Do you wish me to tell you what I am? A voice spoke, laden with quaint crispness. To say the least, it was an unusual sound, most peculiar for it wasn’t voiced. It was a ringing echo billowing down the endless void of Joonmyeon’s mind, rumbling down the obsidian rock encasing the fortress of his sanity that threatened to proffer a single crack for madness to seep in.

He had wondered how exactly he had gotten into where he was right then, but no answer seemed to dwell near his reach. Bare feet scraped from countless thorny branches that tried to make his path by far more difficult now buried themselves into the soft expanse of bleak sand beneath his feet trying to swallow him whole.

His handsome features enhanced by his thick eyebrows and soft lips seemed but vague in comparison with the ethereal beauty standing in front of him. A boy, he dared say, perhaps his age, perhaps younger, with pitch black hair that fell down his face in unruly tresses all but willing to obey with soft, almost bewitched eyes surfacing underneath stared at him with a bashful smile. His jaw was strong and expressed, cheekbones bold and high and face thin and of sharp contours, yet with the slightest notch of femininity to it. The appearance was but a breath taller.

The boy that had introduced himself as Jongdae smelled of scent unique and so singular, almost breathtaking: he was surrounded by scent of lightning.

Joonmyeon could very much see it – a cerulean play of colors like sparks shining on his skin, dwindling to naught mere moment after appearing as if dust that falters to naught in darkness, no light to let it glimmer.

The boy was a Thunderbird, majestic, surreal creature that wished for naught but him.

With outstretched hand, Jongdae waited, his expression soft and calm as Joonmyeon threw away all hesitation and grasped the ivory fingers that awaited him eagerly.