기다리다 @elusium - Tumblr Blog

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helluu i'm so so excited that opening's here wuhu!! i'm blue ( 21+, s/h ) & this is heo yewon, nothing notable to her name </3 she's just some rich astran's personal assistant, waiting for the day her boss promotes her to astra & she can leave this place behind... if that ever happens! u know what it is, profile page here, her tldr & plots are below the cut, pls like to plot or add me on dc ( pomelos. ) & i’ll be there ♡

#rmnt:intro #𝘾𝙃𝙄𝙋𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙀 𝙇𝙊𝘼𝘿𝙄𝙉𝙂… OOC.os #updated w new family background!!

canislucrum

the jins share a burial ground in the upper east of astra. it is all sorts of luxury and pomp, boasting the size of land to hold the descendants of the jins for the next five generations. today, his father buries him in an unmarked grave. stomps his foot to the shovel’s step and forces him to swallow the dirt.

what is a man buried alive to do?

why, dig, of course. he claws at the thick layer of dry ground until the dirt seeps into the broken, infected skin between nail and flesh. scrapes over and desperately and over again until the texture of sand grates against his oesophagus as he’s forced to swallow. now he’s here, six feet under in the depths of ansan and he watches how the litter of skyscrapers peek through the thickened, dark mist like gravestones in a cemetery.

what is a man buried alive to do?

why, revenge, god willing. the sound of footsteps interrupts his view of ansan’s skyline from the glass walls of his penthouse in la mariposa, and he pivots quickly around to catch the humanoid he’d ordered moments before. “great, you’re here,” he acknowledges. because there is no time to waste for a man that is supposed to be dead. there is no time to waste before father finds out that he’d foolishly left the body when it was still warm, so rotting corpse as he may seem, he is still very much breathing. hansol gestures to his stack of luggage, “ready my room and unpack,” he orders in a flippant tone, his mind elsewhere with thoughts on how to hit back where it hurts jin hangil the most. indeed, what better way to do revenge than to beat his father at his own game? “tv on,” he commands, and with a flash of light, the hologram of ansan’s beloved news anchor comes to life. so consider this the genesis of his get-rich-quick scheme: he’ll build a name for himself so great, it’ll rival that of the jins. and when he finally takes his rightful place as the jin patriarch, he’ll be the one looking down on his father as the man stands begging for mercy, and he’ll be the one to shovel dirt—

“ah,” he stops his pacing in front of the hologram, turns to regard the humanoid, “when you’re done, make me ramen. i want the noodles hard. not a lot— just a little.” suppose nothing whets the appetite more than escaping death. “save my preference.”

DEAD ON ARRIVAL / @elusium

elusium

hit rock bottom, and the only place to go from there is up. that's what they say in the old world, isn't it? and yewon can't imagine a place further down than this, as she scrolls through her work comms in the late hours of the night. pings off another message to the head chef at revel, trying to convince them to work a week more before she brings up the idea of another raise to their boss that no one's ever seen before. god, she's been down here long enough. she's still waiting for the day she gets to take her first steps up into the stars.

if that day comes before she's sacrificed to ansan's rogues and lowlifes, at least. she freezes when she hears the door open, footsteps heavy into the apartment that's supposed to be inhabited by only her. oh shit. fuck. oh hell. her stomach drops to the floor at the prospect of an intruder. isn't the security at la mariposa supposed to be good?

the heaviest thing she has with her is her tablet, yewon grabbing it to protect herself as she ventures out to wherever the intruder sounds like they're pacing around. it's gripped in her hand till her knuckles are white, the bloated silhouette of a man in front of her casually throwing his belongings across the floor, ordering her about as if unphased to be an intruder into her space.

"what?" the young woman blinks at him. fear slides off her face, something like realisation taking its place. because, as she's quickly catching on, this highrider is probably that new, elusive boss; he throws out orders with the ease of someone who's never had to eat it. "um, i'm yewon," the personal assistant says, her smile the customer facing, wide eyed blinking of someone who knows she's been mistaken for an android, be it because she's in the service industry or because the person talking has grade a scratch with pockets they think are deep enough substitutes for manners. it might be both, with the person in question. "the personal assistant?" she points down the hallway, long enough that it turns to liquid shadows where the master bedroom is. "i'll unpack your things..."

hit rock bottom, and some gonk has probably dug a second basement anyway. there's always further down to go.

#𝘾𝙃𝙄𝙋𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙀 𝙇𝙊𝘼𝘿𝙄𝙉𝙂… HANSOL.aptr

unf1t-deactivated20240602

in the dark of the night everyone knows everyone and everyone is a stranger to one another. still, kitae knows the faces. it's something that's repeating itself every time he's out on these streets, the same hair, the same mods, same empty eyes staring gluttonously at everything and nothing. but he knows them; or at least, he knows the ones he needs to know. the ones who are easy to pickpocket, oblivious to their surroundings, high off of whichever knock-off inhibitors they can put their hands onto and then put into themselves. the ones who are as dangerous as a rabid animal cornered and fighting for survival. the ones who have heads tuned after them, the big shots of ansan, the ones who climb from hell upwards, hidden in the same darkness and conquering. it's an assemblage that no one judges, at the very end.

guided by the illumination of flickering street-lights, he moves through this crowd that's gathered for a reason that no one would admit, pushing through countless bodies as if they were mere apparitions. the roar of engine he can hear at a faraway distance and smell of gasoline that lingers in the air speak more than any possible word could, indicating the storm that's brewing beyond the corners, between the buildings that have seen better days. he's here for it too, caught red-handed in his curiosity and simple desire for entertainment.

in the crowd that he knows at the back of his hand, he sees something that captures his gaze in an instant: flutter of a holo across bare shoulder, unlike any he's seen amidst the filth of floodgates. unfamiliarly strikes at him, eats away at him, and like he is charmed by it, kitae's step takes him closer; hand on her shoulder, pulling her to him, the reason behind it far less selfish than one would assume.

"you got a death wish? don't stand so close to the fucking road."

@elusium

elusium

the colour of the styx wraps around her body like a figure to be forgotten, darker against the yellowed lights and fumes of synth fuel burning into her lungs. yewon's not meant to stand out, just canvassing the stands for some unknown project her new boss won't give her the details of. the feed of her iriscam flickers under the terrible lighting, catching only blurred faces and glimpses of chrome in the pictures, the rubble of ansan's old dreams eaten away in the background. the films store and upload onto her cloud on the last shutter click, images to be sent out come morning.

until then, she's technically off the clock ( though the clock's always running in the background ); no better time than now to blend in and let loose. the crush of this crowd is reaching terminal velocity even before the race kicks off, sparks of adrenaline jumping off pavements. yewon lets it go through her, pretending like she belongs here. doesn't realise all of the ways that she doesn't fit into the street and its people, jacket sleek and woven close to skin with no protection to speak of, leaning forward into the road as she tries to get a better view of the nightrunners.

then she's pulled back, the movement knocking her into an unfamiliar chest. hand warm on her bared skin, as if he's got no chrome to speak of, untouched eyes meeting her irises turned an electric pink. "thanks..." yewon says, smile dancing along her lips, even though her gaze's uncertain. "i'm not... from around here, so." the pause deliberate, putting distance between herself and the scene she's found herself in. she shrugs and the sparkle of her holotattoo follows the movement. faint light bounces off worn cotton, draws her eye down for a moment and back up again, her head turned to face him. the stranger has sketches of his history worn along the grooves of his knuckles, gaze open over her figure. "you look like you are. y'know a better place to watch the race?"

#𝘾𝙃𝙄𝙋𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙀 𝙇𝙊𝘼𝘿𝙄𝙉𝙂… KITAE.aptr