The Galazios (2/20)
Title: The Galazios (2/20)
Author: Collaboration between juuten, otoke1315, and fangirlism_era
Genre: AU, Supernatural, Romance, Adventure
Rating: R
Pairing: Unspecified , TBA
Characters: Heechul-centric, Kibum
Length: Chaptered
Summary: In a world where the surface is constantly changing, some individuals strive to be the core. When the will to live is overcome by one's desire for power, past and present shall meet at exactly one point in time, and they - whose fates have long been intertwined - shall find their lives changing with just a pull of a string.
<< Previous
CHAPTER II - A ROSE BUSH CROWN OF THORNS
Beautiful stranger, you are mysterious to them
They’re scared of you because they can’t understand
so they just push you away
The stories in the deep silences
You came from a different image, a different world
When you look at me as you extend your long hands
Take me to the place where you are
-Beautiful Stranger
“Name?” The deity spoke, voice miff about as clear as a harsh whisper.
“Kim Heechul.” His named rolled smoothly through the foreign tongue; gazes of the few still lingering around met the man’s cold ones. The sun was shining brightly, droplets falling on a long blonde hair. Even with the scowl almost permanent on the pale face, people still ogled-hot as a whorehouse on nickel night, they said. Whoever first uttered, no one knew. No one’s ever lived long enough to tell the tale.
“And the arm? Weapon?”
He flicked a hand over his shoulder, hair falling back as he eyed the deity levelly. Feet clad in thick leather boots tapped hastily on the nonexistent ground, the man’s getting impatient. “How would you care for a monstrance, my goddess Maya Devi?” Long legs took three huge strides and he was standing right in front of the deity, the impassive scowl morphed into a smirk as his hand reached up, cupping the jaw of the death goddess. It was all over before it even began, the gods gaping in barely concealed fear and threat.
A scream of anguish tore the still silence, Kamadeva wailing vehemently a good distance away from Maya Devi’s body. The deity of human affection nothing but, with the dark air looming around him, wanting to draw the goddess’ body as her head remained hanging, held by the human’s hand.
People lived with a proverb, a monument depicting a symbol of a death god holding the head of a human as it stood by the village of la Martyre. They lived in fear, children and women alike locked in the cabin the first drop of darkness as the sun sets behind the ocean, afraid of the dark clothed rider trotting the village with its gelding and its two heads.
“Papa isn’t here yet, Mama! Do not hinder the door, or the black rider will get him.” A child chided his mother, trying to get her away from the door and pulled the huge log blocking said door to no avail.
“Stay away or the ankou will get you instead. Do not utter such words, Papa left for Italia. He’s never coming back.” The woman hissed, pulling her son away from the door. The sun was way past the ocean by then and no one dares to trek the dark roads of the village. The eerie monument wasn’t built in the heart of the city for nothing. Silent words passed from the elders; of the beautiful man, clad in the brightest of clothes and the whitest of skin, residing from the Joseon Dynasty neighboring the Kingdom of Silla. No one knew his name, no one dares to utter if one ever heard. Everyone who’s ever seen him knew, and everyone who knew didn’t live long enough to last a breath.
The sky grew darker, wind blew colder, the lights flickered and a soft knock resounded from outside the door. One… two… three. Properly timed and gentle against the cold, hard, wood.
“Papa is here.” A voice of ice uttered enough to send chills down everyone’s neck, the log dropped in seconds and the wooden door threw open. A man in his early twenties, hair long and elegantly tied in half drawn at the back, stood proud before their eyes. Lips slowly curled into a smirk and the man looked at the woman before he crouched to the child’s level, eyes gleaming with mockery. “Papa came back, and the kind black rider gave him a lift.” He cooed at the child, bringing forward the head of the child’s father, graying hair held as the head dangled from the man’s long fingers.
A face of confusion surfaced from the befallen child, and then recognition as young eyes saw familiar features of the face dangling from the beautiful man’s hand. “Papa…” He whispered, voice barely a breath as the small frame lunged for the bodiless human. “You came back, Papa.” he cried and hugged the figure close; The woman, his mother cringed in disgust at the sight.
“Denis! Get away from him!” The woman shouted, against the wall she backed up instead of pulling her son away from the looming danger. If he wasn’t blocking the door, the man would have thought right that the woman would elude without the child.
In fascination, the blonde watched the scene before him, the child in his small form bawling helplessly holding his father’s head. The filthy woman staring in obvious loathe and disgust at her child, hugging his ever dear father. “Human.” He seethed, spitting at where the woman previously stood.
“Take heed to what I have to narrate, Cassey. I demand both ears.” Mildred skipped, falling into place beside him.
A quick glance, then the tyke set forth to the flowerbed. “Cassey, spare me a tick. It would be ponderous enough, I forebode.” The girl grabbed one thin limb, pulling on the other and momentarily forgetting about the space they had to keep as buff skirt recanted down to her feet. “The winged creature… I think Mama calls it a bird, utters words human does!”
Pulling his arm away, Cassey side eyed the maiden. He was nothing but a gentleman, and it is beyond the young man why this human chose to miff him day after day. “I take no interest in ornithology as every balding human does.”
Mildred fell a step sideways, beaming wide even with Cassey’s nonchalance. “I wonder how animals talk the same tongue we do. In a few years do you think winged creatures would be able to speak our language and converse with us?”
“Do you also wonder how canines converse with felines?” Cassie turned to the other, a cocked eyebrow looking out of place on the beautiful face. “The day after tomorrow rodents will be conversing with fishes. The day after that the cold blooded underwater creatures will be smiling at humans. You are one of them. Humans are intellectual animals. In the future, when the blood war’s end, a lunatic will fool the entire humanity. He would prove that humans were apes.” He bent down, plucked a flower on the bushes, it’s red, a deceit as smooth fingers bled from the sharp of its thorns.
“How do you dare to speak so lowly of us humans?” Deflated, Mildred sighed soundlessly.
“There’s no us.” Cassie’s hands wrapped tightly around the flower, the red of the petals slowly fell to the grass, one after the other as the red on the young man’s palms trickled faster, thorns digging deep. “I refuse to be labeled same as you. I’ve met a more humane dog than all the humans I know.”
The sound of leather boots stomping had them both turning to the main square, there, the son of the Queen stood in the midst of an army of guards. Mildred promptly lowered her head, bowing to the royalty. The guards not so subtly eyed Cassey, the young man stood proud, eyes eerily chilling with its emptiness.
Cassey snorted loudly, the bleeding hand let go of the ruined flower. At the foot of the nearest guard he spat, before he turned and walked away, pace mockingly slow and nose stuck up in the air. He would never bow to anyone. Especially not to someone who’s had his parents killed just with the reason of their only son refusing to bow to the king.
A guard stepped forward, following the steps behind the young man; the sword that was previously hanging by his hip is now drawn to his hands and ready to swing.
Mildred watched in repugnance as Cassey held his bloody hand up to the guard’s throat. She screamed, seeing more blood oozing, this time not from the thorns, but from the cut on the guard’s neck, humbled by the young man’s fingers.
Humans filth the air with their indecent words, and dirt the earth with their disgusting presence. Cassie decided to live in a world free of filth and indecency, spared from dirt and disgust.
It was another week when a family of nobility, serving the monarchy, died in a bloodbath the same way the guard in the flowerbed did.
Fear hangs closely over the whole of Britania, person after person dying the same way the other dies. Men and women, children alike dying in the fingers of cold young man, whom the name they never spoke.
The war exploded, millions of armed soldiers and innocent civilians dying. And in the middle of the crossfire, a beautiful human stood, eyeing the planes of España. People died, both from gunshots, explosions, and the wrath of the young man, hair of corn gleaming up until the shoulder’s length.
Screams and cries woke up the dying land, people coming in troupes armed with bolos and spheres, shields made up of the oldest of trees. A sharp laugh escaped pink lips of the beautiful man standing above a mountain of unmoving bodies. He picked up a head ornament, seemingly too extravagant to be of a normal village person. A hand flicked a lock of the golden hair over his shoulder, falling mid on the young man’s back before he wore the ornament, laughing mercilessly at the ridiculousness of everything. The land of the Savages falling deep under the young man’s feet.
The bloodbath halted, as well as the murders, seemingly from the curse roaming around the lands. A man, beautiful with a blonde hair, the length of that as a horse mane resided on the land of the three Kingdoms. He sat by the bank of a huge body of water, fishes of different sorts and sizes jumping out the surface to boast their shine. The man knelt by the bank, a hand coming down to touch the surface. The man watched in pure awe and amazement as the huge river, a crystal of clearness just a heart beat ago, was now a bank of pure thick red, emanating from the beautiful stranger’s hand.
When the Ankou comes, he will not go away empty.
“Who are you? What do you want from us?” With trembling hands, the woman asked the beautiful man standing like a monument by the entryway. A hand clutched onto a candlestick and she held it in front of her as if the piece of fake metal can save her life.
Lips quirked, he flicked a hair out of his face and bowed, hands arching as he swayed it to his front, one foot moving half a step backwards going across his other leg from behind, his movements, big and exaggerated. Long blonde hair flowing smoothly through his shoulders as he lowered down his head. “Kim Heechul, at your humble service.” Another wave of his hand and the woman lay lifeless on the cold ground.
“Papa, you came back.” The small voice hiccupped, the child was sprawled on the cold ground with his father’s head in his arms.
Heechul watched the child with his interest in its peak. The child paid no heed to his mother’s cries, the stale body of the woman ostensibly of no value to the young soul. He continued the cries of sorrow for his lost father, and ignored the presence of his dying mother.
“Please don’t kill me, mister gentleman.” The child turned to the blonde standing over the woman’s body as he spoke. “I haven’t conquered the world yet, oh kind black rider. You see, I promised my Papa I will conquer the world someday. Do take pity on me, I have no will to die.” The child pleaded, words of innocence and deception clear in the raw voice.
A laugh escaped Heechul’s lips, at such a young age, the child spoke of deception. Product of the filthy human world. Crouching down, he spoke to the witted child. “You will die eventually, my dear señorito. Like how Papa died, and how Mama died too. You will die the year after this, or the year after that. Humans die, little kid. And no matter how tough you are, you are not an exemption.”
“I will not die, mister! I promise! And I see to it, to fulfill my promise. Are you not human, black rider? I don’t want to die. I don’t want to be human and die. I want to be just like you. Do you want to help me conquer the world?” The child’s eyes lit up, sitting on his legs to stare up at the taller man. His hand fell onto his lap and Heechul watched as the child’s father rolled down the ground.
“What are you called, little man?” Heechul asked, ignoring the tirade of questions from the now giddy child.
“Denis! My name is Denis, mister black rider. What is your name?” Head tilted to the side, Denis put out a hand touched Heechul’s long hair. “Whoa! It’s so soft!”
Heechul laughed loudly, finding merriment with the child. “I’m Cassie. Do you want to hear a secret?” He chuckled at the enthused nod he received. “When you are older, sail to the Kingdom of Silla, where long haired virgins trapped in the body of a horse roams. They have horns of crystal on their foreheads and voice like smooth velvet. Drink their blood and you shall die no more.”
“Really?” Denis asked, eyes wide with curiosity as he climbed up to the other’s extended arms.
“Hm.” Nodded the beautiful man and traced a hand over the child’s cheeks. He watched as his fingers left stains of fresh blood, the blood slowly seeping through Denis’ soft skin. He smiled and nudged the kid. “You are going to live without ever dying. Do not live like a human, live like how you mean it. You’re going to be very special. Very very special.” The boy in his arms nodded, a smile forming on the plump lips and Heechul marveled at the beauty of the child’s smile, a dimple in one cheek deep enough to drown faint hearts. “Teukbyeolhan.”
Heechul left the village, an unusual smile on his lips. He stopped by the open field and clucked his tongue as the air around him swirled before he disintegrated.
A hand held up to run over his long hair while he raised up the other, picking string after strings at the variety presented before him, stringing his choices together and holding them all with one hand. He sat on his throne, one hand playing with the multicolored strings. He brought up a finger from his free hand, a small smile surfaced in his lips before the finger touched the strings, and the smile grew bigger as the strings in his hand shattered into a million pieces. The screams of pain and cries of despair from down below, on the land of dirt and filth, lulled him to a fruitful slumber.
Author: Collaboration between juuten, otoke1315, and fangirlism_era
Genre: AU, Supernatural, Romance, Adventure
Rating: R
Pairing: Unspecified , TBA
Characters: Heechul-centric, Kibum
Length: Chaptered
Summary: In a world where the surface is constantly changing, some individuals strive to be the core. When the will to live is overcome by one's desire for power, past and present shall meet at exactly one point in time, and they - whose fates have long been intertwined - shall find their lives changing with just a pull of a string.
<< Previous
CHAPTER II - A ROSE BUSH CROWN OF THORNS
Beautiful stranger, you are mysterious to them
They’re scared of you because they can’t understand
so they just push you away
The stories in the deep silences
You came from a different image, a different world
When you look at me as you extend your long hands
Take me to the place where you are
-Beautiful Stranger
“Name?” The deity spoke, voice miff about as clear as a harsh whisper.
“Kim Heechul.” His named rolled smoothly through the foreign tongue; gazes of the few still lingering around met the man’s cold ones. The sun was shining brightly, droplets falling on a long blonde hair. Even with the scowl almost permanent on the pale face, people still ogled-hot as a whorehouse on nickel night, they said. Whoever first uttered, no one knew. No one’s ever lived long enough to tell the tale.
“And the arm? Weapon?”
He flicked a hand over his shoulder, hair falling back as he eyed the deity levelly. Feet clad in thick leather boots tapped hastily on the nonexistent ground, the man’s getting impatient. “How would you care for a monstrance, my goddess Maya Devi?” Long legs took three huge strides and he was standing right in front of the deity, the impassive scowl morphed into a smirk as his hand reached up, cupping the jaw of the death goddess. It was all over before it even began, the gods gaping in barely concealed fear and threat.
A scream of anguish tore the still silence, Kamadeva wailing vehemently a good distance away from Maya Devi’s body. The deity of human affection nothing but, with the dark air looming around him, wanting to draw the goddess’ body as her head remained hanging, held by the human’s hand.
People lived with a proverb, a monument depicting a symbol of a death god holding the head of a human as it stood by the village of la Martyre. They lived in fear, children and women alike locked in the cabin the first drop of darkness as the sun sets behind the ocean, afraid of the dark clothed rider trotting the village with its gelding and its two heads.
“Papa isn’t here yet, Mama! Do not hinder the door, or the black rider will get him.” A child chided his mother, trying to get her away from the door and pulled the huge log blocking said door to no avail.
“Stay away or the ankou will get you instead. Do not utter such words, Papa left for Italia. He’s never coming back.” The woman hissed, pulling her son away from the door. The sun was way past the ocean by then and no one dares to trek the dark roads of the village. The eerie monument wasn’t built in the heart of the city for nothing. Silent words passed from the elders; of the beautiful man, clad in the brightest of clothes and the whitest of skin, residing from the Joseon Dynasty neighboring the Kingdom of Silla. No one knew his name, no one dares to utter if one ever heard. Everyone who’s ever seen him knew, and everyone who knew didn’t live long enough to last a breath.
The sky grew darker, wind blew colder, the lights flickered and a soft knock resounded from outside the door. One… two… three. Properly timed and gentle against the cold, hard, wood.
“Papa is here.” A voice of ice uttered enough to send chills down everyone’s neck, the log dropped in seconds and the wooden door threw open. A man in his early twenties, hair long and elegantly tied in half drawn at the back, stood proud before their eyes. Lips slowly curled into a smirk and the man looked at the woman before he crouched to the child’s level, eyes gleaming with mockery. “Papa came back, and the kind black rider gave him a lift.” He cooed at the child, bringing forward the head of the child’s father, graying hair held as the head dangled from the man’s long fingers.
A face of confusion surfaced from the befallen child, and then recognition as young eyes saw familiar features of the face dangling from the beautiful man’s hand. “Papa…” He whispered, voice barely a breath as the small frame lunged for the bodiless human. “You came back, Papa.” he cried and hugged the figure close; The woman, his mother cringed in disgust at the sight.
“Denis! Get away from him!” The woman shouted, against the wall she backed up instead of pulling her son away from the looming danger. If he wasn’t blocking the door, the man would have thought right that the woman would elude without the child.
In fascination, the blonde watched the scene before him, the child in his small form bawling helplessly holding his father’s head. The filthy woman staring in obvious loathe and disgust at her child, hugging his ever dear father. “Human.” He seethed, spitting at where the woman previously stood.
“Take heed to what I have to narrate, Cassey. I demand both ears.” Mildred skipped, falling into place beside him.
A quick glance, then the tyke set forth to the flowerbed. “Cassey, spare me a tick. It would be ponderous enough, I forebode.” The girl grabbed one thin limb, pulling on the other and momentarily forgetting about the space they had to keep as buff skirt recanted down to her feet. “The winged creature… I think Mama calls it a bird, utters words human does!”
Pulling his arm away, Cassey side eyed the maiden. He was nothing but a gentleman, and it is beyond the young man why this human chose to miff him day after day. “I take no interest in ornithology as every balding human does.”
Mildred fell a step sideways, beaming wide even with Cassey’s nonchalance. “I wonder how animals talk the same tongue we do. In a few years do you think winged creatures would be able to speak our language and converse with us?”
“Do you also wonder how canines converse with felines?” Cassie turned to the other, a cocked eyebrow looking out of place on the beautiful face. “The day after tomorrow rodents will be conversing with fishes. The day after that the cold blooded underwater creatures will be smiling at humans. You are one of them. Humans are intellectual animals. In the future, when the blood war’s end, a lunatic will fool the entire humanity. He would prove that humans were apes.” He bent down, plucked a flower on the bushes, it’s red, a deceit as smooth fingers bled from the sharp of its thorns.
“How do you dare to speak so lowly of us humans?” Deflated, Mildred sighed soundlessly.
“There’s no us.” Cassie’s hands wrapped tightly around the flower, the red of the petals slowly fell to the grass, one after the other as the red on the young man’s palms trickled faster, thorns digging deep. “I refuse to be labeled same as you. I’ve met a more humane dog than all the humans I know.”
The sound of leather boots stomping had them both turning to the main square, there, the son of the Queen stood in the midst of an army of guards. Mildred promptly lowered her head, bowing to the royalty. The guards not so subtly eyed Cassey, the young man stood proud, eyes eerily chilling with its emptiness.
Cassey snorted loudly, the bleeding hand let go of the ruined flower. At the foot of the nearest guard he spat, before he turned and walked away, pace mockingly slow and nose stuck up in the air. He would never bow to anyone. Especially not to someone who’s had his parents killed just with the reason of their only son refusing to bow to the king.
A guard stepped forward, following the steps behind the young man; the sword that was previously hanging by his hip is now drawn to his hands and ready to swing.
Mildred watched in repugnance as Cassey held his bloody hand up to the guard’s throat. She screamed, seeing more blood oozing, this time not from the thorns, but from the cut on the guard’s neck, humbled by the young man’s fingers.
Humans filth the air with their indecent words, and dirt the earth with their disgusting presence. Cassie decided to live in a world free of filth and indecency, spared from dirt and disgust.
It was another week when a family of nobility, serving the monarchy, died in a bloodbath the same way the guard in the flowerbed did.
Fear hangs closely over the whole of Britania, person after person dying the same way the other dies. Men and women, children alike dying in the fingers of cold young man, whom the name they never spoke.
The war exploded, millions of armed soldiers and innocent civilians dying. And in the middle of the crossfire, a beautiful human stood, eyeing the planes of España. People died, both from gunshots, explosions, and the wrath of the young man, hair of corn gleaming up until the shoulder’s length.
Screams and cries woke up the dying land, people coming in troupes armed with bolos and spheres, shields made up of the oldest of trees. A sharp laugh escaped pink lips of the beautiful man standing above a mountain of unmoving bodies. He picked up a head ornament, seemingly too extravagant to be of a normal village person. A hand flicked a lock of the golden hair over his shoulder, falling mid on the young man’s back before he wore the ornament, laughing mercilessly at the ridiculousness of everything. The land of the Savages falling deep under the young man’s feet.
The bloodbath halted, as well as the murders, seemingly from the curse roaming around the lands. A man, beautiful with a blonde hair, the length of that as a horse mane resided on the land of the three Kingdoms. He sat by the bank of a huge body of water, fishes of different sorts and sizes jumping out the surface to boast their shine. The man knelt by the bank, a hand coming down to touch the surface. The man watched in pure awe and amazement as the huge river, a crystal of clearness just a heart beat ago, was now a bank of pure thick red, emanating from the beautiful stranger’s hand.
When the Ankou comes, he will not go away empty.
“Who are you? What do you want from us?” With trembling hands, the woman asked the beautiful man standing like a monument by the entryway. A hand clutched onto a candlestick and she held it in front of her as if the piece of fake metal can save her life.
Lips quirked, he flicked a hair out of his face and bowed, hands arching as he swayed it to his front, one foot moving half a step backwards going across his other leg from behind, his movements, big and exaggerated. Long blonde hair flowing smoothly through his shoulders as he lowered down his head. “Kim Heechul, at your humble service.” Another wave of his hand and the woman lay lifeless on the cold ground.
“Papa, you came back.” The small voice hiccupped, the child was sprawled on the cold ground with his father’s head in his arms.
Heechul watched the child with his interest in its peak. The child paid no heed to his mother’s cries, the stale body of the woman ostensibly of no value to the young soul. He continued the cries of sorrow for his lost father, and ignored the presence of his dying mother.
“Please don’t kill me, mister gentleman.” The child turned to the blonde standing over the woman’s body as he spoke. “I haven’t conquered the world yet, oh kind black rider. You see, I promised my Papa I will conquer the world someday. Do take pity on me, I have no will to die.” The child pleaded, words of innocence and deception clear in the raw voice.
A laugh escaped Heechul’s lips, at such a young age, the child spoke of deception. Product of the filthy human world. Crouching down, he spoke to the witted child. “You will die eventually, my dear señorito. Like how Papa died, and how Mama died too. You will die the year after this, or the year after that. Humans die, little kid. And no matter how tough you are, you are not an exemption.”
“I will not die, mister! I promise! And I see to it, to fulfill my promise. Are you not human, black rider? I don’t want to die. I don’t want to be human and die. I want to be just like you. Do you want to help me conquer the world?” The child’s eyes lit up, sitting on his legs to stare up at the taller man. His hand fell onto his lap and Heechul watched as the child’s father rolled down the ground.
“What are you called, little man?” Heechul asked, ignoring the tirade of questions from the now giddy child.
“Denis! My name is Denis, mister black rider. What is your name?” Head tilted to the side, Denis put out a hand touched Heechul’s long hair. “Whoa! It’s so soft!”
Heechul laughed loudly, finding merriment with the child. “I’m Cassie. Do you want to hear a secret?” He chuckled at the enthused nod he received. “When you are older, sail to the Kingdom of Silla, where long haired virgins trapped in the body of a horse roams. They have horns of crystal on their foreheads and voice like smooth velvet. Drink their blood and you shall die no more.”
“Really?” Denis asked, eyes wide with curiosity as he climbed up to the other’s extended arms.
“Hm.” Nodded the beautiful man and traced a hand over the child’s cheeks. He watched as his fingers left stains of fresh blood, the blood slowly seeping through Denis’ soft skin. He smiled and nudged the kid. “You are going to live without ever dying. Do not live like a human, live like how you mean it. You’re going to be very special. Very very special.” The boy in his arms nodded, a smile forming on the plump lips and Heechul marveled at the beauty of the child’s smile, a dimple in one cheek deep enough to drown faint hearts. “Teukbyeolhan.”
Heechul left the village, an unusual smile on his lips. He stopped by the open field and clucked his tongue as the air around him swirled before he disintegrated.
A hand held up to run over his long hair while he raised up the other, picking string after strings at the variety presented before him, stringing his choices together and holding them all with one hand. He sat on his throne, one hand playing with the multicolored strings. He brought up a finger from his free hand, a small smile surfaced in his lips before the finger touched the strings, and the smile grew bigger as the strings in his hand shattered into a million pieces. The screams of pain and cries of despair from down below, on the land of dirt and filth, lulled him to a fruitful slumber.