inverseye: (26)
Baek Saheon ([personal profile] inverseye) wrote2025-09-23 08:53 pm

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sacral: (pic#15343237)

[personal profile] sacral 2026-01-20 07:12 am (UTC)(link)
[ He didn't realize it was going to be this kind of visit, hospitality like a snake's hollowed fang. Listening, there is an easy physicality to the way he obeys — slipping off his shoes in the entryway and sloughing the coat off his shoulders. It's ugly underneath, all discoloration and stitches.

He gingerly fishes into a pocket for a small spread of paper, the backs already inscribed with long, scrawling sigils.
]

My taste isn't so poor that I'd come here and promise you something vague.

[ Even if a "favor" could turn out to be quite the commodity. ]

I know where a cache of gasoline is. As for the rest... [ Ink floods his fingertips. He stamps a few of the talismans with his thumb, magic in flux. No, he has not learned his lesson. ] Inscribe what you're looking for on these to invoke them. They'll scout for you.
sacral: (pic#18150574)

[personal profile] sacral 2026-01-23 06:26 am (UTC)(link)
[ Paper rustles, his shoes scuff when nudged into tidiness.

His expression sets, a silent invocation of his own that says, "I know."

Beholden to the rules of his house since he was old enough to know the words and the ritual politeness of a strict upbringing, he rarely defaults to right-dressing and decorum now. It's rude to show up unannounced on someone's doorstep, asking for what he's asking, and yet he hadn't even thought to stop himself once he'd committed.
]

I... [ a moment passes, no longer than a breath, thoughts coalescing. ] ...can't guarantee something like that won't happen again.

[ Not the fight, the fragment, the great effulgence of magic in bloom, rupture, wilt; a detonation he caught so many people in. He has no control over what they may have to do in the future, and inaction isn't an option. Quietly, he lays his palm against Saheon's, gaze honing on the overlay. ]

I made a mistake. And this is the way I know how to avoid repeating it.
sacral: (pic#15343254)

[personal profile] sacral 2026-01-24 06:56 am (UTC)(link)
[ What meets him in the burgeoned, biting animal rattle of the tether is remembrance, roaring — of every severed dog's head he's torn up from shallow park graves, every malignant spirit excised from the place it was chained to in death. Every mournful wail, curse, and fetish created; the idolatry of broken windpipes smaller than the hands that crushed them, a lover's collected teeth; the salt and heat of hunger, of black magic, drawn up by his fingers as poison sucked from a wound.

There are a thousand ghosts in here with him because he is unable to forget. Nothing scars in this enshrinement. They wanted to live, and they do. That fight in the underground will be much the same. To commit this funereal wellspring of premeditated ruin to memory is... no different. It will never be any different.

What's one thousand and one?
]

There's no changing what's already happened. [ He responds aloud, confirmation that the tether took. ] I know.

[ He slips his hand away. ]

So, think of it as self-satisfaction, if you'd like.
sacral: (pic#15343216)

[personal profile] sacral 2026-01-30 12:32 am (UTC)(link)
[ Even in the dredges of humanity's worst, he still chooses this — connection, even at cost. Connection, even if it reads more as a reflection. But it's easier too, to allow his consciousness to fold easily into that of Saheon's. So that it may be overlooked, forgotten, wanting for nothing in return. Not even teeth.

With the tether in place, he steps back with the intent to go right back to his coat and shoes, inclining his head on the way as if in honor of whatever transaction it counts for. It's a bit pathetic, for a single tether to feel like it's taken everything out of him, but he'll manage.

He does cast a glimpse upwards, more stern than curious.
]

What is it that you think I want?
sacral: (pic#15343249)

[personal profile] sacral 2026-02-01 08:38 pm (UTC)(link)
[ A fine list of summoned, imaginary things. Illusion versus ghosts, alight on the tether. In the end, he may not be able to do anything. Wanting is just that, the tang of hunger like a sieve through which his ability sifts. What remains are the shards, the bone bits picked from dust. ]

...if you're lucky, you may never have to see it.

[ But who's luck is it that they're depending on, really? Subaru bends to get his shoes back on.

He doesn't ask. He doesn't care to.
]

There's nothing you need to do now.

[ Since he got what he came for. ]