The night held them in a loving embraced. They were the darkness and all the life it held. Feared and forgotten warriors of old. Not good, not bad, but somewhere in the grey.
BTS X READER | based/ inspired of Ryan Kirks Nightblade trilogy. You DON'T...
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Morning raised its head. (y/n) drifted through the memory's of yesterday, like a knife through butter. Her eyes were red from crying. In her dreams, everything was alright, she longed to sleep more, but the morning had drawn its head like someone else's death. Her tutor used to say dreaming was a dirty business, especially where their silents and not screaming. That it is a sign of giving up, it's your head and your heart creating somewhere better than the truth. But (y/n) let her dreams take flight and take over her mind, it made everything seem alright.
After a lot of motivation for food, she got up and dragged herself out of her room. The smell of breakfast trailed her to the dining hall. Hoseok and her father were already eating and talking over the days' plans. A grey cloud came over her heart at the thought of the parade. Not wanting to think about it, she dumped her self at the table.
"I didn't see you at dinner yesterday, where did you go?" The chief asked not even lifting an eye off his plate. He didn't mean to be distant, he just was.
"For a walk" she replied coldly, stabbing at her food and taking a large bit.
"you can't walking off, it's dangerous."
"Sorry," (y/n) said through a mouthful of food, she muttered a few curse words under her breath quiet enough for the Cheif not to hear. There was an unnoticed tension in the room, secretly taking away all the air and replacing it with something noxious.
Hoseok kept his eyes down, not wanting to add to anything. But after a while of the silences, he couldn't cope with the feel of the room. He forced out a small choke. The chief averted his attention back to him. He could feel (y/n) (e/c) eyes drilling into him, but she soon gave in and left the room. He let out a breath he didn't ever release he was holding.
Outside (y/n) half-walked-half-stomped through the gardens of her home. She stopped at an elderly man crouched down in a patch of yellow and orange flower pulling out weeds.
"why does nothing ever go right." (y/n) mumbled at the man.
He let out a light chuckle ." What got you in such a mood."
"Life." she huffed and crouched down by the man, and started to pull out the weeds with him.
"It's going to rain today," the gardener said as he looked up to the grey clouded that rolled over. "If you're seeing your mother please giver her this."
He handed her a yellow flower. (y/n) was sure that he was the only one who still remembered her mother. The old man had been the gardener long before she was born, he had created a beautiful sanctuary, a place where she loved to play when she was younger. He was by far her favourite person in her home.
She often found him rescuing her from trouble when she used to sneak out. She didn't know much about him - other than he used to be a soldier but, had to leave when he was injured. So he started gardening. She didn't even know his full name. A pang of guilt flooded her, she liked the old man he was kind.
She grabbed the flower and made her way to the grave. When she got there, she placed the flower on the headstone.
She looked down, those stone had been her cocoon for the years she needed their sanctuary, and she thanked them. Her eyes wander smooth surfaces of each pebble, the warmth of the sun had been imparted to them on the small hill. It would be the one place she would miss.
It felt like it was time for (y/n) to go, for good. There are times we must protect the self, protect our own hearts and souls. The damage from this isolation was too much. And though (y/n) tried, it broke her down to nothingness. She needed to escape and rebuild herself whole.
She knew from past experience that it is better to be quick, that if she stayed any longer, she wouldn't go at all.
The parade was already in motion leaving the village practically empty, it was like everyone forgot to wake up. The market could have easily been mistaken for a ghost town if it wasn't for loud cheers and shout of the people in the city square.
She kicked up the stones on every step, leaving a cloud of dust following after her. The commemoration was just in sight, explosions of colourful fabrics decorated everywhere, and on top of that was smiling Hoseok basking in all his glory.
They wanted his blood, not her.
A cold drop of water fell and ran down her neck, it sent an uncomfortable shiver down her back. It started to pour.
Rain keeps coming down. Little drops of heaven's shade fell on children in their paper crowns making the litter for the night to raid. The daylight was torn away. It wouldn't stop beating all the bright colours to the dirt ground. Some teeth spat out from wicked mouths shrieking up above to the rain, drumming down on them. It wasn't long till smiles filled their faces again, and they carried on celebrating accepting the weather for what it is.
