ꜱ1ᴇ4　mortem strikes again!

@✧　Bai Haolan —> https://i.pinimg.com/736x/13/90/27/1390277ebaf65b44e8e55de126d81e26.jpg

It had been some time since the nymph had tried his hand at combat. Having never left the serenity and peace of the forest, to suddenly be faced with carnage wherever one looked was a foreign feeling. Jianhong’s breath caught in his throat as he finished another foe, both hands on the hilt of the blade in his hands as he rested just a moment. The nymph was not hurt, not aside from a few cuts and bruises that would heal easily within a few days. Most of the stains of darkness on his clothes were not from his own wounds. But the endless tide of people didn’t seem to die down for even a heartbeat - Jianhong was tiring, and quickly. But he couldn’t pause a moment. If he allowed himself to fall victim to any of these foolish humans, he’d once again be separated from the creature that gave his life a blue sky.

The man’s gaze flicked up from the streets around him, instead laying his eyes on the beautiful figure running towards him rather than the potential hunters slinking into the area. This seemed to be their only breather, and the nymph eagerly rushed towards Haolan, blade switching to be on one hand so that he could draw the shorter figure close with the other. Even distressed and running, the creature was full of beauty, of grace.

The air was temperature cooled with the frost still clinging to his beloved’s skin, but the nymph didn’t bat an eye as he slid his arm from around the older and let his fingers wrap back around the weapon. “Haolan, are you hurt?” He would make anyone who’d laid a hand on his dragon regret they’d ever been born.

His jaw clenched, the nymph stood tall, once again looking around. Perhaps the hunters were preparing for a bigger attack. “My love - you should go somewhere safer. Inside, you should return to your library, but you mustn’t open the door for anyone.” Haolan was perfectly capable of taking care of himself - more capable than even Jianhong may be, but not a risk could be taken when it came to the heavenly being. He’d lost this fair creature too many times. Never again.

@✧　An Jianhong > August 4th, 2051
> https://i.pinimg.com/564x/52/e9/9e/52e99ef254d4793fbfd88e71069acdbc.jpg

Everywhere he turned, there was red; whether it be fire that engulfed the festivities and world abound, or the crimson that stained and blossomed the streets--the world was stained in red. But in a world stained in red, there was a man adorned in white. Snow blanketed the clearing the dragon was in. The beautiful dragon's pristine robes-- normally so white and so clean--were now tattered and burned. Ruined by the sangria of blood that spilled into the field of snow and ice that surrounded the beast. A beast. How reminiscent it was, the blood bath reminding the white dragon of the carnage he had laid to waste upon the gods many millennia ago in an effort to find the man he loved. The man-

Jianhong.

Haolan's blood ran cold and a feverish rush blossomed through the dragon's entire being. Crystalline frost layered over Haolan's skin and with the searing rush of panic surging through Haolan, the dragon nearly stumbled upon his robes as he ran.

Grace, grace was an attribute one could very easily attribute to the heavenly being named Haolan, but at the moment: grace and beauty was the last thing on Haolan's mind. Haolan ran. Rushing through and winding through the mangled and frozen bodies of the dead, Haolan was frantic.

"Jianhong!"

{ self para | closed }

Jinhai had been of the very incorrect assumption that he would never die. He had lived for centuries upon centuries, after all. Surely he would continue on in his existence, forever dancing through the world in a semi-drunk, dazed stupor. While his fashion never progressed, everything else did.

Jinhai couldn't name a certain date when things started to speed up around him. Perhaps it was when the west came into china more frequently. Perhaps it was the introduction of trains, or guns, or cars, or photography, or anything that made all the things Jinhai adored so very much obsolete. No longer was his skill with a sword impressive. No longer were people creating paintings to try and fail to capture the beauty of their lover. No longer did people spend days walking from one place to the next, camping out in the woods and laughing around a fire. People were all of the sudden in one very big hurry. And for what? Where were they going?

To their death. But Jinhai had no visible death, no tangible death that he needed to hurry towards. So while the world sped up, Jinhai remained slow. But it was too slow. He was being left behind, and what on earth could he do to catch up? When he noticed wine could remove hours from his day, it became his clock. His way forward. Out.

Little did Jinhai know, he had been running towards his death all the same. How silly to think he'd continue. It was a relief, though, and it did not hurt. He always wondered if it would. But when the bullet pierced his chest, Jinhai barely had time to register pain. It was all very quick, yet very slow. Colors bled together, sounds swished in his ears. And all Jinhai could do was reach one hand out towards the direction of the sea, a single thought clear in his mind.

I want to go home.

. . .

Between death and gone, there is space. Not very much, but enough to lay comfortably. Jinhai was vaguely aware that he had been returned to the water, that the smell of salt was surround him. It was in this deep peace that Jinhai felt a pull. A tug. It was strange. Not a physical action, but something deeper.

Before Jinhai had time to figure out where the pull came from, he was deafened by a rushing sound in his ears, as if he were standing under a waterfall. An icy shock rose him from the space in between dead and gone, and Jinhai was aware of himself once more.

/You do not want to die./

The voice was not his own. It had no sound, no language, no body. Yet Jinhai understood it nonetheless. I do want to die, he thought. I want it more than anything.

/Yet you are here./

A confused silence answered the voice, but it was disregarded.

/I can bring you back. I have slept for long. I cannot wake yet. But you can. And you will./

No, Jinhai thought in a panic. Please. No. I don't want to go back. Let me go let me go let me go let me go--

/You will do as you are told. You are my child. You always have been and you always will be. Return. There is much left for you on this earth still./

. . .

Jinhai didn't remember how he got back to shore. How his clothes were removed, or how his hair was taken down. He didn't remember collapsing on the sand, or being found by members of Vos.

All Jinhai knew was that he was angry. The thing that brought him back had never supplied its name, but Jinhai new instinctively. Cthulhu.

The Mer did not care how old or how ancient his savior was. He did not care that the god had granted him powers greater than anything he could imagine. The god had ruined his opportunity for peace. And Jinhai would make him pay.

@✠　Beatriz Arafa ↳ ᴀᴜɢᴜsᴛ 04, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: sackpipslät - azam ali
↳ ʟɪʟɪᴛʜ: https://i.pinimg.com/564x/5a/de/85/5ade852a3bf3ffdefba483a92dd2f1fd.jpg
↳ ᴍᴀsᴋ: https://i.pinimg.com/564x/d4/f5/91/d4f59168e7543ea98f27ead9c9c6f9f3.jpg

Mortem had sent out the child army early of the morning in the middle of a festival that Lilith had been enjoying. There had, she supposed, been too much peace. With iron daggers in hand she cut a swathe through the bodies around her, cutting down members of Mortem and the creatures they were supposed to be killing alike—though she only killed the monsters who had attacked her, who had figured out that the masked figures were Mortem.

Lilith flicked blood from her daggers and paused to adjust the straps of her bag, hooked over her shoulders. She had enough explosive material in her bag to blow the place sky high if she wanted to, but she didn't want to. She didn't even want to be here. She was trying to get out of Mortem but then things like this happened to remind her she was little more than a walking and talking weapon set upon the world to bring the destruction of people just trying to live. Like Fang's partner. Lilith hoped he was safe. Fang deserved to be happy.

She could hear the clattering of horse's hooves and turned her attention in the direction that the sound came from, to see a familiar figure charging in on a horse. But that—it was impossible. Bea had died in the first Mortem attacks.

Or had she? Lilith was beginning to put two and two together. Lian had been knocked out in the Mortem communications center that day and Beatriz had disappeared. All along, she had betrayed their family. Mortem as a whole were bad people but she'd attacked /Lian/, of all people, and betrayed them.

Lian was dead and this was late but Lilith was going to make sure that she was the last person Beatriz betrayed. Sheathing one of the iron daggers, she pulled her bronze shortsword from where it was sheathed on her back and stood with weapons at the ready, staring down the woman who was riding her horse along a path that would take her straight to the Mortem headquarters if she made it through Lilith Estrella.

@☠　Lilith Estrella Bea sighed softly, breathing in the earthy smell of horses, hay, and leather. The cool, dark, and quiet of the stables, a stark contrast to the bustling excitement of the festival just outside and across the cobbled courtyard. Being unaccustomed to large crowds Bea had retreated away from the commotion, and though she had never seen a horse in person before she was fascinated, transfixed even. Moving slowly she approached the door of one of the stalls, one of the last still occupied. Towards the back of the stall was what could only be described as a medium-sized horse, neither too tall nor too stocky with a coat that shone silver in the dim light.
Bea let out the faintest of gasps at the animal's beauty.
The immediate reaction from the horse was very unexpected, and Bea couldn’t help but take a quick step back as the horse closed the space between itself and the stall door.

In the silence of the barn, the crackle of Bea’s earpiece was almost deafening, distorted, and crackly. Bea heard Eden’s familiar voice come over the line “Mortem… Dream Guard Mobilize” It was as though the words poured Ice water into her veins, Bea knew people would die. Despite the pit in her stomach Bea set her jaw against the task at hand. She knew she was far from the others, too far to run. Her eyes traveled back to the horse eyeing her inquisitively. Squinting Bea took in the horse's name, “Valerio…” she murmured and the horse's ears flicked in acknowledgment. “I’m afraid I will need your assistance, my new friend” she murmured again, running a gentle hand against his cheek. On nothing but pure instinct and adrenaline, Bea released Valerio from his stall and grabbing a fistful of mane launched herself up and onto Valerio’s back, falling naturally into a riding position she leaned forward and pushed Valerio into motion, out the open breezeway and into a full gallop towards the location of Mortem’s headquarters.

@☠　Fang Geming ↳ ᴀᴜɢᴜsᴛ 04, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: life - jolin tsai

Lian wasn't sure if she wanted to laugh or cry, hearing Fang's questions. After all of this time, after the seeds of doubt she had tried to sow as Ai—it seemed he hadn't caught on to the reality of Lian's cruel death. She sighed. "I did make contact, Toothless." The old nickname fell from her tongue easily, too easily even if she hadn't said it out loud in months. "I made contact, but I used a different name. Mortem has my body. If they knew I was /this/, they would salt and burn me in a heartbeat and Mu Lian would truly be no more as they had intended that day."

The hunter-turned-Dream Guard's lips twisted in a pain-filled smile. "I'm scared, Fang," she confessed quietly, "Dad taught me how to control my powers but for the first time in my life, I lost control—I just wanted one night where she didn't torture and hurt me and instead—" The poltergeist's laughter was bitter, raw and grating. "—instead, she turned me in and to the gallows I went. I thought she would always be my closest friend. I thought things like that wouldn't come between us when she was always flirting with Lio and everyone knew what he was... but I overestimated my importance to that... her."

There were tears streaming down Lian's face. She wiped them away, angry with herself for crying, and shrugged her shoulders. "It certainly hasn't been easy hiding the truth," she said, "Beau thinks she knows who I am. Lio knows what Beau did and yet still supports Mortem. The Dream Guard know who. But you, Dad, Lilith, Derek—I never wanted any of you to find out who I was, just in case another person I consider family decided the world would be better off without me." She wiped at her face again, and sniffled.

"I've been—I've been /this/ since the day after I died," Lian informed him. "I've spent all this time trying to get a hang of being a ghost but it's not easy. It's not like being human. And everything's so weird. I can't think straight half the time. I just want to rip her apart, isn't that funny? I used to wish her nothing but happiness. If she'd asked me to I'd have died happily for her, she didn't have to hand me over to her mother. Isn't that funny?" Lian's laughter was hysterical, breaking into wheezes even though she didn't have to breathe. "Isn't that funny..."

@✠　Mu Lian It was her. He knew it, as the mask fell into the puddle bellow. Why hadn’t she reached out to them? Did she blame all of them for what had happened. Cautiously, the human drew back, ready to defend himself. How did he fight a ghost? He wasn’t quite sure, but if it came to it, he would find a way. His eyes followed her as she turned around, confirming what he already suspected. It really was Mu Lian, in the shape of a spirit.

Fang didn’t know how to respond to the question. Had he missed her? Of course, everyone had missed happy little Lian, the light of squad 719. The favourite child. Nobody could hate her, she was friendly to everyone. Or so he thought. What had possessed someone to betray her nature as a creature? She hadn’t been doing any harm. Fang hadn’t even known she was one of them, or what she had even been. Lio - Lio hadn’t been killed. Lio, everyone knew Lio wasn’t human. Why Lian?

He shook his head, coughing to clear his throat before he let his head fall into a small nod. “I’ve missed you. And - yes, it’s been a while, too long. Why didn’t you make contact sooner? Did you- ever plan on speaking to any of us again?” He felt bad for asking. But he had to know. If he hadn’t caught her again like this, would she have ever spoken to anyone again? Fang would understand if she wouldn’t have. They’d done nothing to prevent her cruel and unfair death. Nothing except be furious about it afterwards. They’d gotten her no justice, not even helped her to get her vengeance. Fang blinked down at the water soaked concrete. Did that happen often?

“How long have you.. been around again? What have you been doing?”

@☠　Derek Mantaya A second pained sound died in Youngmi’s chest as he held his dying friend. He hadn’t wanted it to end like this. Somehow, some strange part of him clung onto the idea that nothing would ever go wrong between them. Even when they’d fought and snarled at each other about how cowardly they were, they’d bounced back to friendship again in just a single night. Youngmi missed the dance - he missed the light flirting, the way he’d feel the need to run and hide how much his chest fluttered whenever Derek . He didn’t want this. This was the worst way for things to happen. Youngmi would take dying a second time if it meant seeing his friend healthy and living again.

“T-this- this isn’t the time,” He choked out, his shoulders shaking as he fought breaking into another bout of sobs. He smiled though. He couldn’t help smiling whenever he got told something like that. Stupid and cringe-worthy, and it made him feel warm inside. Usually, anyway. Now the smile was a sad one, a tiny twitch of his lips. He wanted to do more. How could he help? The angel devoted himself to helping others, but when it came to his best friend laying weak in his arms, he couldn’t do a single thing. “I’m sorry,” He rasped, another cry held in by his continued speaking. “I should have known it was you. It’s selfish of me to ask, but please don’t be angry with me. I’ll take care of you - I’ll find you, somewhere. Maybe in another life, sometime. Please, don’t die,” He rambled, only to pause himself, his dewy gaze falling back on his friend.

He didn’t know what made him do it. Maybe it was the fact that they only had a few precious moments left. Maybe it was because no matter how hard he tried, there would be the time to tell his friend everything he wanted to. It didn’t matter that Derek’s lips were stained with blood, or that the angel was so selfishly stealing what little air he had left in his lungs. But the kiss came, so very gentle against the hunter’s lips. This was his last chance to convey any kind of feeling. He didn’t want it to be wasted. He didn’t want there to be things left unsaid. “I’ll stay with you..” Youngmi promised, as he pulled back. Not far - he gazed sorrowfully down at the pale features before him. Derek never tried. And now, for a second time, Youngmi had made him cry. He really was a selfish creature, craving the human’s affection so.

The angel’s fingers ran through his friend’s hair one last time before they stopped, praying for a few minutes that Derek’s chest would rise and fall again. “You can’t.. you can’t just leave me like this,” He murmured, knowing all too well that the man couldn’t hear him. Maybe it was better this way. At least when Youngmi had died, Derek wasn’t there. They hadn’t been able to spoke, there had been no warning. At least this way, the creature could spend the last few moments that he could with his friend. Youngmi wouldn’t leave his side. They’d have to pull him off kicking and screaming if they wanted him to leave his old friend behind.

@✠　Lee Youngmi The angel's wail didn't fall short of the hunter's ears. It shook Derek to his core. He had never heard such a heart wrenching sound come from his best friend. The one who always had a smile on his face. Seeing Youngmi so panicked hurt him. He wanted to wrap his arms around the angel and tell him everything was going to be okay. But he was scared. Scared of what lies on the other side for him. He knew he wasn't going to make it out of this. There was no fixing this.

Derek had always known since the day he had encountered Youngmi in the shady street and the day youngmi saw him in his drunken, murderous state during the war, that one of them would end up in the ground. At first, he thought that it was going to be him. So when he heard of Youngmi's death, he felt the darkness eating away at him all over again. God was dead to him. Dead until he saw Youngmi again, smiling and laughing with his friends again. He had hope again. But now, here he was, pain searing through his body and sweat dripping down his forehead. Had it always been this cold? His body shivered under Youngmi's touch. When the masked was pulled off his head,  a loud gasp could be heard from Derek's pale, blood stained lips, his back arching off the ground to compensate from the sudden intake of oxygen filling his lungs as more blood pooled from his stomach. "I- I can't... not when you keep t-taking my breath away, angel. " He laughed weakly, looking up at Youngmi with tears falling from the corners of his eyes.

"Now don't give me that..." he groaned and clenched his jaw. He wanted Youngmi to smile. But he couldn't bring himself to tell the angel that he was okay. He was scared. He was terrified. His body shook violently, eyes going blurry. There was a moment of silence. He had so much he wanted to tell Youngmi but he didn't have the strength. Only his jagged breathing could be heard now that most of the citizens had emptied the streets. "Youngmi.. it's cold..." he whispered, almost inaudibly, lips parting to speak more, but nothing came out. The hand on the necklace was slowly losing its strength, his glassy eyes unable to focus on the angel above him. He looked towards the sky again as if it was the last time he'd ever see it, a soft sigh leaving his lips as he took his final breath.

@☠　Fang Geming ↳ ᴀᴜɢᴜsᴛ 04, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: not friends - loona (heejin, kim lip, jinsoul, yves)

Her name echoed in the space around them, followed by a silence broken only by the sound of the fighting going on elsewhere in the city. Lian slowly reached behind her head and undid the laces of her mask, hands far steadier than she felt. The gold-decorated mask splashed in the puddle of water on the stones at her feet, and she slowly straightened, in no hurry to turn around and show Fang her face.

Finally, she sighed. Turning around, she swept her hands through the curtain of hair that had fallen in her face and pushed it back, tucked neatly behind her ears.

"Hello, Fang," she said, her tone light—when had she become so good at faking things? She didn't feel so light. The last time Lian had seen Fang, she had been in the hands of Mortem's executioners. Her head had been pushed in and out of water until she had died. It had been slow, it had been painful, and there had been no one who could help her escape the fate set out for her. Not even Ailell. She didn't know where he had been but he hadn't been there, and she didn't resent him even though she'd come back as a spirit that craved vengeance. "Did you miss me?"

Lian had missed Fang. More than she should have, perhaps, considering the way she had died. Why she had died. The circumstances that had led to her death. Betrayal of the worst kind. But it was how much she missed her family—and craved taking slow, sweet revenge on Beau in destroying her relationships and her sanity—that had brought her to re-enter the Mortem chatroom and hack things and make a presence for herself under the name of Ai.

"It's been a while," the ghost continued. She wasn't smiling, not like she would have four months ago, back when she was alive and part of Mortem and things hadn't gone to hell for her. But that was before Beau's betrayal, before she'd been brutally murdered by her 'family'. She found it hard to smile these days. She was focusing on not crying, anyway. Tears were a sign of weakness and she couldn't show those, just in case Fang decided that he hated her. "I didn't want us to meet like this."

@✠　Mu Lian With how ed the human sometimes considered his lungs to be, he could definitely say he wouldn't have been able to lay chase for long. Not without slowing and gasping until he was ready to go again - in the few moments it would've taken him, the woman would be long gone and he'd go back to looking like a dirty traitor if anyone spotted him near all the hunter's bodies. He obviously wasn't going to hurt the women when he caught her - just scare her, in case she'd seen anything when she'd been staring. And, make sure she wasn't going to point him out to anyone in the aftermath, now that his features were on show.

It hadn't even occurred to him, not in a million years, that this would be how he met his strange online friend, who he'd first thought was some sentient computer glitch. He wouldn't put it past the world to send them sentient phones and computer programmes. The world was weird like that. Not that creatures were weird - alright, some of them were. Just a little. But he didn't hate them because of it, he just gave the particularly creepy ones a glare or two.

He stared hard at the masked girl, simply watching and waiting for her to speak to him. Until the water started pouring from her features. His eyes widened. Fang didn't think he'd ever seen anything quite like it before. It made a wave of dread wash over him, reminding him awfully of the execution he'd been forced to stand and watch. The way Lian had grown weaker each time they threw her head in, the way Fang remembered his hands trembling, a foul mixture of grief and rage that had only brought about bad things in the past. But he'd controlled it. What could he have done, anyway? Offered to join her? To take her place? Lian was apparently a creature, something Fang had never suspected for a second - so they'd never take him in her place over something like that.

He paused. It couldn't be. She wouldn't hide from them all this time. She wouldn't have stayed away and let them all believe she was dead and long gone. Fang blinked at the woman once again, looking long and hard at her. "...Lian?"

There, he'd said it. Even if he was wrong and it wasn't her, if it was just some random stranger, it didn't matter. It didn't matter. If it was Lian, she probably didn't want to see him or any of the squad again. None of them had tried to help her, and Ailell hadn't been there to step in. A heavy sigh left the human. Even if it wasn't Lian, he'd probably just let the woman go anyway.

@☬　Wang Yeol ↳ ᴀᴜɢᴜsᴛ 04, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: villain - k/da
↳ ᴍᴏɴᴀʀᴄʜ: https://i.pinimg.com/564x/7d/7b/06/7d7b065532b0cac02b94c3bd1c52c6ba.jpg

The hunter had gotten a lucky blow, the tip of their blade piercing through Monarch's leather armor and sinking into the flesh of his shoulder. He'd twisted in time to keep the blade away from the more vital areas of his chest, and had yanked it out of his shoulder and cut the stupid thing down with a few swings of Ferity but then he had stumbled and, embarrassingly enough, fallen.

And now here was someone leaning over him, asking if he was injured.

The pixie bared sharp teeth in a brutal smile and pushed up to his feet, spinning the double-bladed sword in his hand. "Fine," he answered, voice weighted with forced cheer. He wiped blood off his cheek, where apparently he now had a scratch, and shrugged his shoulders.

"Are /you/ hurt?" Monarch asked. He sweeped his eyes over the stranger, critical, analyzing. Hm, had he seen this man with his boss before? He looked like someone Monarch had seen Akaedi talking to. Perhaps he was. The pixie turned as movement caught his eye, plunging Ferity through a human's chest, and winced as the range of motion tugged on the stab wound in his shoulder. This was why he ate humans. They were stupid little creatures that hunted creatures for no reason. "What's your name?" he asked, as he jerked Ferity out of the human's chest and flicked blood from her blade. "Mine's Monarch, like the butterfly, not the royal."

@☠　Fang Geming ↳ ᴀᴜɢᴜsᴛ 04, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: poltergeist - banks

Fang had never been a strong runner, and it didn't help that his lungs were weakened by all of the cigarettes he smoked. Lian knew this. She didn't /want/ him to catch her. /You'll get less hurt if you just stay still./ How many times had she heard that, when Beau dragged her along on missions because 'you're going to have to strengthen your stomach somehow, Lian!' and took her sweet time carving some poor beast up? Too many to count, surely; it was what made her stop, not turning to face Fang head-on but turning her head enough that she could see him out of her peripheral vision.

No matter how much she wanted to say something, Lian couldn't talk to him. Would he recognize her voice? Mortem had killed her three months prior. It was long enough ago that he could have forgotten but it was also recent enough that it was also likely she was remembered. That her voice was remembered. And she didn't want to take that chance, even if it was Fang and she had planned to meet him at the games. She'd been rethinking that. And, even though she'd never admit it, she'd actively avoided him whenever they were supposed to meet, and then whined that they'd missed each other again in the chat. For three months she'd had him convinced she was Ai. She'd been telling a lie and hoping she could keep it.

And so she was just standing there, her corporeal body unnaturally still, no breathing to make it rise and fall and no trembles of fear like the last time he had seen her. No—

—it was like thinking of it cued it to happen. Lian felt it coming, the water surging up and out of to splash on the ground, soaking the cobblestones at her feet. They were in a secluded area, it was only her and Fang and yet panic welled up in Lian, spurred on by the presence of the ghastly water she was choking on all over again. She bent forward, coughing and hacking as her eyes and throat and nose burned, water pouring out of them until it finally died down to a terrible trickle.

Usually her attacks weren't this violent. Maybe it was seeing Fang again that had brought it on. Even her nightly visits to Beau didn't cause her to suffer like this, but maybe that was because her vengeful nature was unleashed.

Miserably, she kept her head lowered, a different burn prickling at her eyes. If he didn't know her now, she'd be surprised.

@✠　Mu Lian Fang hadn’t really wanted the woman to die. She’d been defending her own - though if she’d have just killed him when he had the chance, she might not have been killed by his furious father. When Ailell left to join the fight again, Fang sent a glare towards the body of his fellow hunter whom he’d dispatched for trying to steal their father’s kill. But now the threat was passed - Fang couldn’t help but feel suffocated behind the mask. As though the sweaty plastic against his face was restricting his ability to breathe. He quickly tore it off, discarding it on the ground. His identity was not sacred to him - he didn’t care who saw him for the time being. He could always steal someone else’s if he needed to hide his features again.

Movement caught his eye - a woman, racing away from him, probably having seen the motionless body not far from him. The knife slid into the sheath at his side, and the hunter took a deep breath. And then he ran. Fang was not the strongest runner - it made him sweat, it hurt his chest, none of which were things he enjoyed feeling. But he had to look like a hunter somehow, at least a little bit. It would save him getting beaten up by mortem if someone witnessed one of his killings of one of his ‘siblings’. Fang would never hurt any of his siblings. But these people weren’t his siblings. Lilith was, Lio was, Lian was. Even Beau and Amine were, even if he didn’t know all that had gone on.

He couldn’t let her escape - he’d just tell her she hadn’t seen anything. Intimidation and whatever. He was a big, tall man with a lot of knives and good aim. Fang hadn’t quite realised she was a ghost until he got close enough to see her feet didn’t touch the ground. “Hey, stop!” He shouted, continuing to lay chase with aching legs. “You’ll get less hurt if you just stay still,” He insisted, breathing laboured as he slowed to a jog. “Obviously not like, within all of this, that would be stupid, run away from any hunters you see - but not me, I’m just tryna make sure you didn’t see anything.”

@☠　Fang Geming ↳ ᴀᴜɢᴜsᴛ 04, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: propaganda - banks
↳ ʟɪᴀɴ: https://i.pinimg.com/564x/e1/de/1b/e1de1b5caec4fa1c128cd4a0685ef5b6.jpg
↳ ᴍᴀsᴋ: https://i.pinimg.com/564x/b8/f3/42/b8f34280f535efae513ee73970ffc4d9.jpg

Gold mask secured over her face to secure her features, boots with proper tread to fight in, her outfit one she had been wearing for the festival, Mu Lian flew across the battleground, slipping in and out of a physical form with a quickness that came from her inability to control her powers and her need to protect herself from the enemies that surrounded her. She had heard the song, not the fearsome Reina's usual warcry, and wanted to see what the reason for such a sound was. Had someone fallen? Did she need help? Would a half-useless ghost be useful to her?

Lian wasn't wanting or expecting to find Fang standing over the Thunder God's body, crushed and hewn with that could only belong to Ailell's weapon, his mask in hand as he inhaled deeply.

An intense wave of emotions washed over her—grief, for the loss of Reina, relief that Fang was alive and well, grief at being unable to approach him or tell him who she was, apprehension that he might hurt her even if he always spoke as though her death was something he wished could have been prevented, anger that he was there, that Mortem had forced him to be there—and Lian realized that she had to get away from him before he recognized her, or worse, she was forced to fight him. She had been dumbly staring at him, but she turned quickly and rushed back the way she came, her feet moving in an imitation of running but her feet remaining a few centimeters above the ground as she sped away from the man she considered a brother.

@☠　Derek Mantaya The hunter was struggling. The angel’s eyes were still wide with dread. No, no, no. It wasn’t Derek. It couldn’t be Derek. That man was someone who Youngmi never wanted to hurt. A small cry left his lips when the masked man’s fingers wrapped around the necklace and tugged, pulling the precious item free with a pinch against the angel’s skin. If it was possible, his eyes widened more. Unshed tears built in his eyes, blurring his vision as he tried to furiously brush them away by blinking rapidly. There was only two people in the world who knew the significance of the little necklace- Youngmi and Derek.

The angel moved. As the hunter rolled onto his back, Youngmi moved to hover over him. The aggression was gone from his touch, replaced by a feverish, frantic anxiety that overtook every nerve in his body. His fingers slipped under the edge of the mask, roughly pulling it up, /needing/ to see the face of who lay underneath. An aggrieved wail spilled from his lips. He didn’t think himself possible of such a noise until the sound of pain escaped him. Youngmi fell back from where he sat beside the human, supporting himself with his hands. “No, no, no, no.” He didn’t realise that he’d murmured it out loud this time. Derek was trying to get to him - even though it was Youngmi who’d just run him through, without thought or hesitation. Youngmi moved again, despite how his fingers trembled so forcefully he was afraid he’d cause more harm. He chucked the mask a few feet away, and moved around. Derek was going to choke on his blood like this.

It was with all the care in the world that the angel alleviated the head of his best friend, shuffling so that he could rest the man’s head on his lap. He could fix it, he was going to fix it, this was all his fault and he was going to fix it. He couldn’t lose Derek. Derek made him feel so funny, so happy, it was something he couldn’t describe. But he couldn’t let Derek leave his life. “P-please breathe. Please just keep breathing,” The archangel begged, his hand slipping to the ragged part of Derek’s shirt where Youngmi had stabbed him. He had to help - yet something in the back of his mind warned him it was already too late. The now bloodied hand moved to the one of his friend’s that held the necklace so tightly. He wrapped his fingers around the larger hand, just holding onto him. With his free hand his fingers ran through the man’s hair, trying with all his might not to cry.

“I’ve got you. I won’t leave you alone. I won’t ever leave you alone again,” He whispered, his voice thick with pain as he held the human. “Manny..”

@✠　Lee Youngmi Maybe this was what was supposed to happen. How it was meant to end. Derek wasn't one without sin. He wasn't a great hero or someone worth praise. He wouldn't even be categorized as a decent human being, worthy of the air he breathed. He didn't deserve anything in life except what was happening to him now. No amount of apologizing or praying would rid him of the blood that permanently stained his hands. He was the monster. But that didn't stop him from clinging onto whatever hope that he could grab onto, even if it was the person who had just run their dagger straight into him. Youngmi. He needed him.

The hunter dove straight for the angel, both of them flying across the dirt floor,, his hand reaching for Youngmi's neck.  'Youngmi.' The only person he could think of. The only being running through his mind as his heart raced. The hunter choked, blood sputtering inside the mask, painting his face red as he coughed some more,  struggling to gasp for air. 'Youngmi.' He desperately called out in his mind, frightened eyes swelling up with tears. His desperate cries went unheard as he flipped over to look towards the sky as a means to get more air, ripping the necklace from Youngmi's neck.  His body convulsed into itself, shivering uncontrollably. 'Youngmi. ' The hand clutching the necklace only tightened, his free hand frantically searching the dirt floor for the angel as his chest heaved in attempt to catch up with his racing heart.

revenge. anger. all else. He just wanted his best friend.  Why had he been so dumb, so blinded by anger that he didn't pay attention to what was really in front of him. Why didn't he realize any of this sooner. "Hurkk-" He coughed again, almost choking on his own blood. Humans. They were so weak and pathetic. He was dying from a simple stab wound of all things. The hunter's hand went straight for his own neck, clawing at the mask in attempt to take it off. He was pathetic.

@☠　Fang Geming ↳ ᴀᴜɢᴜsᴛ 04, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: come crashing - digital daggers

Youngmi. Klahan. Demitri. Eden. Beatriz. Areti. Little Lian. All of the Dream Guard's names were swirling through her, filling her with warmth even as it seeped from her with the blood from her injuries. She could hear her killer and his comrade talking, but their words were little more than a buzz in the background as Reina Thor's eyes began to slip shut. She could picture pulling Sif into her arms again, when she made it home... when she would one day make it home, back to the woman she'd loved since the beginning.

Reina hoped Klahan would forgive her, for leaving him to find a new dancing and drinking partner, someone else to bicker with about heels and sparkles and cars or chariots. Someone else to walk arm-in-arm with and cry over their losses with. She hoped someone else would learn how to make him sleep.

She hoped her babies in the Guard would gain a new drill sergeant, a better one than her, one who would not die foolishly on the battlefield. She knew they would grow up strong, prayed that they would not miss her too terribly when she was gone for even though she was dead a part of her would always remain with them.

She hoped that Eden and Demitri could forgive her for leaving them with more of a workload, with a new position to scrabble to fill with some worthy Guard. That Areti would not fear the rumbles of thunder anymore, that he would find peace in them. That Lian would be comforted now that she didn't have to fear the scary drill sergeant anymore, that Lian would find her family...

But more than anything, Reina hoped that Youngmi, her precious little Youngmi, would be able to forgive her for breaking her promises to him. For failing to take him flying with her chariot, for not being there to see when he remastered flying. For being unable to help him through his panic attacks, for abandoning him at the worst of times, when he needed her love and strength the most. It was that which rended Reina's heart the most, tearing shreds into sensitive flesh.

"I'm sorry, little one," she whispered, low and hoarse. Her eyes closed on the end of the words, her shallow breaths slowly coming to a halt...

Reina Thor, the Thunder God of the Dream Guard, had fallen.

↳ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ.

@✠　Reina Thor Fang couldn’t watch as he axe came down. That fiery woman who’d cut down so many in mere seconds - killed, but the man he looked up to so much. If this hadn’t have been a battlefield, he would’ve struck up a conversation with the woman, asking her how she got such a big hammer, how the storm revolved around her booming aura. His hair stuck to his face and he was forced to use a bloodied hand to pull it back before he could be blinded by the dark locks.

Hesitantly, nervously, the human finally looked back to Ailell, and met his eyes behind the mask. “Da-” He stopped himself, his words dying in his throat when his gaze fell upon the fallen woman once again. “Sir. I’m sorry I couldn’t do better,” Fang murmured a moment later, a cautious glance sent back to one of his fellow hunters who’d fell victim to his blade. “She was- she was strong.” Fang couldn’t have killed her even if she was an easy target. He was getting soft, weak. He was starting to see people as more than just prey.

He looked down at the fallen creature once again. She’d mentioned family, a home. Both of which she wouldn’t be going back to. He shook his head, blinking to clear his thoughts. “I’ll- I’ll continue now.” He couldn’t bring himself to thank Ailell for saving his life. Fang didn’t feel grateful. Someone had still died in the process. It was a cycle, an endless one. He swallowed, feeling as though his throat was tight and that he couldn’t breathe.

@☠　Fang Geming ↳ ᴀᴜɢᴜsᴛ 04, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: lyfjaberg - wardruna

Reina continued to fight valiantly, even though she was growing tired from her melee across the battlefield and this powerful adversary's arrival. She was a God but she was not infallible, she was not invincible especially in this mortal body. Her lips parted in an enraged scream, lunging to try and take control of the fight again, but the man moved with a practiced ease to evade her and swept her legs from beneath her with the handle of his axe. Reina pitched forward, catching herself on a knee and with the of her hammer. She spun in time to catch the blade of the man's weapon with the head of her hammer, heart thumping in when she saw a few locks of dark hair fall to the ground. Rage followed the fear, and Reina lashed out, launching herself at him yet again.

She didn't realize there was an axe embedded in her ribcage until it ripped out of her with a sick /squelch/, and her legs gave out beneath her. The Thunder God struggled, catching herself on her hammer but even then her limbs were weak and the hunter kicked her down, her head striking the pavement and leaving stars dancing before her vision.

Reina didn't remember how death felt in her past life but she was certain that was what this was and she tried to pull herself together, tried to get to her feet but a foot planted on and pushed her down.

And Klahan was still not there.

"Odin, don't let him blame himself," Reina laughed to the sky, even as tears welled in the corners of her eyes. Her grip was tight on the hilt of her hammer, blood was trickling from the corner of , the foot had lifted from and she saw the axe hefted overhead.

"Send me home," Reina whispered, "send me back to my love... her hair, as golden and beautiful as wheat rippling... send me home, to my lovely Sif."

The axe came down, crushing through bone, and Reina spat blood. The storm was whipping all around them now, rain beating the blood away from her face, lightning arcing over the hunters. Reina's body was lifted partially off of the ground when the axe ripped from her ribcage again, and she collapsed into the pooling rain and blood.

She could see the Valkyries circling overhead, ready to carry her back home.

@✠　Reina Thor Suddenly, his father was there. Ailell came like a storm, and Fang was quick to do as was snapped at him. He knew better than to try and step in when he heard that voice. He was lucky - a single moment later and Fang would be another of the child army laying strewn across the battlefield. The human only moved to get out of the way of the furious blows that fell between the two. He knew Ailell didn’t need the help, but he couldn’t help but curl his fingers tighter around the handle of his blade. Only if his teacher needed it.

He could do little but watch as they swirled around one another. Though, he could keep the area clear. The blade sought its first blood of the day by plunging into the stomach of a fellow hunter. They probably weren’t anyone he knew, but they were trying to interfere with the fight. After pushing his victim away, Fang looked back towards the battle. He hoped Ailell hadn’t seen that one.

The strange noises the woman let out was not a tune be understood, but with caution in the eyes his gaze turned up towards the sky once again. Lightning did it seem to come crashing down again - he was safe from being struck. There would only be one who came out victorious of the conflict, and for a stomach wrenching moment Fang thought he might witness his Mortem’s father die. The tides were quickly changing however. Was Ailell really going to be able to kill this god?

@☠　Fang Geming ↳ ᴀᴜɢᴜsᴛ 04, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: if i had a heart - fever ray
↳ ᴀɪʟᴇʟʟ: https://i.pinimg.com/originals/69/41/23/6941233b52cdc41833b0ce5e4a75b93c.jpg &

Finally, the hunter stood with a weapon in his hand and Reina was glad that he had chosen to take the path of a man. At least he was not that much of a coward. She reared back with her hammer as he moved, as though he was going to attack her, and she began to swing her hammer when someone's shout rang out, and she heard the whistle of a weapon behind her. Reflexes had Reina dipping at the waist and spinning, her hammer clashing against an axe as another tall man, this one broader and /angry/ bore down upon her to force her away from the hunter she had attacked.

"Stay," the man snarled at the other hunter, as though he was a small child that had wandered away. Then his focus was back on her and he bore down on her with his battleaxe, attacking with a speed and fury that matched Eden's but a level of physical power that could match her own. Reina's lips were parted in a terrible snarl as she fought back, but she had not faced a worthy opponent in some time and it became clear that the Thunder God was at a tactical disadvantage. Nonetheless...

She leaped back to put space between herself and the larger hunter, a wall of wind whipping up between them as she let her hammer hover in front of her. Hands cupped around , Reina inhaled a deep breath and let out a long kulning, the song trilling far into the sky. If Klahan was near, if he was in the battle, he would hear. He would come for her.

A moment later the axe ripped through her wind and Reina had to grab the hammer, batting away the furious hunter's strikes. His eyes were blazing behind his mask, brilliant emerald like a burning hot flame. Reina hissed as he forced her back, narrowly avoiding tripping over bodies, guiding them in a tight circle as she sidestepped and refused to retreat. But she could not feel Klahan's presence, nor him getting close, and she was—

No. No. Reina Thor was not scared. She was not /afraid/. This was a hunter. He had no chance of cutting her down.

Around the hunter the angry man had rescued they went in a circle, almost like a dance; a lady in white and a man in black, spinning a circle of death faster and faster as the strain of blocking continuous attacks from a man who /matched her/ in this body began to wear upon the goddess.

And Klahan was not there.

@✠　Reina Thor She pursued him. Of course she did. He wouldn’t escape so easily, not when the blood splattered sidewalk was too slick to get a steady footing on. His gloves were stained in the scarlet liquid, as was the dark mask on his face from kills he’d made on his own people. But nobody would know about what Fang had done, because the human fought from afar. He used to be proud of his accuracy, of the damage he could cause. Now it just left him hollow, dull, with a never ending spiral of dread waiting at the end of every murder.

He couldn’t protest and just let her kill him though. There was a note of fury to her voice that he didn’t dare protest to. The hammer had no yet come down, so Fang scrambled to his feet. There was a spot of eternal suffering in hell waiting for him, so he’d might as well do as she’d gone and face it like a man. His long arm reached for the jagged knife at his side. Just in case he had to find in close range. It’s blade was designed to cause as much damage as possible - but it was clean, for now at least. After pulling it free and getting up, he found himself towering over the woman again. She was no less intimidating. But Fang was facing death properly.

Her voice moved with the thunder - Fang knew in that moment he was in the presence of a god. But, if he was to be killed by anyone, at least he could say when he got down there that it was by a god. The water splattering his clothes and the ground around him ran red when it caught the bloody stains. His eyes were still wide. The human was afraid to face death, but as the woman had said; at least it would be with a weapon in hand.

His eyes squeezed shut a moment, then when he opened them, he moved, as though preparing to strike. He couldn’t get close to the hammer without dying, so he’d let it hit him when she swung. That way, he’d never attempted to harm the woman, as much as it seemed like he was going to. Maybe Sterling would be proud of him. Maybe Ailell would be proud of him. He didn’t know. The blade was poised in his hand, but he didn’t try to move forward. Fang Geming was waiting, waiting for her to finish the fight and waste him like every hunter that lay around him.

@☠　Fang Geming ↳ ᴀᴜɢᴜsᴛ 04, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: norupo - heilung

Reina's eyes narrowed, and the scent of ozone grew strong in the air. The force of her fury drove the storm onward, thunder booming loud enough to drown out the hunter's words. "You have blood on your hands," she roared, and the voice was not the sweet, melodic one she gave to the Guard, her darling Guard—it was the roar of thunder, the crash of lightning, the spatter of rain and the whistling of a tornado rolled into one—it was the righteous fury of a God untamable. "You reek of blood and dare to beg /me/ for mercy."

She followed the hunter as he scrabbled away from her, terror in his eyes behind his mask as he fled before the might of the Dream Guard's third in command, their resident God a most powerful creature when she set foot on the battlefield. Though she appeared delicate like a fairy, and she oft moved like a petal floating in a gentle breeze when she was at peace, Reina was a unit of war and this was what Eden had recruited her for. This man could not run from her, could not hide from her and he would never escape the Thunder God's wrath for the blood that soaked the pavement, blood that a lesser woman would have slipped in. Alas for the hunter who fled her strikes and pleaded for his life, she was no lesser woman.

The hunter fell, and Reina moved in, her hammer hefted high overhead. She was about to slam the weapon down when the hunter continued to plead with her, his hands raised to defend himself. "Get up," she snarled, and withdrew a step, "Valhalla will not welcome those who do not die with a weapon in hand! Get up, and arm yourself! I do not believe the words of a hunter. You have attacked my home, attacked my /family/, sent me the little Ástvinur that should not have had to come to the Guard! You and your kind, you soak the streets with blood, the blood of mine and yet you lie with gilded tongues, hoping to be spared!" Lightning danced over her small body, along the lines of her arms and across the hammer she hefted. "But," she continued, "I am not Eden, and I do not know the meaning of /mercy/. You come to my home with a weapon in hand and strike and with all of my power I will cut you down and send you to Valhalla or Helheim, whichever you choose! If you die like a man or die like a coward it is of no consequence to me."

Reina Thor stepped forward, her hammer poised to strike. "Get to your feet," she commanded one less time, and thunder boomed across the sky once again as the clouds split and rain began to beat down upon them in fat, heavy droplets. "FACE ME LIKE A MAN!"

@✠　Reina Thor Fang would not kill for Mortem. He had sworn it to himself that morning, after staying up through the night, anxiously wondering whether he should tell someone about the planned disgraceful acts of the next day. He did not. Betrayal was not a thing taken kindly to among the hunters. They would know it was him. His comments these past few weeks already meant he was under a careful eye. They thought he didn’t notice the eyes they had around the city.

He was armed to the teeth, issued mask neatly covering everything but his eyes. It was to keep their identities hidden. Fang didn’t need it - there weren’t so many people with his shape or height in the city, so he was a sore thumb whether they could see his features or not. He kept it on though. It marked him as a hunter, an unidentifiable member of the ranks. Fang didn’t think he could face it if anyone he knew saw him surrounded by bodies and blood. /At least it hadn’t been him that killed any of them/.

The human pulled the jagged knife out of the throat of another hunter. She’d been enjoying the killing a little too much. It made Fang sick. Made his stomach writhe with anger. Nobody would know it was him, she was just an unfortunate victim of the battle raging around him. He still still a killer at the end of the day - a thought that distracted him until he heard the clap of thunder.

His eyes flew up to the sky as he wiped the knife on his black trouser leg. Last time, he’d almost choked to death on the smoke of the north quarter’s flames. This time, would he almost drown? No, no, it seemed - strangely and comically enough, he might die at the hands of a woman who was only just above his elbow in height. Wielding a hammer like a child’s toy that looked like it was crush her if she made a wrong move. But she didn’t - the fury behind her blows was incredible.

Alright, no staring, he was about to have every bone in his body broken, he realised as a comrade was sent flying, a sickening crack filling the air, the poor sod doomed to never rise again. “I’m not one of them!” The cry bubbled out from his lips, despite how his limbs were already moving. In the opposite direction, of course. Fang hated himself, hated what he was doing. But he didn’t want to /die/ just yet. His eyes refused to leave the angry woman who charge towards him. Fang didn’t want to run from a fight, but he stood no chance of winning that one. They said the smaller a creature, the more angry, and he believed it in that moment.

Not looking where he was going was a great disadvantage. He stumbled, over the body of a crumpled citizen, landing against the mass with a heavy ‘hmph!’ his eyes wide under the mask. His hands raised, as though somehow they’d stop the hammer coming down to bash his skull in in one fell swoop. “/Please/, I’m not one of them! I don’t want to be one of them!”

@☠　Fang Geming ↳ ᴀᴜɢᴜsᴛ 04, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: flúga - skald
↳ ʀᴇɪɴᴀ: https://i.pinimg.com/564x/cd/18/09/cd18099d4180e1306a264522f10271cc.jpg

White cloth floated around Reina like the silk of a dream as her chariot touched down. Her goats' hooves were accompanied by the crackling of lightning and the boom of thunder, the skies darkening with the arrival of the Thunder God herself. She stepped delicately down from the chariot, her stiletto heels clicking on the pavement as she tossed her dark hair back over her shoulder and took in the scene. Blood everywhere, hunters and creatures entangling in a sea of writhing bodies, a brutal battle to the death.

Her presence brought with it the scent of a storm, the whipping of wind and the faint mist of wind in the air and yet at the epicenter of the brewing disaster, she was calm and steady, her hammer materializing propped on her shoulder, a thing that looked ridiculous wielded by a woman half its size. A fool would be the one to underestimate her strength, for she was one of the Dream Guard's most powerful warriors and an unstoppable force. As soon as she landed, she brought with her an immediate boost in moral and a ripple of strength to the Guard. Hunters were no match for Reina Thor.

She spun on the balls of her feet, hammer swung down and released to ricochet through rows of adversaries like a boomerang. The cracking of skulls was a familiar sound, music in her ears as she stretched on the tips of her feet and reached up to the sky, lightning coalescing in her hands. It crackled over her palms, winding into orbs as she lowered herself back down, her eyes glowing with the unleashed power of storms.

With an exhale, Reina unleashed all of that power, lightning striking hunters all around her as her mighty hammer returned to her. She caught it with ease, lightning arcing down from the sky to strike the head and join that which she had already set dancing around her.

"FOR HOME!" she roars, and the words curl off of her tongue in her native language as she finally, finally charges into the fray, light on her feet even in her killer shoes and delicate white dress. She spins through the ranks of hunters, hammer smashing bone, flower staying pinned in her hair as she ducked and weaved and smashed her way through the humans who dared step in her path after attacking her people.

Spying the next tall, scrawny hunter in her path, Reina unleashed a roar of rage, the hammer spinning in her hand as she launched at the masked man, intent on destroying him just as she had his comrades.

[ OPEN! FEEL FREE TO TAKE ]

Oh dear. Yeol had a strange feeling something like this would happen. It seemed every time the city had some sort of gathering, whether it be the mayor's ball or these silly little sporting events, someone took advantage of having so many people crowded together and struck. It wasn't surprising; how many events had been targeted by terrorist groups?

Yeol looked around at the chaos surrounding him. Things like this no longer bothered him, and he doubted any hunter would be able to figure out how to kill him, anyway. He sighed as he stepped to the side slightly to allow a terrified human to run past him. Sticking his hand out, Yeol wrapped his fingers around the throat of a human with a weapon in their hand, his eyes burning as he stared the pathetic little thing in the eyes. "You will drop your weapon, leave this place, and forget how to fight," he said, voice low and taking on a strange double-tone. Yeol hadn't had to use his powers in a while, and doing so felt like stretching a forgotten limb. The human's eyes glassed over as he dropped the weapon in his hand and turned, immediately leaving the area, walking in a straight line.

Yeol sighed as he turned, seeing someone on the ground. Though they looked vaguely familiar, Yeol was certain he didn't know their name. He strode over and bent down with a frown. "Are you hurt?" he asked.

@☠　Derek Mantaya Lee Youngmi didn’t get angry easily. But these people were /innocent/. They had just come for a nice day to the sporting events. They hadn’t expected to be slaughtered like animals. The thought filled Youngmi with a pained rage. There were /children/ around. People whose entire life would be ruined by that day. It fuelled the angel, filling him with a certain strength.

He didn’t know who the man was. He only felt the dagger plunge into the abdomen of his victim, merciless and swift. Usually, that feeling would’ve made the angel feel positively ill. He didn’t want to hurt anyone. But these hunters were awful. Awful, awful, terrible people. The angel’s eyes stung at the thought of it all, all the consequences that would come from the day. Did they not see it? What must a person possess to be able to kill without feeling? These poor, misguided things. Though, maybe, Youngmi was the misguided one.

At the front of the mind, Youngmi was still praying that Derek was safe. He knew the rest of the guard would be unwavering, just as Vos would be. He hoped his human was at the back - out of harms way, a substitute, who hopefully wouldn’t see conflict. Youngmi could never hate his friend for his job. He cared about Derek far too much to be put off by profession. He knew Manny was a good person, a very good person. A very good person who made Youngmi’s heart beat rapidly, made his head feel light in a way he couldn’t get enough of.

His foe pulled the dagger out. Youngmi was startled to find the hand brush almost tenderly against the corner of his eye. The angel was now unarmed, but he didn’t mind. Light danced along his fingertips. He’d blind the man if that was what it took. The wrathful angel looked into the eyes of his opponent. The rage in the creature’s met the shock in the human’s. It was understandable. Being surprised, that was. The man had just been stabbed.

Strangely enough, Youngmi hesitated. He paused. The light dancing across his fingers dimmed and died. The man had began to say his name when he’d been stabbed. /no, no, no, no, no/. Youngmi pleaded to himself. It was just a coincidence. The fire in his eyes flickered and faded. It was the hesitation that gave his bleeding enemy the advantage to make a move on the archangel. While Youngmi’s brain as working too quickly, his heart sinking to the pit of his stomach with dread, he was easy to tackle to the hard ground. Scuffing his hands against the dirt, the shriek made his eyes widen.

“W-wait!” He cried out, stumbling for any means to defend himself against the larger man.

@✠　Lee Youngmi Giving his all for one game was enough. He had wanted to make Youngmi proud of him, even if it was just for one game. The way the angel scurried to hide from his constant teases in front of their teammates amused him to no end. The entire being of the angel brought a smile to the hunter's lips and warmth to his life that he thought wouldn't be possible. Derek didn't believe in Gods or Goddesses. He didn't pray to any of them. But if the only way Youngmi would ever come into existence is because of them, Derek would pray to anything or anyone, Gods or goddesses, dirt or air. He'd even pray to that damn creature that took his sister. He brought the blunt to his lips, taking in a long hit before throwing it to the ground and crushing it.  He couldn't be sober for what was about to happen.

The screams and the horror ridden faces seemed to be permanently etched into his memories and never left his mind no matter how hard he tried to forget.  They didn't bother him much before. But after Youngmi's death and the thought of the angel having the same expression Derek's victims wore right before triggered something inside of him. It broke him.

Youngmi made him weak.

The hunter clenched his jaw as he pulled the mask over his head, covering most of his features. His eyes, however, remained exposed. The eyes of which landed on a certain blonde chicken just across the sea of people panicking and shoving one another to get by. "No no no..." the hunter mumbled. The angel was supposed to be enjoying the game with his friends. He was supposed to be surrounded by his allies, safe and sound, not out here. Derek's eyes darted frantically around the scene and noticed a masked hunter heading straight for Youngmi and called out. "HEY! I GOT IT. THERE'S MORE IN THE SALOONS. JUST HEAD THERE INSTEAD." He wasn't sure if the other hunter would listen, but when the unknown masked man turned to run in a different direction, a sigh of relief left his lips. He knew Youngmi could take care of himself, but he couldn’t let anything happen to him. He would never be able to forgive himself.

The hunter started for the angelic being and along the way, he pulled and pushed the struggling citizens forward. He wasn't helping them out of the kindness of his heart, but rather trying to get them out if his way. He needed to get to Youngmi. To see that smile in his eyes that seemed to make Derek feel like everything was going to be okay. He could see the back of the angel's head more clearly now as he desperately pushed through the crowd.

"Youn-huk-!" The hunter's shocked filled eyes met with Youngmi's furious ones. He lifted his gloved hand up to brush over the corner of the angel's eye as if trying to erase the look on his face. 'Don't look at me like that.' was all Derek could think of at that moment. He was too in shock to speak. He looked down at the dagger, ears ringing and lips parting to let out a jagged breath before pulling out the dagger, blood pooling at his feet. His quickly dimming eyes traveled up to meet Youngmi's once more as he staggered back.

Maybe this was how it was meant to be all along.

He thought. But he could never. Would never hurt Youngmi. Instead, he let out a blood curdling scream, bare hands voided of any weapons, charged at the angel at full speed.

@☠　Derek Mantaya Chaos. Youngmi could hear screaming. Not the friendly, encouraging screams of the sport activities. The angel had tucked himself away and hidden - he didn’t want to wrestle. Getting on the ground and fighting made his skin prickle with discomfort, the hair on the back of his neck bristling. Youngmi liked to fight clean, not dirty. However - the adrenaline coursing through his body when he heard the cries spoke for itself. He realised, in a matter of second, what had happened. While there were so many people present, trying to enjoy their days, that was when the hunters struck. Youngmi would hurt them for this. It didn’t help that they wore masks.

He knew there was a list of hunters they were supposed to keep safe - it had been Youngmi himself that had contributed Derek’s name to that list. He didn’t want his friend to get hurt. Especially not by one of the guard. He wanted Derek to stay safe and sound. Oh, the irony behind his thoughts.

Youngmi’s fingers absentmindedly brushed over the necklace around his neck. It was pretty, light and well made, with a little pendant. A gift, from Derek when they’d gone on their ‘date’. He wasn’t sure if it was a date in the sense that he thought. He hoped it was. Nonetheless, his stubborn human friend had managed to buy it despite how the angel had insisted he’d pay for everything while they were out. Every time his fingers found the cool material, his cheeks would glow and his lips would curl into a small smile. He wore it every day.

Chaos reigned supreme as the angel drew a dagger from his side. He was not heavily armed. This was a sports event. Youngmi should’ve known better. He threw himself at the first hunter he saw, energy coursing through his veins, making his head feel light and tingly as he gripped the masked man. The hunter was taller than him, giving him the height advantage. But Youngmi’s knife was pressed against the killer’s abdomen, his usually warm eyes holding a certain furious light. “Pray to whatever gods you have,” He advised, his deep voice laced with an unspoken threat. He was waiting, waiting for the murderer to struggle more, to spit out some response. Some sign that he was sorry for what he was doing, to install the angel with some hope that these people were simply misguided. But the threat remained.

Lee Youngmi would end this hunter.