#I ought to find more Gender Werewolf stuff

[rocketonthemoon]

Literally a transmasc friend said "werewolves are so gender" like a day or two after i saw that werewolves post. and at once i was like "boy oh boy do I have werewolf content for you" and just went on your blog and found reblogs of yours XD Have a great day! Have a flower if you would like a flower!

I meant to answer this when you first sent it in and I've just been a doofus about checking my inbox but WEREWOLVES ARE SO GENDER IT'S TRUE

Happy I could help friend! I would love a flower and I hope you have an excellent day yourself full of tasty beverages of choice!!

[gaydemonwolf]

Obedience school. Later… raised with the dogs. It all made sense now, it wasn’t the full story, he was sure, but he understood now. Understood so many things about Elias behaviour and it pained him so. He wished to help him through this, to help him feel safe and loved, to find his place in the world. "Forget everything you have been thought. You are not a dog, you are not a slave. You are an omega, yes, but above that you are a werewolf like us. You are kin now, family. You're much more than your second gender and you will eventually come to realize that."

He followed him and placed a gentle hand on his back, caressed it up and down to help him calm. "Take deep breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth. You are safe now. I promise."

Deucalion had never thought of buying omegas to help them, to liberate them, to save them from that awful system they were thrown into because doing so would be to support that system and that was worse in his opinion. He felt for those omegas, sure he did, but there had to be other ways to fight for them just not now, now he had to focus on getting stronger again and recovering his pack's trust once more. Or more like trust them all again. He also had to focus on Elias, one omega to help recover was enough for him right now. It wasn't a chore or work, Elias wasn't a burden and he might actually be helping his pack in ways the omega didn't realize right now.

Federico was somewhere in the store choosing stuff for himself but Deucalion was aware who he was with at all times, hunters had the tendency to smell different and had a specific scent to them that let him know they were hunters but there wasn't any here so Federico was safe as he zoomed about the store. He wasn't too worried but still very hyper aware.

"I know you probably won't believe me after everything you've been through but listen to my words carefully so you might remember them tomorrow, so you might realize they were true in the future. No one will touch you sexually, unless that's what you want. No one will force you to do anything, you can make your own decisions now. And, lastly, you are free now. You want to leave? Then leave. You want to go for a walk? Then go for a walk. You want to learn how to drive? Then do so. Want to watch TV? Use the laptop? Make new friends? The possibilities are endless. And, do remember, I may be blind but I am an alpha that survived hunters, that survived his second's betrayal. I can protect you, even if I do look weak, but that's better because my opponents overestimate me and that gives me advantage. You are not a dog, you are my omega now, part of my family and my responsibility to protect."

He turned to the clothes in front of them, jeans, and then eyed Elias once more moving his hand away. "Let's start with simple things, okay? Don't think too much on what to buy to wear, choose pieces you like. You like jeans maybe? Pick one. You don't, pick something else. Grab items that are appealing to you."

It seemed he had pushed too hard and had made him cry, the past could be painful but he didn't want to make him cry like this. He ought to have one of the three read him the file then, know what he was working with. Not Louis, he was sure Louis didn't like his acquisition anymore. One of the other two then.

elias likely wouldn't fall asleep again if they tried meditation again. he'd been awake for long, exhausted & had had a busy week with all the preparations for getting sold & the training had been intense so he wouldn't flip on stage. it'd been a small auction, but only the top tier alphas had been present, he knew that. he didn't quite understand why he had been chosen for that when there were other, less.. troubled omegas were much more everything than him, but he assumed it was a physical thing. his looks. he didn't look quite the ordinary omega way. omegas were usually leaner, softer, but he assumed his upbringing was the cause for his ... uniqueness. hard labor early on, torture, long & cold nights outside. or maybe he was meant to be this way. who could even tell?

that kid was a hopeless case, wasn't he? he ...could see himself in that boy, a long long time ago - so eager for love & attention. it'd been a hoax, he knew that now. he'd felt loved when he wasn't terrified, but it wasn't love. they'd merely used him - he was a tool at best. like a hammer, or a saw, a hunting dog. nothing more.

their words made him laugh bitterly on the inside, they seemed to really believe what they said. "years of obedience school would like to disagree." omegas had only one purpose in life, one thing they could do that others couldn't & it wasn't even something they did. they were just a vessel for the alphas. it was ridiculous, yet it was what it was. who was he to judge the system?

for once he agreed, though. safety was a myth. he'd lived half his life without ever experiencing it & he knew that others didn't either. all he wanted, was to live his life freely. he didn't even expect a lot out of it, all he wanted to do was.. what was it, though? did he even know how? he'd always dreamt of being free, but what did that mean? he couldn't tell, other than the obvious bits. not being locked up. they were still talking to him, about ....festivities he didn't know. well, he did know christmas, but not like they did. he'd heard of it, had seen post cards & tv ads, but that was closest to it. same with technology, he'd seen it used - even on him, but he knew only little of it. he knew telephones, though & the tv. radio. well, maybe he knew more than he thought at first.

until he set foot into the first store, a very important thought hadn't crossed his mind - it really should have because it was obvious, but somehow.. it hadn't. he had to choose. usually he would've told him to pick, given that deucalion was the one elias was supposed to entertain. but.. deucalion wouldn't see. so what did he do now? he had no idea what to choose. it shouldn't be his duty. he had no idea what to look for, no idea what he needed or ... wanted. he was trying to make a decision without his head going up in flames when deucalion once again spoke up.

more traumatized? how could he know? how many alphas were locked up in training & obedience facilities? "i have no one. never did." a shrug. he was.. why didn't he just read the damn file? why did he try so hard to make him say it? "hunters raised me. they found me in the woods, took me in & raised me with the dogs." there was more to that, for sure, but maybe now he would stop trying to compare him to all the others. "the system found me in a hospital after they were done with me."

he glanced away, brows furrowed & somehow... he didn't quite know why, but his body had decided it wanted to cry. he wasn't even sad, or at least he didn't think it was....? but he felt tears glistening in the corners of his eyes, so with a few quick steps, he rushed over to another shelf, one that held jeans in all shapes, colors & forms. he could see himself wearing one of those.

[atundratoadstool]

if you don’t mind, what are you top 10 (or anything in the vicinity) gothic lit recs?

Sorry this took forever to answer! As is typical of me these days, I tend to answer my asks and empty out my drafts in big clumps around the time that breaks occur or semesters end (and guess whose semester just ended!). I also ended up puzzling over this question for longer than I thought, as I felt–given my blog’s general content–that there wasn’t much of a point in recommending Dracula and I wanted to avoid recommending any of the big titles in my field unless I was very personally attached to them (Don’t get me wrong, Frankenstein, Jekyll and Hyde, and Dorian Gray are all great things and you should read them, but they aren’t as close to my heart as Wuthering Heights or Northhanger Abbey.)

In any event, have my top ten gothic lit recs, ranked in rough order of my enthusiasm about recommending them.

1. Wuthering Heights (1847, Emily Brontë): I unapologetically love this novel and all the irredeemably awful people in it who are not Nelly Dean. (I’ve managed to find a sympathetic side to the character, but I still just viscerally dislike her.) It’s definitely my favorite gothic piece that seems to get accorded high status in the canon, and I first truly fell in love with it reading it out loud in the autumn with somebody I love, which is really the perfect way to encounter it.

2. The Werewolf of Paris (1933, Guy Endore): This novel is almost unknown nowadays, and it’s a real shame, as it ought to have been the werewolf genre equivalent of Dracula in terms of fame and influence. It deals with some heavy stuff (abuse, rape, incest, cannibalism, torture, suicide, massacres), both as regards the murders committed by the “monster” and the atrocities committed by collective groups of people and human institutions, and I’m not sure if I would completely agree with all of the moral messages it attempts to impart were I to re-read it today. Still, it’s a wonderfully written novel that treats its monster of choice with a subtlety I’ve not seen elsewhere in werewolf fiction, and it really appeals to the part of me who enjoys consulting Wikipedia to fact check the author’s own historical research.

3. Rebecca (1936, Daphne du Maurier): I have never simultaneously wanted to be and wanted to marry a first person narrator this much. This novel is a wonderful iteration of Gothic novels of the “I married this dude and his giant mansion has a spooky secret” genre, and Du Maurier’s use of language is breathtakingly gorgeous.

4. The Great God Pan (1895, Arthur Machen): Arthur Machen writes some of the best horror I’ve ever read, and The Great God Pan is remarkable as one of the few stories to truly unnerve me in the days after I read it. (I’m typically not one to be very rattled by books.) It’s mad science meets decadent aesthetics and it’s also a clear forerunner to some of the cooler stuff Loveraft does.

5. Northanger Abbey (1817, Jane Austen): Catherine Morland makes my fillings hurt with her sweetness, and Henry Tilney is forever #1 Austen hunk in my book hands down. I admit that I’m not much of a fan of early Gothic and Ann Radcliffe endlessly telling me about picturesque trees, but I’m intensely into this early parody of the genre, and I recommend it to anyone who might find themselves generally unenchanted with either Radcliffe or with Austen (given how different it is from her other novels).

6. Carmilla (1872, J. S. Le Fanu): Dracula will forever be the #1 vampire novel of my heart, but Le Fanu honestly has a much more beautiful prose style than Stoker, and I think that the short, ghostly, ambiguous novella he writes is a lot more chilling than Bram’s sprawling magnum opus. While Uncle Silas isn’t on this list (because it honestly wasn’t that great…), I think Carmilla’s also utterly fascinating as an inversion of the dynamics of Le Fanu’s major novel in which young women find strength in their love for one another in the face of genuinely malevolent patriarchs and meddling French governesses.

7. The Woman in White (1859, Wilkie Collins): Technically it’s “sensaton fiction,” but if there is an ominous figure lurking about the heath clad in white, I think your novel automatically gets to go under the Gothic umbrella. In any event, Collins is a fun, witty writer who knows how to write an enticing mystery, his use of the epistolary format is foundational and fun, and both Count Fosco and Marian Halcombe are majestically crafted characters that deserve the abundance of praise they typically get.

8. The Private Memoirs and Confessions of a Justified Sinner (1824, James Hogg): Imagine The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde only it was written earlier and is more confusing. Now imagine all of the early Gothic sensationalized Catholicism that would be typical of the era has been subbed out for early Gothic sensationalized Presbyterianism. That’s what this book is, and it holds the strange distinction of being one of the few stories to truly unnerve my Master’s thesis adviser in the days after he read it. It’s also a useful educational story to give to people who need clear examples of how to tell if their new best friend might be the devil.

9. The Beetle (1897, Richard Marsh): This novel is terrible in a lot of great ways and great in a lot of terrible ways. (It’s also just terrible in a lot of terrible ways, like it’s portrayal of sickeningly orientalist murder orgy cults as directed by gender ambiguous insect people.) One of its peak terriblegreat features, though, is my fave, Sidney Atherton, a mad scientist whom nobody seems to notice is a mad scientist, even though he’s monologuing about making an unstoppable death gas and killing his romantic rival’s cat.

10. Trilby (1895, George du Maurier): This book is vile, antisemitic garbage, and I would not fault anyone for opening it up, glancing at one of Du Maurier’s illustrations, and hurling it through a window. Still, it’s an interesting read if you’re looking into the origins of The Phantom of the Opera or, like me, you are very interested in the literary history of mesmerism. This is like… the holy grail of literary mesmerism texts. I also honestly do find Svengali, as awful a stereotype as he is, to be genuinely sympathetic in his desires to bring the celestial music he hears into reality, and there are moments where I think the prose is very evocative (I love the chilling phrase “flageolet of flesh and blood” to refer to a mesmeric subject, for example.)

[perpetually-jungshook]

Without You: Bloodstone (Part 23)

Genre: AU, bts!werewolf, fantasy, angst

Warnings: language, violence, suggestive content

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: Werewolves, contrary to popular belief, are usually gentle creatures. Except for a very specific set of circumstances, they would never hurt a human (on purpose). The few unfortunate times when mistakes were made put a permanent dark mark on the beasts and people began labeling them as monsters. What the human population failed to recognize was the fact that they were protecting us from something much more sinister. Luckily, a few survived and the gene was passed down hereditarily until one day finding its way to me… in the form of my best friend.

Link to: Storyboard (reference pictures) | General lore post | Intimacy lore post Prologue | Previous | Masterlist | Next

Loyalty is often as blind as justice should be, as unstable as a lightning storm ought to be, and as misplaced as an opinion in the truth.

Chapter 23:

“I loved you.”

A wave of warmth pulses through my veins, culminating in my stomach and my cheeks. Those are words I’ve been waiting to hear for years. My best friend, the person I couldn’t leave behind even after he literally became a monster, my sweet, smart, handsome Jungkook just said he loved me.

Yet the way that he said it was distant and past tense. Loved.

I take a deep breath, “Not anymore?”

Jungkook’s tongue pokes out, wetting his lips, buying time, “As a friend, I’ll always love you. But it’s not… the same. It’s an instinct thing.”

An instinct thing. How am I supposed to respond to that? Maybe by trying to be supportive. Maybe by telling the truth.

“Jungkook?”

“Yeah?” he looks up, softening.

My words are quiet, but not hesitant, “I still love you.”

His gaze drops again, almost shamefully. The hair on the back of my neck prickles in humiliation and anticipation, but I’ve known him, been close to him, and been in love with him for so long that I couldn’t ask him to leave even if I wanted to.

“I’m sorry, Eun.”

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault.”

“But I could’ve-”

I shake my head, “There was nothing you could’ve done- nothing you can do now that it’s done. It’s okay. Even with this stupid imprint thing, we’re still best friends. Right?”

Jungkook’s gaze doesn’t leave the floor, but he smiles sadly and nods, “Of course. Best friends.”

“Can I hug you? Or is that against the rules?”

His shoulders sag a little, “I’d say yes, but I don’t want to leave my scent on you. Being in this room is already… going to make him mad.”

Him, Jimin. I’d almost forgotten how possessive he might be. He’d showed self control around Munhee but would Jungkook be more of a threat?

“Besides, no offense, but you smell like him and pheromones and it…” his nose scrunches in faint disgust, “Does stuff to my brain.”

“Instinct thing?”

“Instinct thing.”

Pause.

Jungkook bows politely, another distant gesture, considering what’s usual for us, “I’ll see you soon okay? Hopefully noona and Namjoon hyung will be able to help and… and we can go back to normal.”

The suggestion is empty. Both of us know things well never be the same as they were before. Jimin will be sensitive and will probably make my life miserable. Jungkook’s instincts will prevent us from being close. But I appreciate the gesture of him saying it.

“Hopefully,” I agree. There’s an awkward pause before I continue, “You should probably get back to training.”

Jungkook nods and hesitates, but leaves without another word. I miss him already.

It takes a few seconds of boredom for me to realize I have no idea what I’m supposed to be doing. Am I allowed to walk around? To go to the living room and watch a movie? To grab a snack? To go to the workshop? Or will all of these things make Jimin aggravated?

My concern doesn’t stem from sympathy for him, but rather not wanting to make my own life difficult. I’m not in the mood for more confrontation. I look down at the blankets on the bed to find a few limp yellow petals. The Calendulas. Maybe I could try something. I pick them up and place them in my palm.

There’s probably a difference in the energy for reactive magic or the approach toward culminating it, but why not experiment? No one else is around. I’ve not nothing to do.

The green flame ignites directly over the petals. As magic does not actually create heat, nothing happens. The color doesn’t change, they don’t disappear, they don’t even burn. I try crushing them with my fingers by closing my hand, but this has the same result. Nothing. Figures.

I decide to take a nap and am woken up by the sound of… silence. Uncannily pure silence. The dripping water has stopped. The air vent has gone quiet. I sit up and look down at Yoongi’s watch on my wrist. The second hand races around the face.

A scream splits the air like metal on glass.

It’s not so much a scream as a mixture of a wail and a screech, dozens of voices of all tones, pitches, ages, and genders. Demon. The sound of growls, snarls, and barks are interwoven in the noise, making it easy to lose them, but they’re still present. The wolves are taking care of whatever it is. I decide to stay in my room. There’s nothing I could do to help. I have no special “powers,” I don’t have extensive training, and I don’t even have any silver to ward them off. I’d just be in the way, a liability.

The door opens, amplifying the sound for a moment before Jimin stumbles in and slams it closed. He only glances at me for a second, lower lip bleeding, bruising vivider, clothes more tattered. He’d lost his shirt at some point.

I recoil despite the moderate distance between us, curling up on the furthest corner of the bed. I’m not sure what to be more afraid of, Jimin or the demon outside.

He shoves his shoulders against the door, then sinks down to sit. He’s breathing hard, eyes closed. Beyond all else, Jimin looks like he’d just sprinted through a rock pelting to get into this room.

As per usual, he says nothing.

For a few seconds, the screaming stops and there’s the sound of a scuffle, a body hitting the floor or a wall (or the ceiling, I shouldn’t leave out that possibility). My heartbeat and Jimin’s heavy panting are both eerily loud. Naturally, fear creeps into my stomach physically, into my stream of consciousness mentally. What if Jungkook had been injured? It’s a thought that’s constantly flitting around my mind.

He’ll be alright. He’s always alright.

I loved you.

A chill crawls down my spine. If this were a romantic drama, that would’ve definitely been the last conversation we’d ever have.

“You okay?” Jimin finally speaks, though his tone is flat.

“Good enough, considering.”

He nods, “I hate demons. This one can crawl up walls. Fucking jumped me.”

“Jumped you?”

So he was outside of the bunker.

“Yeah, I barely made it back in time.”

“You brought the demon here?”

Jimin scoffs, “What was I supposed to do? Die? Well, no one would care anyw-”

The door lurches inward and Jimin’s whole body tenses, bracing himself and throwing his shoulders back against the metal barrier. It closes again and he lets out a huff, flicking his head to get the coffee brown hair out of his eyes.

Anger boils up inside my stomach. He put Jungkook in danger, he put me in danger again because he couldn’t… the anger dissipates. I’ve seen demons. I’ve seen them almost overpower several wolves at once. How could I expect Jimin to deal with it on his own? It’s only natural that he would seek help, no matter how ostracized he is from the pack. But then something occurs to me. Why come in here? Why not help the pack? Is he hiding?

The door lurches again and I can hear a distant screech before Jimin closes it. Distant? If the demon is the one screaming and it is somewhere else in the bunker, who or what is at the door?

A feminine, child’s giggle reaches my ears, causing my skin to crawl.

“Eun,” the voice is oddly melodic. “Remember me?”

No… the little girl. It couldn’t be. Munhee told me that she died. Wait. That’s incorrect. The little girl’s soul- dormant, displaced, dead, or otherwise- is gone. Munhee had said that the demon would keep the host body alive. Halsahm kept the host body alive.

How had it gotten out of the room? How had it gotten out of the hallway? With all of the silver and the sigils that blocked the way… had someone let it out?

The door handle turns and Jimin’s whole body visibly tenses. I shrink back against the wall. If we all live through this, I need to ask Munhee for a weapon. Something. Anything.

“If you open this door, I’ll shred you, body and all,” Jimin practically barks.

“You’d do that to a little girl?” the voice is muffled, but clearly amused. The handle jiggles again.

Jimin’s face starts turning red with effort, his jaw clenched, “You aren’t fooling anyone with the skin you’re wearing, fuckface.”

“My poor innocent ears,” Halsahm laughs, a sound that rings with uncanny delight. “All I need is the girl. There’s no reason you can’t hand her over like a good doggie-”

His body ripples, a snarl tearing up his throat, “I’ll kill you first.”

There’s a pause.

“You’ve imprinted on her. Haven’t you.”

Jimin tenses in surprise, causing the door to open just a crack as Halsahm pushes it. His eyes flood with the piercing amber color, but it promptly recedes as his feet find traction again. I can just see the face of the little girl, blood red stare and all. Summoning magic?

Its gaze meets mine immediately, with no pause, almost as if Halsahm knew exactly where I was, where I would be.

“You can feel it, can’t you. My connection with her,” the demon seems to continue addressing Jimin. “She belongs to me.”

“Eun belongs to no one. She’s not yours. She’s not mine. She’s not even… Jungkook’s,” Jimin abruptly looks up at me, as if in realization, a small crease forming between his eyebrows.

Before I can even begin to consider his expression, with too much power for a little girl, Halsahm throws open the door. Jimin tumbles forward and I can hear his head hit the concrete floor.

The little girl steps forward into the room and I can hear my own pulse, but even that fades as the world around me becomes muted, distant.

Your little pet knows. That’s why he came to protect you. Do you know?

“Know what?” I’m not even surprised by the voice in my head at this point, though the panic that’s probably supposed to be there is muffled by a strange, though vaguely familiar mist in my mind. My thoughts swim, moving in slow motion.

How connected we are. You were meant for me.

“Meant for you?”

Has she not told you? About the spirits?

“Told me what? I know about demons vaguely,” I can’t seem to stop myself from answering honestly.

But what about the good spirits? Like the one inside of you.

“What do you mean by ‘one inside me?’ What good spirit?”

The opposite of us…demons, as you like to call us. What is source of your magic, hmm? Curious little one, did you ever ask? Did you think it was your own skill? Wrong. Not just anyone can harness this kind of power. And even those who can… you’re special. You’re mine.

My gaze is fixed on Halsahm’s blood red eyes.

You are my opposite. My exact opposite. Together, we will be powerful, Eun. Together-

The little girl in front of me, directly in front of me, hand outstretched, begins to transform. Her jaw grossly dislocating like a snake, skin charring, white foamy bile dripping from the corners of her lips, her physical image becomes the manifestation of the demon within her just as its head is torn from the body.

Sensations slam into me. The distant screeching. Heavy panting. Heartbeat.

Bu-dum bu-dum.

My head throbs and I only just manage to stay conscious this time. No, it’s not only my head, it’s my muscles, my veins, everything. With every pump of my heart, I can feel it throughout my body, fingertips to feet. I start to fall, but catch myself on my elbow, which digs into the mattress.

The world around me blurs into and out of focus; yet I can clearly make out the coffee colored massive lupine figure on the floor, not moving. Thankfully, after a moment or two, I see shallow breathing.

“J-Jimin?” my voice cracks.

The wolf huffs in acknowledgement, but it’s a weak sound.

My thoughts continue to swim, but I manage to get up. The room swims too. I almost trip on the body, but I stay upright long enough to kneel down next to Jimin. Something’s wrong. Don’t werewolves heal fast? Shouldn’t he be up by now?

I reach out and press my hand into his fur. He relaxes, but I’m not sure if that’s a good thing.

The screeching stops and after a minute or two, the air vent begins hissing, the water starts dripping. The demons are gone- or at least taken care of, contained. The immediate danger is gone. Now time to assess the damage.

I can’t seem to get up. Jimin’s breathing has evened out, but he hasn’t moved otherwise.

Halsahm has stayed dead, contrary to my expectations. Had it… evaporated? Or whatever it’s called? Or had Munhee marked it with sigil magic, locking the spirit inside? I hadn’t seen the symbol anywhere on the body and I’m much too tired to look. Exhaustion hits me as the door opens, revealing a haggard looking, human Hoseok.

His keen eyes sweep the room, voice hoarse as he nods to himself, “Thought I smelled blood…”

“Eun?” Jungkook skids to a stop in the doorway, panting hard. Despite his speed I can see he’s limping.

“I’m alright,” I croak, suddenly feeling the nausea well up in my tummy. Jungkook looks conflicted and remains in the hallway, as if he doesn’t dare get any closer. I clear my throat, “But Jimin might be in trouble.”

Hoseok breathes deeply, “Nothing too serious. We’ll have Munhee look at him.”

Jimin growls, but the sound fades almost immediately.

The throbbing in my head and in my body begins to get worse. Despite the fact that I’m kneeling, the world around me sways dangerously, “On second thought, I think I need to… see Munhee too.”

“Why-?”

I shudder, an involuntary action, “Please get her. Halsahm…”

I realize too late that I’ve said the name out loud. More powerful now or not, the girl is dead, which means the demon has been released from the body. Released? Expelled. Left. Whatever the case it’s gone, no longer trapped in the bunker.

A set of hands moves Jungkook aside and Namjoon takes his place behind Hoseok. The look of concern is immediate on his expression, “Hoseok, go get noona.”

“But-”

“Go,” Namjoon barks, causing Hoseok to push away from the door and jog down the hall. The man with the blue-grey hair then turns to Jungkook, “You are going to help me get Jimin in his room. Jimin, we have to do this. Don’t fight me.”

The coffee color wolf attempts another growl, but the sound fades just as quickly as the first.

“Can you change back?” Jungkook asks quietly.

There’s a pause before Jimin whimpers.

My friend exchanges a look with the pack leader before both boys step into the room. I don’t even flinch when they transform. I’m not sure if it’s because I’ve now gotten used to the sounds, or if I simply don’t have the energy for aversion.

Between the black wolf and blue-grey wolf, they’re able to half carry, half drag Jimin away with minimal protests. This leaves me with the body. I can’t help but look. Blood continues to spill from both ends of the mangled neck, though it’s slowed to a trickle that feeds the growing puddle, which inches closer and closer to me on the concrete floor. I force myself to scoot back, away from the blood, away from the spattering and the corpse. I can only hope that the little girl has found peace somewhere.

With my back pressed against the opposite wall, I refuse to look at the head directly. The matted hair has covered the face, hiding it. But nothing seems to stop the spread of the foamy white substance as it mixes into the crimson.

I turn away, nausea coming over me in another powerful wave. My whole body begins to tremble as the footsteps cause me to look up. Munhee, blood trickling from her nose, staggers into the doorway. She looks at the demon, then looks at me.

“Jimin did this?”

I nod and she mirrors the action in affirmation, reaching up to wipe her nose with her sleeve.

“Okay, let’s get you away from that first, then we can see what’s wrong. Can you walk?”

✩✩✩♔✩✩✩

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