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" were you following me? "

queen munjeong’s birthday prompts –

had he been more observant, he would have noticed that he was following in the steps of the young lady. as it was, he was far more preoccupied with the intricacy of curves and art in the decorations that someone had so graciously pointed out. now he felt guilty having missed the minute details that someone surely spent many hours toiling over. he stopped only because he found himself nearly walking against this woman, which would have been catastrophic and embarrassing, and he took a hasty step back to bow in apology. “not at all, my lady!” he squinted slightly, blinking a little, and straightened up again, wondering where he recognised her from. surely he’d met her before – ah! “lady han, was it?” if anything, his father versed him more on who their allies were. “i apologise – i did not realise that i was walking behind you. if you’d like, we can walk together. have you noticed the details in these decorations? look!” he reached for a nearby sash hanging off a pole, hand under silk, looking at it first and then her. “isn’t this magnificent? although the money in this celebration would be much more valuable given to the people – but i believe they, too, might find enjoyment in it as we do, if they were allowed. ah – i apologise again!” he let go of the sash and bowed quickly. “i seem to have rambled on... i only meant to say that i was admiring other things... not that you aren’t admirable! or beautiful! you are – i’ve heard tell – but i.... wasn’t...following you...” he finished meekly, managing to make a fool of himself once again.

#pr.;#dalxmishil

“ aren’t these decorations a little much?”

queen munjeong’s birthday prompts –

“to others, perhaps.” there were more people in their world who could appreciate good decorations from bad ones, but outside of those circles revolving around money and power, these decorations would have been a source of wonder. it would be more luxury than they could afford. “it has its own value,” he finally conceded after some thought, eyes drawn upwards to the lanterns and the cloth, then to the stars beyond these lights, difficult to see in their glow but present nonetheless. entranced for a moment, he hummed happily at the sight, before being brought back to earth with the noise of the revelries. “i believe it is quite appropriate for the celebrant. who are we to criticise the tastes of the queen?”

#pr.;#dalhyeonn

" your smile looks a little forced."

queen munjeong’s birthday prompts –

it was in the presence of the hungu that daejun realised he was in. it was their philosophies, the way they spoke, and as much as he tried to separate himself from their circle he could not. these were aspirants, nameless members, eager to prove themselves something against the thought of scholars and literati. daejun did not want a battle, only a discussion, and as he smiled and took a step back, retreated, they closed in on the gap he had once occupied, as if eager to jeer at him with their backs turned. in this step he found himself stumbling against another body, and he caught her wrist out of instinct and fear that he had knocked against her hard enough for her to fall. he released it quickly, and bowed. “i’m sorry!” the observation of his smile caused him to sigh and, as if that wiped the slate clean, smiled ever regretful that she had caught him in the act of an almost-lie. “i’m sorry. discussions without willingness to listen... they exhaust me so. i dare say it isn’t a discussion at all...” he motioned for them to walk, for her to follow as he held his own hands behind his back. “have you experienced that, my lady? a discussion with closed ears? it occurs so often in our politics that i scarcely believe anything would change if men so clearly only want to hear their own words and not others’.”

#pr.;#sevlhae

“ you wouldn’t dare.”

queen munjeong’s birthday prompts –

“you make it seem as if i am committing a crime.” perhaps he was. he had never been briefed on the ethics of picking flowers from the base of a tree. they were beautiful, and as much time as daejun spent with miran, he could never quite remember their names. she was a very distracting teacher, and he only sought to gather them to learn more about them. “a bouquet of flowers from the palace is sure to woo any woman,” he continued, determinedly picking one last flower to complete a flimsy bouquet of five – just in case – and finally stood up, brushing a bit of dirt off his pants. “would you like one, my lady?” he asks, inviting and soft and warm.

#pr.;#dalyingluo

“ this night turned out to be a disappointment.”

queen munjeong’s birthday prompts –

this man was a foreigner, but it was that which made him all the more noticeable. daejun recognised him and did not deign to offend him any more than he seemed, and any more than he already had towards others without meaning to. there was a reason, it seemed, why he did not frequent the palace. perhaps it made sharper thorns out of the roses that grew within its high walls. “is that so, sir?” he asked with slight caution, not wanting to cause further annoyance of anybody. “what about it disappointed you? i thought it was quite lovely.”

#pr.;#dalxkaito

“ that’s one of the worst things i’ve ever seen.”

queen munjeong’s birthday prompts –

daejun looked down at himself first. he thought that the satin and silk work was as fine as could be. it certainly did not rival the adornments that anyone of the royal family would wear, and even then he thought that they spent far too much of the people’s money, but he was not exempt from indulging in such luxuries. perhaps it was the crude little charm hanging off his belt. a child had given it to him in the market earlier, and had asked him to wear it with the hopes that a royal would see her skill and perhaps buy her wares. daejun did not have the heart to say no, and even his father had looked on him with clear disapproval once he caught sight of it. “i...cannot apologise for offending your sight, sir,” he says, without yet comprehending to whom he is speaking. “i made a promise to someone to wear it tonight. that it caught your eye would surely delight her.”

#pr.;#haexsan

“ avert your eyes.”

queen munjeong’s birthday prompts –

he laughed then. “a dance will not hypnotise me,” he assured the man, not suffering to look away from the performance. he knew some of these people personally, albeit in passing. they entertained him and others on the streets and they were no amateurs. each movement was measured, precise, beautiful. “but, if you would refer to the minister in the corner having his fun with a kisaeng,” he continued, finally looking towards the man, who seemed more imposing than himself – perhaps from the less friendly expression, though he did not let that deter him in the least – “then i would surely avert my eyes, if only to grant them their privacy, though i doubt that that would be scarce at such an event.”

#pr.;#dalhyunsoo

“ you look positively lost.”

queen munjeong’s birthday prompts –

he hummed at the observation. he didn’t frequent the palace because his father would simply find ways to prevent him from doing so, or he didn’t have reason at all on his own. perhaps he, too, found various excuses, other excursions, more important errands to run outside the palace walls. beautiful as it may be, and misguided as his father could be most of the time, the place was teeming with enemies, and though he had come here armed with names and an attitude of faux caution, all that had scattered to the wind the second he was entranced with the performance and the food and the music. when he had gone to relieve himself from all that tea, he found himself lost as sure as a lamb wandered around on its way to the slaughter. the voice had startled him at first, but once no harm was done in the following second, he found himself humming instead, shoulders losing tension. “i suppose so. i do not frequent the palace as do most. if you would so kindly direct me to the main grounds, i would be in your debt, sir.”

#pr.;#hwandal

haeseora

the anatomy of flowers ;

daldaejun-blog

haeseora‌:

a look of displeasure crossed her features. he was right. but would she admit that? not now. his words felt condescending. and while she knew that he certainly did not know the secrets that she held close to her heart- the secrets that not even her closest of friends knew- it didn’t stop her from feeling nervous.

he spoke with such softness and warmth that it made her feel disgusted with herself for even feeling an ounce of irritation at his words. i mean, it was a simple question:

what flower has wounded you to believe it so?

where did she even begin? there was a list of people that hurt her. the king, a bouquet of nasturtium. her own mother, a white carnation. her past lover, a red rose. each person added bruises of their own to her battered heart. but this was their first meeting. and it wasn’t in seora’s nature to reveal such things. not even on the millionth meeting with someone.

“no. i won’t be so kind as to help you understand,” she says stiffly, her eyes still focused on what used to be the resting place of a bruised flower. “i don’t think it’s that important for you to understand it anyways. you’ll gain nothing from it.”

@daldaejun

he knew well that plants – even the most beautiful – could be just as deadly when wielded with the right hands, but there was none as skilled as his miran – if she could even be called his, if he would be so bold to state it out loud instead of keeping it in his heart of hearts – and surely miran would not hurt another soul other than the one who deserved it most. he stood then to full height without meaning to seem imposing. he looked to her with nothing but curiosity, perhaps, or a soft inquisitiveness that, he hoped, was not intrusive.

the flower, wilted and near-death, still had some colour. it could still be preserved, in some way, and he had wanted to keep it to try and draw it for his own collection. but he took it out of his sleeve cautiously as she spoke, noticing that her gaze was trained on the space it had once occupied, and held it quietly resting on his palm, as if he expected it to come to life once again.

“it is always essential for me to understand. i would rather understand than be ignorant, especially when i may have caused offence,” he replies with patience, smiling at her only slightly, subtly, as if he didn’t want to incite her anger any further. “especially,” he continued, pausing only a moment before extending his palm towards her, “when i seem to have troubled a beautiful young spirit with my words. i do not want to fight, my lady. i simply wish to understand.”

#the anatomy of flowers #haesora

“ i didn’t expect to see you here. ”

queen munjeong’s birthday prompts –

he jumped then, halfway into popping a pastry into his mouth while holding onto two more with his other hand. “don’t –,” he chewed quickly, and swallowed, trying not to choke. “i - uhhhhhh – yes.” he stammered, hiding one hand behind his back. he would have tried not to turn so red in the face if he wasn’t already. hurriedly, he wiped at the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, and faced the lady again, bowing quickly as if he only just realised that she, too, was a member of high society. “yes, i would be of ill judgement not to attend such an event.” even that didn’t sound convincing, so he sighs instead – “i do not want any scandal, my lady – i was merely trying the food – it’s absolutely scrumptious! have you tried any?”

#pr.;#daljiwoo

“ your hands are freezing!”

queen munjeong’s birthday prompts –

a little further away from the festivities, in a little alcove of shadow and dancing light, daejun found the courage to hold her hand. it was not the first time and he certainly hoped – despite his shaking, slightly-sweaty palms – that it would not be the last. she made him nervous, the same way the idea that he might one day learn the secrets of the universe made him nervous, the same way her smiling at him for doing something to be proud of made him nervous – all in a good way. he wondered if his heartbeat could be felt through his palms, and if that was why it almost felt as warm as his face, even though she mentioned so clearly that they were not. “that’s because you have not been holding them all night, miran,” he tells her, too flustered to look at her tonight. she was more stunning than ever. every day she was more beautiful – a flower constantly in bloom. instead he focused on leading her into a corner, the music still ringing through the night and the lights still reaching through the spaces around them, and stopped under a tree where they may hide should any intruding sound be heard. “now, i think, they’ll be warm,” he continued, cupping her hand with both of his own, and kissing the tips of her fingers, “if i just do this for a few seconds more.”

#pr.;#dalmiran

call me by This name –

@haeseora:

the male’s words allow for a soft scoff to past the confines of her lips. “and what is it that i could do with your name exactly?” she questions back, raising a single brow as she regarded him. she found the question to be unnecessary. it almost irritated the female. but she reminded herself that this was a party- and she wouldn’t allow even the slightest irritations to ruin her mood.

“it’s out of common courtesy,” she replies, her expression falling into a look of indifference. “if you don’t wish to give me your name, then don’t. i certainly won’t be losing sleep over it.” she crossed her arms, turning her body away from the male- essentially ending the conversation. as she observed the other side of her surroundings, a slight feeling of guilt pooled in her stomach. there was most definitely a chance that she had took what would have been a playful introduction and turned it into something it was not. but it was too late to go back. seora’s pride wouldn’t allow her to apologize.

it was only a precaution. his father told him to be more careful than normal – not that he was known for being particularly cautious, if a slightly-skinned knee from just this afternoon was any indication – and daejun made an attempt. if his father had overheard, then it would have gained him a slight chance at obtaining any sign of pride from the older minister. but his father would have, in the same breath, rebuked him for not knowing every guest there was in these celebrations, and daejun would’ve gotten into another argument against the man just by that alone.

now he felt bad for playing at coyness, at caution, and stood steadfast on uneasy feet. “a-ah... alright. you could do nothing with it, i suppose, though i guessed that it would be an amusing introduction. it seems that i have only irked you more than i intended.” what would his father say? – something about being disgraceful, offending the guests at the queen’s party, something about this being the reason why he’d be killed if it weren’t for his father’s protection. “i truly apologise. if it means anything to you, i am oh daejun, my lady,” he introduces with a slight bow, bent at the waist, sincere and trying to think of any way to appease the lady’s mood. he shouldn’t. but he does. “if i may learn your name, that would be delightful, and this exchange would be less...awkward?”

#haeseora #call me by this name.

“a flower is only as good as its petals.”

queen munjeong’s birthday prompts –

daejun saw beyond, dreamt into the future, lived in possibility – and, often, it felt like a slap back into reality when someone was so grounded in the belief of the present. “there will always be more than that,” he responded, crouching down to pluck a limp flower in a bunch of bright, bountiful ones. this was not traditional nor was it standard behaviour in the presence of anyone roaming in their higher society, but he cradled the flower gingerly as if love and hope will bring it back to life. instead, he tucks it in the folds of his sleeves and smiles briefly, warmly at the skeptic. “a flower can have no petals and still be studied for the treasure that lays between them. a flower can lose its petals to bear fruit, if you consider the kind that grow on trees. is that not enough to consider that there is beauty even in that which we cannot see? you must help me understand, if you would be so kind – what flower has wounded you to believe it so?”

#pr.;#haeseora

haedalkrp

… ━━━ QUEEN MUNJEONG’S BIRTHDAY SENTENCE PROMPTS ━━━ … remember your rp karma: send as many as you receive! make sure to change pronouns to fit the muse in mind. these can be used as starters, or just as drabbles - it’s up to you! these will be available to reblog until the end of our event on december 7th. have fun!

“ this night turned out to be a disappointment.” “ he / she’s waiting for you.” “ you wouldn’t dare.” “ did you hear what they’re saying about you?” “ this calls for a drink.” “ i don’t recognize anyone here.” “ i didn’t expect to see you here.” “ aren’t these decorations a little much?” “ was it something i said?” “ i can’t see in this light.” “ you look positively lost.” “ i’ll find it empty and cold if you’re not there.” “ i had no idea it was going to lead to this.” “ were you following me?” “ a little out of place, are we?” “ your hands are freezing!” “ why am i here? you know i hate these things.” “ look at you - trying so hard to be all grown up.” “ your smile looks a little forced.” “ they’re continuing to evade you, aren’t they?” “ i almost thought he’d ask for her hand in marriage.” “ that’s one of the worst things i’ve ever seen.” “ avert your eyes.” “ a flower is only as good as its petals.” “ how dare you bring any sort of ugliness or speculation to a beautiful moment?” “ this night will be unforgettable.” “ and what would you do with my name?” “ it’s a small target, but aim for his / her heart.” “ you see how dangerous this is?” “ i’ve waited my whole life for this moment.”

#prompts.

uwu what’s this !

hello all! this is mi sohn oh daejun, a 25 year-old senior official at the ministry of works. he’s a sarim boy who believes that the government is corrupt and one of the hungu are responsible for his childhood poisoning + his mother’s death as a result of “heartbreak”. at the same time, though, he’s very content with his scrolls, his teachings, his philosophies and analyses of how the world works and how people can live peacefully if they are in harmony with the universe. he daydreams a lot and reads a lot and writes a lot. he likes measurements, math – everything rational he can learn about to learn about the universe. he’s a soft little nerd boy who wouldn’t hurt a fly – and has been in love with park miran for god knows how long. that doesn’t mean that his father isn’t constantly trying to get him engaged with someone else, thinking that it’d strengthen their position. ya boi only wants to read! live in peace! and yet....

i got some plots to ruin that uwu

teach him how to fight

teach him that the world isn’t fair

take him to a kisaeng

fall in love with him without knowing that he’s courting someone else in secret

teach him that kindness will get him nowhere

protect him

let him protect you

let him teach you that kindness does get you somewhere

hate him, be suspicious of him

if you’d like to discuss any one of these, feel free to hit me up! my discord is obiben#0829. i’m usually on discord xoxo love me

#ooc.

jjear

beautiful pain: hyunsik

#d.jvn

CHARACTER INFORMATION

OC Name: Oh Dae-Jun Character Age: 25 Canon Spot & Family: first son of Deputy Minister Oh of the Ministry of Works Occupation: Senior Official (5A) of the Ministry of Works Marital Status: unmarried Personality Traits: + kind, understanding ; - naïve, self-sacrificing

FREEFORM BIO

do not mistake your father’s kindness for love.

when daejun was born, his father raised him like a trophy and declared: you will surpass me one day.

there was nothing but jealousy, fear, hatred in the boy who stole his youth and his wife’s affections by mere existence. he was already threatened by others outside of the home. sanctuary could no longer be found, and this short, stout man – who would not have had a wife at all had it not been for his own mother’s interventions – suddenly found himself letting the babe go in the warmth of his wife’s embrace. there, again, flared the jealousy in him: she had not lain with him for a while, and perhaps even the boy was the child of another.

whore, he thought. dirty pig, opening your cunt to every tall, handsome nobody.

then, the boy wailed, and only then did a younger, more amicable minister oh recognise any sort of similarity between himself and this blood-stained child, all that blood still crusting over on round cheeks. this was no cherub (only perhaps in memory of pregnant fantasies). this was human, to wail in the nothing, and to cry in suffering he did not yet know.

only then did the minister pick him up again, cradled now in cloth by bustling midwives, and held him away from his unconscious wife.

daejun, he said. you will be daejun, and you will surpass me one day.

in this home, goodbyes are arbitrary.

he grows up knowing that his father will die one day.

he is taken to every excursion, made to hide under the floorboards or behind the screen when there are words passed around that he doesn’t understand between men too old to be alive. when his sister is born he mourns for her, for the love his father lacks. the man has nothing in his heart, and nothing is ever enough. there are enemies around the corner, in the shadows; daejun’s nightmares come in the form of sword-armed men crawling through the spaces between their home, in the shadows, slashing his throat and his sister’s and his mother’s. when the sun rises he is once again bright, beaming, too eager to prove himself good and true.

but his father’s tales are only confined in dreams, in the night, in the dark. daejun was never told that it’d be in the sidelong glances of the day, the sleight-of-hand deception that takes him under.

for ten days he is asleep.

in those ten days, his mother is taken from him by her own heart.

she has always been frail, by her kindness and health, always proud of daejun despite his failures. it was love that killed her, they said: her heart couldn’t bear the thought of your death. he missed her funeral, and missed his goodbyes, and it was love that died before pride.

he is the only one you have. this is the only life you know.

in the aftermath years, the consequences ripple relentlessly through time. he finishes his studies and refuses a wife. his hands are stroked with ink and his sleeves constantly being repaired for being worn. the work is non-stop, the work is endless, and the enemies only increase in number. soon there will be no home for him to return to; if they are not persuasive, if they don’t get the power and support they need from the people, all this tyranny will continue into forever, and forever, and forever.

all the weapon he wants to wield is a word he cannot yet find.

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