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And in their triumph die like fire and powder

minster han yoonsung / lord do jitae

Son Sukku for Marie Claire Korea August 2022. Photographed by Park Jongha

#vis:hys #pretty boy era over #sad dilf era incoming

lcrdofcinder:

The youngest Han brother did not know how he ended up hereㅡsitting in his own home, head bowed, eyes fixed to the floor. He spends an innumerable amount of time tracing the intricacies embroidered into the carpeting. The pathways of golden swirls and crimson carnations eventually lead his gaze to a pair of feet. Their owner mutters his name in a voice he recognizes. A voice that brings him some sense of relief. Perhaps he had been searching for familiarity the entire time, leading him back to the place he knows best.

“Brother. I have been managing just fine.” Oh, what a lie, and one told by a terrible liar, at that. In particular in front of his older brother. The stoic bodyguard might as well have choked out the response amidst a whimper. How humiliating. He feels like a child.

“It has… been hectic…” Too much so. And here Yoonjae once thought the upheaval and action of his position would be exhilarating. Instead, he is meant to witness malice and betrayal. Too many stories of lives taken away too soon stuff his head with endless possibilities. He wonders aloud, “Is that how things are meant to be here? How they’ve always been?” Yoonsung should know bestㅡtwelve years his senior and well-versed in the goings on of the palace.

A moment of silence fills the air between them. Yoonjae does not notice the tremble erupting in his hands, clutching them against the loose fabric of his pants. ( Is that how you are? How I am meant to be, too? And what of our brother? ) He keeps the rest of questions to himself, dreading the answers. Showing fear is weakness. House Han was notㅡis notㅡa house of weak men. He could never admit it: his nightmare of betrayal at the hands of his own kin.

“You must be busy lately. It seems I haven’t seen you in ages.” ( I’ve grown a bit more, too. Did you notice? ) He must push back these infantile, frivolous things. And yet, he clings to the desire to be like true brothers again, ones without duties to the nation. And yet, he detests the feeling.

the boy’s tired. yoonjae was a terrible liar, even as a child, and it seems even in adulthood he could not shake the habit. oh they should have taught him better, they should have ensured that yoonjae’s tongue was dipped into dishonestly like he and all those before him. it was no secret that the han family did dote on the youngest son, the brothers especially, a life of scheming was not what he envisioned for him, but yoonsung knew that if he were to fall, the weight of the family would lie on his brother’s shoulders.

there are no words of wisdom for his younger brother; there is no magical phrase to let them free from their chains of duty and honor, instead, yoonsung settles beside his brother,

“yoonjae,” his smile is uneasy,his brows knit in concern. he’s sure the younger can see through it, he is the steady hearth that was their eldest brother; he is a pale imitation. “you must brace yourself, we are the house of han, even if things remain hectic we are one of the pillars of this nation, we must uphold ourselves so it does not falter.”

perhaps yoonsung’s words were more of an attempt to convince himself than his brother. but at the sight of yoonjae’s hands trembling, he takes the younger’s hand in his own, a gesture he has not done since the eldest han’s funeral. “this is how it is, and how it will always be. we cannot pretend that we have control over fate, but we must brace ourselves.”

if something were to happen to yoonsung, what could his brother do? could his baby brother, the same child who he saw his first steps, the same one who he would sneak snacks before dinner, what would become of him? “it’s been busy of course, but nothing i cannot handle, do not worry. instead focus on continuing your studies, you’re still so young. progress should not be forgotten.”

#m:hys #hys:01yoonjae

vermayle:

Group of ten soldiers, led by the young lord Sathanna, have started their journey towards the far south of nation after passage of early morning hours, in solemn silence; their hearts remaining within the Capital, bodies yearning for their reunion the more the distance between them grew. He assumes of this more as a punishment issued by the Admiral in a collaboration with the Fire Lord, though he speaks naught of it, and neither do his men, though he believes they hold the same view. Truthfully, inside of him he carries confusion —- for so long, the rebellions which started in the region would have been subdued by the house Do, without required interference by Capital’s hand, and scarcely anyone ever spoke of them with a tone of sobriety. Yet here they were, between land and bodies of water, with the order of establishing an iron fist, to remind the common folk they are not forgotten by their nation.

If only with the power of sight alone, for even a small child understands such a feat — obliteration of any and all mutiny is achieved not by a dozen.

The length of travel from the capital city and the Feastfires is only comforted by the familiarity of the environment; though not the Islands that raised him, the flora and fauna they pass makes his soul warm as if he were back home. Yet the dread lingers still, biting at the nape of his neck. Villages they pass, even if only one house at the very outskirts seems destroyed by a bandit’s ravage, is a house too many. He’d swallow, thought put into whether this should really just be a charade, or if they should act genuinely.

THE SOUTHERN REGION OF FIRE NATION, WITHIN THE BOUNDS OF FEASTFIRES. A LITTLE AFTER SUNSET. @forlornmyth, for Do Jitae.

“I thought your father would await us, Lord Do,” he speaks upon their arrival before the courtyard, mild bewilderment at the sight of a young face in place of the old man’s he had expected. Still, befitting a man who comes first as a soldier before anything else, his words, albeit presented with a pleasant smile to them, are void of any personal feeling regarding the matter. His gaze pools across the quadrangle if only for a moment, observing the surrounding carefully. “I take it you’ve been informed about the reason of our arrival?”

jitae was twelve years old when he first stepped onto a battlefield — barely at the height of his father’s shoulders, makeshift tents stretched out as far as his dark eyes could see, with the sounds of men and women tending wounds, sparring and bantering. their voices mixed together, hardened warriors with bumpy and reddened scars and baby-faced youths with newly minted uniforms.

all the noise and gruesome sights should have frightened the young boy, but jitae could only stare in awe, his father’s calloused hand gripping his shoulder, a whisper into his ear. “this is our fight, our mission, our people.”

and there the boy stayed, enveloping himself into the cause without looking back.

but it’s not often that the capital sends men to their cause, it’s not often that the firelord's army sheds blood on their soil, and jitae upon hearing the word of it would not have some capital dog take his glory as his ancestors allowed so many years ago.

after all, haven’t his mother and father fed him enough bitterness that it would not be surprising for it to spill over?

jitae steps towards — his clothes better suited a common solider, his armor stained and tattered than the heir of the do clan. but still, he stands tall, shoulders back and legs braced, his gaze falling over the group of soldiers before him. two of his own men flaked beside him. maybe it would best to be polite; after all the group sent are merely following orders, it’s not as though they have any power.

“this cause is mine, i am the one who steps on the battlefield every day; why wouldn’t i be here?” the man questions, taking note of the slight confusion on the lord sathanna’s face. jitae’s expression sours further — the little respect he held for the newcomer dropping as he spots the pleasant smile on his face. “as i understand you’ll be helping us with our tiny little bandit problem.”

#m:djt #djt:001sc

hihi friends so sorry for the delays with replies + everything else

work literally has my butt rn but! I’m here with some updated plots for both yoonsung + jitae, and will get to replies this weekend! like this post to if you want to plot + if you want my discord or just want to discuss our characters c:

#//ooc

pvrpuras:

at a dinner with house takao & house do, circa 54BG. for @forlornmyth

akane both hated and loved being involved with her family’s business affairs. she hated meeting new people she knew nothing about, she hated feigning interest in their words and above everything, she hated not being allowed to say exactly what she thinks. normally, her family was very well aware of the fact that she was not … exactly the best person for networking. however, now that she was twenty years old, the minister ( she would never ever refer to him as her father ) decided it was time for her to learn about the partners and alliances of house takao. nonsense, she thought to herself as she sat down at the dining table, as far away from the minister as possible. i have an older sister, so why am i here?

her decision to not be close to the head of her house caused her to sit right next to a face she did not recognise. no surprise; she had never met anyone of house do. the fire-bender had heard her family and servants talk about them every now and then, but there had never been a chance for them to meet. well, until now.

suddenly, lady takao’s voice rang in her ears: you need to do your best and get along with everyone. make sure to always introduce yourself and get as much information out of them as possible. and so she gracefully turned to meet the eyes of the person sitting right next to her. “ i don’t think we’ve met, ” she began, forcing a smile onto her lips. “ takao akane, youngest daughter of minister takao. it’s a pleasure to meet you. ” she bowed her head ever so slightly– the only form of politeness their seating arrangement allowed. “ you must be lord do’s only son, i suppose … ” having heard of him, akane tried her best to remember his name. “ … lord do taeyang. ” she said confidently, painfully unaware of the fact that she was incorrect.

jitae is aware of the discrepancy between his social standing back in his home and in the capital. in firefeast, he is not only the only son of the ruling nobility, but he is also a comrade, a fellow fighter; in the capital, amongst the other nobles jitae is uncouth, crass and if he remembers correctly some would use the term blood-thirsty. the man supposes if he were as sensitive as the other sons of great nobility he might have felt offense towards the rumours — but it’s not as though they were wrong. all of it was true, he did not run from a fight, and more often then not found himself itching for the sweet adrenaline of battle.

but that did not matter much — especially to his mother who had warned him moments before a “life-changing” dinner, to keep quiet, speak only when spoken to and of course, keep the mention of bloodshed to minimum. after all, these greater nobles had too much class to care for the happenings in the countryside, dead peasents and bandit included. regardless of the way he preened up to his mother, the lady do didn’t not believe that her son had enough grace to be seated towards the middle, and instead he was pushed towards the edges of the table.

jitae’s mind drifted away from the boring converstatoin of his family towards the takao household, finding much more enjoyment with fiddling with his chopsticks, letting it twirl between his fingers before a voice much closer to him called out to him. ah, an introduction of some sort, jitae’s eyes drop towards the source, must be one of the daughters. he mirrors her own smile with a pained grin of his own, matching her bow with nonchalant one of his own. a snort can’t help but leave his lips at her mistake, “oops, never heard of this taeyang fellow but, i’m sure my father hopes that was his son.” amusement dripping in his voice — eagerness to poke and tease is evident in his features. “it’s jitae, lady takao, no worries about the mistake, i’m sure country bumpkins are that important to you.”

#m:djt #//this is SOO LATE IM SORRY

caethexis:

(....)

yoonsung arrives, but chaesan pays him no mind - a comfortable silence has long nestled itself in between the two. conversation is minimal, for it’s decades worth of, dare she say, companionship that allows him to so acutely understand her whims without many words. even as the hours pass, long enough now that the moonlight outshines the glow of her desk’s candle, she doesn’t speak immediately in response to his suggestion. rather, she places her brush down, peers sideways toward the garden, and proposes -

“the night air seems to be more inviting than usual. i’d like to take a walk. tell the maidens to prepare a path for us, minister han. with haste.”

love and affection were novelties amongst the nobility. fickle emotions that brought more suffering than any political ploy could. so like many in his family, yoonsung pushes it down — he swallows the fondness, lets the bile that has slowly taken over his inside consume it till there’s little left besides the bitterness. he’s sure this is why the house of han remains in the royal palace, why their young are raised along the princesses and princes, to stroke the flames of devotion. to ensure they would remain loyal to those in power, to never step out of the clutches of the throne, and to always thirst for power.

yoonsung never had a chance.

he knows chaesan better than the back of his hand — correction, he used to know her like the back of his hand. as of late, the minster feels he is two steps behind, always overcoming a difference, always recalculating the differences between her and the one he knew in the past.

humans never remained the same, it is foolish to assume otherwise.

when he expects a dismissal for the evening, he’s greeted with an order. and as always, he fulfills it with a swiftness of a practiced subordinate. the maids leave just as quickly, alerting the guards to follow suit.

“shall we take over leave know your majesty?” his voice steady, as always, a constant he has honed since his youth. for a moment, his arm moves as if offering to escort her — a habit that lingered from a decade ago, but as quickly as it appears, he adjusts. taking a step back to allow the woman to walk before him.

“the silver wisteria always bloom wonderfully this time of year, especially during the evening; it’s a shame not many get to view them under the moonlight.” yoonsung muses, as their steps continue through the hall, the white flowers he spoke to coming into their viewpoints. “i suppose most prefer fire lilies, but perhaps i’m just sentimental.” the minster’s fingers reach out — grazing the pale petals.

#hys:01chaesan #m:hys

hello friends!! so sorry for being m.i.a work currently has my butt lol but!! if you want to plot with jitae or yoonsung lemme know and i’ll get to replies soon!

#//ooc

lcvelessnights:

for @forlornmyth,

there’d been a time that chaein hated being in public. it’d been shortly after she’d resigned herself to a fate of mediocrity following an eleventh-hour, distraught attempt at conjuring a glimpse of any firebending ability – she’d travelled all the way to the red city, lugging a bag crammed with the spiciest chilis she could get her hands on and meals peppered with so much heat that the royal chefs had stared at her with unabridged concern, only to return home with burning stomach and extinguished ambitions.

it wasn’t particularly easy either after lord chaesan’s coronation and especially after the announcement about her status as a dragonrider. as much as she felt gratitude towards lord chaesan, the walk home that day had felt particularly distressing. every step she took felt like one in the wrong direction – one open to scrutiny and divisive comments about how underserving a daughter of a consort could come into such privileges that no other noble could even dream of. even breathing had to be a prudent, cautious act; otherwise, they’d accuse her of squandering air, depleting the royal’s scarce resources.

eventually, one day, chaein had snapped at someone who’d glanced at her the wrong way (she swears they did. said they’d looked at her like she’d been the one to kill her own brother – much to the contrary of the heated debates that took place afterwards as to whether that civilian deserved it. chaehyun exhausted a significant number of hours cleaning up that particular mess). said something along the lines of respect and how she was still a princess and irrevocably procured a reputation of being an absolute bitch affixed to her name.

she doesn’t mind it – actually, she’d go as far to say that she derives mild pleasure from it. a part of her feels like it’s warranted, a live manifestation of the rancid self-consciousness that festers within. another part of her enjoys the caginess and trepidation, the lighter footsteps tiptoeing around her. makes her feel powerful enough. today’s no different as she’s making her way back home after a meeting with the military; one that was disparaging, to say the least. spending hours poring through which of chaein’s jurisdictions to be yielded in favour of the crown prince (they say she’s “handing things over”, chaein believes she’s relinquishing her power for a man that holds no understanding of what the job entails.)

nothing short of a public humiliation – of which, she seems to be doomed for today when she finds herself strolling through a park where a group of firebenders are practicing and it looks like one of them misaims a miniature fireball; its path seemingly directed right at her.

fuck. neither fleeing nor fighting have ever been a habitual reaction; instead, her (unintentional, impulsive) choice is to freeze.

she cowers. “fuck me.”

the do family residence within the capital was not as flashy as the other homes of nobles — a lesser house, after all, it made sense. it stood modestly ( as one could in hari bulkan) compared to the lavish estates of the higher nobles, generations of stilled growth and unfinished ambition left it somewhat unassuming, yet jitae could not help but find the place stiffing, how every time he stepped into the residence the guilt of not living up to the dreams of his ancestors seems to hang over him like the scrolls decorating the wooden walls. his body yearns for the vastness of the south, the freedom from stuffy formalites and away from the watchful eyes who seemed eager to twist his family’s faith to their whim.

therefore it does not take long for jitae to excuse himself — mumbling a half-baked excuse to his parents, freeing himself of the formal maroon robes he wore to dinner, and slipping out to explore the red city in hopes of some mischief.

the man’s steps are light the further they move from his residence; unassuming in his plain clothes, whistling to himself as he follows the rowdy sounds of sparring in the distance, at least someone around here was having fun, and it wouldn’t hurt to brush up his firebending skills, but jitae was unsure if the nobility had the same unreliability as the bandits he was used to facing off with.

the source of the sound is expected, a group of firebenders gathering at a local park, off-duty guards perhaps? that would make sense; a wry smile plays on his lips, eager to test the skills of the oh-so-powerful capital f—

a clumsy attempt at a rebuttal leaves an inexperienced bender shooting off fireball hurling chaotically. jitae’s movements are swift, lunging towards a motionless (noble? he can’t tell in the moment) woman — his fingers gripping at her arm as he pulls her towards him, away from the path of the projectile. jitae’s balance nearly stumbles, but the two remain steady (barely), his jaw tight — annoyance at her passiveness apparent. “didn’t you learn not to stand idly by firebenders when they’re sparring? you’re just asking to get burnt huh?”

#m:djt #djt:001pc1

AMONGST THE CHAOS, MINSTER HAN YOONSUNG FINDS LORD HAN YOONJAE IN THE MINSTER’S WING / @lcrdofcinder

since his eldest brother’s death, yoonsung had been spiraling down an endless pit, desperately grasping for any sense of stability and security. it was not only the weight of his position on the small council, but it also was not only the ever-changing loyalties of the upper echelon of the fire nation nor was it increasingly greying morals. the biggest weight that hung on his shoulders was the safety of his family, the future of the han bloodline — if yoonsung could not save them if he could not ensure they remain unscathed then what was he doing? what was the point of burning himself if not to keep them from the flames?

perhaps his brother had felt this way once before. maybe he had swallowed his fear in hopes of removing the burden from his loved ones, the same way yoonsung finds himself burying the anxiety of the current events deep within himself when he spots yoonjae, in the han’s residence. the minster straightens his posture, steadying himself as he steps towards the younger. his gaze softening, “yoonjae,” he calls out, he hopes his brother cannot feel the uncertainty in his voice; he hopes that yoonjae cannot tell how much he does not know.

“how are you faring?” he grasps the younger’s shoulder, his tone neutral — as he eyes yoonjae’s features, searching for signs of weariness. “it’s been...hectic to say the least. do you need some tea? mother just restocked on some of your favorite snacks as well.”

#m:hys #hys:01yoonjae

mirroredroads

sometimes to get better we have to get angry

kara walker, "untitled," 2016, ink on paper / anger I’m good at / David Shrigley / regarding the röttgen pietà, elle emerson / David Shrigley, untitled, 2000 / paramore - interlude: i’m not angry anymore

#*m:djt

calefactions:

“Good afternoon, Minister Han.”

Yeona is watching him as sharply as the knife she held to kill his retainer.

She sits daintily and with a tiger’s patience. His latest gift hangs around her neck in the form of a sapphire amulet, doubling as both peace treaty and camouflage. Perhaps it was unwise to pursue him so soon. The thought had occurred to her, at least, though never as much as the memory of her mother sprawled out on the floor, convulsing until she wasn’t. Yeona and the pleas she had screamed that still echo in her mind, as if they were mocking her with their pointlessness. Scream all you want, they were saying. It won’t bring back the dead.

And revenge doesn’t either, but at least it means her mother wouldn’t have to be alone.

“How are you faring?” Yeona questions kindly, keeps her eyes on him softly and beseechingly, like this was a trustable place; like it mattered to her. “I had looked for you as soon as the incident occurred but I couldn’t find you.” She pauses, considers her next words keenly. “We were terrified,” she murmurs with an intended shakiness. “Dami, the most. It feels like she’s only ascended to the title of minister just yesterday. There truly is never enough time in the world to get accustomed to the people you love being gone.”

The silence then is only interrupted by a teapot’s spout pouring itself into her cup and the host’s steps that recede slowly.

“Who’s to say she’ll ever recover? She wasn’t the same after our brother was murdered. I can’t imagine what will become of her now.” Another pause. Yeona takes her first sip. “Have you spoken to her yet?”

court politics was never was his favored subject. when yoonsung was younger, he found the webs of red that covered his father and eventually his brother’s fingers daunting. how it entangles every relationship, crept into every crevice of their lives. but no han could deny that it was the duty of their family to maintain the burden. to whole-heartily submergence himself into the flames was merely his lot in life.

nonetheless, yoonsung cannot pretend it came easily to him compared to his family's reputation. how his stomach soured while he spun his web, how the relationships within his life continued to twist and tangle within one another. the man bows his head towards his future in-law, mirroring her movements as yeona sat down, eyeing the faint vapors of steam coming from the jade teacup placed on the table.

“i should be asking you that, you shouldn’t push yourself too much worrying about others, you and your family’s wellbeing is most important.” his words firm, as his burrows furrowed in genuine concern, he was not like his predecessors who wanted to remain in the walls of the place away from the other nobles, no that had never been the case. “i had to speak to the firelord that evening, it—” he pauses, court politics once again overpowering his own whims. “i wanted to speak with your sister but as the minster of royal household, i was needed with the firelord.”

the engagement between him and yeona’s sister may have been arranged, but it did not mean yoonsung did not feel a kinship with his betrothed, both having lost their eldest siblings due to uncertain means, and a burden of carrying on legacies heavy on both their shoulders. “your sister is one of the strongest people i know, i believe she will continue leading with the same steadfast leadership she has in the past few years.” ah, how formal, but he cannot say his true feelings, not with so much on the line. “we spoke but i am aware that this time would be rough on your family, so it was brief.”

#m:hys #hys:01yeona

stvrmbxrn:

TUCKED AWAY IN A CORNER OF PALACE — LORD DO JITAE WAITS LADY TAI HAENA

The crowd around her tittered nervously, shifting eyes as they all waited with bated breath for the next name to be called. The idle chit chat was nearly insufferable, careful words reluctantly making their way from one noble to another, everyone too afraid to say the wrong thing to the wrong person and have the eyes of the fire lord and all their guards turn to them.

Maybe it was because Haena was no stranger to the posturing of an interrogation. The stiff-backed guards, the stern voice asking pointed questions, needling for a weak spot, for something to exploit. Trying to crack open a case as cleanly and easily as possible. Maybe giving everyone the day to mourn was by design. Maybe gathering them all in the same space, where they could all exchange their own witness statements and blur each other’s memory of the night of and color their biases of who was acting suspiciously that day, was also by design.

Who was to say? Haena did not sit on the throne, nor did she stand by the fire lord’s side, beady eyes staring down noble after noble in hopes someone would snap. She doubted it. If someone was brave enough to poison the lady of a great house on the fire lord’s name day, they likely had a plan for the fall out.

She turned to look up at the person who spoke next to her, watching as he fidgeted, impatient. “Do you think you’re the only one? They will take as much time as they want, because they can. You’re welcome to try and leave though, I imagine it will move you up on the list of suspects to interrogate.”

oh. while most of the nobles remained quiet, uninterested in those around them, some who were stationed nearby jitae and haena could not help but to peek in curiosity at the sudden appearance of a rivalry that echoed generations before them. and while jitae cared little for his ancestors' actions or their thoughts on his own life, he could not pretend that vexing tais did not provide entertainment in some way.

he’s sure his mother would scold him, half-heartily on causing a scene, but angering tais had to be a family tradition by now, correct?

“oh dear cousin,” he furrows his brows in mock gratitude, his right hand moving towards his heart, “it warms me so for your concern.” jitae’s lips twitch, the urge to snicker almost unbearable. “you’re right, i was a bit too impatient, thank you for ensuring that i understood my place in the matter.”

if anything it would provide a show for those stuck waiting for their turn in questioning. and jitae had nothing to hide, there was no value with him staying here, or any information they give. it’s not as though lady sang met her end at the end of a bandit’s knife. “i suppose since you have so much experience with these sorta things, lady tai” he continues on, gesturing vaguely towards the guards stationed at the throne room. “ you know interrogations and all of that.” jitae did not fault the woman in front of him, he could not imagine being sent across the world to marry a man in a nation you knew little about, born of earth that would suffocate the fire within if needed. “my shortcomings are apparent, please do share some tips.” ah, jitae’s splits into a smile, cruel as it is bright. “i’m eager to learn.”

#m:djt #djt:001th

redruns:

TUCKED AWAY IN A CORNER OF PALACE — LORD DO JITAE WAITS WITH LADY SAYURI

“ugh, i know right?” she responds. “i told my father they should skip me altogether because an inquest on me is a giant waste of everyone’s time. i mean, what would i know? we weren’t even seated anywhere near them.” she sighs, “but there is a process to be followed, i suppose. oh—” she pauses at a sudden realization, backtracking. “a rush? to fight bandits?” she asks, an obvious lack of knowledge about his affairs. as always, sayuri runs into the room and propriety drags itself in days later. “my lord… are there really so many of them in the south?” the sentiment is said with equal parts concern, curiosity and ignorance.

it is not as though jitae does not care about death. no, in fact, he assues he is the few of the nobility that have faced it head on — who understand it’s cold grasp on humanity. how it echoes within the dirt, and spreads. but nonetheless, he can’t pretend the death of lady sang affected him that much. if anything he’s most surprised that one of the great houses children could feel the same level of apathy he had for the whole process. then again — he’s sure inaction is a quality nobles pefered with the youth.

no need for revloution unlessed instructed jitae supposes. and it seems that sayuri was not the type to rebel, dressed in finest silks away from bloodshed and worry. while their families may be intertwined, there hadn’t been much of a reason for them to speak. jieun was always better at these sort of things.

“i get it, it was horrible, i’m sure the firelord wants to ensure that the process goes smoothly,” he belatedly adds, even a thick numbskull like jitae understood some courtesy needed for situations like this. “i’m sure it was a rather grizzly scene for a lady like yourself, it must be hard to relive it.” his social niceties were rusty, but nonetheless he offers them with a dry and hardly believable.

sayuri’s words do not phase him, used to those in the capital city clambering to dig stories of excitement and batleworn glory — he hums, leaning his head against the column as he began to mull over the current state of the south. “yes time are hard,” jitae is aware most would call the bandits savages, and brutes, but fighting them face to face had made him all to keen to the complex nature of this war. “people become deseperate and want any chance to gain power, they increase in number but not in skill.” was that a tinge of arrogance? well, it wasn’t undeserved.

#m:djt #djt:001tsyi

IN THE DARKNESS OF THE PALACE, MINSTER HAN YOONSUNG MEETS WITH THE ESTEEMED FIRELORD CHAESAN @caethexis

once upon a time, many years ago when yoonsung did not spend his evenings lingering in the shadows when he did not carry the weight of his family’s past, present and future on his shoulders. a time when he was barely older than a boy who spent too much time lingering after his older brother, when he dreamed of living out his days quietly with only his poems and the sunset as company, yoonsung fell in love.

a naive sort of love — childish if he were to admit it now, one that was destined to fail from the start. one that when the sight of the girl washed over him like a glowing sunset during the autumn months — warm and amber-tinted. a time when the firelord was just chaesan, when he did not find himself consumed by doubt, anger, guilt and every emotion between in at her mere presence.

but time is all moving, it stops for no one.

he is not the young boy with poems on his mind. she is not the girl to who he confessed all those years ago.

yet when it’s only the two of them, sitting side by side, with the only the glow of candles illuminating the room, it’s almost easy to forget that time has moved on.

“your majesty,” yoonsung clears his throat, eyeing the length of the candle wick, “it’s getting late; perhaps it’d be best if we retire; we have much to do tomorrow.”

#m:hys #hys:01chaesan

IN THE CROWDED MARKET ROADS IN THE GOLDEN CITY, MINSTER HAN YOONSUNG MEETS LADY TAI HAENA @stvrmbxrn

the capital during the name day festivities was unlike any other time. the sounds of merchants selling their wares, the smell of spices from the various street foods, the chatter of children as they ran through the booths. yoonsung couldn’t help but wish that besides the stress of ensuring all went off a hitch, the capital city would be this lively throughout the year as he walked through the market, it was a rare but enjoyable affair.

a young woman in ruby passes by the minster — his eyebrows furrow, the faint sense of familiarity lingering as she continued on. it takes a moment, the memories of various scrolls detailing the various noble families and their eligible sons and daughters for marriage, the whispers from the shadows of something sinister happening aboard. a widow before she turned twenty-five, a shame they said — so young to have been tainted by death. not exactly a proper fit for any of the great noble han family, which leads to yoonsung quickly closing any idea for marriage between the youngest tai daughter with his dear brother.

but the minister was not the type to throw away a potential connection due to mere gossip — after all, there is usefulness to be found with anyone. and it seems that faith had brought them on the same path — in a way that would not cause whispers around the capital. leisurely, he steps closer to haena, an amicable smile on his lips as he calls out, “lady tai, hello, i see you’ve returned to the capital just in time for the festivities; how are you fairing?”

#m:hys #hys:01haena

seawherethesunsets

Nam Yoon Su as Lee Hyun The King’s Affection (2021)

#vis.jitae #lol so imma be busy for the next two days buttt i'll be on discord for plotting!

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