a meal in mind

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Someone was bleeding.

Min-jun could taste it on the air, feel the scent flicker across their tongue, and they stuffed another blood pop in their mouth. Today, the outfit of choice was jeans, boots, a t-shirt and a scarf, as strange as the combination might be. It was nice enough out that people only needed light jackets, if anything, and given their natural cold resistance they’ve opted without one, instead using the scarf to bury their face in.

But they could still smell the blood.

There’s many different blood smells, Min-jun has learned. There’s the scent of bagged blood, of blood that no longer has a home but for them to drink it. The scent of blood in blood pops, congealed and formed into something new. Of blood rushing just below the surface of someone’s skin when they’re too close and he’s too hungry, or the blood on people around their periods (honestly, they could really live without knowing that). And then there’s this scent, the blood of a wound, of something freshly bared to the air.

It could be as simple as a papercut right now. There was a bit of a mix-up and the most recent shipment to the Nurse went a little awry and that is why they were here, getting blood pops to try to stem it, feeling the tang of the scent hit them hard and wondering, desperately, if they could convince whoever it is to just take a little tiny suck.

Not like their bite would turn them, after all.

Min-jun knew it was just a fleeting thought, just insane internal ramblings, but they followed the scent of the trail nonetheless, neatly sidestepping other students, the scarf yanked up over their nose not blocking anything at all.

After all, someone could be genuinely hurt. It could be nothing but a scraped knee, or someone could be bleeding out on the ground, gasping out their last breaths.

Unlikely, but they should still check, right?

Word Count: 334 Words
Tagged: Open to adults and students!
Notes: Lol they don't have to be the one bleeding if you don't want to.

[ALAIN GREYSON]

Alain couldn't help but stare with blatant irritation at the broken window of the bakery. The one that they had often used to stage various displays of available pastries and pies around this time of year. Despite his effort on fixing up the building the last few weeks, and his efforts at keeping to himself while doing it, people still found ways to torment him. The large, beautiful window with the bakery's name scrawled across the glass had been shattered in the night.

He couldn't figure out whether he should be angry or frustrated or plain sad that people help such resentment for actions he couldn't remember. But then he reminded himself that grace and stubbornness were some of his best attributes. Keeping calm was another. Thus, despite his anger at the damage to his shop, Alain kept his thoughts calm as he bent down to start picking up the larger shards of glass. He'd have to ask his brother to repair the window later when he finally showed his face.

Moving the larger shards back from the streets of Hogsmeade was rather simple, and there had been no actual issues with doing so. It was only when he reached down for one of the smaller shards of glass that one of them sliced his hand open, spilling his blood onto the ground. At first, Alain simply stared at it, his brows furrowed in mild alarm. Then the shopkeeper just found himself sighing, as if he were done with the world, and slipping back into the bakery. He rinsed it, found a clean towel and some twine and he tied the wound up, moving back out onto the street with a broom and dustpan to finish up his task.

He ignored the glances of people who passed the former convict, focused only on his task and making sure that he didn't bleed through his bandage. He'd have to go to St. Mungo's, probably. Or... if Victoria came to visit before long, maybe he'd be saved from that embarrassment. Alain made a face at the idea of using his own wand again and shut the entire thought down, muttering a quietly to himself about how he was an idiot.

It was only when a Hogwarts student was starting to move in the path of his shattered bakery window that the man straightened up. "Please be careful," he said quietly, "I'm trying to clean it up as fast as I can."

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Words: 409
Tagged: @minjun
Notes: Here you go! =D

[Deleted]

The closer he got, the stronger the smell - it wasn't just a paper cut, it seemed, but it wasn't strong enough that anyone was dying or bleeding out.

Min-jun wasn't sure what kind of scene they expected to come across, but it wasn't a shopkeeper sweeping up the broken glass of their window. It wasn't a store that he was familiar with - it looked like a bakery, though, perhaps new? Or had he simply not noticed it? - but what definitely caught Min-jun's attention was the man's hand. This close, the source of the smell was distinctive. (And, uh, the man kind of had a weird towel bandage around it. Did he not have real bandages?)

They didn't realize they were kind of just... staring at the man's hand until he said something and they jerked back a step, flushing just slightly under their scarf, reaching up to make sure it was well-secured and hiding their mouth and not letting the man know how much they were practically drooling. (Something smelled off, though, a scent he wasn't familiar with lurking below the surface, and there was definitely something interesting about that.)

"You're hurt," they said quietly, dragging their eyes away from the hand to meet the eyes of the man, before they cast their gaze on the ground and delicately pick their away around the glass to approach. Perhaps a bad idea, given how good he smelled, but no one ever said Min-jun made good life choices. (To be fair, no one ever said Min-jun made bad life choices. No one really commented on that.) The moment they cleared the glass, though, their gaze fixed right on the wounded hand, unable to pull away.

("My spit is clotting," they imagined saying, as if that would ever work in a million years. "Let me have one good lick or two and it will stop bleeding.")

"What happened?" he asked instead of the deranged ramblings of his mind, giving up on looking anywhere else but the wounded hand, declaring it a lost cause. "Can I help?" And, uh, not necessarily with the blood but would also totally help with the blood. Even if it smells... strange. Tastes strange, in the air.

Min-jun managed to look away from the man's hand at that, meeting his gaze. He seemed tired. At the least, this could be a good test of strength, prove to himself that he wasn't going to attack anyone in Transfiguration again. (Although, let's be real here, one of the best mistakes he ever made.)

Words: 438 words.
Tagged: ALAIN GREYSON
Notes: So a werewolf and half-vampire walk into a bakery...