Quettaser
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“The Cutthroat Cat did it,” someone said from behind Fuma, loud enough to be heard over the agitation of the crowd. It made Fuma spin around, the accent unfamiliar, certainly not local, and not one he recognized even from his time in Edo.
The stance was what caught Fuma’s attention. Someone who looked at the scene without fear or confusion, and a heavy cloak and hood on a bright spring day. It was suspicious. The figure began to move backwards, turning to walk away from the crowd. Fuma trusted his instincts and followed, with only a brief glance back at Hirota to make sure he wasn’t abandoning him to a brawl.
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There’s a moment where Taki leans in, leans down to Harua’s mouth and Harua catches herself before their lips can touch. “No kissing, okay?” She ignores the way Taki's face falls, like her favorite pillow had been stolen. “We’re just helping each other, right?” She cradles Taki’s cheeks until she nods. “Kissing is for feelings and we don't need to complicate things.”
Because it means something to Harua. Because it implies feelings and promises that Harua doesn't want to commit herself to. She's kissed too many people who didn't want what she wanted, where what she was trying to say got tied around her tongue. Boys who thought she owed them something. Girls who laughed it away the next day. She doesn’t want that with Taki, doesn’t want to mess them up in a way that can’t be fixed.
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Rui meets Kim Jiwoong at the best and worst possible time in his life. He could have stayed in Taipei or even on the mainland and pursued traditional dance for the rest of his life but then he’d been recruited - cast, even - for Seoul’s prestigious Ballet Planet Academy and the chance to be invited to join the Ballet Planet Company.
A year in Rui's journey towards the best dancer they can be.
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She was shivering, her wings hanging limp at odd angles behind her. “Fuck, Chaewon…” Yunjin started, trailing off. She would have asked if Chaewon was okay, but she felt the anger rolling off of Chaewon in waves. She clearly wasn’t shivering because she was cold or scared. Chaewon might have punched through the glass if the window hadn’t opened. Yunjin began to move the candles out of Chaewon’s direct path. No need to risk a fire.
Chaewon screeched through her teeth as she sat down in the middle of the floor, already trying to reach behind herself to pull at the tatters of her shirt and her wings. “I swear, if I can get my hands on him, I’m going to wear Hitman Bang’s teeth on a fucking necklace,” she said with a snarl.
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It was always going to be Hyojin as the Vessel. Seungjun had known that for years. As much as they held equal positions in the Jeonhyeoksil, Seungjun’s constitution was weaker and he was never able to channel as easily as Hyojin. He was never going to be the demon king’s first choice. But that made it easier to prepare himself, in more ways than one.
Hyojin had been in denial much longer.