Inspire ☥
Art had never been portrayed as something ugly except from when Taeyeon tried her best to expose herself to the magics and wonders of art. It would never work for her to paint, dance or do anything to bring feelings or music to life. Perhaps once or twice she would come up with the absolute best ideas for a new painting or for yet another dance but as soon as she would want to try it out; the idea would fade and leave her poor mind empty again. No muse nor musa to grab more ideas and inspiration from so it was basically over for her in the artistic area.
May the memories of her trying be imprinted fairly down her impairment due to the face that Taeyeon would never forget about her own fails nor would she ever be able to forgive herself for trying to do something in which her mind wasn’t strong enough for.
A vibration went through the air and she could sense that something was wrong.
Her thoughts, so peaceful and silent, had been interrupted now. A bang into something, someone that fell or someone punching a wall. Taeyeon heard it as she walked through the corridor of a place which she didn’t know of yet. It was all a strange city since the humans living there would have their eyes open for expected. Taeyeon always expected the unexpected and prepared for the funniest.
“Hey” she pushed the door open and her gaze met a familiar face. “Im—”
It should have come to his mind that he had just damaged a wall in property not his own, but it seemed a fact out of his mind, barely registered even by the faltering logic of his intellects. For intelligence did not equate wisdom and although his years were many to count, in moments such as these it hardly mattered. The passion of emotion overtook wisdom and experience, as he heaved breaths he did not truly need to breathe, yet in an old reflex it calmed him. Or at least, that was what it was ought to do.
The tension in his shoulders was taunt, as if a crossbow ready to spring free a bolt of rage, but it was contained. At least, he had thought it would be, until he heard the steps in the hall falter at the door, and before he knew it, it was opened and he twitched, he held his breath and his gaze veered over towards the new arrival, dark with the emotions flaring up in his dead heart.
“What?” he snapped out before he thought the word over, though to his credit, at least he seemed to hear the way it came out past his lips. He heard the venom and the way frustration made it unkind, and it had him take a step back from the wall, his hands falling to his sides as he straightened. Swallowed. Looked upon her with his temper shackled.
“What?” he repeated, voice calmer, more levelled, as he heaved breaths again. One of his hands touched over the knuckles of the one which he had hit the wall with such force, but the scratches were already rapidly fading. Flushed blossoms of red fading, until all which remained in their stead were the traces of blood still clinging to his pale skin.
“Can I help you?”