Chapter Text
Fahrenheidt- Interlude: Autumn Leaves
Into the faded arms of summer, autumn falls; in the first vestiges of her gilded glory, bright golds and scarlet filigree, amber and umber and soft gray dawn. She wraps her arms of mist and mourning around the waning season and whispers words of rest, and summer gives way to her touch, frost-laced and wood smoke scented, his splendor melting into late sunrises and early sunsets, into cold nights and the sighing south winds, to orchard boughs heavy with fruit, and the promise of winters touch waiting beyond.
Jeon Jeongguk wakes with the dawn. Darkling dreams fading into shredded wisps of fog and fear as the first rays of sunshine pierce through the maple and birch and lance golden across the exposed back of his familiar, painting Jimin aureate and perfect; the moon phases that decorate his spine holding on to the light and shining, even beneath the sun's first illuminance. It glows like starlight in his midnight black hair, and he smells of lavender and honey and comfort. Jeongguk wraps his arms around Jimin’s waist and holds him close, feels the tandem beat of their hearts, always in sync, and takes what comfort he can from it.
It is coming.
He doesn’t know yet what it is, but it is coming and all he can hope for is that he will be ready when it arrives.
The day ahead promises to be a full one, with errands to run for Jimin and a visit to his mother’s house for Jeongguk, but right now he lingers here, his sky-clad body tangled with Jimin’s, the memory of last night's lovemaking a gentle ghost that chases the last tattered remnants of his dreams from his mind. Not a nightmare, he has not had one of those since Jimin had begun to sleep beside him, but whatever it was that he saw last night still clings to the shadowed recesses of his thoughts, cobwebs in the corners, spiders skittering to avoid the light as it pours in and disrupts the dreaming.
It is coming.
He reaches out and pulls his familiar close, and Jimin comes easy, soft and pliant in his arms. He needs him near, needs him pressed—chest to back and heartbeats in tandem, needs him close like he needs to breathe. This man, this creature, born from myth and magic, holds his heart in steady hands, and Jeongguk cannot fathom a world where that is taken from him, cannot conceive of a reality where they are not together.
It is coming.
Jeongguk only hopes that when it finally makes itself known he can keep Jimin safe.
☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ
Jeongguk guns his motorcycle through the backroads of Pennsylvania, somewhere in between his mother’s little house with its chickens and its well and its warmth, and his home, where a man who is also a cat who is also his familiar will be waiting. His heart sings at the thought of seeing Jimin soon, though it has only been half a day since he kissed him goodbye with a promise to be home by dinner. He’d spent his morning alongside Hyun and Lark, preparing their garden for the encroaching autumn, repairing a leak in their roof, fixing up the chicken coop, and doing things for his mother and her girlfriend that they were getting too old to do.
It is with a strange sort of melancholy joy he did these things for them, glad he could be of help, saddened that he had to do them because they could not. They had joked and teased and then been grateful, never once seeming bothered that they could not accomplish these tasks, but Jeongguk still found the toll of time a painful thing to dwell on, and he’ll be happy to be back in Jimin’s arms, soothed by his warmth and his love, which feels inevitable and eternal, a shelter from the constant take and take and take of the wheel turning.
He navigates the familiar roads with ease, leaning into the turns, not another soul in sight. Overhead the sky is the flat blue of early fall, the air is warm, but there is a promise of cold in the wind that races from the north; it whispers indecipherable things, carries with it songs of frost and fog and falling leaves. Autumn used to be his least favorite season, since it heralded the arrival of Halloween, a holiday he felt was ruined by media and commercialization. What should have been a night for the dead, for memories of loved ones and secrets hidden in shadows, has become overrun with over-processed candy and screaming children in cheap costumes.
He still feels this way, if he’s honest, but he has set aside his annoyance for the most part, glad that he has Jimin now to lift his spirits and help him see the good things that this time of year brings. He’s looking forward to apple picking in the orchards outside of Falls Creek, accompanied by Barnaby the Irish Wolfhound that lives on their favorite farm and who has adopted them as his secondary family. They will no doubt pay a visit to the pumpkin patch, there to adopt pumpkins (Jimin’s term, not his) that others might overlook for their imperfections. Then there is the yearly fall festival to attend, where Jimin will want to walk through the haunted house the community puts together even though he will inevitably hide his face against Jeongguk for the majority of the time, only lifting his head to hiss in fear at the occasional jump scare, and often causing the costumed actors their own scare as well with his ferocity.
Jeongguk smiles at the memory of their first walk through two years ago. They’d only just been getting to know each other, and Jeongguk had been so hopelessly endeared by Jimin, who has proven himself to be brave and fierce since then, but who still cowers at the sight of a regular person in a costume, dressed up like a vial-wielding scientist or a chainsaw-waving mad man.
He guns the engine, thinking about Jimin just makes Jeongguk want to be home sooner, and without another car in sight and no homes within miles of these roads, he can safely navigate them without having to worry too much about his speed. The world flies by in a blur, all golden and green as summer dies and autumn steps forward, lifting up its scarlet crown and preparing the woods for the long sleep of winter.
He’s almost back to Falls Creek, almost back to his kitten, when it happens.
He glances down at the meter on his gas tank, just for a second, just to see if he needs to stop before heading home, and when he looks up, a dark figure is standing on the road in front of him, robed and features indistinct, but tall and ominous. It’s too close for him to break, so he swerves, cursing, and just manages to avoid a collision. He breaks once he’s clear, heart hammering in his chest, and with both feet on the road he turns, only to find an empty stretch of Pennsylvania back road, and not another soul in sight.
He stares for several long moments, unblinking, willing something to appear where he knows he saw it, but he is alone.
He is alone.
He needs to get home, and quickly.
☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ
Geof Zanelli- But I Found You, Didn’t I?
Jimin stands in the back kitchen of Hobi’s, hands dusted with flour, and unbeknownst to him, a streak of apple jam across one cheek. He hums to himself as he works, alone in his corner while the other employees bustle around him, in his own little world as he works. Typically he does his baking at home, in a much bigger kitchen, but today he has a special order to fill, and the industrial equipment Hoseok owns is better suited for making large quantities. He hums as he works, loving the cold wind that dances in through the propped opened door at his back and the smell of pumpkin soup and onion that fills the air.
October in Falls Creek is special, though Jimin has grown so fond of the little town that he’d argue every time of year in the area is. The whole community comes together to bedeck its streets and sidewalks with all manner of holiday decor, from the tasteful to the tacky, and Jimin loves it all. And he’s come to love it even more with Jeongguk at his side, surprising, considering the witch’s opinions on the commercialization of the holiday. He’s come around a little bit since they first met, but he’s still delightfully grumpy about every fake skeleton and plastic pumpkin they come across, still mutters vague curses at all the inflatable lawn ornaments, and shows particular offense when he sees yet another witch depicted as green and covered in warts.
“Witches are real,” Jimin can practically hear him say, “why do the magicless feel the need to create fake effigies that don’t reflect the wide breadth of practitioners?”
He shakes his head fondly over his mixing bowl, perhaps too enamored for his own good, but comfortable in his devotion, since he knows without a shadow of a doubt that it is returned.
He reaches for a cup of chopped pecans, but as he goes to lift them, the bond shakes with a sudden pulse of fear and panic, making him fumble, and sending nuts skittering across the table as he drops the cup and braces himself against the wall, his heart pounding with sudden adrenaline.
It’s the bond.
He closes his eyes and focuses. He and Jeongguk have trained for moments like these, well aware that in their line of work the unexpected can often happen, and that they cannot always be at each other's side. He reaches out to Jeongguk, and already he can feel the initial panic ebbing away, though his heart still beats quickly and there is an edge of caution replacing the fear he’d felt moments ago. Did something happen on the road? Jimin wonders, still focusing on the bond even as he pulls out his phone. He tries calling Jeongguk, but it goes to voicemail after a few rings, and though he can feel that Jeongguk is slowly calming down, he leaves a message regardless.
“Hey love, you’re probably on your way here right now, but I felt your fear through the bond, and I just wanted to call and make sure you were okay. I can feel you still, and it seems like you're fine, but you better hurry up and get here so I can kiss you, and I hope you brought food back from your mom’s because I don’t want to cook tonight.”
He hangs up and sighs when he looks down and sees the scattered pecans, some of which have fallen to the floor, and turns to find a broom, only to come face to face with a concerned looking Hoseok, “Everything okay, Min?” He asks.
“I think so,” Jimin says, “I felt something through the bond, like maybe Jeongguk almost got in an accident? He feels calmer now, but it caught me off guard.”
“There’s almost no one on the road out to Hyun’s,” Hoseok says with a frown, “I wonder if it was a deer or something.”
“Maybe,” Jimin replies, but he’s unconvinced, the fear he’d felt from Jeongguk didn’t suggest an animal of any kind, but Hobi was right, there were rarely other cars on the backroads out to Jeongguk’s mother’s farmhouse, and when there were it was often slow driving pickups and grandmothers in their little sedans. He retrieves the broom and sweeps up the few pecans on the floor while Hoseok helps clear the ones on the table, “I’m just about done here,” Jimin says as they work, “unless there’s something else you need from me today.”
“No, and I’m sorry about the last minute order,” Hobi smiles his heart-shaped smile and leans his hip against the work table. The first friend Jimin made upon moving to Falls Creek, the half-Fae is kind and generous, having hired Jimin on as a baker for his little restaurant and introduced him to Jeongguk, the two best things that had happened to Jimin in a long, long time.
“It’s not a big deal,” Jimin says with a shrug as he replaces the few lost pecans and dumps them into the batter, “you saved me from getting harassed by an angry rooster, after all.”
“I’ve never heard Jeongguk called that before,” Hoseok jokes, though they both know that’s not who Jimin means. Hyun had always had chickens, but recently a rooster had shown up in her yard and she’d yet to find its original owner. While the rest of the fowl seemed to have no problem with Jimin, this particular bird took offense from his very existence, no doubt because he walked around smelling like a predator. Jimin had tried to explain to it on multiple occasions that he wasn’t an enemy, but chickens are not known for their intelligence, and this particular bird was no exception. Now every time Jimin went to visit Hyun and her girlfriend, Lark, he had to deal with being stalked through the yard by an angry, muttering rooster.
Geoff Zanelli- I Would Have Liked to Go A Little Bit Longer
Jimin gets the batter poured into the assortment of mini bundt pans and with Hobi’s help, puts them all in the oven. The half-elf then offers to make him a meal, and Jimin is not one to turn down a chance to eat Hobi’s excellent food, so he grabs a booth near the kitchen and fiddles with his phone while he waits. His fidgeting is interrupted a few minutes in, however, by the distant sound of a motorcycle, and he abandons his seat to fly out the front door and into the overcast streets.
Already, Falls Creeks is adorned with the decorations of fall- bundles of wheat, pumpkins and gourds, orange string lights and fake candles, appearing in store fronts and shop windows, and it won’t be long before jack o’ lanterns and the other trappings of Halloween join them. Everyone is excited for autumn in their little town, well… mostly everyone.
He waits impatiently as Jeongguk draws closer, his excellent ears having detected the sound of his approach while he was still a couple streets away. He can make out the sight of his bike on the corner, waiting for a streetlight to turn, and he sends as much love and excitement through their bond as he can, internally thrumming with joy that he’s about to be reunited with his witch. It didn’t matter that they’d seen each other that morning, that they lived together, that they spent almost all their time together, Jimin was happiest when he was with Jeongguk.
Jimin doesn’t even wait for Jeongguk to pull off his helmet before he’s sprinting toward him, the witch lucky his familiar gave him the time to get off the bike with how desperately he needed to be in his arms. He leaps the final few feet, launching himself at Jeongguk with all the confidence of someone who knows they’ll always be caught, and once he’s safe in the circle of his witch’s hold, he immediately begins to scent him, purring loudly and unashamed even though several passersby cast them curious looks.
“Hello, Kitten,” Jeongguk says softly, “I missed you too.”
Jimin doesn’t relent until his witch smells exactly right, Jimin’s sweet honey scent mingling with Jeongguk until the air around them was thick with it. An elderly deer hybrid who was passing by threw them dirty looks and muttered something about shamelessness. Though he is far from embarrassed, Jimin does allow himself to be lowered back to the sidewalk and for Jeongguk to take off his helmet, but the moment the witch has himself sorted out, Jimin is latched onto his side once more, tugging him towards the entrance of Hobi’s.
“What happened?” He asks as soon as they’re seated, “I felt something through the bond, are you okay?”
Jeongguk reaches across the table and Jimin immediately gives him both his hands, listening intently as Jeongguk replies, “I’m fine, but…” he frowns, “I saw something on my way back, and I don’t know what it was.”
Jimin listens as Jeongguk describes the figure on the road and its subsequent disappearance, he knows that the witch has been suffering from visions and dreams that warn of a vague something occuring in the near future, and can’t help but feel they are somehow linked to whatever it was Jeongguk saw on the road.
“I think,” Jimin says when Jeongguk’s story is complete, “that we shouldn’t leave each other's side until whatever it is that’s supposed to happen, happens. I don’t like that this thing showed up while I wasn’t around…” Jeongguk frowns, but doesn’t disagree, so he continues, “I know you’re capable, and we both have things to do, but I’d rather be marginally inconvenienced than not around if something like this happens again.”
Jeongguk gives his hands a gentle squeeze, “You’re right, I’m stronger with you by my side,” the witch says.
“It still catches me off guard to hear the infamous solitary Jeongguk admit to being better with company,” Hoseok says, having appeared at their table with two plates full of food, “I figured you were on your way, so I took the liberty of fixing you your regular order.” He slides the plates towards them and sinks into the seat beside Jimin, “Care to enlighten me as to what made Jimin dump two cups of pecans on the floor earlier today?”
Jeongguk tells his story again and Hoseok listens intently, long fingers tapping on the polished wood of the booth table, “I think you’re wise to stay close to one another until whatever visions you have change or disappear,” he says, “this time of year is a dangerous one, the veil is growing thinner, who knows what could come through… or be pulled in.”
The three sit with that knowledge, because it’s true—no matter how many fake skeletons and cobwebs come to adorn the town this time of year, it doesn’t detract from an ancient truth; All Hallows brings with it many things, and some of them are far more dangerous than others.
☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ
The next morning dawns mist-laden and cool.
Jimin is completely hidden beneath the blankets beside him, not even a wisp of hair emerging from covers, but Jeongguk can feel where one small hand is curled around his forearm, and the other where it rests upon his hip. A wind had risen from the west the night before, but now the air is still, heavy with the scent of changing seasons, and there is a chill in it that he swears was not there the day before. Jeongguk lays still and studies the ceiling above them as he thinks about the day ahead, there are few orders to brew, a couple clients to meet with, but then the afternoon is theirs to spend as they see fit, and Jeongguk has made plans.
It’s Sunday, and typically the farm they like to visit is closed, but he’d secretly given the owners a call the evening before and got the all clear from them to come by with Jimin to pick apples from the little orchard that borders the rear of the property. It’s one of the few seasonal traditions he doesn’t mind, it’s quiet and lowkey, after all, two things that appeal to him a great deal, and he knows from experience that Jimin will be practically glowing when he realizes where they are heading, all bundled up in his favorite coat and scarf, his cheeks and the tip of his nose flush from the cold air, his hair windswept and dashing as he makes Jeongguk lift him to pick the perfect apple.
There are few things Jeongguk wouldn’t do for his kitten, and spoiling him in little ways is one of his favorite activities.
If you told Jeongguk a couple years ago that he’d be so enamored with someone, he might have scoffed, having been committed to his solitary lifestyle and certain that there was no one in the world who would accept him as he is, but that was before he’d be reunited with Jimin, a childhood friend who had become so much more after that first, harrowing autumn in Falls Creek. Now Jeongguk is comfortably in love, and would happily admit (much to his friends' amusement) that he was completely wrapped around Jimin’s adorable fingers.
The hybrid stirs beside him, as if woken by Jeongguk’s thoughts, and a moment later he hears a sleepy little meow and feels warm lips press against his naked shoulder, “Good morning, Kitten,” Jeongguk rumbles, his voice still rough from sleep, “did you rest well?”
“Mmm…” Jimin replies, his face now shoved completely into Jeongguk’s arm, “want pancakes.”
Jeongguk chuckles, “We could probably arrange that,” he says.
“But first,” a sleepy face emerges from the blanket, looking soft and welcoming and warm, “I want something else for breakfast.”
Maybe it took them an extra hour to be on the road, but Jeongguk doesn’t mind, and Jimin looks very happy and at the end of the day (or the start of it), that’s all that really matters.
☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ
The night before had gotten far colder than expected, and the clouds overhead hide the sun so well that even with their late start the grass still crunched under their feet and frost laced the window of Jimin’s sedan. Jeongguk had tried to slip out early to start warming it, but a pouting Jimin had followed him, clinging to his arm as they crossed the yard, but not complaining once about the cold. They snuggled as best they could in the front seat of the car as the windows slowly defrosted, and Jeongguk let Jimin scent him the entire time, the interior quiet aside from the sound of the engine and the low rumble of Jimin’s purr.
“Your hair is getting so long now,” Jimin murmurs, “I really like it,” he buries his nose into it as though needing to prove a point, but Jeongguk just laughs, low and warm.
“I think you’ve said that to me every day for the past three weeks,” he replies as he reaches over to take Jimin’s hands, “where are your gloves?”
“In my coat pocket, don’t worry,” Jimin assures him.
“Kitten, what would I do with my time if it wasn’t filled with worrying about you, hm?” Jeongguk says as he leans across the center console and presses a kiss to Jimin’s temple, “Did you text Rowan this morning?”
“Yes,” Jimin says, “but I told her to not tell Barnaby that we’re coming, I want it to be a surprise.”
It has been a few weeks since the two of them had visited the farmstead where they’d met Barnaby, a massive Irish Greyhound who loves them both and seems to consider Jimin a younger brother of sorts. Now nearly four years old, he’s grown out of his rambunctious puppy stage, but all dignity is abandoned when Jeongguk and his familiar pay a visit, replaced instead with an unbridled joy that were Barnaby less polite, would result in people getting knocked over and things being broken.
The Newton Brothers- Go Tomorrow
The drive out to the farm is quiet, there’s quiet music playing, the radio turned on because neither of them can be bothered to plug their phones in, and outside everything is soft and muted from the mist that has yet to relinquish its hold on the day. The sudden cold will serve as a reminder to the earth of what is coming, and Jeongguk knows the forest will look different tomorrow, the frost announcing the slow death of summer, who before had simply been languishing, clinging to the last shreds of the season in stoic desperation.
They pull up to the farm and park in the empty field that is reserved for visitors, and a few moments later at the top of a small hill, the door to an old farmhouse bangs open; Barnaby bursts into the yard, running straight for them, barking joyously the entire time. He goes for Jimin first, who stands with his back pressed to Jeongguk’s chest, fully aware of what will happen the moment Barnaby reaches them.
The dog clears the final distance with a bound, lunges up onto his hind legs, and puts his forepaws on Jimin’s shoulders, panting and whining and nuzzling against him with furious abandon, his tail whipping back and forth until it is a blur of joy.
“Hello! Hello!” Jimin laughs, wrapping the dog up in a tight hug, “We missed you too, Barny, I hope you’ve been doing well!” The dog barks softly, as if to reprimand him, and Jimin can’t help but laugh, able to guess what the dog is asking, “I’ll be in my human form for now, so I can help Jeongguk pick apples, but once we’re walking back, I’ll shift so we can talk, okay?”
Barnaby nods and then leans slightly to the side to look at Jeongguk, who offers him a smile and a nod, “It’s good to see you again, Barnaby,” he says politely, and the dog gives another soft woof in response before removing himself from Jimin’s shoulders.
The orchard lies in the back stretches of the farmstead, quiet and mist-laden, to their right a small cornfield stands, its stalks pale brown and ghostly in the mist, to their left an open field stands with pumpkin vines growing yellow and wilted as their burdens ripen slowly among the frozen remains of summer’s last breath. Barnaby runs ahead of them as Jimin slips one of his now gloved-hands into Jeongguk’s, and the two of them follow the hound at a more sedate pace.
The air is still, smelling of leaf litter and fog, and the only sound is that of their footsteps as they cross the property, “It’s strange the the fog hasn’t burned off yet,” Jimin says, “the forecast called for clear skies and a light breeze, but this… it’s sort of the opposite, isn’t it?”
Jeongguk nods, eyes sweeping the woods that lined the farmland, “It is,” he replies, “remember what we agreed to yesterday?”
“To stay close,” Jimin says, a little frown on his face, “do you think we should have put this off?”
“Until when?” Jeongguk asks, “I’m not about to hide away from the world just because something may or may not happen, destiny is a series of choices, after all, as changeable as we are.”
Jimin hums softly, “I know… I worry for you though, as much as you do for me. I can fight nightmares, I can be a conduit for your power, but if we are separated… what then?”
“We won’t be,” Jeongguk says, “no matter what… and even if we are for some reason, we’ve trained for that too, we know how to find each other, the bond is strong and it won’t fail us.”
There is no room for doubt in his words, but still there is a quiet voice in the back of Jeongguk’s mind that asks, “What if it does?”
☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ
Jimin keeps his promise to Jeongguk and never strays more than a couple yards away, always within sight of his witch, and more often than not, within arms reach. He does his best to relax and enjoy their morning, working diligently to find the most perfect apples to take home and turn into preserves and jam and pie and cake, but even as the morning progresses the fog grows thicker, until they can barely see the next row of trees.
Barnaby seems unbothered at first, bounding back and forth between them and nosing about in the leaf litter happily, but even he senses something amiss after awhile, and begins to stick close to Jimin’s side, staring into the mist with his ears flat, his sad eyes searching for something none of them can see, but all of them suspect is out there.
“Let’s go back,” Jimin says suddenly, tired of the creeping feeling of being watched, “I hate to cut our morning short, but…”
“Something’s not right,” Jeongguk agrees.
They start the walk back, but it becomes evident after a few minutes that something is more wrong than they realized. While it should have taken only a few minutes to reach the edge of the small orchard, more than ten passed and still they were within its borders, the rows of trees stretching endless around them.
“Something is toying with us,” Jeongguk says softly.
“Do you think it’s an illusion?” Jimin asks softly.
“I do,” Jeongguk replies, “I can try and break it, but I’ll need your help.”
Yasunori Nishiki- On a Knife's Edge
Jimin nods and begins to shed his outer layers, it’s easier for him to channel his power in cat form, and not only that, but he will be swifter and fiercer in that body, not to mention less of a target and therefore less of a distraction should something attack them. His body thrums with nerves as he places his gloves and scarf in the apple basket before taking off his coat as well and handing it to Jeongguk, who holds it as Jimin summons his power and begins to shift.
A moment later a small, black-furred, green-eyed cat stands where a man did only moments before. He allows Barnaby to give him a thorough sniff before reaching up towards his witch, who silently lifts him and cradles him close to his chest as he begins to murmur an incantation.
His voice grows deeper as he calls on his power, the air thrumming with every word as he speaks to the wind, calling it to chase away the mist, which now that Jimin has shifted, feels thick with magic, the water in it carrying the weight of the spell. Jimin stares unblinking into the boughs as he channels his own energy into Jeongguk, their spirits tangling together as he lends Jeongguk what he needs to cast away the enchantment.
The fog grows thinner, slowly at first but with a steadily rising pace as Jeongguk continues his incantation. Jimin presses close to his witch’s chest, eyes still searching, because the feeling of being watched is still there, and Jimin suspects that whatever it is that is doing this will reveal itself soon.
He’s proven right as the west wind builds, summoned to them by way of power and need, chasing the tendrils of fog-like spirits being exorcized, and as the remains of it fade and fall away, a figure appears several rows of trees away, robed in black and features hidden by a deep cowl.
Jeongguk falters when he catches sight of it, but only for a moment before his chanting changes, becoming more forceful, the words now one of banishment, of protection, instead of simple dispellment. Jimin feels his hackles rise as he stares at the figure, who despite having its face hidden away, seems to be staring right at them, unbothered by the witch’s words. He feeds even more of his power into the witch, holding back a hiss as he flattens his ears and glares back at whatever it is that watches them, wanting to fight but knowing that leaving Jeongguk’s arms would be a bad idea; they must keep the connection strong, and they must not be separated.
Jeongguk continues to chant, and distantly Jimin hears Barnaby whine, the dog pressed hard against the witches leg with his ears down and his tail between his legs. He has seen the hound go after witches before, but whatever it is that stands before them has the dog frightened, and that alone makes Jimin even more concerned.
The edges of the figure slowly begin to grow indistinct, then the rest of it, until it’s transparent, the scarlet boughs of the trees behind it looking like old blood through the black robes, and a low, rumbling laugh fills the orchard as it dissipates faster and faster. When it is little more than an indistinct shadow it suddenly hurtles towards them, almost too fast for them to react, but at the last moment Jeongguk summons a shield of pure energy, and the darkness collides with it and bursts into ragged shreds, little more than smoke upon the wind, even as the laugh echoes loudly around them.
Then it is quiet.
The morning returns as though it was never gone.
Sunshine and bird song, mist burnt away, west wind cheerful.
They stand in the orchard for a long time, unmoving, unspeaking, until Jimin looks up at his witch and meows, “That wasn’t human, Jeongguk.”
“I know,” the witch says, “I know.”
☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ
They spend some time scouring the property for further signs of magic or illusion, but find nothing, not even the lingering energy that should have been there from another witch casting a spell. Jeongguk doesn’t speak much, too focused and angry to offer anything in the way of conversation, but Barnaby has many questions, and Jimin does his best to answer them all.
He listens with half an ear as his familiar spoke, typically Jimin’s interactions with the hound are a source of joy and amusement, but right now all he can truly think about was how desperately he wants to protect his kitten.
“I’ll always be there for you, and I promise I will keep you safe.”
He was only a child when he’d made that promise, a boy unaware that time and distance would separate him from the one he’d made the oath to. But the bond they made that day had brought them back together, and though it had taken them some time to realize their connection, now it was near unbreakable, and Jeongguk wouldn’t allow anything to change that.
The car ride back is quiet, Jimin stays in his cat form and curls up in Jeongguk’s jacket, but he doesn’t sleep like he usually does, instead he watches the road silently, alert and wary. The fog that had lain thick over Fall Creek was burnt away now, shredded by the west wind, and the sun shone overbright in the washed out blue expanse overhead. Jeongguk glares at the road and the woods as they fly by, half expecting the dark figure to appear in front of him again. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if it does, afraid of what will happen now that he’s got Jimin with him, but his concern is for nothing, the roads remain empty, and they make it home without incident.
But their day is far from over, and as much as Jeongguk would like to stay within the safety and wards of their home, they have a life to live and deliveries to make.
Jimin disappears upstairs to shift and get redressed, and though Jeongguk is reluctant to even let his familiar out of his sight, he trusts him enough to ignore his concern and heads downstairs, where several potions wait to be taken to Namjoon’s for pick up, and a box full of pies are cooled and ready to be delivered to Hobi’s.
David Arkenstone- I Closed My Eyes and Autumn Passed
He has everything by the front door, and stands on the porch looking out at the bright woods around them, everything is so normal looking, gold-edged and bright in the midday sun. There is no whisper of foreboding, no promise of darker things to come, and yet here he is, watching the forest he grew up in with fear.
He’s a seer witch, a fortune teller, he is not used to being so blind, and it frightens him. Yet he is determined to not let the fear show. He senses Jimin coming down stairs, and a moment later a pair of slender arms wrap around his waist, and Jimin presses himself close, giving his neck a kiss before resting his chin on his shoulder, “Well be okay,” the hybrid whispers, “as long as we have each other, nothing can hurt us.”
Jeongguk nods, brings his hands up to rest on Jimin’s, he can feel his familiar's certainty through the bond, and he tries his best to match it, but still, he is worried, he is afraid, and worst of all, he does not know what to do.
☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ
“So, you’re telling me you’ve seen this figure twice now?” Namjoon's hands are covered in soil, and there are leaves caught in his dark hair, making him look every inch the plant witch that he is. They’re in the back of the shop he co-owns with Seokjin, The Archive and Apothecary, and Jeongguk is picking Namjoon’s brain, hopeful that the older and more experienced witch might have a guess as to what they’re up again, “And neither time there was any residual magic left behind?”
“Nothing I could sense anyway,” Jeongguk sighs and nuzzles his face into Jimin’s who is currently asleep in his arms, little paws twitching as he dreams. “I’m worried, it’s one thing when it was just me on the road, but now Jimin is involved… and it feels like it’s toying with us, fucking around until it finally decides to strike.”
“Well, it is almost All Hallows,” Namjoon points out, “if anything is going to happen it will probably be then.”
Jeongguk nods, tired despite the early hour. He just wants to go home and sit on the couch with Jimin and pretend the outside world doesn’t exist, but he also needs to understand what is happening so that he can stop things from getting worse, “I don’t know what to do, I’m sure that these appearances have something to do with the visions I’ve been having, but nothing is getting any clearer, I’ve tried scrying, tarot, runes, and nothing leads me any closer to an answer.
“Have you tried dream walking?” Seokjin asks as he wanders in from the other half of the store. “Hey handsome,” he adds before planting a soft kiss on Namjoon’s cheeks, “missed you.”
“ Gross ,” Jimin mutters under his breath.
“I thought you were sleeping, kitten,” Jeongguk says fondly.
“ I was, but I could feel your worry through the bond, and it woke me ,” Jimin arches in his hold, little black paws stretching out, out, out, his sharp claws grasping at air. “ Please tell them I said hello, ” he adds before rolling onto his side and shoving his face into Jeongguk’s chest.
“Jimin says hello,” Jeongguk says dutifully.
“Is that all he said?” Seokjin asks with an artfully raised eyebrow.
“Yes,” Jeongguk lies easily and completely ignores the skeptical look the other two witches give him.
“Might I suggest speaking to your mom about this?” Namjoon says, “She might have some insight or advice, she’s seen a lot over the years after all.”
“I didn’t want to get her involved,” Jeongguk admits, “she has a good thing going on out there with Lark, she deserves that.”
“Whether or not you tell her doesn’t make a difference, she’s involved because you’re her son, and do you really want to deal with the fallout when she inevitably finds out regardless? You got your seer power from her, after all.”
Jeongguk grimaces, but nods, he knows Namjoon is right, but still, he thinks he wants to try one more thing before he tells Hyun about the dark visitor, “Remind me of what I need to dream walk, Joon.”
It’s worth a shot, after all, nothing else has worked so far.
☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ
Mugwort, valerian, aster, lavender, chamomile, and violet.
A pretty mix , Jeongguk thinks as he works, measuring out petals and leaves and blossoms. They’re home now, having made their deliveries and received some advice; Jeongguk is alone in the potions room, though he can hear Jimin nearby, checking the wards on every door and window, reinforcing them where necessary.
Tonight they will try dream walking, though Jeongguk does not truly know what it will entail, he hopes it will at least point him in the direction he needs to go to find answers, and if not… he’ll cross that bridge when he comes to it.
He weighs out a dusting of dream powder, bartered from a goblin market earlier in the year, careful not to get so much as a whiff of it near his face. The plants he’ll use in the potion will ensure his dreams are prophetic in nature, but the powder is there to make sure he dreams at all. He doesn’t need much, since he’s only making enough for one, and Jimin has assured him that in his cat form he will need no help in slipping into Jeongguk’s dreams
“Why do you not come into my dreams more often then?” Jeongguk had asked.
“That would be an invasion of privacy,” Jimin had replied, “and I respect you too much for that. Lucid dreams are different, to witness and remember what you see, you will most certainly be lucid tonight.”
They intend to finish their day as they usually would, but to retire early, since Jeongguk is not sure how long the dreaming will take, nor what the after effects will be. So once the potion is brewing they have dinner and then retire to the living room to wait for the drought to cool.
“I hope this works,” Jeongguk says softly.
Jimin wraps his arms around him and pulls him downward against his chest until they are both stretched out on the sofa, his petite frame blanketed by Jeongguk’s larger one, “It will work, in some way or another,” he whispers, “and whatever happens, just know that there is literally nothing in the world that can stop me from being at your side.”
Jeongguk nods but doesn’t reply, the sick memory of the fear he felt every time he had his vision filling him with a quiet dread and a creeping doubt that he does his best to ignore as he presses his ear to Jimin’s chest and listens to the steady beat of his heart. He wants to believe, needs to believe, because without Jimin by his side, he would be little more than a shadow of himself, a living ghost where a witch once stood.
Night falls and the potion is cool, shimmering purple and gold as it swirls in its little glass vial, emitting a soft glow in rainbow hues as Jeongguk picks it up, “Are you ready?” Jimin asks as they walk upstairs, “I can feel your nerves through the bond.”
Jeongguk shrugs, “I’m mostly worried that it won’t show us anything of use,” he admits, “or that what it shows will not make any sense and I will still be at a loss as to what we face.”
“We’ll deal with that when and if it comes to that,” Jimin says, “for now, let’s have a little faith in our magic.”
Jeongguk can’t help but smile, “There was a time once when you would have never said such a thing.”
Jimin returns his smile, eyes becoming crescent moons as they walk into the bedroom, “That was before we were reunited, and before I fell in love,” he says, “my faith in you and us is immeasurable.”
Jeongguk presses a kiss to Jimin’s cheek and sets the potion aside, “Let’s get changed and then we’ll do this.”
They have double-checked the wards, made sure every door and window was locked, made every precaution they could to mitigate any cause for concern, now there was nothing left but to drink the potion and hope it served its purpose.
Jeongguk sinks into bed a few minutes later, followed by Jimin in cat form, who lands lightly beside him and curls up at his side, watching with wide green eyes as Jeongguk picks up the potion and takes a deep, fortifying breath, “Here goes nothing,” the witch whispers, before draining the vial in one swift go.
It tastes like flowers and rain and something vaguely sweet, honeysuckle nectar and molasses maybe, and at first the effects of it are slow, giving Jeongguk enough time to set the empty glass on the nightstand, flip off the table side lamp, and sink into the pillows. He curls up on his side and pulls Jimin against his chest, the little cat going willingly, purring all the way as he nuzzles into Jeongguk, and as they lay there, he begins to feel it take hold.
At first it is just a gentle heat that spreads through his limbs, like his blood is sun-warmed honey and gold, followed by a steady sort of calm that eases away the last of his trepidation and makes his muscles untense one by one. After that it is a wave of drowsiness that makes him blink and yawn, his face buried in the inky black softness of Jimin’s fur. He finds it harder and harder to keep his eyes open, but before he fully succumbs to the drought, he whispers softly, “I love you, Jimin.”
The last thing he hears before falling asleep is, “ I love you too, Jeongguk. ”
☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ
Derek & Brandon Fiechter- Wistman’s Wood
The dream is simple.
In it, Jeongguk walks and Jimin walks beside him.
He has never been to the Dreaming before, having led a rather mundane life before reconnecting with his witch, but he knows many cats have walked here before him, and many more will walk after.
Still, he enters with his head and tail held high, well aware that in this land at least, he will be respected and welcome, that he has as much a place here as any that were born here. On the edges of the dreaming things are hazy and indistinct, like dreams are when you are in the process of forgetting—nothing stays, nothing sticks, there is only a lingering sense of place, of purpose, but it fades and falls away just as easily as the fleeting images you try to hold onto moments after waking as reality steals away all the good and true things you experienced while asleep.
Jimin stays close to his witch.
It is not often that humans are trapped within the Dreaming, but he is not willing to risk Jeongguk being caught here, well aware that the visions he’s been having could be prophecy as to what occurs in this realm. But unless his witch has angered the Dream Lord himself, he doesn’t think they run much risk of being ensnared here.
Yet still he is cautious.
Whatever they face is powerful, and Jimin had decided, not human, so even here, far removed from the world they encountered it in, Jimin watches and waits, claw and fang ready, for whatever is that may come.
“We’ll find no nightmares here, correct?” Jeongguk asks softly as they walk, one moment through a garden, then down a narrow country lane, the next through an old house, then through a small town reminiscent of Falls Creek.
“ No ,” Jimin says, “ they are regulated to a certain part of the realm, and do not leave it, unless they wish to provoke the Dream Lord’s wrath .”
“Do you think we’ll see him—the Dream Lord?” Jeongguk asks.
“Not at all ,” Jimin replies. “My Lord has many visitors, most of them far more important than us .”
Jeongguk flashes him a smile, “I’d be hard pressed to believe anyone is more important than you.”
“ It is a matter of perspective ,” Jimin agrees, “ but I do not measure up to a god .”
Jeongguk shakes his head, “I sometimes forget how literal you are when in this form, but I will say this, to me, you are more important than any god.”
“ Well, yes, I am your cat ,” Jimin says, “ I should hope you hold me in higher regard than the divine .”
Jeongguk laughs, low and deep, and were Jimin perched on his shoulder or riding in his jacket like he often does, he would flex his claws and purr in pleasure, but he is currently in neither of those places, currently he is walking through a graveyard, and it is beginning to look eerily familiar.
“Isn’t this… the same graveyard that is in Falls Creek?” Jeongguk asks softly.
“ It is ,” Jimin agrees, green eyes searching the mist for any signs of others watching them, “ be wary, I think we are drawing near to what we came here to find .”
Jeongguk nods but does not reply, booted feet silent on the fallen leaves beneath them as they walk further into the cemetery. All around them are tall granite obelisks, statues of angels and death, urns and weeping women, blind from their grief, no sight nor sound of living things save them, until they pass a copse of trees and see a circle of robed figures standing in a clearing, their heads bowed and their hands joined.
Jeongguk stops as soon as he sees them, and Jimin does as well, watching through narrowed eyes as the figures sway as one, heads bowed, low voices chanting in unison. It’s obviously a coven of some sort, and they’re obviously performing a ritual. He hesitates as they approach, everything so sharply detailed and realistic that he forgets for a moment that this is a dream and there is no need for caution. Jimin doesn’t forget, and instead stalks forward through the overgrown grass, tail held high as he approaches.
The chant is indistinct in the way that sound often is in dreams, and after a moment of listening, Jeongguk is forced to tune it out, finding himself distracted by trying to decipher the words when it’s nothing but nonsense anyway. As they come closer he notices that the faces of everyone are heavily shadowed, too dark for him to see who is under each hood, but he does notice that they are gathered around a single grave that stands alone in the center of the clearing.
The headstone is old and lichen covered, and while they can discern some writing on it, it’s too hard to read what it actually says. Jeongguk is about to draw closer when the chanting becomes louder, and a great gust of wind blows from the north. He freezes, Jimin pressed against his leg, and the two stare as something dark and formless begins to coalesce over the grave. It grows in size, getting darker and darker until it nearly appears solid, and a rasping, deep voice asks, “Why have you woken me?”
The voice that asks seems to come from the air itself, surrounding them like the wind that still howls and sings, but Jeongguk knows in the way of dreaming, that it is the shadowed mass that speaks.
The coven continues to chant, and Jeongguk cannot for the life of him understand what is being said, but the shadowed mass becomes more solid and real with every passing moment until it takes the shape of the figure he has seen twice now, once on the road and again in the orchard. It bends as though listening, and after a while, it begins to laugh, “I see,” it says, “you are weak, you will need my strength for this, it’s true.”
The air grows cold around them as it speaks, and Jimin growls, his hackles rising, “Something is wrong,” he rumbles as Jeongguk shivers from the chill wind, “our bodies shouldn’t be able to feel cold here.”
The figure begins to laugh, slow and quiet at first, but getting louder with every second, until the graveyard echoes with the sound as it seems to bombard them from every direction, “Why wait, little weak things? Should I begin my work right now?”
“Jeongguk, we have to—'' Jimin never finishes his sentence, because a moment later the figure rushes forward, becoming smoke and shadow as it throws itself past the circle of robed witches and directly towards Jeongguk. Jimin does not hesitate, there is no time for indecision, he leaps into the air, willing his body to shift as he flies, and with his will he becomes larger, a puma, than a panther, then the size of a tiger, still pitch black and lithe, but massive in size. He does not understand why this thing can see them when surely they are dreaming of the past, but he knows this is nothing but a nightmare, and he has never feared darkling things like this, and he is not about to start now.
His claws are long and razor sharp, with fangs to match as he tears into the shadows figure, shredding it to wisps of black fog. It is cold to the touch and tastes like iron and blood, thick on his tongue as he rips into it, and though he hates the taste he does not relent until there is nothing but shredded remains left, ones that are carried away softly by the wind until there is nothing else.
But still the laughter echoes, and he knows he didn’t truly destroy the figure. He’s uncertain what it could have done to Jeongguk had he allowed it to reach his witch, and he is not willing to risk finding out, “ We must leave, now ,” he says as all around them the graveyard grows dark, shadows gathering, stealing away the light, “ something is amiss, I will carry us out of the Dreaming .”
“But the potion—” Jeongguk protests.
Jimin does not have time for arguments, and in the Dreaming he can shape reality with far more ease than a human, so he blinks and the next moment Jeongguk is a kitten, black like him, and Jimin does not hesitate to grab him by the nape and start running.
He runs through the mist and tombs and the whispers of the dead.
He leaps the old iron fence, its jagged teeth reaching for his belly, but he clears it and continues.
The nightmare seems to bend and flex around them, reaching and hungry and fierce, but Jimin does not falter, even as the world around him changes. It becomes the corn maze they visited the first fateful autumn together, then it becomes the apple orchard, then the woods that surround Falls Creek, then the town itself, before it morphs into Willowbark Way, and Jimin is sprinting down a familiar path, knowing in the way of dreams that once he reaches the gate, they will be safe.
Around them the laughter still echoes.
“Running, running, running,” something whisper-sings into his ear, “running but freedom is so far.”
Jimin snarls, wants to lash out and snap at the voice, but he still carries Jeongguk in his mouth, so he does not. Instead he wills himself to become faster, until the trees pass by in a blur, and then he finally sees the fence that surrounds their yard. He leaps, clears it, lands—
And wakes with a startled gasp.
Jeongguk sits up at his side, eyes wide, chest heaving, and Jimin, now human but still driven by instinct and fear, rolls over to shield him with his body, pressing desperate kisses to his neck even though he is trembling and frightened himself. It takes a moment for Jeongguk to react, but then he’s reaching up and wrapping his arms around Jimin, holding his familiar close as they let their hearts settle and the remains of the nightmare induced terror fade.
“Are you okay?” Jeongguk whispers, “That thing… it didn’t hurt you, did it?”
Jimin shakes his head, though he doesn’t lift it up from where it’s buried in Jeongguk neck, “No, it didn’t… but I think it could have, if it truly wanted to.”
“I thought at first that we were seeing something from the past,” the witch says, “but… how did it see us? How did it know we were there?”
“I don’t know, I’ve never heard of something like that happening before. Creatures of pure dreaming obviously recognize dreamers, but what we saw today was not a construct of the realm, it’s a ghost, it shouldn’t have been able to see us at all.”
They lay there in silence for a while, until Jimin reluctantly pushes himself up and looks down at Jeongguk, “I’m sorry if I was a bit rough back there,” he says, reaching with one hand to cup Jeongguk’s cheeks, “I was in a hurry.”
Jeongguk presses Jimin’s palm to his face with one hand before pressing a kiss to it, “Don’t worry, Kitten, I don’t blame you.”
Jimin smiles softly, “I’ll have to start calling you Kitten now too, won’t I?”
Jeongguk smiles back, “Whatever you want, you know that.”
Jimin sighs and leans forward to press a kiss to the witch’s forehead, because he wants many things, but most of all he wants for them to be safe and happy, and he has a feeling that both those things might be hard to come by in the coming season, “I think… I think we should call your mother, and everyone else, too, tell them what we saw… and then I think we should pay a visit to the cemetery.”
He doesn’t know what they’re up against, but he knows power when he feels it, and he thinks that whatever is coming for them, would be best faced with friends at their side.
☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ