TW: Whipping

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Hongjoong was the one to fetch Seonghwa from his room when it was time to depart. He didn't bother knocking on the door and marched in as if he knew Seonghwa had long since given up on sleep. He had used the little strength left in his fingers to craft an item, and thankfully, he had finished it before the irritable demon threw the door open.

"Let's go," he called with an impatient nod of his horned head towards the door. Seonghwa huffed at the scowl on his face.

"I can't walk."

Hongjoong rolled his eyes so hard that Seonghwa hoped they would get stuck in his skull. When the demon marched toward the bed, Seonghwa instinctively recoiled. His fingers froze where they had been about to tug his bundle onto his shoulders.

Hongjoong grabbed Seonghwa's right arm and yanked it over his shoulders. Above the leathery wings, Seonghwa could hold on to him. When Hongjoong's other arm wrapped around Seonghwa's waist, however, the priest flinched. Any touch of the tainted creature on Seonghwa's body felt like another black spot on his soul.

Impatient, Hongjoong paused.

"What?"

"Must you be so rough?"

Rougher than before, Hongjoong yanked him to his side. His warm body felt like a furnace against Seonghwa's side. For once, Hongjoong didn't press against him with the goal of invoking terror. His proximity made Seonghwa tense, but he didn't refuse it.

"Would you rather I carry you on a cloud of feathers, lamb? Shall I douse you in flower petals?" His claws dug into Seonghwa's side without breaking his skin as he dragged the priest outside. He had to duck through the door so his horns wouldn't get stuck in it and the people of the inn stared at them in horror when they laid eyes on the grey-skinned demon. Hongjoong snarled at them until they looked away.

Seonghwa felt the gargoyle's tail brushing his legs as they stumbled under his body.

"Better than whatever this is," Seonghwa complained, but he wasn't resentful. For once, they didn't fight. Their urgency robbed them of that time needlessly wasted.

Hongjoong's grip on his waist eased. Wary of his next motive, Seonghwa didn't comment on it.

Outside of the inn, a cart strapped to a friendly mule awaited them. The animal was as grey as Hongjoong and the inner sides of its long ears were white as they flicked adorably. It nibbled on the carrot someone had fed it and lived a life uncaring of witches and curses. Seonghwa wanted to pet it, but Hongjoong didn't allow him close enough. He hauled Seonghwa to the bottom end of the cart, where Jongho stood in wait.

The group had tried to make the flat surface of the cart's floor convenient for Seonghwa. They had laid out their blankets, furs and extra clothing to imitate a bed and their bundles were tucked neatly under the two benches. Wooyoung sat at the reins with San by his side. They held the mule in place while Hongjoong shoved Seonghwa into Jongho's arms.

Picked up around his knees and his waist by the crusader as if he weighed nothing, Seonghwa got hoisted onto his new resting space. It was softer than he had expected, though his bones would still ache from the rattling. However, his head stopped spinning as he lay low. It was more comfort than he had hoped to get.

"This is... Thank you, everyone." Seonghwa sought Jongho's eyes, but the crusader shook his head.

Wooyoung beckoned his head at Hongjoong.

"He did most of it."

Amber eyes bore into Seonghwa's when the priest heaved a laugh.

"Had fun scaring the entire town to get it done?"

"I ate everyone who dawdled," Hongjoong snarled, and Seonghwa didn't know whether that was a joke. Better he didn't find out.

Jongho sat at the lower end of the bench and ensured that nothing fell from the cart. Hongjoong preferred to walk and stretch his wings. As soon as they were outside of the city, they would need him to fly the skies and scout out their goal. Before they came into motion, however, Seonghwa picked up his head to look around. Usually, Perie did that job.

"Yunho isn't here to see us off?"

He looked at San when he found neither man nor wyvern nearby. San lowered his gaze, looking just as upset.

"I took a nap after... that and when I woke up, he was gone. I figured he had business to attend to."

Though disappointed not to see the adventurer again for what might be the last time, Seonghwa accepted Yunho's wish. Upon his beckon, Wooyoung clicked the reins, and the mule took off to bring them out of Briar Glen and toward the Sinking Forest where the witch would await them.

-

Seonghwa was busy thinking about his repentance and how he could cleanse himself of sin before he died throughout the journey. Yet Hongjoong kept sneaking into his mind and the one at fault for that was San. He gushed about Yunho the entire afternoon, bringing some merry conversation to the grim troupe, but he kept reminding Seonghwa of his wrongful infatuation with the gargoyle. Or rather, the tainted part of him that lusted for the gargoyle. There was no romantic feeling involved as it was for San.

As the group halted in the evening to set up camp around their cart and San's tireless rambling was stifled by his food, Seonghwa had enough of it. He hated the heat in his veins when he thought about Hongjoong. Hated how he blushed when he met the gargoyle's sinister gaze. It was all a lie, and Seonghwa couldn't fathom how his immature subconscious stuck to such unhealthy obsessions. As Hongjoong had said, too much buried desire must have accumulated that it broke out at the smallest incentive. For example, the grim nightmare caused by a demon's blackened fingers.

Worse even since Hongjoong knew. And his subtle smirks whenever Seonghwa glared at him fuelled the priest.

As everyone was busy with their food and banter, Seonghwa excused himself with the lame claim he would wash up and meditate in the adjacent patch of forest. His friends left him to his devices, sympathetic to his reclusion since he had such little time left. Seonghwa took a bundle of clothes with him and slowly trudged off, careful not to slip.

When he reached a secluded edge of the forest, he almost crashed onto the ground when his muscles didn't slow his descent. He landed on the soft grass and exhaled. Out here it was cold and dark, but peaceful. No demonic eyes scrutinised him. No sombre expressions mourned his death ahead of time.

Seonghwa was at ease.

He spoke a prayer before he got to work. He requested God to forgive his sins and his weakness in his moments of sickness. Then he unwrapped his bundle and retrieved the whip he had assembled earlier.

Since they travelled, it wasn't properly furbished as other disciplines were. He had cut a piece of leather into seven stripes and secured them to a stick. The ends were knotted to mimic the girth of the traditional ropes.

Seonghwa carefully set the item down in front of him and shifted to his knees. When he tugged his tunic off his thin body, he left his necklace with the cross on. His ribs protruded from his skin and his throbbing heart fluttered in his chest as his curse ate away at him. The wind dusted goosebumps all over his body.

Seonghwa took the whip in his right hand and submissively lowered his head. His left clutched at the dangling cross.

"Almighty and merciful God, who dost grant unto Thy faithful people the grace to make every path of life temporal, the strait and narrow way which leadeth unto life eternal, grant that we, who know that we have no strength as of ourselves to help ourselves, and therefore do put all our trust in Thine almighty power, may, by the assistance of Thy heavenly grace, always prevail in all things, against whatsoever shall arise to fight against us; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen."

Over his shoulder and onto his bare back, the whip bit into Seonghwa's skin. He gritted his teeth against his huff when seven stings hit him at once.

His father had taught him to use the discipline sparingly. Its use was not to hurt, but to absolve his sins through the same pain Christ suffered for the people. Yet Seonghwa's sins weighed heavily on his soul. Not only had he dreamt such vulgar things and given away how his mind felt, but he also had accepted their presence in his waking mind. The pain would remind him of the fleetingness of temptation.

The whip came down again, harder. Seonghwa was frustrated with his lacking strength, his fragile body and mind. Hongjoong had made such easy use of him. The bright path in front of Seonghwa had become shrouded with black-thorned tendrils.

"O God, who art the Author of love, and the Lover of pure peace and affection, let all who are terrified by fears, afflicted by poverty, harassed by tribulation, worn down by illness, be set free by Thine indulgent tenderness, raised up by amendment of life, and cherished by Thy daily compassion, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen."

Seonghwa hit himself until his back stung. The pain in his skin resolved the ache in his chest and he swallowed all noises that would have exposed his suffering.

Warm liquid trickled down his side by the time Seonghwa switched shoulders. His eyes shut as he had trouble balancing on his knees. Sweat pearled on his forehead.

"Raise up Thy power, and come to deliver us, O Lord our God; that as we are overwhelmed by the storms of temptation so we may be raised up by the aid of Thy strength. We beseech Thee to hear us, O Lord. Amen."

Seonghwa's lips dropped open in a soundless gasp at another strike. He waned, body swaying, but he wasn't done yet. Already he felt lust squander its hold on him as he was blessed by the Lord's guiding hands.

As Seonghwa lifted his hand for what was supposed to be the last swing, someone caught his wrist. Stilled in their movement, his fingers clutched onto the whip. Bleary eyes blinked open, and he realised his surroundings.

Wooyoung and San stood to his left with matching pale faces. Their hands were cupped over their mouths as they stared at his back in horror.

Jongho was by their side, but his eyes carried understanding.

The person who had stopped Seonghwa was Hongjoong.

"What are you doing?" San whispered in dread as Hongjoong wrenched the whip from him. Seonghwa let him, too frail to fight back and deliver the last strike. He felt better already.

"It's not what it looks like," Seonghwa assured him. He hung in the bruising grip Hongjoong had on him and blood soaked his waistband as it oozed from his wounds.

"Self-flagellation is a religious practice," Jongho explained. San nodded, but his eyes didn't clear of his horror.

Hongjoong shook Seonghwa as if he held a doll. The shape of the cross still dug into Seonghwa's lax hand.

"Aren't you weak enough already? Is your repentance worth speeding up your death?" His eyes blazed like fire in the dark, but Seonghwa didn't listen to him. He was the cause. He was the taint. He did horrible things and Seonghwa kept him around, so he had to repent.

"Please don't do that ever again. Let us treat your wounds." Wooyoung was not as shaken as San, though still disturbed when he approached Seonghwa. Before the lutin could kneel by his side, Hongjoong's hiss had him halt.

"Wait. Won't you answer me, cursed one? I can end your existence right here and now if this isn't worth trying anymore."

Black spots danced in front of Seonghwa's vision. He hung his head, trying to clear his sight, but his consciousness slipped away from him.

"You can't- Do anything to me," Seonghwa heaved. His laboured breath brought back his pain, and it numbed his ears to Hongjoong's snarls.

Seonghwa passed out before Hongjoong could shake him further. As he walked the fine line between waking and drowning in an ocean of blackness, Seonghwa listened to them bustle around him. Wooyoung and San didn't understand what he had done, and Jongho tried to describe it in sparse words. Hongjoong ridiculed Seonghwa, called him powerless, a lamb for suffering blindly because his god asked him to despite his hurt.

When they had cleaned and bandaged his wounds, the group carried Seonghwa back to the camp. He rested in Jongho's arms, carried like a princess by a knight. His back ached, but it was a cleansing pain.

As he fell asleep on his furs, Seonghwa had no nightmares. Only the creeping feeling of death's frigid breath on the back of his neck.