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oceanotides · 8 years ago

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Sᴄɪɴᴛɪʟʟᴀ

Pʀᴇᴠɪᴇᴡ

« “Here we go, gametime.”, Yoongi whispered and you watched him adjust his AK 47 at the column he was hiding behind, giving you a thumbs up and a slight, barely noticeable smile.

“Kooks, you need some fresh air?”, you asked tensely, aiming at the doors your rival gang was supposed to come out of, testing what weapon you’d use, “’cause you’ll get a whole lot of it.”

“Y/N, cut it off. I swear to god, I’m going to kill you all if we get out of this alive.”, and again, quiet chuckling was audible through the comm – until the defeaning, irritating sound of the sirens boomed through the streets, shaking through your body as they drowned out everything else. »

ｐａｉｒｉｎｇ: yoongi x reader

ｇｅｎｒｅ：gang!au, thepurge!au, angst, fluff

ｗａｒｎｉｎｇｓ： mentions of blood and death, a LOT of statements inspired by movies and books, content may be confusing

ｉｎｓｐｉｒｅｄ　ｂｙ： @lets-go-north ‘s the purge vine, lover, fighter and meet me on the battlefield by svrcina, bts x the purge by saera kim, bts // the purge by polarisdreams & bts x monsta x by datjimilly

ｗｏｒｄ　ｃｏｕｎｔ： 8,532

ａ／ｎ： i really recommend watching all the videos and listening to the songs mentioned above - just so you get the vibe!

remember back in spring ‘16 where i had announced i’d write some thepurge!au? no? well, anyways, i’ve finally done it and here it is. be prepared because i didn’t take a second look at it, so there may be a few grammar mistakes. btw, i’m dead, i’ve written this on a single day and the way it ends is kind of awful, so let me know if you’d want me to write an alternative ending and, as always, what you think about the whole story. if anyone even reads that damn long oneshot, lol. anyways, here you go!

A fresh breeze whistled around your ears. The petrichor; the world’s smell caused by the sky crying its eyes out, lingered in the air. The soft rain dampened your face and your eyelashes tickled your eyelid crease as you rolled your eyes and laughed out loud at the joke Jin had just made which actually wasn’t funny at all. Life was more tolerable for a moment.

The small backyard you were sitting in had always seemed calming to you. The high and grey brickstone wall entrenched you and gave you the small amount of privacy you needed whenever you felt like being alone, spending your noons organising your thoughts – in case you found time to do so in between all the things on your to-do list.

The rusty lawn chair Taehyung was sitting in made a nerve-wrecking noise as he got up, walking towards the brick house the backyard belonged to and you thought about following him but thinking about what day it was made you stay in your place, messily scribbling things you thought of as essential for tonight down onto a piece of paper.

Clanking noises which sounded suspiciously like the beverage bottles existing in abundance at the headquarter’s kitchen came from inside, reminding you of how thirsty you actually were and of how you’d need to stay hydrated for the event nearing.

“Tae? Bring me a desperados, will you?”, you called.

It didn’t take long for him to answer with the ‘When will you finally learn that you veritably have your own legs’ that was ridiculously characteristic of the currently brown-haired guy you happened to call a best friend of yours. Consequently you weren’t exactly surprised as he crossed the threshold, entering the yard again with some bottles in his hands.

“I wasn’t exactly planning on getting drunk.”, you said, looking at the seven bottles he was putting down on the small table you, Jin, Jungkook and Namjoon were sitting at. The lemonade he had been holding under his arm in order not to go twice followed suit and he fell back into the black chair he had claimed as his.

“Correct”, Namjoon agreed, putting the files he had been reading onto the brown ebony. Some drops of sweat covered his forehead, barely noticeable, yet somehow sticking out to you. It was a unusual hot day and the sun was illuminating the firmament with its last rays – spring was nearing its end and summer was to follow.

“Yoongi, Hoseok and Jimin said they’ll be here soon,”, he opened his bottle, the label reading pepsi, took a huge sip and flipped his hair back, “at 6:30, to be exact.”

His eyes settled on you when you crossed your arms and leaned forward, furrowing your eyebrows in thought as you took a sip, too, then focusing on what you had written down till now.

Yoongi, Jimin and Hoseok were a weird trio: one of them was most sarcastic person you had ever met; the other one probably the cutest; yet most dangerous person in this town while the latter managed to be the most positive human being in spite of his job as an assassin. Yoongi was a year older than you and you had become friends in your junior year when the both you were paired for a chemistry project.

Min Yoongi, the most intimidating guy out of all the people in your grade – scratch that, in the whole school. He didn’t even bother to give a shit, neither about other’s opinions nor about his grades that had caused him to repeat the junior year. The only reason for him not getting kicked out was Mrs Peterson, and, to be completely honest, you hadn’t been able to unterstand her back then. Maybe it was his ultra sarcastic attitude she relished – but had that been reasonable?

No, not at all. You hadn’t known him that well and at that point, you didn’t really want to, either. Your brother was his age and consequently shared a few classes with him. From what he had told you, Yoongi was no guy who liked to make friends. “He doesn’t even like to meet people.”, your brother said on a Friday evening when the two of you had been eating dinner together, watching one of your favorite series. You had helped him finish an assignment earlier that day since your parents weren’t home, as usual. But let’s not talk about that.

However, being absent thinking about what you had used to think about Yoongi, you hadn’t noticed him, Jimin and Hoseok entering the backyard.

Only when he draped a black hoodie around your shoulders you blinked, recognizing the three boys. Jimin looked at you with an excited smile on his face which partially disgusted and partially amused you.

“So, what’s the plan?”

Today was different from all the other times the eight of you hung out together. The mood seemed chill but you knew better than that, being close with the boys for more than a year now. What seemed to be joyful actually was gloomy; what seemed to be carelessness was worry about what was going to happen today, about what was going to happen tonight – tonight defined as the period of time starting in less than a hour. Aᴘʀɪʟ 21sᴛ, 7:00ᴘᴍ ᴜɴᴛɪʟ Aᴘʀɪʟ 22ɴᴅ, 7:00ᴀᴍ. America’s 7thPurge was going take place tonight.

You looked at the dark brown haired boy you had grown to respect and like so much sitting across the table, unfolding a map on it. The dimples he caused to show up when he was smiling were a perfect cover for what, who he actually was.

At the age of twenty-one, he was ruling one of the most dangerous gangs in Los Angeles, and whole LA to be honest. Rumors had it that he had cameras installed around the whole city and knew what was happening everywhere before anyone else was even capable of doing something. Of course the whole camera-thing was not true – well, not completely at least. And moreover he was not nearly as hostile as everyone thought, but incredibly smart and powerful instead.

Powerful was his voice as he spoke up to tell you about tonight’s plans, taking a look at his watch attached to his wrist.

“It’s 6:37pm.”, he said, giving the three boys who had just sat down a stern glance, before continuing. “However, we’re left with 23 minutes to discuss and prepare for tonight which is not a lot of time at all so I’ll just wrap it up.

I won’t have to tell you guys that us being a gang of more or less criminals makes us an outsticking target. Adding to that, Taehyungie here has taken it upon himself to defy Dom..inic at school which makes it highly likely for his gang to aim their guns at us tonight.”, he smirked, adding “what I would’ve done, too, by the way.” before making the boys turn toward you who had just pulled everything you’d need onto the table.

Aᴘʀɪʟ 21sᴛ 6:48:34ᴘᴍ, 11 ᴍɪɴᴜᴛᴇs ᴀɴᴅ 26 sᴇᴄᴏɴᴅs ʟᴇғᴛ ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ᴛʜᴇ 7ᴛʜ ᴀɴɴᴜᴀʟ ᴘᴜʀɢᴇ

The car ride to the place Hoseok located Dom’s gang to be was as silent as the streets outside, the only sounds audible Jin and Namjoon going through the plan over and over again and Jungkook and Jimin chewing bubblegums while guiding Hoseok through the city.

It was rare to see all the downtown places that were usually busy all day and night deserted like this. There was not a single soul walking on the pavement or hiding in a dark alley. Normally you’d have enjoyed the view – you didn’t like crowded places, but knowing the reason for the emptiness was much less satisfying. Different from most of the people you were out tonight because you had to; and, on top of that, you’d never let any of your friends go out on their own, not tonight.

So there you were, leaning against somebody’s side, nervously playing with the ripped threads of your denim jacket, not caring about how it was just causing the holes to get bigger and bigger; you were just trying not to make up any horrible scenarios that could happen to any of the seven guys you were sitting in the black van with.

You couldn’t afford losing any of them.

“You scared?”, Yoongi’s voice finally broke the heavy silence, sliding into your thoughts as smooth as a feather.

You scoffed in an attempt to seem more relaxed, but there was no point in that, obviously not.

“To say the least. Of course I am.”

He shifted under you, a skinny arm wrapping around your shoulder.

“I am, too.”

There was a short moment of silence (again) before he spoke up again.

“But don’t worry, we’ll be fine. I promise.”

And to be honest, in any other situation you would have believed him, but right now you weren’t sure whether he was saying that to convince you or to convince himself. Yet though something, maybe it was the way he gave you the feeling of being protected by wrapping his arm around you, made you relax a bit.

You were squatting, taking cover in a small alley behind a trash dumpster. Visible in front of you was an abandoned warehouse downtown. The place looked totally rundown, but there were gleaming silver chains latched to the huge doors and you were pretty sure this is the place. You eyed the doors warily as you mumble “Where are we?” while holding your hand to your ear, speaking over the comm system attached to it.

It didn’t take a single second for Jimin to answer as he murmured “I don’t know, but whatever this is, I have a bad feeling about it.”

“Yeah well I’m good. It’s nothing”, Jins voice was dripping with sarcasm so obviously, you could literally hear the drops falling.

You identified the next voice speaking as Taehyung saying, “Oh honestly. Come on guys, it’s not that scary.”

The speakers attached to each and every of LA’s inersections made a somewhat creaking noise.

“Yo Y/N, you’re freaking out over there, ain’t you?”, Namjoon chuckled.

You rolled your eyes and scoffed. “No.”

“Yeah you are.”, Yoongi and Taehyung agreed simultaneously and you didn’t need to look at their positions on the opposite side of the street and on top of the old cinema to see that they were grinning.

“I said no.”

“Listen, man, it takes-“

“Woman.”, you corrected him.

“What?”

“I’m a woman.”

“Well whatever. However, it takes a grown man-“

“-woman!”

“…to embrace their feelings. If you want to cry, just go ahead and cry.”

Quiet laughter and chuckles were shared through the comm, and, once again, you felt a bit lighter.

“No but listen Y/N, as your friend you know I’m concerned about your well-being –“

“Oh listen can’t you just chill out, man?”, you imitated his habit of adding man to every sentence when Hoseok spoke up.

“Listen guys, I’ve seen some crazy shit but among all the things we’ve done, this is definitely an outcast so let’s just try to keep it as lowkey as possible. And always remember – oh my, honestly Tae? You’re playing crossy road right now?!”

There was a moment of silence and, indeed, the typical crossy road noise of the chicken bumping into a truck - boof! – was audible, making you shake your head as you actually smiled because oh my god, this kid.

“So obviously Tae’s not as tense as me right now, but would somebody mind to walk me through what we’re supposed to be doing?”, Jungkook snapped.

“Oh come on Kooks, this was your plan, you gotta embrace it.”, you said, now finally relaxing and preparing for what was going to come.

“No, jumping off a rooftop onto Domincs – emphasis on Dominic – was not my plan. Taehyung –“

His sentence was cut off by the booming, penentrating bass sound of the speakers you had grown to hate so much and from that moment on, all of your senses slowly returned to you and your heartbeat increased incredibly fast.

Blue light was illuminating the streets as the projection screen at the crossing lit up, displaying the oh-so-familiar text of the purge’s announcement. You unintentionally whispered the words yourself as the cold voice of the woman sounded through the alleys and streets down to venice beach.

“This is not a test.

This is your emergency broadcast system announcing the commencement of ᴛʜᴇ Aɴɴᴜᴀʟ Pᴜʀɢᴇ sanctioned by the U.S Government.

Weapons of class 4 and lower have been authorized for use during ᴛʜᴇ Pᴜʀɢᴇ. All other weapons are restricted.

Government officials of ranking 10 have been granted immunity from ᴛʜᴇ Pᴜʀɢᴇ and shall not be harmed.

Commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for 12 continuous hours.

Police, fire and emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning until 7am when ᴛʜᴇ Pᴜʀɢᴇ concludes.

Blessed be our New Founding Fathers and America, a nation reborn.

May God be with you all.”

“Here we go, gametime.”, Yoongi whispered and you watched him adjusting his AK 47 at the column he was hiding behind, giving you a thumbs up and a slight, barely noticeable smile.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see all of them getting into position – Jungkook and Jimin on the warehouse’s rooftop, Tae on the first door in the parkade next to it, Hoseok and Jin adjusting their snipers and Namjoon putting the black mask you all wore on to cover his face. It had kind of become your special trademark, the soft fabric giving you the artificial feeling of personal privacy and anonymity. You knew it wouldn’t last for too long, the siren had sounded for the 4th time now, 2 times to go. In just a few seconds the streets would be filled with gunshots, screams and, most of all, blood. Even the smallest mistake; a wrong movement or a moment of negligence could be the cause for you to be buried tomorrow. You were aware of the fact that you were slightly exaggerating and just making your heart beat faster and faster, but you couldn’t help it.

The rush of adrenaline pumping through you made you feel invincible and as the siren boomed for the 6th and last time, the doors of the warehouse burst open.

Just to make things more clear, you thought you had been prepared for any and everything possible – fist fights, gun fights, a wild chase – but you definitely didn’t expect Dominic and the rest of his gang to drive a..how to describe it?

The thing they were driving out the doors with resembled a team bus but it was longer and higher and it’s tires were the ones of a truck but twice the size, at least. It’s license plate read 1-800-FUCK-OFF instead of any valid number and, to be honest, you thought of it as a little bit funny, but right now you had much more important things to care about, for example a man covered in black sticking his head out of one of the black mirrored windows, positioning a MG3 machine gun.

“Fuck, fuck fuck fuck.”, you heard yourself saying as you ducked in order not to get shot, “Jungkook, where are you!?”, you screamed, firing your gun once, twice.

“What!? You want me to jump on a fucking killer truck!?”

You considered explaining the situation to him but, seeing how Jimin pushed Jungkook to the warehouse’s edge and then jumped down with him, it wasn’t necessary anymore. More importantly the truck with Jimin and Jungkook on it was threatening to speed away while Namjoon was giving orders. You need to do something, you told yourself before an idea popped up in your head and you cut Namjoon off.

“Namjoon, I’m sorry but we’re going to lose them if we continue hiding like this! I’m going in right now”, you shouted.

In the next second you were jumping over the dumpster, securely landing on the concrete of N Los Angeles St; your weapons safely tucked away in your backpack, the silenced sniper rifle’s material cold against your cheek as you tried your best to stand still and slow your breath.

“Fuck this.”, you sighed in defeat as you angrily threw a stone against the target you were supposed to hit with your bullets. 50 minutes had passed and the bost shot you’ve made had hit the target’s nonexistent hair. Great, even the stone didn’t miss it – but you, attempting to shoot it with a sniper rifle? Never. Never ever were you going to get this.

“Fuck what?”, Yoongi appeared next to you, crooked his head and cocked an eyebrow, waiting for you to answer.

You pointed at the 480 cheytac dangling off your shoulders, to the target and then to you, “all of this.”

“Well, as welcoming that invitation is, I’d rather not sleep with you in a…training center.”

You sneered, “very funny. It’s just that I can’t seem to get a good shot and I’ve been trying for about an hour and ugh.”

“Yeah, well, you have never used a sniper rifle before, either, not to mention a 480 cheytac which is fairly hard to handle.”

“Oh, wow. Yoongi, this is the literal first time you’ve been kind toward me.”, you said out loud. Realising what you had just confessed you quickly managed to continue speaking, “what about shooting that target over there –“, you pointed at one which was pretty far away, all the way on the other side of the gym,”and showing me how to do it?”

He chuckled, “sure.”, and took the rifle out of your hands, his right eye closed as he turned to the side. Despite his character, his looks were …wow, they were amazing. The sharp jawline of his, his pale skin in contrast to his pink lips – a silent swish stopped you from keeping to drool over him and you watched the silver bullet smoothly hitting the target’s brain as he turned to you, the satisfaction of his success prominent in his facial expression.

“Told you.”, he said mockingly; caused you to roll your eyes.

“See, all you have to do is hold it like this.”, he put the rifle down only to take your hands in his, wrapping them around the sniper, aiming at the fake body in front of you. His warm breath tickled the side of your neck as he explained, “control your breath and focus on nothing else but the target.”, he watched you do so. “A sniper is characterized by their few but precious and unerring shots. If you shoot, you have to strike whomever you want to kill or hurt, whatever. There’s no such thing as a second chance – it’s like this all or nothing shit. So stay concentrated.”

You nodded, correcting your aim while you kept your left eye shut. The target’s head was the only clear outline right now, everything else being blurry. The small target cross covered the target’s brain, “now shoot.”,

and with a last glance at whoever henchman of Dominics and Owens gang that was, you pulled the trigger.

It was as though someone had pressed the slow motion button on their IPhone when the tiny bullet hit the shooter’s left shoulder and he fell back into the truck-bus-something. Confidently you threw the 480 cheytac over your shoulder and inhaled. Hoseok’s voice saying “now that was a real shot.” popped up next to you and with a smile shared between the two of you, you started to run.

Turning left and right in order not to get attacked by someone else purging you felt the urge to vomit. Every corner and place your gaze wandered to was decorated with signs of cruelty. It took a while for you to realize that a slogan to your right reading ‘h e a r t b r e a k e r – l o v e f a k e r – n e v e r g o i n g t o w a k e h e r’ had been mistaken for spraypaint by you when it was actually written in the blood by the female body hanging next to it. You were sure the girl must have been beautiful before but now the long, blonde strands of hair covered her face, her once white dress now blood-stained.

Quickly looking to your left as your stomach turned, your gaze fell upon a couple being beaten up by four short men, their faces hidden behind suicide squad masks, their hands swinging baseball bats – wait, were those children?

It was weird; the downtown being this alive when it was basically dead just minutes ago – the silence had been replaced by gunshots and screams and crazy laughter, the streets wearing red.. it was disgusting.

You were about to continue letting your mind rant about everything the Purge did as you turned your head straight once again and, suddenly, the truck was gone. It was just gone. There was no sign of it having ever existed, even when you did a sharp u-turn – there was nothing but other people chasing each other and, out of all sudden, you felt tricked, standing in front of the dead end. You felt scared somehow.

You knew the truck had to be somewhere near you, but there was nothing, the doors of the buildings around you as locked as they had been before. And besides, the truck wouldn’t even fit through any of them.

“What the fuck..”, you murmured, not caring that you were interrupting the heated and breathless conversation that had been going on through the comm system.

You heard Yoongi trying to answer when another familiar voice filled the air with laughter. This time it wasn’t coming from the headset attached to your ear, it was louder and you figured it was coming from a speaker which soon proved itself to be true.

“Oh, how the tables have turned.” (GUYYYYYS I’M SORRY I JUST HAD TO INTEGRATE THIS;; DOES ANYONE ELSE KNOW THAT VIDEO?? IN CASE YOU DON’T GO WATCH IT NOW)

By the time you looked up you found yourself surrounded by Hoseok and Yoongi and it took you not even a mere second to recognize the person standing on top of the two-story parkade straight ahead.

You were damned for him to show up here, tonight, and recall everything you had buried under dozens of happy memories and work and assignments and plans and college courses. The last months you hadn’t even wasted a single second thinking about him, you were sure you were over it and, to be honest, you hated admitting that you got emotional right now when it was the literal worst time to get sentimental or caught up in thoughts, just because you saw certain brown eyes boring into yours.

They caused all the memories to come to your mind again. You remembered all the late night sessions where you stayed up late to help him with several assignments and presentations, and on your worst days you did miss him, indeed. It hit you at the most random moments; when you walked out of the house in the morning or when you saw a jeep, or when the midnight air crept through your window and nipsped at your cheeks. Whenever you listened to Cole’s songs you remembered everything he had told you, each and every detail and you wanted to rip off your head. He had never meant anything to you and you haven’t to him, either, you’d tell yourself – and it was the truth. Even though you were hurting when you thought about it, you missed it, but it always ended with you realizing how easy it was for the both of you to throw it all away because in the end, you didn’t care about the other at all, you just didn’t want to be alone.

That was what life was like in high school and you accepted it, yet still, seeing him reopened a door to your past and you hated getting flashbacks from things you didn’t want to remember.

“I see you’ve brought your personal guards. Didn’t know I was so difficult to take down.”, you said in an attempt not to show him he had the upper hand, your head nodding at the people standing on the pavement after they had realized they didn’t have to hide anymore.

You felt Jungkook’s and Jin’s presence behind you and your mind started to fill with relief on the one hand, worry on the other hand.

Chris, or Tej, his name in the business, looked at his henchmen and shook his head, faking a chuckle while anger started to fill your body, “nah, I could take you without wasting a single bullet. These”, he pointed at the assassins positioned on several rooftops, “are for your oh-so-beloved gang leader and the members that actually pose a threat.”

You snickered. “You’re just playing. Are you going to fight or do you want to spend the whole night talking shit?”

Yoongi took a step closer. “Y/N, I’m not saying we’re in danger but that’s exactly what I’m saying.”, he murmured.

“I know,”, you replied, “but I have to do this.”

Gun shots echoed from the walls as Tej shot into the night once, twice; looked at you threateningly. Immediately you felt the pearl handle of your gun in your palm, several clicks of other guns cocking audible behind you. Still hidden behind your back, your fingers curled around the trigger.

Once again, everything else was blocked out by your ears. You knew as soon as the five of you’d lift your weapons to shoot down as many fiends you possibly could, they’d open the fire, too, and more than a few lifes’d be ending soon.

You weren’t exaclty sure who drew his weapon first, but in a matter of seconds you found yourself among a crowd fighting like it was a matter of living and death – quite ironical since it indeed was. Yoongi was standing his ground in front of you. Jungkook hit one of their heads and you quickly looked away, firing your gun here and there as you did your best in helping Hoseok and Jin to keep the steadily raising number of enemies at bay. Luckily, Namjoon and Taehyung soon joined the 5 of you fighting, Jimin appearing out of nowhere taking out men from the top of an empty car. You shot another one into the leg but his companies charged so quickly that you soon found yourselves preferring the methods of a fist fight. A text example of a street fight, your brothe would have said if he were to take part in it.

Eight on you-didn’t-know-how-may was definitely not favorable, you decided as you slammed your fist into someone’s stomach, then looked around in trying to find Tej’s head in the midst of the brutal brawl, immediately regretting it as you earned a punch straight to your previously-injured shoulder and cried out in pain. Little did you know the wound had reopened as you gritted your teeth and blocked your attacker’s view with your hand, easily causing him to fall backwards, afterwards battering him with the handle of your gun.

Oh how much you hated fistfights.

They were way too personal, no doubt, you’d choose a gun over your fist anytime. You were tempted to run and just join Jimin on the car’s rooftop in taking them down smoothly from afar, just so no one important to you was exposed to danger anymore but you knew fully well that, for the next hours, you’d be living dangerously.

Just when you were about to help Namjoon fight off his two attackers a certain green fabric flashed in front of you and without a second glance you recognized the guy dressed in a green bomber as Chris, but that wasn’t exactly what stopped you from fighting.

It was rather the wired box he had left standing on the concrete and the small, almost invisible device in his hand, better known as detonator. Apparently you weren’t the only one who had noticed the approaching danger ‘cause just as you uttered a loud Oh, shit! thin fingers wrapped around your wrist. They were pulling you around the corner and down to the ground, a body promptly guarding you by embracing you close to its chest.

It was then that the detonator was being pressed, the detonation present in a dazzling flash, illuminating the dead end in red, white and yellow; a loud Bang!; the unmistakable, abominable stench of burned flesh and you felt your gastric acid raising in your throat. You wanted to vomit, to cry out loud, break something to cleanse your nostrils from the bloody smell, your hands from the blood covering them; but there was obviously no time for that in view of the hands that pulled you up. You finally recognized your savior as Yoongi when he shouted at you to run since you weren’t out of danger yet but his voice sounded distant, reverberating in your brain. It felt like you had been thrown into a well or something; yet still you followed his instructions, jumped to your feet and ran.

Your body was moving on its own, you yourself completely unable to do anything about it. Looking down to the ground, your red platforms connected and disconnected with the ground, not coming to a halt until Yoongi, who had been holding your hand the whole time, pushed you into a inconspicuous side alley, sliding to the pavement right next to you.

For a minute or two neither of you spoke a word, the air filled with the sounds of two people catching their breath. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to speak, it was rather the fact that you were unable to, both due to shock and exhaustion. You wondered where you were, but there was no point in asking since you both had just ran and ran, without the slightest bit of a plan – which was fine with you, you had just needed to free your mind, yet you didn’t exactly feel lighter.

You let out a noise, a mixture of sighing, groaning and inhaling as you passed your hand over your forehead and turned to your right, opening your eyes to the sight of a battered Yoongi and you sat up straightaway, groaning with pain at the headache you were having.

“You look horrible.”, you managed to say, even though it was a rasping sound rather than a human sound. With shaky hands you reached up to cup his face, your hand tracing the outlines of several still bleeding scars and cuts on his cheeks.

“I could say the same.”, he whispered as he watched you reaching into your backpack for the first-aid-kit you had luckily taken with you, the backpack’s contents now displayed on the asphalt. He let you take care of his wounds and calmed down whenever your fingers touched his skin. The both of you were still panting and you did your best to ignore his hot breath against your collarbone as you reached behind him to adjust his jacket, afraid that he’d get sick given the fact that he was sweating and the air was not just a comfortable breeze.

Acting normal too, Yoongi let his gaze wander over the different items laying in front of him. A comparable huge amount of different ammo, spraypaint, a lighter, a knife, a map, a black hoodie, tissues…what caught his eye was a small, plain black journal, ‘YOUTH’ written on its cover with silver ink.

With you still patching him up he reached for it, palm brushing over the envelop previous to opening it, a small polaroid instantly falling out.

He turned it around, the caption reading oceans and without thinking about it, he confronted you. “Oceans?”, he asked.

You stopped in your action, letting go of his left wrist you had been wrapping up with band-aid. Your eyes fell upon the shiny, small image and you furiously shook your head, a little too fast.

“Rip it. Just – it’s nothing.”, you said, snatching the paper out of his hands and tore it apart.

The two of you were climbing over a fence, again. You had been strolling through alleys and streets and over railways for what seemed like ages, nothing relevant happening. Yes, there were a few not-so-pleasant encounters with people purging, however you were on the same page with not wanting to throw any more punches tonight, instead taking down each purger with one bullet, and one bullet only. You hadn’t talked much, pretty much due to the fact that neither of you felt like it. It wasn’t like you didn’t enjoy his company, though. You were relieved you weren’t out on your own and you were quite sure that he was the person you’d most likely choose as a companion tonight, just because…you couldn’t explain it, yet still you didn’t doubt your thought. So you both just walked next to each other in silence and you were fine with that, and, on top of that, you were partially doing it for the safety’s sake. Somewhere between two trains, one of them burning, and voices followed by gunshots you took his hand and never let go of it, not until he started to speak.

“What’s on your mind?”, he said, pushing branches out of his way.

“Huh?”, you murmured, snapping out of your trance to look around and see if he was talking to someone else until your realised that you were pretty much the only person he could’ve talked to, silently cursing you for your stupidity.

“I..”, you kicked a stone, “..don’t really know. Pretty much everything.”

He looked at you, an expectant facial expression prominent on his face, urging you to continue which you never did.

Sighing, he shook his head.

“Listen, I know I’m probably not the person you wanted to be with tonight –“

Oh, if only you knew, Min Yoongi.

“ - Don’t.”

He abruptly stopped walking when you cut him off. “What?”

You smiled, seeing as he was the stupid one now, copying his movements as you shook his head.

“I said don’t.”, you stopped breathing for a second, “’cause you weren’t telling the truth. I’m just worried about the others – you know, leaving them behind was not the right decision.”

You could literally see him rolling his eyes although you were looking to the ground.

“I’m sorry, it’s just that we would have died if we hadn’t done just that.”

“Yeah,”, you exhaled, “I know. But that doesn’t stop me from worrying about them.”

“They’ll be fine.”, he said, clearly avoiding eye contact.

“You’re saying that to convince yourself.”

“Partially.”

The dry branches made a crunching sound when you stepped over them, then you turned left to get to a street where you’d – hopefully – find some kind of a vehicle.

“I simply don’t like the fact that we left them behind with him.”

“So I was right? I knew you knew that fight-obsessed oh-i-am-so-powerful freak.”

You were biting back a smile at the names he called him, “Yes, congratulations. But you were right, indeed, I used to know him, we were..friends?” It was more of a question than a statement, you realised after finishing.

“Well, back then he wasn’t as much of an asshole as he’s now, I guess.”

“You guess? I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t have befriended him if he was.”

“That’s a point.”, you nodded, then you fished the polaroid out of your pocket. You hadn’t thrown it away yet, you hadn’t had the heart to dispose it yet. Assembling the two shreds, you pulled out the old, rusty silver lighter Namjoon had gifted you at your accession to his gang.

“Funny how pictures never change but the people in them do.”, something in the back of your mind was telling you you had just quoted someone, but that didn’t matter right now, “But that’s just how it goes, you grow older and your best friend becomes your arch enemy.”

Yoongi let out an understanding sigh as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, checking the street before he led you through a hole in the fence that marked the end of the containment area you had been walking on in order not to come across some murderous purgers.

“That was quite poetic.”, he chuckled, “still, it’s the truth. People erase you from their lives because they’re too damn lazy to try and work things out.”

It was then that you both stopped walking and you turned around to face him, making eye contact. There was no real reason behind your actions, but something within you made you take your time to study his face, and, most of all, his eyes.

They were the first thing you had ever noticed about him. The ones he hid under his hair or behind his glasses; he called boring, brown. He always wanted any color, any other pair of eyes except her own. At first you had found it strange, it was a fair contrast to his i-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude; but you soon learned that he cared more about others and their opinions than he’d ever admit. However, you loved them. You loved how they lit up when his brain produced another brilliant idea. When he laughed his happiness wouldn’t be prominent in a smile or a grin, you’d notice it in the way his eyes started to sparkle and dance.

You had stared into them and he had stared right back into yours, like you should have kissed and made love and laughed and hurt together so many times that you didn’t even bother to count it anymore, but you had chosen to stay friends instead. Both yours and his eyes had been glistening back then, yours in tears and his in anger at himself.

And just the same, they’d dull and blur and lose their joyful aura when he was being bothered by something. They were the only thing left of his dark and ugly past, they were hiding something and you were eager to find out just what exactly it was that he was trying so hard to forget.

You were wondering what in hell he must have witnessed that made him the person he was now, you wanted to know what made him so desperate and hopeless that he became responsible for the ugly, knife-shaped scar extending from his artery to his collarbone he made sure to curtain with whatever top or hoodie he was wearing. You had only seen it once, but that was enough for the question persistently floating around in your head.

What happened to him?

It wasn’t the question that bothered and stressed you, it was you being aware of the fact that you’d never be to find the answer. He wasn’t going to open up to anyone, you knew it.

And now you were looking into these very eyes as you took a step forward, his fingers still intertwined with yours. His eyes were overflooding with emotions, mostly dark and sad ones, but so were yours as you both looked at each other with what if’s and could have’s and hearts and souls full of regret. For a moment your gaze travelled down to his red lips, sore as he had been biting them all the time, but then you got a grip on yourself and pulled away, your fingers no longer filling the gaps between his as you, once again, pulled out the lighter, flicked it and watched as the polaroid caught fire, whirling to the ground.

“Geez,”, you breathed, stomping onto the leftovers, “should’ve done that long ago.”

When you turned to Yoongi, his eyes were dull again, no emotion visible, his facial expression empty once again. He didn’t speak a word other than “let’s go” after you had thrown all the other polaroids displaying Chris to where the first one was still smoldering, a small fire developing.

You only shook your head, staring right into the flames illuminating the night, drowning out his words. Everything you remembered was Chris telling you that “beautiful, you’re playing with fire” and you took that quite literally. He was the fire and if you get too close to the fire you’ll get hurt, that’s just how it is.

The smoke was burning in your eyes and stinging in your nose and soon you attempted to turn away and go, but apparently Yoongi bet you to it.

You remembered hearing a “What the fuck are you waiting for?!” that sounded distant in your head and a gun being fired right after. Your head was snapping up and through the smoke you made out a quartet consisting of men, all of their heads covered with – you actually screamed at that – clown masks. Then, a small, silver object – a bullet – was just barely missing your left thigh with a hiss.

It took another gunshot, this time brushing your jacket, which was – thank god – oversized, for you to finally snap out of your stone-like state. You were firing your gun before you even realised that you were reaching for it but it was obvious that you couldn’t beat them since you’d have to reach into your backpack for ammo – in your foolishness you hadn’t grabbed the sniper that was still securely tucked away in your backpack and, with a glance to your right your suspicion about Yoongi, too, having grabbed his handgun instead of something more powerful was confirmed. In any other situation you would have rolled your eyes, but this was dead serious – literally.

So you quickly decided to do what you were best at; you grabbed his wrist and ran. The fact that they were looking like clowns scared the hell out of you and you completely forgot to look where you were going, leaving the route up to Yoongi who stumbled as a bullet brushed his upper arm. In your rush you didn’t waste a second thought on it, suddenly changing your mind as you took the lead again, turning left, right, running down a street before you took a sharp turn into a smaller, barely visible alleyway.

You were about to slump down when suddenly, you were pushed back, the cold brick wall of the building behind you touching your back. Your reflex was to slap whomever was touching you right there and make a run for it but, hell, this was Yoongi pinning you to the wall, one hand at your iliac bone, the other one at your shoulder, his eyes reflecting anger and frustration, but most of all something you could only decipher as worry.

“Do not”, he stopped due to his heavy panting, “do that ever”, now he was licking his lips and all you could think was oh hell, min yoongi, you’re going to be the death of me, “ever again.”, he finished.

You almost thought he was pulling away when he came back with full force. And then, he was slamming his lips into yours in a desperate attempt to convey all he never said because there were simply no words for it and, to be fully honest, he succeeded in that mission. Right now, in this small, hopeless alleyway, Min Yoongi was giving you all you had ever hoped for, you were letting out all the emotions you had bottled up and tried to keep hidden in this one, literally breathtaking, kiss.

And honestly, you could have kissed him all day. You could have swept back his mint, thin and loose strands of his hair from his eyes and spent the hours that were left just like that. Perhaps it was because there was so, so much sadness and pain in his heart, but he kissed like he needed to be kissed, like he was aching all over, and you knew he was. And you were willing to lend him some kind of comfort as you cupped his face with both hands, deepening the kiss as you traced the prominent cheekbones of his.

That you were, in fact, all lovey-dovey instead of hiding on the Purge’s night didn’t seem to get through to you and neither of you stopped until your palm brushed against his elbow and a thick, dark liquid started to cover it.

“Oh my god”, you breathed, panting from both running and the kiss, pulling away. His left sleeve was blood-stained and you didn’t even bother listening to him when he told you that “Y/N, it’s nothing”, instead pushing him down to the floor, all the way while rummaging through your bag, grabbing what you’d need to patch him up.

“The bullet..”, you murmured quietly, repeating it louder when he didn’t answer, “Yoongi, is the bullet still stuck?”

He shook his head with a “No, it was just a graze shot” and you let out a long, relieved sigh because oh, you would have killed him if you had had to take the bullet out. You had done that once and, to be real, it was kind of the most disgusting thing you had ever done. Raking around in the wound was a necessarity and goodness, there was no way in hell anyone’d ever like to do that.

“We’ll have to praise god for our damn luck tonight.”

A deep, silent chuckle rumbled through his chest you were leaning on in order to be in a better angle and you stole a glance at his dark orbs, enjoying the sight of the stars they were reflecting – or his eyes simply consisted of stars, you couldn’t tell.

“I’d love seeing you do that without even being religious.” You groaned, forcing back a grin. “Oh, watch me. You’ll see.”

You dampened a compress with antiseptic and scrunched your face at the acrid smell that started to fill the air with the action of removing the bottle’s cap.

“This is going to hurt.”, you said guiltily, but Yoongi just shook his head.

“Just get it done and over with. And, if the pain’s too much to bear, I’ve still got the gun. You know, just in case.”

He grinned as you hissed and dared him never to make jokes about such serious things ever again. You had almost had an heartattack when you recognised the damage the bullet had done; like he said, it had only been a graze, still, he was losing a lot of blood to the point where you started to wonder how in hell he was still able to crack jokes like that.

Perhaps it was because he had already been going through so much pain that a bullet was just an annoying pain in the ass – nothing more, nothing less. You didn’t know. Still, he grabbed your jacket and stuffed the hem of his shirt between his lips in order not to scream. After all, you didn’t want to be found.

When you pressed the compress to the wound, he silently hissed and you truly felt sorry when you saw the pain filled expression on his face. However, you continued since you knew it’d be best to finish to fix him up as fast as you possibly could, wrapping another bandage around his arm, careful not to put too much pressure onto it.

As you visibly exhaled and turned around to stuff the things you had taken out back into your backpack, he caught your wrist and stopped you.

“No. Just –“, he never finished his sentence, he just opened his arms and right then you couldn’t help but willingly give in, letting go of whatever you were holding and wrapping your arms around his torso. While you were still seated on the pavement he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, so tight that you couldn’t escape even if you wanted to. You felt like some cliché girl in a cliché book the moment you breathed in and instead of inhaling air, you inhaled his scent. He wasn’t wearing his blackberry fragrance tonight, but still, despite the iron smell of his blood and the sweat there was something else that didn’t go unnoticed by you and, after a few moments, you became aware of the fact that what you were smelling right now was no cologne or perfume or shampoo, it was just him.

And godness, he smelled good. Like something wild and untamed yet angelic, like the ocean does when the waves crash onto the beach, but not those soft, gentle waves but the bigger ones. He smelled like rain on a hot summer night, like milk and honey when you couldn’t sleep at night, like a thunderstorm you were watching on a balcony. It didn’t made sense at all, but you couldn’t describe it any other way, so you just settled down with not trying to describe but enjoy it instead.

It was weird how his embrace made you feel like home, even though you had rarely hugged before. Your head fit into the crook of his neck better than it did into Chris’, your figures hugged each other more passionately, you were two magnets attracting each other.

His lips pressed against your scalp and you were feeling him smile as he did it, you were filled with a sudden warmth and triumph, for you knew then that he was yours. It was damn cheesy and you were cringing at your own self, but right now, that didn’t matter. And you loved him, and it was something that you had known somewhere within you all the way until now.

Why did you love him?

You didn’t have a set answer for that, but you guessed it was just how you felt around him, how he was never leaving your mind, the vibes he gave you and the laughs you got from talking to him. You loved that you knew him so well that you knew what he’d answer before he even said something, you loved his attitude, his looks, his eyes, freshly-added; you loved his scent, you loved the way he’d never fail to comment something sarcastic and you loved that beyond the cold guy, there was a guy caring for all the people he loved, but most of all, for you. And, as you sat there, a déjà vu from just hours earlier crossed your mind, where you had been sure that you’d never be to find out what he was hiding, that he’d never open up to you, but little did you know he was.

Tʜᴇ Eɴᴅ

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the-elf-mahat · 8 years ago

Text

A Sister’s Voice

(( Continued from here. ))

The harsh buzzing of the communicator startled Mahat awake, and she fumbled around in the dark for the persistent device, on the trunk by the bed where she'd left her gear. Rooms at the Salty Sailor were cheap for very good reasons, one of which being that the floor was permanently sticky and nowhere you'd want to drop your clothes. The humid air stank of sex and rum, and the noise of rowdy sailors filing in for their evening bender rose from the bar below, barely muffled at all by the re-purposed ship's hull that served as the room's walls.

Mahat finally located the comm and clicked it on. “Hullo?” she mumbled, voice thick and muzzy with slumber. She could practically taste her budding hangover in the back of her throat. It had been worth it, though. Her free hand wandered across the pale blue skin of the slumbering man beside her, a fingertip running along the ridge of a scar.

“I've acquired the name you wanted.” Elinde sounded as thrilled as she ever was to have been kept waiting on the comm. At least she was speaking Common, which was a mercy for 'Hat's muddled state of mind.

“Ye—have? Wha' is it?”

“There's a price.”

Mahat barely stifled a deep, heartfelt groan, drawing her hand back. “Ye don' say...”

Elinde was audibly smirking. “I did you a favor, thief. A highly unpleasant one, may I add. It will be some time before my relationship with our aunt recovers, as hard as I had to push for straight answers. You owe me. I believe reciprocity is considered a virtue even among the criminal element, is it not?”

Mahat growled. “What's y'price, then?”

There was no hesitation. “I want to speak to my sister.”

This time, Mahat couldn't restrain her groan, tipping her head back to glare at the warped timbers of the ceiling. “En't there anythin' else I cou' do f' ye?”

“You know there isn't.”

“...aye.” Her jaw clenched tight. “I know. All fuckin' righ', my place or yers?”

“Come to Ashenvale.”

“Th' Edunes' house?” Mahat couldn't help the hope that crept into her voice, though it was crushed swiftly and utterly an instant later.

“No,” Elinde said flatly. “Saera and Ebari will remain with the Edunes. You will come to my home, alone and unarmed. I will be there, alone and armed. We will have words.”

“...reckon we will.” Mahat rolled upright, shoving the tangled sheets aside and biting back a litany of curses as her bare feet hit the sticky floor. “See y'soon.”

A change of clothes, a drink, a couple of portals and one extremely bumpy hippogryph ride later, Mahat was descending into the shaded glen where Elinde and her family made their home. The only sounds were the splashes of a clear, trickling brook, and a few night birds cooing mournfully to each other in the dusky violet trees. Mahat imagined the hushed grove filled with the laughter and squawks of children playing together, and all of a sudden nearly couldn't breathe through the pain in her chest.

Only one window of the small, cozy house at the bottom of the dell was lit, and the door was pulled open from the inside as Mahat approached. Elinde was waiting for her.

Mahat crossed the threshold, as ever barely able to meet her sister's eyes. Elinde was an imposing presence, not due to her height or build—though she was certainly strong, a soldier with centuries of service to her name—but due to the absolute certainty that drove her every deed and motion. Doubt, hesitation, indecision—these concepts were nothing more than strange anathema to her, as far as Mahat could tell. Her twilight-blue hair was pulled back in a practical low tail, and she was dressed in simple, comfortable clothes, except for the gleaming hilt of the sword on her hip.

Mahat held up her empty hands to show she'd come unarmed, but of course Elinde had to pat down each limb to check anyway. Which was sensible; if nearly any other person in the world had asked her to show up somewhere without weapons, she'd at least have a hidden blade or a sharp hairpin or two. As it was, she was clean, and Elinde stepped back, grunting in satisfaction and waving her to seat herself at the kitchen table.

Mahat slumped down onto the sturdy wooden chair, scowling, still not quite looking the other woman in the face. “I dunno why ye wanna do this t' yerself, Elinde. Ye know nothin'll change. Why keep proddin' th' wound?”

“My reasons are not your concern, thief.” Elinde's expression was cold and her voice was stern and resonant, unhindered by the tinny crackle of a comm. “Let me speak to my sister. I will tell her the name you seek, and no other.”

Mahat's aimlessly roving gaze fell across a scattering of small wooden figures on the rug. Stacking stags, theirs antlers carved to cradle one another's bodies, so they could be placed carefully one on top of the other until the tower grew too high and collapsed under its own weight. A small spot of chaos amid the tidy order of the home, a mess left by a child with better things to do than put away her toys. It was hard to breathe again.

“Fuckin' fine,” Mahat hissed through gritted teeth. “She's all yers.” Her eye went dim and rolled back, her every limb going slack and loose as a puppet with severed strings. Elinde darted forward to catch her head, saving it from cracking against the back of the chair as her neck lost all supportive tension. Mahat's form was draped lazily over the chair, the furniture holding her in place when she otherwise would have collapsed bonelessly to the floor. Her heart ticked on, her lungs pumped in her chest, and her eye twitched beneath the fallen lid—but beyond these autonomic movements, she was as still as the dead for several long moments.

“Laurelyn?” Elinde dared, breaking the quiet, a sudden, profound gentleness in her tone that had been entirely absent until now. She switched her language to Darnassian. “Sister? Do you hear me? Can you speak?”

The prone elf's single eye fluttered open, a slow, ephemeral smile touching her lips. “Little star… I always hear you. I slumber… I am weak… the other two are strong. They fight their war… I dream. But your voice blazes through my fogged rest, bright and shining as a spear… bringing me to life… bidding me rise towards you...” A soft sigh escaped her, barely enough to stir a leaf. “Why do you not let me sleep?” As thready and hesitant as her voice was, it still managed to contain a note of fond teasing for her younger sister.

Elinde crouched before her, holding Laurelyn's head tenderly to keep it upright. Her thumb brushed a stray lock of silver-white hair from her sister's temple. “Lazy creature,” she teased in return, smiling although her eyes were sad. “This is what comes of staying out 'til all hours, up to who knows what mischief… you'll sleep your life away.” Her voice caught, and she coughed into her shoulder to hide it.

Laurelyn seemed to have noticed anyway, her smile fading as slowly as it had dawned. “I am dead, little star,” she reminded gently. “What lingers here in this body is an echo... a memory of who I once was, etched deep in bone and sinew… but I cannot move, I do not live… I see you touching me yet… I cannot feel you...” Elinde's brow furrowed in anger, and Laurelyn pressed on. “Sister, please… do not rage… do not mourn… I sleep, I am content. The only matter which troubles my rest… is the thought of how much pain I have caused you… and continue to cause...”

Elinde scowled. “Do not speak to me as though I were still a child, Laurelyn. I choose to suffer the pain of losing you over and over again, and I count myself blessed that something of you remains for me to lose.”

“You are braver than I, little star… and wiser… as you ever were,” Laurelyn murmured. “Forgive me for my cowardice… for my ignorance… your choices are your own.”

Elinde bowed her head in acknowledgment of the apology. “I have learned something, sister… the name of the woman who gave birth to you.”

“Why…?” Laurelyn sounded faintly puzzled. “I never… sought to know… the woman didn't care to know me, and with our mother never around, it hardly mattered whether I was her blood or another's… she neglected you and I equally… you were the only kin that ever mattered to me...”

“I know,” Elinde murmured. “As you were to me. Our parents—our father, your mother and mine, they all had more important things to do than raise their daughters.” A note of quiet bitterness that the passing centuries had done nothing to quell crept into her tone. “Battles to fight, wars to win… sowing death is so much more exciting than nurturing life, isn't it?” She gave a sigh of mingled frustration and rue. “But we're better than that, you and I… we are capable of the sacrifice and love that our parents never were. That's why… I had to find out. For Saera's sake. Every chance in the world she has to be loved, to be protected, I want her to have it. Any kin she has in the world, whether fair or foul, I want to know. Even the thief who wears your skin agrees with me—she asked me to find the name.”

“Mahat,” Laurelyn chided softly, her voice growing weaker. “She has a name, too. And Saera is her daughter… not mine, despite the blood we share… though I do wish the best for the child… I cannot linger, little star… I am weary… tell my birth mother's name to Saera's mother… this form, this life is hers now, I have abdicated… become a willing shadow… please let me rest...”

“Laurelyn?” Elinde's grip on her tightened as her single eye fell shut. The prone elf was still, and then she groaned, cramped muscles twitching back to life, her neck once again strong enough to support the weight of her head. Elinde tore her hands away and rose swiftly, her tender concern giving way to a brooding fury. She stalked towards the door and ripped it open, the peace of the glade outside a taunting contrast to the tempest raging within.

Mahat came to, stiff and sore, head thick with cobwebs and half-dreams. Her gaze was drawn to Elinde, and in her foggy state she forgot not to meet the woman's eyes. There was so much pain there. Mahat was a walking grave, a living reminder of the worst loss she had ever suffered, a twisted mockery of the nobility and kindness of spirit Laurelyn had possessed. The thief saw everything so clearly, the part of her that had once been Laurelyn knowing every line of Elinde's face so well that her sister's mask of calm self-possession may as well not have existed. It was all there in her eyes, rage and yearning and sorrow and hope and strangely, terribly, pity. Her voice betrayed none of it.

“Syrandel Silvervine is the name you wanted,” Elinde said flatly in Common, and then jerked her head to indicate the door she was holding open. “Get out.”

Mahat spoke no word of protest or gratitude, stumbling to her feet and hobbling out of the house as quickly as her sleeping, pin-needle filled legs would carry her. She left the glade and walked deeper into the forest, scarcely hearing the protesting chatter of birds and squirrels around her as she stalked through, disturbing their nightly routines. She moved automatically, furiously not thinking about anything that had just happened, just trying to breathe.

A child's laugh echoed through the trees and she froze, realizing where her wayward, unguided steps had taken her. For a moment she trembled, the desire to move towards that sound as overpowering as a tidal wave.

No…

Jaw clenched, she turned and walked back to the path–back to a small, dark room in Booty Bay, and the comfort waiting for her there in the strong arms of the one she loved.

#wyrmrest accord #wyrmrest rp #wyrmrest roleplay #shananana #jaoyn #i wrote a thing #the past

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