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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Yoongi rouse from a heavy slumber. He was first aware of the coolness of the air and its loamy fragrance. The hardwood floor cushioned him rather than his roll mat, he must have fallen off through the night.
Yoongi half wondered if he was still dreaming as he sat up to take in the stems of light that burst through the small dusty window. Now he was awake, there is no point in slumping as he would. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, inhaled deeply and cracked his neck, before letting out the breath he was holding. He repeated yesterdays events by throwing something at the sleeping girl again.
Yoongi couldn't be bothered to move, so he threw the closest thing to him, which happened to be the practice swords. They cluttered together as they crashed into the sleeping form. (y/n) let out a strange noise, closer to a duck than a person. A small smile graced his face as the girl staggered out from behind the curtain with an angry look.
They made the way to the clearing in the woods.
The morning wasn't grey like it usually was, but a soothing lavender and brilliant amber. The colours merged into neon pink and peach. Along with the chirping of birds, the morning was peaceful. It was strange only to hear what was out there not to feel every inch of life, but he promised himself he would give his sense a rest as they walked.
(y/n) kept letting out rows of undefinable mutters under her breath. He guessed they were for him after waking her up in such a manner.
They conversed in small talk, he found out quite a lot from the there little conversation. He was three years older, and her favourite colour was (f/c). It felt like he had warmed up to her a lot faster than anyone else before. They were conformable talking about nothing with each other, it was no longer as awkward as it once was.
When they finally arrived, they commenced in the same practice as yesterday. The wooden sticks bashed against each other again and again.
They did it till beads of sweat ran from both their hair.
They stopped to eat. (y/n) was sitting at the root of a tree, her head was burrowed against her bent knees. One hand was clutching her small bread loaf, the other drawing patterns in the dirt. There was a child-like aura around her. He suddenly felt the need to protect her. To take her far away from the life she had chosen.
Her emotions were easily hidden on her face. But her eyes, her eyes showed her soul. They were a deep pool of restless gold, an ocean of hopeless grief. As he looked into her eyes, he knew all the beauty of the universe could not even hope to compete with this simple thing: passion. Passion turned her eyes into orbs of the brightest fire, and in them, he read clearly, that she would fight to the very last breath of her life.
She would not let the world break her. Sure she could cry, but she would never let them take her true self from her. She clung to it with a passion.
It was a passion that made her beautiful.
A pink hue painted his cheeks as realised he had been staring for a while. Lucky (y/n) hadn't noticed. Yoongi then felt a new presence around two hundred meters away. He sighed, Namjoon would be here soon. He would teach (y/n) about the scenes and how to use it, just like Shiro taught them.
