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the offering: week four

[dedicate]

[ after the offering between the two of them, agent choi doesn't return to the apartment on mulberry street.

not that day, nor the next, or even the day after that. days—weeks pass, and choi doesn't so much as return for his belongings in his own apartment, never mind the lighter that saheon is holding onto. it's as if he's disappeared, with the only sign that he hasn't being the fact that the delicate thread between them hasn't yet snapped.

it's only on the twenty-fourth of the month, after the red moon has finally set and the sun has reclaimed its place in the sky, that choi returns. maybe it's the sound of footsteps trudging up the stairs that will alert saheon to his neighbour's presence, or maybe it's the gentle ebb and flow of the tether they share coming into proximity once again. either way, there's some shuffling in the hallway, the sound of bells jingling, and some rummaging in the rooms across from his, until—

knock, knock, knock. ]

Hello~? Delivery for one Baek Saheon.

[inverseye]

[ Recovering from the offering has felt somewhere between a car crash and a hangover. Everything hurts, from his head to the ragged remains of his body. Saheon has been more concerned with those immediate concerns then actually processing what happened that night. The memory is stained and fuzzy, and every single emotion he was having didn't make sense, like the worst sort of contamination.

If he's been upset about anything, his pride has been wounded by who found him and who healed him. Aventurine putting his blood in Saheon...eugh. Augh. It makes him sort of itchy to think about.

He hasn't thought about Choi at all. Really. Not until he feels that tether pull taunt, like a leash or a fishing line.

...]

Hungry, again?

[ The door doesn't open. Instead, there's a loud CRASH, as something is thrown from across the room. Probably a beer bottle. ]

Since when do you live here? I should have made Caelus change the locks.

[dedicate]

[ choi... kind of deserves that, yeah. he'd expected it too—the words, at least. he still winces at the sound of glass colliding with the door. ]

...

[ and for a moment, he's quiet. there's no sound of footsteps leaving in resignation, no playful half-apology through the door. for a while he just stands there before he finally seems to come up with something to say for himself. ]

Listen, an apology won't cut it, right? But I brought something good with me too. You don't even want to see what it is?

[ he thinks it's pretty great, but that's him. ]

[inverseye]

[ They have no prescription painkillers! No glorious opioids for Saheon! He's been making good use of the whiskey they found here back when they moved in, but he's had scant else. It's a pity the bottle was good quality, because it didn't even shatter when it hit the door. It rolls back into the middle of the bedroom with a dejected air to match Choi's. ]

I'm always so impressed by the situational awareness of government agents. Always good to see they train you so well.

[ He takes the shamed silence as an opportunity to find a blanket to wrap himself in. It's best not to show Choi the bandages that still cling to various parts of his body, the he's keeping his arm in even if its healing at an alarmingly inhuman rate.

His hand grazes the lock of the door, and then he draws a foot back to kick the half inch of oak separating them. ]

You could have left it at the door then, couldn't you? Egotistical bastard. Spit your half-assed apology out before bribing me!

[dedicate]

But then I wouldn't get to say my apology at all?

[ if he just left it here and let saheon take it, then it'd really be half-assed. it's the very least he can do is actually face what he's done. or, well, to apologize properly aloud may be a better way to put it, but maybe it's for the best that he's staring down the door instead of saheon himself. he's still wearing a smile tainted by the bitter resignation of the fact that he has to be here at all, but no matter how he looks at it, there's really no other option.

and besides that, he really does feel bad.

so, okay! he's here to apologize, so he'll apologize. he's bowing at the door and everything. ]

... I'm sincerely sorry! It's my fault, and I apologize, so please forgive meee?

[ even with the sincerity, he's sure it's not enough, but... maybe it's enough for saheon to at least open the door? ]

post-ponyta times

[hallowedly]

( A flicker in the Murmur, before the chirpiest — )

Why, young master ♪

neigh….

[inverseye]

[ ??

Now,since when is Seishirou this chummy? Saheon senses danger!! ]

I think you have the wrong brain, sir.

[hallowedly]

...have I? How disagreeable.

[inverseye]

[ Disagreeable...?? This is his mind. His inner sanctum. Leave! ]

...Well, you're already here, sir. Can I help you?

[hallowedly]

I thought we might align our thoughts, now we are no longer distracted by the pesky inconvenience of survival.

JANUARY EVENT, WEEK 3

[commitments]

[ Adolphe wasn't in the tunnels anymore by the third week of the month, instead checking the surface and that all is in order there... He had thought to return to the underground, but the wave of electricity and his mare's lack of interest in the runes and hosts had made him consider that they accomplished what they had to.

After he checks on underground groups and how people fare, then he can pull back again. Recede and stick to himself until he crosses paths with people, comfortable. He's looking forward to it.

Except engaging with the rat king has been so bad for everyone involved?? It's on his mind about what else they might face later. The brain, now an iconoclast of Hosts, and now—he sees Saheon who is drunk on the streets and their connection feels weirder than it usually is. ]

Saheon?

[ Adolphe is layered in some winter clothes for the cold, wolf ears having decided to be propped onto his head and tail lashing low. His sword is still on him and also the usual bag of resources over his shoulder. ]

[inverseye]

[ Back home, Saheon hadn't been the type to miss the last train home drinking. Drinking for work is an annoying habit any self respecting salaryman has to pick up, but he always preferred to do any of his honest, self directed substance abuse away from the public eye. A locked door and a cheap case of beer will do the trick.

He's been keeping his schedule. He left the tunnels a few days after everyone else, went back to his apartment, showered, changed his clothes. Methodically put everything away, cleaned up any evidence he'd been there, and then he left. He'll go back in another few days, if only because it might be odd he

The only thing he did bother to take was the whiskey. Japanese, the American all went to Choi a few months ago... It doesn't matter. He's not stumbling over himself drunk, but when Adolphe pings in the tether, Saheon has finished pouring himself another serving from the pile of bar glasses he's looted from a nearby bar. No need to grab ice with how cold it is, Saheon himself seems unbothered even if his breath comes out in short bursts. ]

What are you looking at...

[ His heart isn't really in it. Saheon sighs, putting the bottle down so he can move the glass around in a small circle and take a sip. It burns, but that keeps his hands steady. ]

Stalker. I didn't ask you to come join me.

[commitments]

[ His wolf ears pin back as he takes in this somewhat pitiful sight. Saheon hasn't lost himself completely, but drinking out on the streets bodes ill. Especially when these streets always hide some kind of danger, whether in the curling mold or the darkest shadows. ]

You.

[ Whether that's the answer to the first question or just a rude way to refer to Saheon after being called a stalker again, it's all up to interpretation. ]

Why are you outside drinking?

[ Indoors can be warmer, away from the elements and all. Adolphe paces over to get a better look at him. ]

[inverseye]

[ Don't you dare pity him. Not if you aren't going to do anything about it, Adolphe. Saheon scowls, those flattened ears cutting through his mellowed mood more then any glare Adolphe could have mustered.

It would be great if he could get up and pick a fight, but he's just. tired. Worn out. Relaxed only by a little to much cloudiness in his thoughts, enough to get his bearings and function as needed. So he frowns over his glass as Adolphe approaches, sulking like a child. ]

I have a naaame. Sa-Heon. Is it hard to pronounce?

[ He takes a sip, scribbling out 백사헌 in the frost as if that will make things more eligible. ] I'm even not supposed to share that much, so where's my gratitude for being so open..! You could at least use it!

[ He's not avoiding the question! ]

[commitments]

I said it earlier.

[ He doesn't see a reason to say it again. His ears perk right up, though he kind of wants to flatten them so he doesn't need to hear Saheon be obnoxious. He has to see it though when the other man scrawls his name somewhere.

I can't read that. How pointless. Annoying. He's contemplating as he stares at the lines and circles, simply using them as an anchor to his thoughts.

His attention flits back, but he doesn't say anything yet. Instead, he takes the wrist of Saheon's free hand. ]

Come on.

[ Is this familiar... ]

levitate, january event: week three

[roedeer]

[ when was the last time soleum has seen him? after all that's transpired, it's not like soleum is the type to go out in search for what's ran away. not his problem, not his problem, not his problem, but after suffering a fatal blow.

...

shouldn't he?

shouldn't he?

he should check on him.

but not like this.

not like this.

the black cat follows like a shadow, red eyes pierce the darkness, and it closes. the creature loses form, it gradually melts, soleum can't make out the back of saheon's body as he moves through the city. he's alive. yes. however, alive is not enough. what do you think? was it inevitable? could your eye have perceived that sort of threat they weren't prepared for?

the cat waits.

whenever saheon turns his head, he'll find a paper boat sticking out of a trash can, fresh as can be, untouched by the ugliness of the world. yet, it's a paper boat sticking out of a trash can, fresh as can be, untouched by the ugliness of the world... who would want that? ]

[inverseye]

[ He's alive.

He moves through the city in the repetition of a pattern. There is no concious direction needed, his mind feels like water, taking the path of least resistance, flowing through well worn grooves. Saheon is alive, and that means life must proceed as normal, he should stay out of sight, but maintain all of his usual patterns, answer any question in haulting confusion, linger near the tunnels no more then usual, stay in the apartment no more then needed.

At least Saheon isn't drinking anymore. He just feels like he's being watched. He felt like he's been watched for hours, no matter how he altered his well worn path, taking streets at random with both ears pricked up to listen for any sound.

There is something soft, the slightest rustle of paper. Saheon pauses, cold in the frost, and turns around to stare at the trash can dusted with snow, undisturbed by the dirt. The same boat Saheon left at the temple... ]

...

[ It's almost warm to the touch, but that must be his imagination. Saheon unfolds the boat, staring at the empty page for a moment, before he reaches into his pocket...but he doesn't carry a pen around in the endless apocalypse of Manhatten, now does he?

Teeth, no longer growing sharp with any ambient connection to a man named Choi, nip at the tip of a finger. A speck of blood beads at the tip, enough to soak into the paper while Saheon walks quickly, making his way towards an nearby corner store. ]

ar e you there?

[roedeer]

[ he's alive.

at least he has been. there's something dreadful about watching baek saheon walk without a care in the world. it's not about him being alive, and it's not about him having fled the scene early throughout the chaos. it's about how he goes about his day, nothing about his pattern shows concern in what was lost, there's no delay in second guessing himself as though the world spins perfectly and carries him along with it.

saheon doesn't have to pick flowers, he doesn't have to mourn, either. there's something so specific to his design that soleum needs it to keep himself calm, he only wants to see visible fear incorporated in his actions. an unsteady navigation of his freedom that results in a shuffle, maybe even a flinch, something related to the underground showing his frustration. why isn't he blaming them for their failures, or how someone's death and worrisome injuries domino into his constant string of bad luck? give soleum something to know that what happened below bothers him too, that soleum isn't the only one taking failure as hard as he is.

it doesn't feel as bad when someone is on equal footing like this. they can share the feeling, selfishly, soleum wants to share that blistering sensation, agitate the boils so they pop and those nasty fluids of theirs mix into a loop of someone feels the same as me! it never comes, though. that's when soleum gives up and lays down in his car with his eyes closed as he waits for the trap. the cat deconstructs into shadows within the cracks of folded paper, and waits to be taken, because as long as the paper is within a shadow then the cat can work.

soleum rests his head against the door handle of the car, his weary eyes stare at the back of the seat where stuffing spills out from age and abuse. he can smell the faint scent of blood, he doesn't move his head, but his eyes shift to the sheet of paper on the floor where shadows cast over it. but did saheon really have to go that far... desperate, isn't he?

...

saheon will see his blood sink into the paper, hopefully unbeknownst to him the shadows cast upon the paper transports what's written leaving the paper clean right before the goat's eyes. as long as saheon casts a shadow that the cat can eat away while attached to the paper then...

everything written in ink and blood is digested and brought here for soleum to see.

...

there's no response.

he has to make sure saheon really wants this to not cut communication early, and when has the agent replied in a timely manner? ]

[inverseye]

[ Isn't this what the world made him? There is no use for regrets. Baek Saheon would not exist if he was not capable of this, an almost perfect detachment from the past. Nothing is permanent, so react to what is in front of you, think only about surviving the next hour. Apathy is peace, memory is slavery, cruelty is strength.

...That is how Baek Saheon is supposed to be. A cold blooded, heartless, impersonal opportunist.

The paper in his hands is very small. Why did Saheon even bother to leave it? He didn't have a plan, but he wasted precious time he could have spent escaping. He didn't bother to do that last week, for people far more useful then one cowardly government employee. He doesn't even know if the Agent survived to see it. ]

guess not
proba bly dead lol

[ The last loop of the 'L" (or the ㅋㅋㅋ since saheon is writing in hangul, obviously) fades off as the cut on Saheon's thumb starts to dry. He really should find a pen.

But the words keep coming, scratched out in increasingly faded and hard to read letters, like the author isn't even intending to be legible anymore. ]

and you said youd live
liar liar liar liar liar liar l

[roedeer]

[ and who is that about?

the text melts into the paper, it disappears, word after word drawn by saheon's blood that soleum stares at the responses. he's getting frustrated about someone, he has pegged this to be someone on the other side if he's using it properly. that's the messy side of him soleum was searching for, the one that soleum finds him to be and will be molded into a cold strategist that doesn't care for the well-being of others.

he's still young into the story, he hasn't reached every expedition that perfectly irons him out into that person. there are some hidden on the wikipedia, and the chances of this place being one of the reasons he becomes so vile would make sense. this disaster being a stepstone of how dangerous he is, how untrustworthy baek saheon can be, the makings of an individual who will use any and all advantages even if lives are on the line.

now why does he care who lives or dies?

isn't there other people he should be checking on with this in mind? liar. liar. liar.

liars, that's what saheon says. ]



[ splat. text smacks onto the sheet of paper pre-written, but not in the way that someone has been waiting for a response. it's like messages flood into place, backlogged information that had nowhere to go until now. a clogged pipe now irritated spews water, nothing clean, but it spews something. ]




[ the messages go on and on, and soleum figures that he can add a little something on top for the circumstances. baek saheon's survival comes first, doesn't it, why would he care about someone else living? he's always had these odd quirks showing within his character, and that's why to fix it, he'll adjust the narrative for saheon to take even if these messages are meant to come in like they've been there forever.

it all stops.

any worry.

any concern.

anything.

the paper is empty. ]

late january week four.

[sacral]

[ So, he escaped.

It's not a short walk from his apartment to the one on Mulberry st. It's not a walk he should likely be making in the dim and the cold, absent of painkillers, sedatives, and common sense. Curiosity instead overrides the better instinct to protect the poor state of his own health. Curiosity and — compulsion, draped over every peripheral of his thoughts. So strong that determination alone carries him the entire hour's walk there.

Quiet footsteps bring him up the stairs, each one measured. And when he finally reaches the door he's after, he's only slightly out of breath.

He knocks with the backs of his knuckles. Soft, insistent. ]

[inverseye]

[ It's a pity he can't escape from this so cleanly.

If only the people Saheon hurt were just so much blood staining his boots. Easy to scrub away and forget. The living are so much more trouble. So many times, Saheon has worked himself into a frenzy with that thought: the dead are safer then the living.

The apartment is as cold and dim and empty as the night around them. He hasn't been hanging around here any longer then beyond needed to keep up appearances. Subaru is lucky Saheon stopped here tonight to change his clothes and smoke on the balcony. Only one light is on, a dull flickering flame.

The door doesn't open for a long time... Subaru wouldn't be remiss to think it wouldn't open at all, but finally, a key turns and the door swings open to reveal its perfectly unharmed occupant, staring blankly up at Subaru without discernable expression. ]

Yes?

[sacral]

[ That single pinpoint of illumination is the only thing that gives him any hope he didn't make the walk in vain. So, he waits on it. He doesn't reach out through the Murmur, doesn't intrude where not mentally invited. Only physically. It is too human for the living to have to suffer one another.

He looks about as good as he feels, comparatively — but it doesn't loosen the stern set of his expression when he simply states what he came here for: ]

Tether with me.

[inverseye]

What?

[ That cracks the careful mask of Saheon's guard, but underneath is just confusion. He was expecting a different reaction. Several. It does him no good to dwell on worst case scenarios but his eye still flicks down towards Subaru's hands as if astonished to see no weapon or even a clenched fist.

Tethering isn't a punishment. It forces nothing on the other party but some intrusive thoughts, a calming of influence, or a false sense of companionship. It's a show of trust, not the ostracization of a coward. So why on earth-? ]

Are you... [ The words are so forced and insincere, but they are what someone should say in this situation. ] ...feeling all right?

[sacral]

[ If he notices the splintering of his guard, he's not making a show of it. To plunge his judgment into the negative spaces where any emotion might exist does neither of them any good. And... it takes the ill-fit of humanity in one to recognize it in another, either by nature or nurture. Subaru's demeanor doesn't yield, even to the mismatch of Saheon's surprise with the duplicity of his question. ]

I'm lucid. And I know what I'm asking for.

[ He holds his hand out as if he's never been denied anything, the gesture nearly rhetorical. ]

I don't expect anything in return.