“I think,” she said, waving her hand with a dismissive flick. “I have quite the talent for almost insulting people. It’s another journalistic trick, along with seeking extremely personal information from people who live their lives trying to bury secrets in vaults—literal or otherwise. I don’t want to say I’m a good journalist because that implies I’m on some kind of moral high ground or that I seek a kind of fame for what I do. I write rather mundane articles here in Seoul because sometimes people need to read things that make them happy, rather than things that make them question their existences.”
She drew the large glass up to her lips, letting her tongue dip out to taste the liquor, since she would be the first to admit she loved the stinging sensation that spread up her taste buds more than most would. Maybe she felt there wasn’t a point in consuming anything unless you could really feel it. Maybe she felt there wasn’t a point in existing in any state if it were a state of banality.
When she noticed Taemin’s eyes drifting, as if a kind of fog passed before his face, Ailee let him alone. She wasn’t new to the idea of losing oneself in a mental trance of one’s own making. Who was it that described the “mind-forged manacles” of man? William Blake? Regardless, she often felt trapped in her own thoughts. Writing was meant to be a means of escape, but she definitely wasn’t freeing anyone with the stories she was currently writing. Often she longed to return to New York City, and she longed to return to the life of adventure—one might even say trouble—seeking. She loved the sight of a guilty man coming to terms with his own guilt. She loved the sight of corrupt man’s cheek pressed up against the cold metal of a police car. She missed causing trouble. She mostly missed the thrill of living on the edge of darkness.
"Back now?” she asked when Taemin’s gaze returned to meet hers.
“… I have to admit,” he said as his gaze briefly touched at the couple she had previously doused with a healthy amount of sour mood, “that you do seem quite used to being the one to deliver words not exactly well, mmh, let’s say received.” His lips curled into something akin of a smile, as in his lap he let pale fingers lace together calmly, and his gaze returned to his company. “A talent for touching the sore spots, but writing mundane articles. So would you say happiness is mundane?” he queried, not quite to trick her into needing to retract her own previous words, but perhaps… out of genuine curiosity of some kind. He had met his share of peculiar individuals during his long life and, he was rather sure he could say, some of them had indeed looked upon happiness as something to be frowned upon. Especially when it came to the topic of entertainment.
He had not meant to become distant in the midst of conversation, but his mind had a way of its own at times. Or were it his personality that was—left in its unhinged state—prone to make him behave sometimes, not as smooth and polished as could be. He was a coin with two sides; both sides a part of him, but rarely able to peacefully merge together. “… Yes,” he said, after his eyes had been upon her for a couple of wordless seconds, and he let his lips shape a smile. “I just decided to take a small mindwalk. I would have invited you to come with me but the path is most treacherous and not fit for a lady,” he told her, something of a joke in his tone of voice as he winked.
“Enjoying your drink?” he asked then, gaze falling to the pint she had before her. Behind full lips, a tongue touched the edges of teeth, and within his gut he felt the wrench of hunger, but it were one of different kind than hers would likely, ever be. It was darker, haunting, maddening if not kept shackled. A hunger he had played games with in the past, but on this day, it were the crawling bug he squashed out of his focus. Not now. Not here.
[ ∞ ] — Thankfully the photographer had managed to snap that photo of his softened features for he had frowned when he saw him. A natural reaction, he had been used to it by now. “Oh, my bad.” He starts, barely managing to catch those quiet, uttered, words, but he had chose to ignore them for now. “My flash was on. The photo should turn out just fine though, I think.” He had been speaking his thoughts out loud, as if the young male before him actually cared to such a thing. Myungsoo had fixated his gaze upon his camera for one more moment before those brown hues flickered up, just to meet his own.
“No. You don’t know me. I think we should change that though. I’ve not seen you around often.”
His gaze slipped down briefly to follow the camera as it was lowered, before it shot up again, fixing on the face before him. It was a striking face, making for a pause in his mind as it admired beauty, the way he often could not help but do. Yet it was such an insignificant pause that as soon as it was there, it had passed, and he blinked, short, dark eyelashes brushing against deathly pale skin. “… You know, some would think it very rude to have their picture taken without their consent,” he drawled out slowly, tongue wetting his lips. Taking his thin hands out of his pockets, they reached out, in s wordless, graceful question for the camera to be handed over to him, his mind whispering soothing, reassuring thoughts into that warm, mortal mind, telling him to do it, it will be okay, he just wants to take a look at the camera, curious, no harm, go on…
It was not as though it was an entire lie. He did not mean to wreck the camera, because quite honestly—why would he? And for what purpose? It was a medium of art, and he understood art. At least… most times. “What’s your name, then, stranger…?” he asked smoothly as he waited.
☥ Character artwork: Renetae
☥ The night was his friend, the way daylight was the friend of most mortals. It left him its shroud, and kept the sun as surely away as he could ever hope. He knew, of course, that he were not the only creature to seek out the night, but it did not bother him, as he wandered through the darker streets of the city, listening, breathing in the scents, the stench. His mind whispered to him, hushed voices of insanity; but it were a hum at the back of his mind. For now.
☥ The tap upon his finger did not make him flinch, did not startle him out of his reverie of thoughts (treacherous and flashing in colours of red and multitudes of grey), but… it did make him pause, for although he had been aware of a presence nearby, he had not thought it would seek his attention. Yet it did. And he turned around, pale eyes flickering and falling upon—-a camera, flashing in his face, making for a frown to mar his features. “… Do I know you?” he queried, his voice low and quiet, but he doubted he needed to raise it to be heard as he kept his eyes fixed on the stranger. He was certain he did not, in fact, know him. Yet here he was taking a picture of him.
Opinion on;
Character in general: I absolutely adore taemin, to no end. I love how passionate he is with his dancing and singing. He’s not too cute, but he knows how to use it well at times. I’ll just shut up now before I start to name one thousand reasons why I like him.
How they play them: I love, love the way you play him. He’s mysterious, and really good at words in my opinion. You don’t play him as the overly cute one. You play him just right. As for the vampire side of your character - I like it. His personality isn’t the type of always turned on vampire “oh give me your blood” kind of bullshit. Even in writing, he just seems like a very attractive boy. If that makes any sort of sense.
The Mun: Oh god, You’re so nice. Not even kidding - I feel like I’ve known you forever, and you’ve become my best friend oh so quickly. I love love the way you write, I’m a big fan of it. I usually just ignore self-para’s but I always read yours. Heh.Do I:
RP with them: Yes.
Want to RP with them: Always.What is my;
Overall Opinion: Best taemin right here. I don’t even think any general taemin rp’er can actually beat you tbh.
☥ “The wind could not possibly creep me out,” he assured stoically, before a brief burst of laughter left him. “Your howl is quite charming when you brew up a storm, actually,” he confessed, his gaze searching the shadows, as every word of the wind made it easier to pinpoint her position. Still, he stayed where he was. A game was a game, after all.
☥ It calls you beautiful, his mind whispered as he listened to the voice with a head cocked to the side, his ear turned to the sound as he tried to distinguish it from all else. Eventually, a sly smile crawled across his lips. “… If you want to hold me, you need to catch me first.”
☥ “Is it not,” he let out, cocking his head to the side as a snicker left him, filled with the same devious amusement and melted sugar ready to burn at his will. “Then oh who might I be talking to… say, is it a fawn that has wandered into my vicinity? Or perhaps a squirrel, leaping from tree to tree… oh, wait, now I see. You are the wind.”
☥ “… Young sport, you are so transparent I could see your insides,” he mused out quietly, watching the shadows, knowing well who he could have found if he decided to pursue. That, however, was obviously not supposed to happen. Let us not be complete killjoys.
☥ “… My image is cracked. Whatever will I do,” he snorted out, lips stretching into an impish smile as he raised a hand to point, eyes glinting amusedly. “I know who you are… hiding in the shadows won’t hide your telltale way of speaking to me.”
Anonymously tell me how you feel about me. I can’t reply, I just have to read it and post it.
He read over her words with sublte mirth, a hum leaving the back of his throat before his pale fingers typed in a reply for her. She was a peculiar young woman, were she not, he thought as he did, a soft snort leaving him before he sent his last message away.
[SMS sent 10:32PM] Then you better write a new text, Naeunnie . . .
[SMS sent 10:33PM] Though if you really want to prove you are
naughty I think a text won't exactly cut it.
pohroro