in which jeongguk wants his blood sucked, jimin needs a blood bag, yoongi is lonely and taehyung misses the stars.
bts | urban fantasy au.
#666 in taegi
#469 in taegi ):
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THERE IS A MAGIC SHOP on fifth avenue.
It sits on a dodgy street corner, behind chain restaurants with shady names and flickering neon signs, tucked away from anyone who doesn't already know of its existence.
Even on a night like tonight, when the soft lights pour through the glass door and shine onto the pavement outside, making its presence inviting and cosy.
Inside, it is a treasure trove.
Each shelf is stocked in a haphazard manner, full to the brim with jars with an assortment of things: wisps, whiskers, and wings; fermented eyeballs that had once belonged to the most powerful warlocks; the essence of a child's very first laugh, captured in vials towards the back; and, most importantly come this time of year, locks of hair belonging to water imps, bunched neatly beneath buttered troll fingers.
It's lit dimly in the centre by the dwindling sunlight of dawn that's bottled in mason jars that hang suspended from the ceiling on thin metal chains.
The luminous ingredients lining the walls take centre stage, then; an array of purples, greens and golds bleeding out into the warm glow of the quaint little store where one winged being hovers to reach the top shelf, slotting the wilted petals of a blood rose back into place.
With a sigh, the creature clasps together his fingertips with a giddy kick of his legs as he floats backwards, looking upon the tidy shelves with a prideful grin.
An unnecessary twirl of his body sees him dipping back down to skim across the floor, careful feet regaining their balance behind the counter to pick up an olive coloured book with an unmeasurable satisfaction.
His eyes fill with intrigue as the rough, browning pages expand his knowledge of natural remedies and the benefits of non-pollenated products. So many of these spells and potions pique his interest, and perhaps, had it been just a few decades earlier, he would have sought out the ingredients required to mimic such recipes, but things just aren't as they used to be.
Not magic, anyway.
Although it lives on, in the supposed land of freedom that B850 claims to be, creatures (such as the winged fairy, owl-eyed by the light of his own trepidations) still sometimes feel shunned for the wings on their backs. Those which they'd fought to keep.
The midnight blue hues of these aforementioned wings with crystallised gems around the edges like dainty dewdrops suspended on the morn's grasses, only seem to symbolise the fear the leaders have for something throwing off the delicate peace between the species living here. They are no longer associated with whimsy and intrigue. Simply tension.
Even as they cry soft fairy dust which once severed as a currency so divine that some fairies would strip their very wings off of their own backs just to make an ample profit, they may as well be clipped and disposed of altogether, for many fairies gave up their ability to fly just to hold onto a more valued gift.
