⤐ chapel.

@❛ yuta nakamoto "your only home? here i thought you had a home in my den too," jaehyun chided gently, gaze fixed to the front and intently boring into the statue that hung pierced to the cross. that was a cruel way to die, to bleed out in front of a crowd, jeers and cries mixed into the cacophony of the last thing one would ever hear. jaehyun was no god or man of faith, but he knew enough that he felt pity for the man. heaving a sigh, he tore his gaze away to look at the priest next to him. "i've been alright.. what about you?" it was undeniable that there was an itch in jaehyun's fingers, the urge to touch the man next to him overwhelming hence why he folded his fingers into fists.

@❛ jaehyun jung ᵃˡᵖʰᵃ the cocky smirk blossomed into an gentle smile. Jaehyun, he was a man that Yuta had once adored, even cherished. He let the other ruffle his already messy hair, a soft chuckle escaped his mouth, turning his full attention to the other. "You should've known, the church is my only home." Yuta said, the gentle smile still glued onto his face. "take a seat, old man." he hums softly, placing one knee over the other, staring down at the floor. "how... how have you've been?" he whispered, scared that if he talked too loudly, all the emotions from the past will be revealed.

@❛ yuta nakamoto ah, what a familiar presence he was graced with. the man, priest, was indeed someone all too familiar, comfortable even and it scared jaehyun. still, the cocky smirk on yuta's face is enough to bring a chuckle on his lips, hand reaching up to tenderly ruffle the other's hair. "of course it's you," he murmurs, tone gruff as he pushed past the pew slightly to take a seat, right next to the mundane. "do not mind if i join you, yes?" he asked conversationally, hands finding his lap to fold his fingers over them.

@❛ jaehyun jung ᵃˡᵖʰᵃ ears perking when he heard the heavy steps, sighing softly again as he had to deal with another person. the japanese male stayed where was, hoping the whoever was there wouldn't bother him and let him relax. pressing his tongue down onto his lower lip, blinking when he heard the voice of the person who just entered the chapel. familiar, that voice sounded familiar. picking his head up, turning around to look at the other male, a cocky smirk on his face. "why, hello there."

@❛ chungha kim ᵉˡᵈᵉʳ her words cut him deep, and guilt bubbles within the churning of his guts. the thought of leaving with her, disappearing from Arcani Heights almost seemed too good to be true. that’s because it was. “If the other elders would’ve allowed such a thing of me,” he begins, Taehyung heavy on his mind. the eldest vampire had kept Jacob close by for too long, he ponders the likelihood of him ever being released. the odds were slim. “I would follow you to the very ends of the earth and back. You know this already.”

when he stands, his figure ghosts towards her, the sudden urge to feel her body against his own comes crashing upon the serene shores of his mind like tidal waves, decimating the peace he’d been searching for before it was within his grasp. as did the many memories with her, lying with nothing but the light of the moon setting their flesh alight, the subtle caress of nimble fingertips across the line of his jaw. did she think of these nights as often as he?

she was here to stay. an overwhelming wash of relief warms his body. what would he have done if she would’ve left him there, in that chapel, alone? lie in bed with Selena and think of Chungha? the idea of that upsets his already turbulent stomach.

“The elders will be pleased to see you return.” he offers, stopping short of reaching out for her embrace. always the obedient offspring, he would wait, head down, for permission to touch. “As am I.” her next statement brings yet another wave to wreak havoc upon his beach. if he would’ve left with her, she would be happily distant from Arcani and he might be content to remain fastened at her side. he would’ve never met his ward, or turned her. so many lives would’ve been spared. “I thought of you every day.” he answers, eyes raising albeit keeping his head down to trace her expression. “I’ve /missed/ you every day.”

@❛ jacob kiszka "Thrived, but not in the way I could have if you had come with me." Chungha answered truthfully as she gazed at him, taking a step towards the row of pews he was sitting in but not moving out of the aisle quite yet. Had he found somebody new to spend his time with, had he grown tired of her?

All those questions she would ask...soon.

"Permanently? Yes, I have." She nodded once and slipped her hands out of her pockets to run one through her hair, eyes slowly raking up and down his form. Jacob hadn't changed a /bit/, but he did at the same time. His style was still so classically him even though it had transformed with the times, his hair was still that luscious length it had been back in the day, but something in his eyes had changed. "I went and found my passion in the world of clothing and style and yet...I couldn't truly love it the way I wanted to without my...without you."

@❛ chungha kim ᵉˡᵈᵉʳ he wastes no time in pulling himself to his feet, turning to face her in the same manner. it seemed so strange, seeing her here now, after being separated. though eighty years was nowhere near a lifetime to a vampire, time moved differently without her. because of his connection to her, via her blood and his bonded, he yearned to see her every night, only to be disappointed countless times.

the first thing he notices is the obvious: her style has drastically changed. though a death dealer’s attire was defined as standard regardless of the years in which they live, minuscule details about his dress had been altered. tee shirts, v necks, heavier boots. these things modernized the classic look that Jacob kept so true to. however, Chungha (much like the other, normal vampires) had no dress code to follow. she could wear whatever she wanted, and as he gazed upon her now, he can see that she had. “They’ve been kinder to you,” he replies, offering a slight nod of his head. her voice is a welcome ripple in the lake of his mind, one that he had missed insurmountably. “You seemed to have thrived in your absence.” to say that he was happy for her was not untrue, however as his sire, every day without her was a torturous endeavor. the assassin cursed the ties they held to one another, and yet is grateful for them. “Have you returned... Permanently?”

@❛ jacob kiszka Chungha took her time walking into the chapel, having waited until Jacob was alone before slowly walking in. She had definitely changed since they last saw each other - it has been the late forties after all, and her style had not only transformed with the ever changing times, but she had absolutely /flourished/ after finding her love in fashion.

The heels of her boots clicked as she sauntered down the aisle, hands tucked into the pockets of the long designer coat she had just recently bought. Her hair, long and black, fell out of her beanie as she pulled it off with long nails, letting the beanie fall to the ground as she stopped at the same row he was sitting in. Instead of joining Jacob, however, she simply turned around to face him, blinking slowly when he spoke her name.

Jacob's voice calling her name...a welcome, familiar sound after eighty years...too good for words to describe.

"Jacob." Chungha purred softly, staring at him with a hum and tilting her head to the side to simply gaze at him. "The years have done you well."

@❛ chungha kim ᵉˡᵈᵉʳ to say that he could sense her presence the moment she stepped foot in Arcani Heights would’ve been an understatement, for the death dealer knew long before. the connection, whether it be cellular or a more intangible tie to his sire, was like gravity itself, pulling them together. it always had been, and perhaps always would. so, the moment he felt her familiar pull, his stomach twisted into knots.

he hadn’t seen her in nearly a century, and too much had happened within that time to explain in one sitting. he, who remained the same, stoic warrior for the five hundred plus years she’d known him was no longer so easily defined. his persona fractured, another him peeks out every now and then. for Chungha, however, he would push that version of himself away, tuck it down deep inside so she wouldn’t see it.

the chapel was dark, silent, and cold. only one body sat in the abandoned pews, and it was him. with his head tilted downward in prayer. it must’ve been quite the contrasting visage to anyone who didn’t know Jake already- the stark raven attire and armed to the teeth with lycan-slaying tools, taking a moment of prayer. call it his safety net, or perhaps just an old habit that wouldn’t die. even if god would never answer him, somehow calling out to the higher power was a comfort. it wasn’t until the double doors opened that he finally decided to bring his focus back to the real world surrounding him. he felt her instantly, from deep within his most base instincts. his savior, the woman who had taken everything from him and given him eternal life.

“Chungha.” her name remains savored on his tongue, taking his time in allowing it to slide from there, and fill the room around them. he was almost nervous, for what has she done in her absence? was she still the same woman he knew?

@❛ yuta nakamoto he pushed the doors to the chapel open, the heavy doors creaking under the push. while not a believer, he did need the peace that came with such a place; his boots clanked heavily on the wooden floors as he walked in, clad in ripped jeans and leather jacket, hair windswept and tousled just enough. dark gaze was quick to take in the man at the pew, aloof in his thoughts even from where jaehyun stood, able to see only the back of the other's head. had he walked in on a bad timing? "uh hello, sir?" he murmured softly, tone usually rasp just a barritone quieter.

@❛ jaehyun jung ᵃˡᵖʰᵃ carding his fingers together as he saw on the bench, what was he doing? simple. he didn't know as well, there was a lot on his mind, sighing softly as his headache was starting to hurt even more. "annoying, so ing annoying." the priest grumbled, furrowing his eyebrows together.

@❛ changmin shim ʰⁱᵍʰ ᶜᵒᵘⁿˢᵉˡˡᵒʳ She nearly grimaces towards his display of courtesy. Though she spares only a fleeting glance at the smile he spares her, it was enough for a careful observation. It’s counterfeit, no doubt, the illusion unmistakeable for the girl who was an expert at hiding. There is no sign of genuine warmth in the way his lips are stretched out because, unlike his smile, his eyes do not share the same enthusiasm. No, they were cold. Dark. Empty. The beadiness in his eyes give way to a bitterness that did not surprise her at the very least. It’s expected, not because he is a cold-blooded hemovore, but because he had centuries beyond her. Over time, the emotion gets out. If not, then it becomes easy to suppress. In his case, she would never be able to tell the difference. Not that it’s her job to know, anyway. She didn’t care enough to delve deep into the recesses of his mind. At least, not yet. She had a more important business to discuss.

So she follows him silently to the room of the dead. The door shuts behind them and, unlike the priest, she does not take a second to look around. It was far too dreary, far too cold. The faster she gets out, the better. She wrinkles her nose at the smell of rotting flesh, but takes in a preparatory deep breath and wastes no time; this was far too urgent. Facing the high counselor, she reaches into the inner pocket of her leather jacket to retrieve a small, square blue handkerchief. Sewn on it were peonies; a symbol of good fortune. It was an odd design (it certainly wasn’t her cup of tea), but her gut tells her that it was more than just a simple piece of cloth.



“I found this in the pocket of a traitor I executed the night before,” she begins, her voice low. Her eyes are trained on his visage in hopes that she could read a reaction as immediate as it may come. “I haven’t seen anything like it, so I was wondering if this meant anything to you?”

@❛ yuta nakamoto "how i am doing?" his brows raise in the sense of surprise, being accustomed to asking others how they are doing instead of being asked himself. "why, i am doing my work for god. a soul couldn't be happier." he replies in a cheerful baritone with a welcoming smile spread across his lips to accompany it. "how have you been doing? we're certainly blessed to have this lovely day."

once he turns to his work, he pauses for a moment, suffering under a strike of indignance as he recalls something. "may i ask, brother yuta," he begins, having yet to return his gaze to the other. "what were you doing with the poor soul looking to confess their sins last night?"

@❛ changmin shim ʰⁱᵍʰ ᶜᵒᵘⁿˢᵉˡˡᵒʳ his lashes pressed against his cheekbones, his hair tickled at his nose as he focused his attention onto a certain man, a smile slowly appearing onto his face. tilting his head slightly, folding his hands together behind his back. "Hello." He replies back with a bigger smile. "The garden is lovely as usual. I would rather know how you're doing." Yuta chuckled softly, crinkling his eyes.

[] this is c u v u youre doing great baby

@❛ yuta nakamoto changmin makes work of the early monday morning following church service, blessing the water he would use to replenish the holy water fonts. a shadow of a figure falls across the table from which he was working, and he turns to look over his shoulder. "brother yuta," he greets the other with a smile before returning his gaze to his work. "may god bless you this morning. how is the garden?"

( ) sorry this is short to begin with, but i expect after your reply my own replies will be longer! < 3

having been in midsentence addressing another clergy member, his thought process is suddenly stolen as he catches sight of lisa approaching him. a bright smile spreads across his tiers, yet the radiance fails to reach his eyes. it is rumored that his tendency to failing to embody the warmth of his actions himself is an effect of being the high counsellor, yet others believe it's simply intristic to vampyre kind; however, few believe it's something much darker lurking in his mind.

"miss viper, it's my greatest pleasure for you to have attended--" he begins, yet the punctuality of the other's statements alerts him to the urgency of the situation. "in private?" he questions, and a sense of alarm is visible in changmin's gaze. "then we must go right away. would you feel comfortable addressing it in the confession room? or if you absolutely require privacy, then we have no other choice than to discuss briefly in the chamber--the place where human corpses are kept until burial." he adds with a strained voice, yet the conversation they're carrying has already stolen a few glances from those suspicious of their conversation.

he replasters the smile over his face in an effort to appear as if they were having a regular conversation. "then if you could please follow me." he says before turning to the hallway. at the door to the chamber, he crosses himself before he opens the door and walks inside. "may these poor souls soon have their rest." he says, glancing wistfully around the room.

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@❛ changmin shim ʰⁱᵍʰ ᶜᵒᵘⁿˢᵉˡˡᵒʳ The clergy’s chant is a war cry. The slogan echoing, ricocheting from beige wall to stained glass, until it returns to the ears of those gathered in the sacred house. The congregation deafening, the unified incantation a pandemonium within the enclosed doors of the chapel. “Head! Heart!” They all express in consummate unity. It’s a commanding yet haunting discourse. “Left, right! This is the sign by which we fight!”

The iterations promply settle at his adjure, as the sound of the soft thud from the sanctified book perching atop the podium signifies the commencement of the preacher’s sermon. The death dealers are silent, obedient in their unwavering regard, all eyes trained on the man who commands the room. They were an army looking towards their commander, as if they were training for an inevitable war. But alas, this was but the usual, mandatory weekly meeting. The purpose of their assembly was never fully known. Whether to inspire discipline or fear, it is always the same: protect the species. Eliminate the mutts, for they threaten the safety of the vampiric kind.

The reminder was a broken record, and she was past being tired of it. It was routine. Repetitive. Monotonous. It served no purpose other than a reminder that she was nothing but a disposable soldier to the elders. Her life insignificant in comparison to theirs and the rest of the vampire race. Her duty was to preserve the safety of the coven, and nothing more. All others were either inferior or a threat, and if she were to outwardly oppose, she would be categorized as both. She knows this all too well. But she drowns it out. Watches the man’s lips though the words barely register. It doesn’t matter, anyway. It’s all the same.

All the same. All she does is await the reprieval from the mass with the minister’s preroration. The congregation comes to life once more, this time in bustling conversation. She, of course, makes no effort so much as to flash a smile in anyone’s direction. Instead, she stands by, patiently waiting for the high counselor before uncharacteristically approaching him. She merely acknowledges him with a nod before speaking, “May I speak with you, Reverend?” She pauses, gaze briefly shifting to the proximal radius around her. “In private?”

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"creatures of the night!" he begins, raising his voice to be heard over the crowd of vampyres and lycans gathered under the same roof of the lord. "we are gathered here today," he begins, casting a few disdainful glares toward a few groups chatting at the front of the pews, yet his sharp glare isn't enough to tame the loud conversations carrying on within a place changmin deems as his own. "some peace, please! we are in the lord's house." finally, the crowd's conversations carry to a whisper, and changmin is able to continue from his podium.

"we are gathered here in god's presence to share the anticipation for the elders' ruling on a certain case. there is little information as of now that can be divulged to the public--however, the lycans may share amongst themselves whatever details they wish, in full respect of their autonomy over their people." he says, casting a momentary glance to the same lycans in the front pew to then return his gaze to the cross resting between the pews. "yet it is also expected that we must have autonomy over our own."

"i have received strict guidelines from the council. first, to detail the story--a vampyre is to be brought to trial at thornhill manor... for killing at least one lycan." he admits the last portion with a venemous hiss as he finds simply detailing the crime to be disgusting as he also hides his true considerations concerning the matter. "he is to face a trial two days from now, and only then will the vampyres discern his identity. we do not divulge his identity before the trial to ensure the accused vampyre's safety. his possible punishments are starvation, suffering under fifty lashes, or one thousand broken bones. we share this information only to ensure there is mutual understanding between vampyre and lycan, and for the lycans to know that the elders take cases such as these seriously, yet the elders decided to not include the possibility of execution as he was acting partly in self-defense." he finishes his statement with furrowed brows, intently glancing at each lycan's face in an effort to determine how angry they were.

he pauses for a moment to cross himself before he continues. "may god have mercy on us all if the lycans find it disagreeable. the elders do not wish to go to war. they promise that justice will be served."

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(Love this)

( ) о///о

[] us: this can be a chat
Y’all: MULTI PARA???

@❛ lalisa manoban during their weekly nighttime meeting, he never fails to find the scene ironic as vampiric soldiers--the death eaters--fill the pews. while humans kneel before the cross and the vampire congregation in prayer, at night the death eaters assemble to hear the newest propoganda message the elders wanted changmin to brainwash them into believing. as the mouth and historian of the elders, he obliges.

beneath the reflections of moonlight stained in the myriad of colors as it passes through the stained glass, he clutches his bible against his chest before giving the order, "head! heart! left, right! this is the sign by which we fight!" he expresses, unable to hide the vampirish smile that spreads across his mien, watching the soldiers echo and follow the demonstration.

he rests the bible against the pedestal before he readdresses the crowd. "even if you are not religious--those who poor souls who do not let the lord into their unbeating hearts," he muses. "you must still follow along. there is a reason why religion has always been intimately tied to politics--because as our soldiers, you must be pure of heart and mind for our civilization to exist." he pauses, taking a moment to glance at the various faces in the front few pews before he continues. "not only for our elders to exist, for me to exist, but for each of you to exist. we follow our rightful places in order for our society to continue." he says, and then he raises the communion cup--of which is actually filled with human blood to signify the end of the formal meeting.

"if any baptized christians would like to take part in drinking the blood of christ, i am able to offer communion today." he says, withdrawing from the group. "and," he begins, raising his voice to be heard over the sudden burst of conversation. "if anyone would like to speak with me or has a confession they'd like to make, i will also be available for you. may god bless you all as you return to the world."

*I fan myself with my Japanese fan as I stroll in here*