oh, pretty bird

CHOI HANEUL twenty-two. ventus. flyrogenesis. you have such a february face, so full of frost, of storm and cloudiness.

[hcneuls-blog]

kingcaide:

If there was one thing to know about Danny Kincaide it was that he ain’t give a shit about being on time. The only time he showed up on time for something was during his work shifts. He’d figured that being tardy would result in him being turned into a brainless zombie who mindlessly followed any orders given to him. Danny had little to no interest in walking around like that kid whose name was a fucking bird or Ashe who just all the qualifications for a mindless Eslwood zombie except with a hint of bitch mixed in for good measure. 

So when he shows up almost fifteen minutes late to the meeting (that he’d set up none the less) there wasn’t any room for surprise. He says whats up to his bros and grabs one of their shots because he can and begins scanning the bar for the familiar head of hair. She isn’t hard to spot – especially when you consider how alone she looks in a bar full of people. It takes less than a second for him to decide that she’d look so much better beside him and then he is sauntering over like the bar is in his fucking name.

“You actually decided to show up,” he says while sliding into the seat beside her and ordering something brown to get the night started off right. “You looked really lonely sitting over here by yourself– which I guess is how you usually look. Either way, what are you drinking tonight?”

Ten minutes go by, then fifteen, and she’s this close to thinking that Danny Kincaide will stand her up. But when he slides into the seat beside her, she lets out a small sigh of resignation. Life was never really fair. “A deal is a deal. Besides, if I show up for one time, it means that we can call it even and I don’t have to waste my time anymore.” She raises an eyebrow at him. Right? 

“Lonely would imply that I actually want people’s company, which I don’t, especially right now,” she pointed out. And definitely not his, but here she was. Maybe she had isolated herself somewhat since Young’s incident, keeping her circle to only a few. The rest could be called acquaintances, at the very least, and strangers at the most. Why should she socialize with every single person she came across, anyway? She wasn’t her brother.

“Whatever I feel like,” she answers, stirring the ice in her glass. “What about you? Whiskey? Brandy? Something that’ll make you more tolerable?”

[grace-adler]

[queensgcmbit]

alt!

CHOI HANEUL

First there were three.

(A girl, a brother, a best friend.)

Then there were two.

(A girl, a best friend.)

Then there was one.

(A girl.)

The girl does not believe in coincidences. She does not believe her brother has gone to a better place—he’s likely dead. Her friend who is not her friend anymore does not respond with the same smile unfolding on his face like sunshine. No, when he smiles at her, it is the same as he smiles at everyone, and this is how she confirms there is something wrong, dreadfully wrong, in this place, just as there is something dreadfully wrong with the boy who used to be her friend. But she is told everything is fine, that she is safe here, that she will be happy. 

(If that boy is happy, then she doesn’t want to be.)

They don’t know what to make of her; sometimes she is a wraith, created from the deaths of the only two people she ever cared about (but maybe there was a third, almost a third), a slip of a thing hidden behind walls only built higher to keep everyone out and let nothing in. Other times there is a strange fury in her eyes, an untapped anger hiding behind a nonchalant face and perfect makeup and sharp remarks. And sometimes, she is sad. Haunted. She mourns for what she has lost, what she could still lose. 

But despite it all, she refuses to break. She will not end up like her brother and her friend, she will not crack, she will not bend. She plays along for the most part, pushing the boundaries slowly and surely, testing how much she has left to lose (it’s not much). For what is a girl who has lost everything but the memories of ghosts? What is a girl who has traded one prison for another?

Then there were—-

[hcneuls-blog]

@kingcaide​

This is not how she thought she’d be spending her night, but she did agree to meeting him whenever, wherever. It’s not really a fair deal, giving up her evening for information she already knew, but Danny doesn’t strike her as someone who plays fair. Then again, neither is she.

(In hindsight, she should figured the file wouldn’t say shit---Elswood isn’t exactly forthcoming with information---but she’ll take any bit she can uncover).

She takes a seat at the bar when she walks in and sees no sign of him, orders a mojito, and scrolls through her phone while she waits, wondering what will happen first: finishing her drink or him showing up. Maybe, just maybe, if God exists, Danny will be a no-show and she’ll get to enjoy her drink in peace. 

She doesn’t really have her hopes up, though.

[justjaislater-blog]

“Fuck—”

He loves his job, he does, but if he has to play taste tester one more time, he might have to draw a line. Joe should really leave the brewing to the plant manipulators. Or anyone who has any taste in beer at all. Especially because whatever Jai just sipped on tastes like wet grass and regret.

Jai flinches as a hand straps on his shoulder. Mickey— or rather one of Mickey’s duplicates— murmuring something about not choking on the new brew in front of the customers into his ear. “Geez, alright.” Jai quickly removes the hand from his arm. And with that, Mickey 2.0 disappears behind a door in the back.

Sighing, Jai takes a step towards the bar, placing his hands down. Something smooth and 70′s hums through the speakers, the lights are dim. He forgets what they’re calling it this week— vaguely remembers something like Ugly Duckling— so he skips over the cordial welcome. A hand reaches toward an unopened can of that abomination Joe calls a beer, and Jai quickly pulls it backwards, perking a brow at the patron in front of the counter. 

“Trust me, you don’t wanna drink that. I’d recommend something more appealing, like… lighter fluid or… Drain-O.”

[hcneuls-blog]

Haneul raises an eyebrow, her hand retreating from where it had been moments earlier. “Are you getting me to fuck off or are you saving me? Anyway, I wasn’t planning on drinking it myself.” She jerks her head towards where some nondescript guy is sitting. He’s generically good-looking, with nice hair and a pressed shirt, but his generic good looks hide a mouth that won’t ever shut up. “I told him I’d get him a special, just for him. I saw your face when you drank that, so maybe if he has some, it’ll keep his mouth shut for once. And maybe get him out. ---Oh, but, you already know what I want by now.”

[diamanb]

[hcneuls-blog]

dexterthakkar:

“Uh huh. Sad, right? She doesn’t care, though. As long as she continues being able to boast about how little time it takes her to paint a house, people will continue eating it up and hiring her.“

“That’s called cheating the system. Unfortunately, we can’t all be honest and upstanding.” She shrugs. “Anyway, speaking of eating, do you want to try that new Japanese place that popped up? This guy in one of my classes said it’s pretty good.”

[hcneuls-blog]

kingcaide:

“You know, it’s working. I almost have a masters degree and you don’t really care about any of this, but I’m a fan of the sound of my own voice so I can keep going for hours.” His brow arched up. Danny had heard rumors about people like that, but he managed to avoid them as best he could. Elswood wasn’t his home and he didn’t want to hear about how anyone loved it. He also didn’t want to hear about how anyone hated it either. You had to generally have a neutral view of the place for him to care about your opinion. “Bleak? I prefer to take a realistic view of things. No need to get overly emotional.”

“That almost kind of made me think about being hurt.” Now that was an interesting reaction. Danny arched his brow at the sudden response from Hanuel and made a mental note to remember that her brother seemed to be a hot button topic. It could come in handy in the future. He has to laugh when she asks the question about his brother – he and David had never eaten together and even now, they lived on different sides of town, lived different lives. There was no need to even call them family. “He had a lot more power than you, I guess. A power like that can be useful. Who knows, maybe he isn’t dead, maybe they took him and are using him to power the town. He might be underground, helping us keep the place filled with light.”

 He closed the file and put it back in its rightful spot. “You need anything else?”

“No one else is a fan, so at least you have yourself to make up for that.” At least he’s aware she doesn’t care. “And there’s another thing we have in common.” There’s an underlying why does this keep happening? to her voice, but it is what it is. She would attribute her annoyance to seeing herself reflected back at her when speaking with him, but she decides it’s (mostly) because he’s an annoying dick. “Being overly emotional tends to screw shit up most of the time.”

“You can’t be all impenetrable.” She narrows her eyes slightly, lips set in a thin line. No one is invincible, not even those with powers that make them seem so. There is always a chink in the armor, a crack that can be shattered, some kind of weakness. People are not perfect, no matter how much one would like to think they are. (She’s far from perfect, she knows. She gave up pretending so.) 

“Maybe he is, maybe he isn’t.” She shrugs, brushing off the remark about her own power. It’s not particularly useful to anyone but herself, but since when was she a helpful person? Never mind the inferiority complex that comes with that. “Whatever it is, he’s not visible anymore, so who knows if he’s dead or Elswood’s own personal generator?” With the latter, he still has the chance of being alive. 

Hope is a dangerous thing.

“No, that’s it.” She picks up a complaint slip from the box and pulls out a pen from her purse, scribbling her number on the back before setting it on his desk. “Before you end up asking Roman or something for it, or getting my number from whatever godforsaken sources you have. A deal is a deal.”

[hcneuls-blog]

dylansnotdead:

Dylan gasps, places a hand over her heart, “On the first guess? You mean you didn’t volunteer to live in a town closed off from the rest of the world and go to school all over again? Unfathomable!” What’s actually surprising is Dylan’s ability to say that many syllables without tripping over them. “Wouldn’t you know it? We’re two for two; also kidnapped. Fifth anniversary’s coming up soon. Think they’ll get me a cake?”

Haneul actually laughs. Apparently she still has a sense of humor. “I know, shocking, right? It’s amazing that I didn’t come here thinking Elswood is the answer to all my prayers. You know, if I even prayed.” She pauses, pretending to ponder Dylan’s question. “You never know, they might. Five candles, perfect icing, way too sweet. Maybe they’ll even give you a card. With one of those personalized greetings in fancy font, like, ‘Happy anniversary, you’ll love Elswood even more next year! And for the rest of the your life!’”

[hcneuls-blog]

hawkechang:

“Yeah, mind scrambling isn’t really doing much for my general sense of direction,” he laughs, hollow and empty, like a joke that’s been played out too many times. And maybe it has–he didn’t know if he’d told that joke to her before. Lord knows it must be grating to hear it time and time again.

Hawke’s notes are scrambled, and his questions even moreso, the answers only on a few bits of paper that he’s bound together with staples and sheer force of will, but he finds the questions he’s looking for. “Did I ever have family back then? Or someone to run to? Aside from you, of course, not that I don’t appreciate you at all.”

“Eh, well, that’s why phones have GPS.” She cracks a smile. She’s heard the joke a million times over, but she doesn’t let on that she has. Ignorance is bliss, isn’t it?

In their case, it is not. Ignorance is a thousand questions, a sense of loss knotting in her stomach, a shadow of a smile she used to know, shared secrets fading into nothing.

“You had a family. A nice family. Nicer than mine, anyway---not that I’d call them family, anyway.” She clears her throat. “You had a mom and a dad; they split, but they’re both pretty cool as far as parents go. Your mom was lovely, she traveled a lot. Always came back with gifts. You dad married some guy at some point, and they were also really welcoming. They were good people. They tried their best.” There is a pause, as if she must force the next words out. Should she? Would she? Does Hawke remember him at all? Young was, after all, the catalyst. “And I had an older brother. His name was Young. He was...he was the one that balanced us, the three of us. He was our best friend. He came here with us, but he--- disappeared? Sometimes that happens to people here, you know, I’m sure you’ve heard.” Her voice grows quiet, cracking ever so slightly. “So, aside from me, he was the one you ran to. Does that answer your question?” And you loved him. You shouldn’t have, but you did.

[jvhdb]

[hxneuls]

choi haneul + tropes (insp.)

[hcneuls-blog]

dylansnotdead:

I wish I could drink. God this ghost was whiny, but Dylan was a few drinks in and the piercing voice was starting to get more blurry, softer. What was an under-aged ghost doing in a bar anyway? She doubted a teenager would be able to get sneak in with Elswood’s security, but hey, maybe that’s why they were dead. The ghosts have said things before, about what happened to them, how they were killed, but she ignores them so often she wonders if they’re just exaggerating to get a rise out of her. “How did you end up here?” she asks, only slightly desperate enough for conversation that she’s willing to talk to a ghost. Said ghost, however has become blurry enough to fade away, their eyes wide when Dylan finally addresses them directly, only to disappear completely now that her power has been sufficiently muted. The only problem with that is the person a couple seats down is visible now that the ghost isn’t. Well shit. “You know, like kidnapped or whatever.”

Haneul finds herself gravitating more towards the bar these days, and it’s so often now that one of the bartenders know her by name at this point. Whether it’s to forget memories that surface far too often, fragments of the time before, of or to drown out the proclamation of the entitled hipster who keeps going how kimchi was the next best thing since ube ice cream (both have been around for ages, thanks, where were you when your precious taste buds were on fire?), it’s nothing a little bit of alcohol can do the trick for. 

Temporarily, anyway. Everything is temporary, except for Elswood itself.

Her attention is diverted from her drink when someone appears to be asking her a question. If she’s being quite honest, she thought Dylan was talking to thin air (or to an invisible person or a ghost---you never know with people here), but when an awkward pause hangs in the air for a few beats too long, she decides to answer. 

“Kidnapped. You didn’t even have to guess twice. What about you?”

[hcneuls-blog]

headcanon 1

haneul doesn't have a set job per se, but instead freelances as various positions. part-time singer/musician, part-time translator (korean and english), part-time artist, whatever. having one job would bore her, so she's turned her hobbies and skills into marketable ones. she sings and plays piano, sometimes at the same time and sometimes not, for restaurants and bars, does data analytics for businesses who would rather not, commissions art for writers and whoever else, dabbles in interior design, etc.

[f-x]

수지 - YES NO MAYBE

[hcneuls-blog]

kingcaide:

“Leaving? Of course not. I’m in this place because my brother thought I’d be able to get a better education.” This part was half true – David brought him here because most of his money was being spent on graduate school on the outside. When Danny arrived, he fell in with the best people, with the same crowd that had followed behind him on the outside. Did he love Elswood? No, namely because that would require him being able to identify love as something other than a neurological con job. “I don’t think the place is great or good or really anything other than what it is.” He shrugs his shoulders, before looking down at the file. “It is what I do.”

“Not quite. I just think it’ll be fun. I hope you don’t disappoint.” He scans through the files and pulls out the one with the correct name and flips it open. A few minutes of searching gives him some interesting insight. “Seems I’m not the only one with brother problems.” Danny searches for something of interest but doesn’t find anything of interest other than the fact that Young was removed. The words “overuse of power” were there in bright letters. “Not really anything here other than that he overused his powers? I’ve power related disappearances before, it’s a pretty normal thing.”

“How’s that working out for you?” she asks absently, eyebrows raising. She doesn’t care, not really, and only hopes he’ll have graduated by the time she starts grad school. “That’s a bleak way of looking at it. Then again, you might be a condescending dick, but at least you’re not completely brainwashed into thinking Anya is our savior.” 

“I never disappoint. Not sure about you, though.” She crosses her arms almost defensively, her lips quirking into an irritated frown. Her brother isn’t a problem. He would never be. “Sorry, no, that’s just you. I don’t have any; Elswood was the one that seemed to think he was. Can’t imagine why---he was much nicer than me, but that’s not hard to believe. But I’m guessing you and your brother aren’t really best friends? No happy family dinners?” She smooths her features into something resembling cordial, keeping her voice level and a smile on her face.

At his answer, she rolls her eyes. Disappointing, but not surprising. “Could’ve figured that out on my own, but I just thought there might actually be something more that I don’t have access to without working here. They’re probably not really ones for details, anyway, if these files are open to others than just the head government. Or council. Or whatever the fuck it’s called.” 

[hcneuls-blog]

hawkechang:

@hcneuls

He forgets a lot of things, and when Hawke forgets, he goes to Haneul.

She says that they were friends back then, back before, and he isn’t one to dispute that at all–he needs all the friends he could have if he wants to navigate Elswood with the mind scrub on him. It took a good twenty minutes to find her place, with him ending up somewhere farther than he was supposed to be, but he was here at least. And not in the woods. Not this time.

“Haneul?” Knocking on her door politely, he waits outside, to see if he’s going to be sent away this time around. Maybe she’s lost her patience. Maybe she was just humoring him. Maybe he had the wrong door again. “I have–I’ve got more questions.”

He’s half an hour late. 

By this time, Haneul would start worrying, would start calling him, but just as she’s about to open her contacts, she hears a knock on the door. She opens it gently, ushering him inside and gesturing for him to sit on the sofa opposite to the spot where she had been previously sitting. 

“Did you get lost again?” she asks, though without irritation. It’s only natural he’ll get lost, considering the state his mind is in, considering how much he forgets and how little he remembers. He’s the last link she has left to her life before (not that she cares much about the before), and she’ll be damned if she loses him completely, too. “Okay, what are they?”