Dream Me a Sonatine

25 - Myotosis Sylvatica

'Well that was useless,' declared Hyejoo. Chaewon agreed. The Orange Zone they'd been sent to was tucked away from the main museum and featured a garden, lots of weird things preserved in alcohol, and something called 'Darwin Centre's Cocoon.' No Greywaren, no Yeojin. So they'd turned back, hoping to reconvene with the others.

Chaewon turned a corner leading to Hintze Hall, Cyclops padding gently along beside the two of them, as calm as a tamed dog. His ears pricked up suddenly. Chaewon stopped in her tracks.

'Fuck,' supplied Hyejoo.

The ground was littered with huge, broken bones. Some stood upright like pillars, others lay shattered on the dusty ground. One rib was positioned like an arch over the floor, and sitting calmly on it, legs swinging, was Yeojin.

'Hey, you two.' She waved carelessly.

'I never trusted you for a second,' said Hyejoo, grinning. 'Of course a little shit like you wouldn't get kidnapped.'

'And yet you came here anyway.'

'Hyunjin never dreamed you, did she?' said Chaewon. 'He did.'

Yeojin nodded. 'You idiots really need to work on your social skills. Communication, come on. You never even thought to ask Hyunjin if she'd dreamed me because you were too busy biting each other's' heads off over petty old wounds.'

'Hey.' Hyejoo clicked her fingers impatiently. 'Can we cut the moustache-twirling-villain bullshit? This isn't your moment. If we're gonna fight, let's fight, short stuff.'

Yeojin complied by springing off the huge rib and launching herself at Hyejoo with shocking speed. Hyejoo's eyes widened and she swerved to avoid the swing of Yeojin's kick, using another hand to push Cyclops out of harms way. A few tufts of fur fell to the floor. Fast. She was fast.

'Come on,' taunted Yeojin. She pulled something from her pocket and flicked a switch. A blade gleamed. 'I heard you kicked literal ass at that music school. Pretend I'm one of the helpless students you used to punch.'

Chaewon couldn't stop herself rolling her eyes. Yeojin needed to do a bit better than 'kick literal ass' if she wanted to provoke the illustrious Son Hyejoo. There was a cathartic thunk as Yeojin fell back against one of the bones.

'Hey, ghost girl, you gonna back me up? Thought you were an assassin.'

Chaewon held her faded hands in front of herself, translucent palms up. Any use of force would likely rip her form apart. But, what did she have to lose? She clenched her fists. And smirked.

Yeojin was racing towards her, but Chaewon ducked and swerved, dodging the rapid succession of swipes thrown at her by Yeojin's knife. Low on the ground, Chaewon flattened her hand and rammed the side into both of Yeojin's heels, knocking the balance out from underneath her. Yeojin fell, but there was a glint and the blade flew into the space between her eyes... passing right through it.

Chaewon laughed scathingly. Damn, Hyejoo was rubbing off on her. Her face fizzled back into corporealness and Yeojin lay scowling on the ground.

'I've been waiting a long time for this.'

Yeojin froze. Cyclops growled. Hyejoo was standing a few metres away and something was different in her posture. Her cutthroat edges were smoothed and fluid like smoke. Wrong.

wrong-wrong-wrong-Chaewon was in an alleyway, insides leaking onto pavement, a faceless gaze taunting her—

'Y-you,' said Yeojin.

'Me.'

It was the kind of wrongness she'd felt that day. Her last day being alive. The kind of wrongness the graveyard had. The kind of wrongness Hyejoo's face had if the shadows caught her face at a certain angle. The constant reminder that someone else was sharing one mind.