- there was.....so much blood." As if the mere thought of the memory were enough to bring it back into reality, Seokjin glanced down at his hands that had small pools of sanguine liquid pooling within. The anxiety and stress of the confession had elicited his own blood to spill. Letting out a surprised scream, Seokjin jumped to his feet and bolted for his car, rubbing the blood onto his shirt in the process.

Sinking down into the leather seat, Seokjin let out a few shallow breaths as the blood made a path along his countenance. An absurd amount of thoughts clouded Seokjin's mind during the following moments, so much that he felt a primal anger surge through his veins. Within the next moment, Seokjin had managed to punch his center console with so much force that the lid broke off and fell into the back seat. Resting within the ebony console was a letter. The onyx, calligraphic cursive clearly addressed Seokjin. Ripping through the envelope, accidentally smearing a bit of sanguine liquid along the rip, Seokjin pulled out the paper and glanced over it.

"Seokjin,
I know that you've been having a terrible time lately with your 'phase'. Just understand that I support you completely. However, I cannot do so openly with your father around. Thus, I plan on leaving your father by the end of the month and then we can escape. Anywhere you want. I promise. I love you.
Love,
Your mother."

It was as if a switch had been flipped with Seokjin's brain as the tears flooded out of his tear ducts. A few landed onto the ivory paper before it glided into the intersection between the seat and the console.
Seokjin had murdered his mother in cold blood when she planned on remedying his situation. The realization was traumatic,earth-shattering, and incomprehensible within the same moment. If Seokjin had any grain of sanity left within, it had just bolted for the highlands.
Carding his fingers through his hair violently enough to pull out a few strands of hair, Seokjin threw it against the steering wheel repeatedly, causing one of the knuckles to crack and forced the entire area to appear blue.
" ...." He muttered to himself, igniting the engine of the car and speeding off.

part 2

"Sehun?"
The voice ripped him out of his thoughts and he barely stopped himself from jumping right out of his own skin, head turning slowly and black hair falling into his forehead as he met the eyes of the woman who had given birth of him. She looked fragile, standing there, brittle hands holding a burning candle, the sleeves of a black dress tight around her bony wrists. Was she still wearing black because of him, or had his father...?
She was staring up at him, her eyes a mirror to his own, chocolate brown and still filled with so much warmth, so much love and... hope. He opened his mouth slowly, the word already on the top of his tongue, but the years of pretending to be someone else were acting first, having him shaking his head.
"Excuse me?", he asked, trying to sound polite instead of shaking, although his hands were trembling violently by his sides. "Did you say something, Ma'am?"

There was a shadow flying across her face at his words, the hope slipping from his eyes as if he had blown out the candles lining the wall in front of them. Sehun wanted to reach out for her, place a hand on her shoulder, make her smile again for the first time in years. But he couldn't. Maybe... maybe one day.
"I'm sorry.", she whispered, eyes wandering over to the candles. "I mistook you for my son. It's been years since I last saw him."
He wanted to say sorry too, but the lump in his throat was blocking the words from coming out, saved him from exposing himself to the world and to the people he wanted to protect. Needed to protect. It was not the right time to get caught up in emotions.
"It's no problem, Ma'am.", he replied silently, looking away from her narrow frame, trying to not let the image of her too-thin frame burn into the back of his head. "I hope you'll meet him again soon."
"Yes.", she said, her gaze meeting his and Sehun froze where he had been about to turn on his heels to flee the church, heat pricking at the back of his throat. There was this knowing smile in the corners of his mouth, the one only a mother had the moment she knew something, other people might have missed. "I hope so too."

And when the dark haired surgeon left behind yet another memory, the doors of the house of God swinging shut behind him, he knew that it was worth it to break his holy vow. For her, he would do it.

[] SERVES YOU RIGHT I AM NOT DONE YET <333

[ f UCKING DI CKED IN THE BY THAT WALL OF TEXT ]

[] Part 2 of Shixuns journey

part 1

The silence of a church always had something calming, something serene that had never called out to him as much as it did today. It was the remembrance of the loving embrace of his mother, always tucking his shirt back into his pants when ever he had scooted down on the wooden bench, making his too tight suit jacket bunch up around his chest and his neatly pressed dress shirt wrinkle across his chest. He had felt so out of place back then, pouting and whining the entire car ride to church on an early Sunday morning, his mother already humming hymns in the passengers seat, while his father half-heartedly sang along. Looking back at it, Sehun sometimes thought that maybe this had been a sheltered childhood, the picture perfect life some people desperately wished for. And now, after all those years of silence that had changed him, had shaped him into the man he was today, Sehun sometimes wished for those days too. He wished for his mother, for her smile on a Friday at dinner, asking him about his week at school, about the new things he had learned, the time he had spent with his friends. How many times had he lied to her?
How many times had he told her that everything was fine, that work was fine, that the money he earned was good money, because he was helping people. He was saving lives. There was no need for her to know, there still wasn't. Maybe it was for the best, he thought while dragging himself up the stairs of St. Louis Cathedral, his crippled leg dragging over the stone steps, grating noisily against them. It was almost as if he was a figure out of a horror movie, the ax murderer who scuffled his way after the running victims, somehow always even faster than them. The thought was nice, somehow - because no matter how much his body protested, how much his old life was catching up to him in the form of aching scars and rankling legs, he was two steps ahead of the man he had come to kill in this city.

The church was nearly vacant, flickering candle light dancing across rich gold and judgingly staring figurines lining the walls. He felt small, almost, under their scrutiny. Like the bleeding form of Jesus above his head was able to look into his very soul, shaking his head at the sins Sehun had committed in his life. Ever since he had turned his back on his family and the Sundays spent in church.
A long list of sins.
The black haired man now stared up at Jesus himself, for the first time in years, hands in the pockets of his jeans, lashes casting long shadows across the silky skin underneath his eyebrows, that were furrowed above his dark chocolate eyes. Did his mother still pray for him, he wanted to ask the deity hanging from his cross, lips pressed into a firm, angry line. Did she still pray for his soul and that he was happy in heaven after the death of his lover chasing him into suicide. Or had she forgotten about him?

A sigh slipped past slightly chapped lips, a tongue chasing the sound, as nimble fingers reached for the slender candles lined up on a rack, a coin clinking down into the charity box. His lighter flickered to life, the wick fizzling and hissing under the heat as the wax melted away and gave life to a tiny, fragile flame. His mother used to do that when he had been younger, praying for their family and friends. She had always placed the candle in the rows of countless others, folding her hands and lowering her eyes, mouthing silent prayers under her breath. Sehun wanted to do the same, but he couldn't. His fingers were limp by his sides, his eyes fixed on the single candle in front of him, watching the white die under the heat of a flame. Had he been like this? A pure white candle falling apart and dying underneath the temptation of power and money, leaving nothing but ashes and a bitter taste behind? Maybe. He didn't know.
The last time he had been in a church like this, he had watched people cry over the coffin that held nothing but heartbreak for the young surgeon, who used to be so confident that life would never grow bitter for him. It all had shattered back then. Life, so easy before, turned a tragedy before his very eyes, under his own hands, dirtied with blood and guilt. Sehun hadn't thought that he would ever set foot in a church ever again and yet... yet the memories flooding his mind had lured him here, almost as if he was seeking his mother.
He knew she was in this city - one of the reasons his prey had dared to come out of its cave, to be a hunter that fell prey to an even badder predator. What were the chances of him running into her? They were higher than getting out of his unscathed. Would it be luck or...?

OPEN.