Children of Lilith || YoonSeok

O N E

J - H - S
Gwangju, South Korea
January 2008

The boy must have been only about thirteen or fourteen, maybe fifteen at most, but his eyes didn't match that.

He ran further and further from his home, or what he thought was his home. He had no place now, nowhere to go, only somewhere to run from.

The heavens were trying to open up on him, pour down cold winter rain that would go all to well with the young boys mood.

His step-fathers screams of anger still rang through his head, the shouts of names ripping through his mind and draining him of any thought that he may possibly be able to return one day. How could he? He was a monster. A freak. An abomination.

The bin on the corner of the road went flying, hitting a power pole and spilling it's contents all over the pavement and tarmac or the footpath and street, the side of it denting with the force of impact. The only one on the intersection, the boy stood still on the opposite side of the road, before running further.

He needed to get away.

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M - Y - G
Daegu, South Korea
April 2018

Knowing the exact number of warlocks in the city was something that came with the job title, and something Min Yoongi had taken a while to get used to since his appointment as High Warlock of Daegu, but he got there. If you wanted to know sort of where someone was, he could tell you if theu were near of far, in the city or not, how much magic they had, everything.

Of course, the number did sometimes change, sometimes the change was someone perminant, sometimes temporary, but people were always busing, driving, and portalling into Daegu.

Dressed in black skinny jeans, a large black jersey, matching shoes and mask, along with a simple mint green baseball cap placed snuggly over dark rooted blonde hair, Yoongi wandered down a street in the central city, a hand stuffed deep in a pocket and another clutching the strap of the brown leather backpack slung over his shoulder. He needed ingredients for a potion and the only trader in town with them just had to place wards on his damn shop.

He walked in, pushing the glass door open lazily and pulling his mask down under his chin, looking to the man behind the counter and making his way straight there, ignoring the couple of mundanes browsing the pharmacy this trader worked through. The trader spotted him and smiled.

"Yoongi-nim, nice to see you today." The trader says, a taller fellow wearing a scarf to hide the warlock mark the elder knew was there. Yoongi stands at the desk and looks to the other, younger warlock.

"I told you Namjoon-ssi, -nim is too much, -hyung is okay." He says, the younger warlock nods and ducks to the set of shelves behind him.

"Well I have you prescription ready for you, Yoongi-hyung." Namjoon grabs a bag off the bottom shelf and places it on the desk for his elder, watching the other grab the sum of money he now had to pay. Annoying how all this warlock crap has to be done under the table.

Namjoon quickly counts the cash and smiles, farewelling Yoongi as the elder warlock leaves the shop, putting the bag small bag in his bigger bag and slinging it back over his shoulder, pulling his mask back up and readjusting his mint hat on his now black hair.
He began his walk down the road, looking at the cracked pavement before him as he walked through the odd couple or small group, not really bothering to give them much notice. Mortals were just... mundane, suppose that's why the english for both is the same thing then. No power, no intrege, simply boring and plain.

Yoongi kept a consistant pace as he wander the city to find a place void of these mundanes, where he could portal back to where he calls home, he had a potion to complete, and now he finally had the last ingredients.

He found where he was looking for. A damp, empty, dark back alleyway. He stopped at the opening and looked around. It was dirty, disgusting, but he had to get home and this was the closest place around, it was where he came in.

One foot after the other the alleyway engulfed the old warlock. Hands escaped pockets and with the click of fingers orange sparks began errupting from their tips. Just as he was about to rip open the fabric of space, a voice caught his attention, a chirpy, yet sad voice speaking only a small, formal word.

"Excuse me."