hold up, got a minute for me?

[tinge]

spring 1530.

❝honestly (honestly) it wasn't so hard to see (ohh) that you're not the one for me (you're not the one for me) yeah, i'd rather be so far away, a castaway (ayo)❞ the burnt smell of water and clay kettle greets jinah this morning. when she sits up, rubbing her eyes tiredly, she greets her surroundings, like every morning she had. the small one room, thatch roofed home, was perfect. she stretches her arms and walks to the kettle, taking it off the fire. she glances around the room and realizes it's emptier than usual. she looks around and moves to dress herself in her hanbok. when she steps out of the home, she finds the fields just as empty. after so many centuries, she doesn't know what year it is. she never knows. what she did know is how much she had grown to care and love for the woman she lived with. so where was she? perhaps she walked into the village early that morning and forgot about the water boiling? jinah ponders this for a moment and decides to start on breakfast in the meanwhile. surely, the young orphan woman she saved from the edge of a cliff was merely off purchasing goods or selling some produce. han hyojoo had lost her parents earlier last year to a sickness that quickly passed through the village. it took many of the elderly and she was young and alone, mourning their death, sitting at the edge of the cliff, contemplating her own demise. jinah made her appearance like some ghostly apparition, dancing amongst the trees until she dropped down beside her and stopped her from tumbling. at the time, she had no idea what this was, her intention. humankind was still so foreign and their ultimate decisions still confused her. she had been asleep for a hundred years and had no idea or inclination of what this young woman was attempting to do. but she felt something, this pull, this whisper in the leaves, that dragged her feet and moved her body through the branches of trees she called home to run to the edge and stop this beauty. and that was where she found herself, one morning in a beautiful early spring. the snow had all but melted, it was warm, and the flowers were pushing through to open up. somehow, jinah got through to the young woman and convinced her to live awhile longer. was it mesmerization? she doesn't think so, it was definitely an earnest attempt that she couldn't witness her fall off that steep edge and plummet to the jagged rocks that would claim her. the ocean waves that would sweep her into its ominous depths. the sea was unforgiving. something about her words and the charm, worked on hyojoo, she agreed and the two took a walk to her home at the edge of the village, bordering the forest, and that's where jinah found herself. living amongst the humans, dressing like them, finding herself integrate so seamlessly. nothing alarming of two single women who lived alone, one recently orphaned and the other a presumed cousin, of equal status. nope, nothing alarming about that whatsoever. time slips by so quickly and without realizing it, they've met another spring and the memories of last swim to the surface as she cooks. a skill she learned rather quickly, adapting to feed both of them. still, as her thoughts are of rose-colored, glittery memories of the two together, she had noticed a slight change over her. frequent moments when she would stare into space, grow silent. take long walks into the woods, alone, coming home late at night. she had grown distant, colder. different. out of nowhere, she feels a deep painful slice through her body. she clutches her stomach where the pain originated from, and she groans in anguish, doubling over the table. the knife was clean, she was slicing through vegetables, and her hand hadn't slipped…? her body grows cold, dread, a frightening blanket that leaves her shivering in its wake. feeling it in every inch of her body but luckily, her body goes into autopilot. she raises up to a stand and runs straight out of the house, at full speed, forgetting shoes and the door left swinging in her wake. deep into the heart of the forest she runs, hearing the voice of hyojoo rambling to herself, struggling to pick up the heavy axe in her hands. she finally gets it back up and takes a swing into the air. "stop!" jinah screams, tumbling to her knees, pulling at the skirt of hyojoo's hanbok, "please stop!" she begs, the axe is stuck in midair and she loses her momentum, letting it drop back to the ground. she pushes jinah back, and the nymph falls back into the earth. "you can't stop me, now." she glares down at the elder fae, and for the first time in centuries she feels her blood run cold, fear seeps in, and she doesn't recognize the woman staring her down. the silence in the forest is heavy, like a weight on her chest that keeps her down. "the witch told me everything. she told me what you did." tears ebb at the surface, threatening to slip out of the surface, "i haven't done anything." her voice cracks and she feels utterly hopeless, in that moment. "please don't do this." she begs, feeling weak and pathetic. the weight on her chest suffocates her, and she doesn't know how to move. how to get up and steal that axe from her. how to convince her that whatever whispers into her ear from that evil entity was wrong. she takes another swing, and she misses. jinah struggles to sit up, her fingers clawing at the grass and root of the tree she's beside. the axe is still too heavy for her and she drops it to the ground, her small hands wrapped around the wooden handle. her hands sweat and she wipes them on her skirt before she tries again. this time when she swings it connects. the hit cuts deep into the wood and jinah doubles over from the intense pain she feels. it radiates throughout her body, a searing burn of flesh splintering under the sharp blade. on the outside, her body doesn't show a drop of blood, but she coughs and sputters it out. it drips and drops, out of her mouth, staining the blouse and ribbon, then the grass underneath her. hyojoo turns to her, "see, the witch never lies." "i told you everything. i told you the truth." jinah begs, tears spilling from her eyes, she shakes her head, bottom lip quivering. "she said you were putting me under a spell." hyojoo grunts and picks up the axe once again, taking another swing. jinah winces, expecting the impact but hears the dull thunk of the axe head against the ground again. she missed, and she's out of breath, panting, and exhausted. the fae blinks her eyes open, staring at her heaving her breath, scrambling for oxygen. that look in her eyes remain, she's not the same woman jinah had fallen for. she had caught her a few times, talking to herself at the rim of the forest. staring into the darkness, at night. early mornings, standing in her nightgown, feet dirtied by the early morning dewy ground, talking to a figment of her imagination. each time, jinah would appear, walk her back into the house. clean her feet of the mud, put her back to bed. she would venture her way back and stand where she had, peering into her old home, walk amongst her friends and families, the trees she knew for over a millennia. there was no such witch amongst the trees. and it breaks her heart to realize, how far gone hyojoo was. she reaches up a shaky hand and wipes the blood off her mouth and onto the back of her hand. she crawls onto her hands and knees, trying to stand. the weight holds her down, instead. the woman picks up the axe again and readies herself to swing the heavy instrument. "no…" she whimpers, shaking her head. tears stream down her face as she watches it fly back, her eyes shut, almost able to hear how it cuts through the heavy air. "no!" she screams so loud her voice fills the forest, inevitably overflowing into the neighboring homes of the village, where the residents were barely awakening. the ground breaks open as a thick vine shoots out from the ground and strikes hyojoo. jinah keeps her eyes shut tight, awaiting the next cut, preparing for the unimaginable pain to come. but it doesn't. she opens her eyes, a crack, and sees hyojoo laying on the ground, she leaps to her feet and races forward, to check herself first. she hugs herself and runs a shaky hand over the wounds, her powers healing the bark back to normal. while she keeps her hand over the wounds of the tree, she turns and finally looks towards hyojoo. she's stunned by that expression in her eyes. it's not shock or fear. it wasn't the look jinah had been afraid of. it was peace. there's an odd calm over her face and body. jinah drops to her knees and slowly moves towards her lifeless body, wrapping her hand around hers. "hyojoo?" she whispers, her voice barely loud enough for the other to hear. her voice cracks, "hyojoo!" her shoulders shake with sobs, as they fall from her mouth, eyes examining the gaping wound that cut through the middle of her body. the vine is recalled into the ground, carrying with it her blood. she cries, reaching out to stroke her face, grasping at her warmth, as it died like the final embers of a fire. all their sweet memories together rush through jinah's mind, she thinks about their first meeting. how she laughed at her magic, the way she blushed at their first kiss. how she led the other through alleyways, laughing, and taught her everything she knew. her moment would be cut short, hearing the sounds of curious voices nearing. she could hear concern and their names being called. their home was empty, both girls gone, without a trace. except for that blood-curdling scream from jinah, that successfully brought attention to her body. jinah finds solace in knowing she wouldn't be forgotten there. that her body would be properly laid to rest instead of returning to the earth here, her body and bones feeding her roots. no, she would be able to join her parents. it's not enough to calm jinah, but she falls back against the bark of the tree, she takes a deep rattling breath and as the voices grew in volume, she feels a sudden calm wash over her. she falls back into the tree and returns to her true home. and there, she would sleep. for another five hundred years. hopefully to forget the woman and her time amongst the humans.