(Your brother and his friends pull you into an alleyway, away from the evening light and throw you against the wall. Your brother insults you and you snap back at him because as usual, he has no idea what he’s talking about. Your brother begins to say something about your mother. You punch him before he can finish.
Another boy punches you in the face and your hand instinctively reaches to hold your mouth. You can taste blood from your lip and you decide there’s no point in talking anymore. There never is. They never listen. It’s the same thing every time and you know if you don’t fight back now, they’ll just get a head start on you.
The two of you roll around on the ground, exchanging punches and kicks, pulling hair and cursing each other. Your brother suddenly draws a knife and his friends back off, holding their hands in the air, “H-hey…” One tries to mediate, “He’s still…”
“He’s not my brother!” Your brother spits, trying to bring his hunter’s knife at you. You manage to stop it but at the cost of grabbing the blade with your hand. You wince as the blade cuts into your palm and fingers but you don’t dare let go. If you do, that knife will end up in your stomach and you’ll be left in the alley.. Even if your brother was caught, he wouldn’t get in trouble. You know this. Such is the privilege of being your father’s sons.
“Let go!” Your brother yells and when you yell back, a flash of light appears in front of you. In the air, a crescent moon shines and startles the others in the alleyway including your brother who suddenly drops his knife and backs away.
“What was that?” One of the boys whisper and they begin to question if it was magic. One yells that he didn’t come to pick a fight with a mage and they run away and leave you behind. You let go of the knife and look down at your hand. Though your hand is covered in blood, there’s not a single cut or scratch. You raise a hand to your lip and feel the cut on your lip is also healed. You can still taste the iron on your tongue.
What was that? You wonder, looking around you. The light is gone and the sun had begun to set on the city. Had that light... Healed you? Had that power come from you…? As you focus on your hand, a crescent moon appears and you jump back from surprise. The light disappears.
You clench your fist. Though you don’t understand this power, you know it’s yours. )
Jun, (cw: bullying, violence)
(Your brother and his friends pull you into an alleyway, away from the evening light and throw you against the wall. Your brother insults you and you snap back at him because as usual, he has no idea what he’s talking about. Your brother begins to say something about your mother. You punch him before he can finish.
Another boy punches you in the face and your hand instinctively reaches to hold your mouth. You can taste blood from your lip and you decide there’s no point in talking anymore. There never is. They never listen. It’s the same thing every time and you know if you don’t fight back now, they’ll just get a head start on you.
The two of you roll around on the ground, exchanging punches and kicks, pulling hair and cursing each other. Your brother suddenly draws a knife and his friends back off, holding their hands in the air, “H-hey…” One tries to mediate, “He’s still…”
“He’s not my brother!” Your brother spits, trying to bring his hunter’s knife at you. You manage to stop it but at the cost of grabbing the blade with your hand. You wince as the blade cuts into your palm and fingers but you don’t dare let go. If you do, that knife will end up in your stomach and you’ll be left in the alley.. Even if your brother was caught, he wouldn’t get in trouble. You know this. Such is the privilege of being your father’s sons.
“Let go!” Your brother yells and when you yell back, a flash of light appears in front of you. In the air, a crescent moon shines and startles the others in the alleyway including your brother who suddenly drops his knife and backs away.
“What was that?” One of the boys whisper and they begin to question if it was magic. One yells that he didn’t come to pick a fight with a mage and they run away and leave you behind. You let go of the knife and look down at your hand. Though your hand is covered in blood, there’s not a single cut or scratch. You raise a hand to your lip and feel the cut on your lip is also healed. You can still taste the iron on your tongue.
What was that? You wonder, looking around you. The light is gone and the sun had begun to set on the city. Had that light... Healed you? Had that power come from you…? As you focus on your hand, a crescent moon appears and you jump back from surprise. The light disappears.
You clench your fist. Though you don’t understand this power, you know it’s yours. )