a sad song with nothing to say

i was raised feral, and i mostly stayed that way

[kmtaeyeon]

a model 🌟

[wvthering]

without a trace.

[hrsgyeowool]

hrsyeoreum‌:

“what are we waiting?” yeoreum asks her mother, watching as more people pass them by. “i should be there up front–”

then she sees. it’s not what they are waiting, but who. yeoreum looks at her mother, looks at her sister and sighs.

“what are you doing here?” she asks gyeowool, annoyed. this is not how she wants to remember the moment she honored her best friend.

she doesn’t want to go. 

there’s no reason to. it’d be just for show. so she decides not to. she was never close to goeun, or her fiancé. she knew them, of course. goeun was her sister’s best friend, she was ahra’s little sister. but they were never friends. but still. when her mother calls yet once again, gyeowool closes her eyes, stands up. better get this over with.

the crowd is to be expected. gyeowool feels out of place in the middle of it, walking around them while looking for her family. she tiptoes, looks on her phone again to check the place her mother mentioned they’d be waiting for her. she finds them after a few minutes, her mother waving with discretion. gyeowool smiles slightly at her. 

“thanks for waiting,” she says as she approaches them, and the relief in her mother’s eyes is enough to let her know she made the right choice by coming. the look yeoreum gives her is much less welcoming, though, and gyeowool didn’t expect anything but. even more after their little encounter at her school, though gyeowool is sure here, around their parents, this is something that has never happened. 

“paying my respects, isn’t it what this is for?” gyeowool replies, dry. she’s not in the mood for yeoreum’s mood right now, much less to be the victim of her bad side. “why? shouldn’t i?” she stares up at her. yeoreum has always been taller than her, ever since they were kids. she remembers a time when they were in primary school some teachers thought yeoreum was the older sister. lost memories, though. also buried, dead and gone. 

[hrsgyeowool]

and no heaven can help us

[hrsgyeowool]

hrskitaek‌:

it’s unfortunate that angrily drinking coffee doesn’t carry with it the image he’d like to make. so he gnaws on the end of his straw instead, an outlet for his aggression. “when’s it your business to know what i take anyway. you’re no doctor.” he glances sidelong at her, presses his lips together before he adds on a muttered out – “or my mother.”

he drinks down another gulp fast enough to ache at his skull, too much ice. he wonders if the caffeine will keep him up, maybe he shouldn’t have gotten a latte. or maybe he’ll just take a pill and force himself into sleep anyway. kitaek doesn’t really see a problem in that. 

“come judge me when you’re a suspect too, yeah?”

he’s sick of it.

the reaction is not what gyeowool was expecting. not that she’s a stranger to kitaek’s moods or anything of the sort. but even so it seems too much. the way he looks at her, chews on his straw. the way he replies with way too pointed anger, as though using the exact words that would piss her off.

too much for a quiet night out, it seems. 

“what the hell, kitaek?” gyeowool glances quickly at him, confused. bothered. she rides to the side of the world, stops the car. there’s no way she’s keeping up with this conversation while trying to stay focused on the road. she lets her breath out, her hands still tight against the wheel. “what, so do i need to be a doctor to worry about you? or your mother?” she turns around on her seat, looks at him. “that’s not how it works, kitaek.”

but it seems it does. her worry seems more to have bothered him than anything else and gyeowool once again is reminded of her place in people’s lives. of something she should’ve learned at this point. kitaek doesn’t need any saving. just like her sister doesn’t need it either. when they need her, they’ll call. that’s how they work, isn’t it? or where she stands, at least. 

gyeowool breathes in, and hest chest aches with air. 

“i wasn’t judging you, i was asking. it’s a shame you can’t see the difference,” from a friend, she wants to say, but it gets stuck. that her caring for him got misplaced for her judging him is something outside of her reach. she can worry about what kitaek is doing consciously, but what he feels, what he thinks, what he understands from what she says is beyond her. “but it doesn’t seem like the smartest idea to start getting drugged up exactly because you’re a suspect. as though the people in this fucking town are not sniffing around you to find even the slight misstep.”

[hrsgyeowool]

say you’ll haunt me

[hrsgyeowool]

hrsbyul‌:

“i’m only following protocol.” byul says at last. “been asking everyone about the same questions if they haven’t been answered yet, and that’s all there is to it. you can talk as little or as much as you’d like.” she pauses to gauge gyeowool’s expression, wonders if there’s something she should’ve been expecting. 

but expectations always lead to disappointment, don’t you know? 

“any questions for me before we begin?”

so here is where they stand. 

byul’s sarcasm is not new, or a surprise. but it hurts just the same, a note of where they’re starting off. and gyeowool feels foolish. foolish for expecting anything but this, for expecting that byul would’ve acted the way ahra did - with some reminiscence of what they once were. if not for what they almost were, at least for whatever friendship they once had. but maybe this is good, gyeowool thinks as she sits down, a smirk on her lips. she knows exactly where she’s stepping here. 

“the usual,” she tells the waitress, smiles back before looking back at byul, a the lines of her face, the softness of them lost in a blank expression. gyeowool stops herself. there’s no point in looking for the oh byul she once had here. 

“i always thought journalists tried to make things comfortable for the people they’re interviewing,” gyeowool says as she takes off her coat. is oddly hot in here, or maybe it’s just her discomfort. “but i guess not.”

she leans against her chair when the waitress brings her coffee. she looks at the dark liquid, takes a sip and clears her throat. what was she expecting? some nice reunion? that byul would’ve hugged her and the two of them would sit down and chat about their lives? it’s the sort of childish  expectations that gyeowool had thought to be already rid of, but all those sudden appearances suddenly brought back to life. 

“yes,” she nods, places the cup back on the table. “how have you been?” and she wants to know that. even if it’s foolish. byul had been a friend when she had no one else. byul had been there when she had nowhere to even cling to. a safe harbor. a sanctuary in those days. and even if she’s not anymore, gyeowool still wants to know about all those years that slipped her away. “you can tell me as little or as much as you’d like.”

she smiles, drinks again. regrets taking off her coat. under byul’s stare, she feels cold. 

[drewberrymohr]

1999 WILDFIRE

[hrsgyeowool]

ahrahrs‌:

“God, you look really good!” this time her words make a little more sense and she settles into her seat and smiles brightly across the table. “Really I’m happy to see you. How’s life been?”

@hrsgyeowool

the past should stay in the past. 

this is something gyeowool has repeated to herself for the past few years. the past can’t hurt her, not as much as she lets it. the past can’t reach out and grab her. whoever she was, whoever she was with, whatever she did has to stay back. buried. lived. done. that’s what she made herself believe, night after night. day after day. until it became true enough. 

but lately, all kinds of skeletons came back to wrap their fingers around her feet. 

gyeowool hadn’t believed it, at first. she had known it through yeoreum, who always knew everything, and who gyeowool knew only mentioned it to her to see a reaction out of her. gyeowool had remained calm then, the slight stir in her heart enough to comfort her. she  wouldn’t break because of this. she wouldn’t let it build up inside. 

but then her invitation came. and then gyeowool thought why not. they were friends back then, weren’t they? they were. it all fell apart, vanished the same way chaekyung and ahra herself did. but why would she say no? right now when she had lost her sister. gyeowool knew coming back to ilmyo wouldn’t have been easy, from personal experience. well, not really. she never even got to leave, but just the idea of it had been enough. losing the idea of it had already been enough to hurt. 

so he goes. like a fool, he goes. she dresses up for hat seems to be the first time in years, takes too long in front of the mirror, braiding her dark hair, picking up a dress. and deep inside she makes excuses for it. it’s a friend she hasn’t seen in years, why wouldn’t she look pretty?  it’s not for her, it’s not like that. whatever she felt for ahra, whatever she thought she felt was gone. dead. done. wasn’t it?

it had to be. it has to be.  it-

she arrives and her chest twists, torns, breaks apart. gyeowool regrets coming here right away, because now the past is here, and it’s watching her with a smile. it stands up and hugs her tightly, it speaks to her. gyeowool gasps in surprise, and the smell is the same. the exact same. so many years have passed, and gyeowool could’ve spotted her anywhere, knew it was her anywhere. she places a hand on her back, hesitant, tries a smile when ahra lets go of her because what else is she supposed to do?

“i-,” she starts, stutters, pauses. she ends up chuckling, places a strand of her behind her ear as she watches ahra sit back down, does the same. “i- sorry, it’s been so long,” she lets go of some air. compose yourself, she demands of herself and this time she smiles properly. “i’ve been fine. well,” she gestures around, “in this dead end. but what about you? i never thought i’d see you again.” she had hoped for it, at least. and also was terrified of it, all at once. all in one. “how are you holding up?” she wants to reach out, almost does so, but is reminded of the distance. of what they are now. gyeowool settles for a middle ground, places her hand on the table with a palm up. for ahra to reach, if she wishes. 

[hrsjooyoung-deactivated20200819]

✄ after hours

[hrsgyeowool]

hrsjooyoung‌:

as if on cue, the doors swing open and he quickly stamps out his cigarette and tucks his hands into his pockets. without acknowledging the other as she approaches, he strolls to the passenger side door of the truck, giving it a few tugs before it finally creaks open. “Your chariot awaits,” he says with a grin, gesturing her inside.

@hrsgyeowool

there’s this thing about the dead that gyeowool really likes:

they do not speak.

they don’t bother her. they don’t try coming up with clever conversation about the weather, or flyers, or when will she get married to a good man. no. gyeowool doesn’t have to worry about any of that while dressing them up, while making them look alive for one last goodbye. maybe at the beginning she had been a little uncomfortable that eeriness of it. it did look much worse than a bright new life in college. but maybe this is the closest thing gyeowool would ever get to med school after losing her scholarship. 

now, it’s home. it’s life. the same way her tiny apartment is home. the same way having jooyoung waiting for her at the end of her shift doesn’t bother her, though it also doesn’t make her heart skip in any way. and she’s sure she doesn’t make his chest any tighter around her. 

gyeowool’s life all seems like this dull, grayed-out mode now. she’s living the downgrade version of everything she once desired. 

“thank you,” she smiles, despite it all. because it’s not jooyoung’s fault, and she likes him as a friend, if that’s what they are. gyeowool is not really sure, still. when is she ever, anyway? living people seem much scarier than any corpse she had ever seen. 

gyeowool sits on her car, chuckles as he closes the door. when he’s inside, she leans against the seat, closing her eyes. she’s exhausted. “is it okay if we stop somewhere to grab some food? i’m starving.”

[hrsminseok-deactivated20200621]

friends or foes

[hrsgyeowool]

hrsminseok‌:

“look while that is actually a little offensive, i’m not looking to make a mess.” at least not an even bigger one. “i promise you won’t get in trouble. i promise you won’t get hurt. i- i just need your help on this one.” maybe that would do the trick… pretending he needed her.  “can you just trust me on this one? you know kitaek will kill me if i let anything happen to you.”

gyeowool stares at him, annoyed. “that’s not how cats work, minseok,” she says, but there’s no bite anymore, almost a hint of amusement. he goes on and gyeowool stops, her door key hanging on her fingers. it’s always an interesting thing to watch minseok soften. he’s never soft around her. never nice. but that’s just the way they are with each other, isn’t it? always bearing their fangs. 

she bites down a smile, shrugs. but places her keys back in her pocket, the first step to giving in. 

“i promise you won-t get in trouble,” she echoes, scoffs. “that’s a hard promise to keep, you know.” she picks up the helmet on top of the seat she’s supposed to get up on. she stares at the bike with dount, almost discontent. she’s not that big of a fan of riding to wherever with kim minseok without even knowing what he’s up to. she heaves out a heavy sigh. “okay. fine. but no smoking,” she warns, places the helmet on her head and gets on the motorcycle right behind him. 

her hands shiver a bit as he starts and she holds on to him tight, a startled scream escaping her lips as he makes his way to the road. gyeowool holds her breath, already regretting falling for the whole “i need you” trap, but now there’s no turning back. she’s off to wherever he’s taking her.  

[hrsgyeowool]

you’ll find me in the world of yesterday

[hrsgyeowool]

hrsyeoreum‌:

yeoreum watches when her sister breaks into the room, doesn’t bother to put the cigarette out. she breathes in, breathes out. shruggs. “that i deserve after all the stress their kids put me through.” it’s not what they would say, but it’s what yeoreum deserves to hear.

“thanks for coming.” she whispers, hopes gyeowool will hear it. then she waits for gyeowool to leave, there’s no need to extend their time together for too long. god knows they both don’t want it. or at least yeoreum doesn’t.

gyeowool scoffs at what she says at first, rolls her eyes. yes, of course, that’s what they’d say. that’s what anyone would say seeing yeoreum smoking. not that anyone has ever seen it, her sister’s image is too pristine to be a smoker. and as gyeowool watches her leaving the room, as dignified as anyone can look while jumping out of a window in the middle of the night, pristine is exactly what her sister looks like. perfect clothes. perfect long hair. even her face, the perfect amount of makeup applied - not too much, but also not too little for any imperfection to show. 

gyeowool feels exhausted just by looking at her. 

the cigarette doesn’t fit. the smoke prickles gyeowool’s eyes and she makes a disgusted face, takes a step back away from yeoreum. not that her sister will even care she’s annoyed, or that the damn smoke makes her throat close up. if anything, gyeowool can see her exhaling it on her face. 

“you’re welcome,” she replies with a scoff, and she says it out loud. no whispers. no hiding. “you got me scared by your call.” she starts, and the end of the sentence goes without saying. you never call, so i got startled. you never reach out like this, not to me. “thought it was something serious.” she can see hurry in yeoreum’s stance. she doesn’t want her here. she doesn’t want to stay here. that, alone, makes gyeowool’s chest twist and turn.  in a very unwelcome way. she clears her throat, against the smoke. “why did you even call me? no one else picked up your call?”

[hrsgyeowool]

soulmate dry your eye

@hrsloren

loneliness is some sort of an acquired taste to gyeowool. she can't claim to be the born introvert, it was more of the sort of wisdom only life can teach you. people, gyeowool learns, are fickle and dangerous and better to be kept at a distance. she's been one to crave for the crowds once but now she stays away as much as possible as much as she can.

here is information about jung gyeowool: she doesn't have many friends.

but the ones she has she keeps safe, close to her heart. the ones she has she'd go to wars to keep well. even the ones who don't need it. even the ones who are war in itself. but ren. well, is she even a friend? that sounds too little by the sort of warmth gyeowool feels in her heart whenever she's near. it sounds weak. but it also doesn't seem right to think of her as a sister. the word sister doesn't have the right weight to it. or maybe it's just gyeowool's experience with the concept.

she pours more wine to herself, not too worried about tomorrow's headache. tomorrow gyeowool will fill herself with medication, tonight she just wants to feel nice. she just wants to be with someone that makes loneliness feel less like company. she wants. ah. but that sounds so stupid.

wanting to feel loved.

“this town is going to be a nightmare now,” gyeowool says, letting her head fall on her arm. the two of them are lying on her bed, and one of her cats butt heads her hand. gyeowool smiles. her cats very rarely like strangers, but ren seems to be the exception to a lot of her rules - not only hers, it seems.  “more than usual. with all these flyers going around now. everywhere i go people are talking about it,” she lets out a sigh, picks up the cat and places it on top of her. “they just can’t let them rest, can they.”

[hrsgyeowool]

and no heaven can help us

[hrsgyeowool]

hrskitaek‌:

“i have a headache.” his head bangs against the glass again when the tire dips into a pothole. it’s his own doing – most everything is.

gyeowool shrugs at his questions, eyes on the road. she had a place in mind when she left home but now it feels more like a lingering through in the back of her mind. her fingers tingle and she presses them harder around the wheel, intent in being quiet about what she felt in his pocket. whatever kitaek does with his time it’s his own, and gyeowool is not the prying type. she has never been the prying type.

but she has her soft spots, doesn’t she? the same way she sometimes listens with more attention whenever she picks up people mentioning her sister, mothers of her students. the same way she feels his chest tighten whenever her coworkers start speaking about the murders and kitaek’s name come along with their whispers. 

he’s an odd one, isn’t he? they say, and gyeowool leaves the room, half hurt, half wondering. it’s not that gyeowool is naive enough to blindly believe in anyone’s innocence, but deep in her gut she knows it wasn’t kitaek. it couldn’t have been. in gyeowool’s opinion, there’s far more suspicious people in this town. 

so even though she doesn’t want to pry, doesn’t like to pry, the question linger in her mind. is he doing anything dangerous? that sounds like him. to find something to take the edge off. she couldn’t blame him, but worry comes like a wave, washes it over, makes her bite her lower bit in a known anxious habit. she throws a glance at him, his eyes lost on the darkness outside. 

“don’t you have some meds with you? in your pocket?” she says, tries. it takes a lot out of her not to roll her eyes at her own self, but perhaps it’s true. maybe they are just simple medication. kitaek is always complaining about headaches. maybe it’s nothing. 

she hopes it’s nothing. 

[hrsgyeowool]

say you’ll haunt me

@hrsbyul

the whole way to the coffee shop goes by like a flash, and gyeowool feels like she’s having an out of body experience. because it just doesn’t seem real. does it? sitting in her car, driving to the coffee shop. that part is not that odd, she does that almost every day. to meet oh byul. 

gyeowool knew she was back in town. not from some rumors, but through her own eyes. when gyeowool first saw her walking down ilmyeo for a second she thought maybe she was seeing a ghost. maybe all ghosts were coming back to town as they were cursed by all those disappearances and murders. but whatever effect byul had in her was completely lost in the other woman -- she walked pass her, sunglasses on, almost as though the ghost there was gyeowool herself. 

truth be told, gyeowool was thankful. after their last meeting it was a small mercy to be completely ignored, and much more than she deserved. but there’s no use in dwelling on their past. 

until her message came. short and professional, an invitation. gyeowool reads it twice because at first she doesn’t quite believe it. why would she call her? and why out of the sudden like this? though knowing byul as she did, as she thought she did, she never did things out of nowhere. so gyeowool confirms her presence, and now here she is. 

it takes her a second to spot her inside the coffee shop, and once she does there’s something inside of gyeowool that shits, changes. she stares at the woman sitting by the window, too captured by her own phone to notice gyeowool arriving and for the split of a second, it’s like gyeowool is back in the past. byul’s eyes, her trembling hands. her-

“hello,” she says as she approaches her, bows in her greeting. even tries a smile. gyeowool is not too sure of how to proceed. they were once so close but they’re not friends anymore, but where do they stand now? gyeowool doesn’t need much time to get her answer, the way byul looks at her says it all. they’re nothing. “may i sit?”

[kidleadertaeng]

taeyeon_ss

[hrsminseok-deactivated20200621]

friends or foes

[hrsgyeowool]

hrsminseok‌:

“oh, so you are alive.”. he almost sounds annoyed that she is. though its more that she kept him waiting. jumps back to his feet almost instantly to block the door before she could rush in and go back into hiding. “get on,” he follows his first words with an order, nodding towards his bike before flicking the remainders of his cigarette to the ground and stomping it to dust.

@hrsgyeowool

here’s the thing about kim minseok: he’s always there whenever she doesn’t want him to be. 

which is a lot, truth be told. gyeowool is not particularly fond of him, not in the way she’s fond of kitaek or ren. not with tenderness or softness. not in the way she feels she could change the fabrics of the world if they ever need her to. no. gyeowool likes minseok to some points, and detests him for others. the way he shows up in the front of her home completely uninvited with a fucking bat on his hand?

one of the things she detests. 

“observant,” gyeowool says as she cocks an eyebrow at him. she stares at the cigarette in his mouth with disgust. it’s always the same argument. gyeowool will complain about the damn smoke in her eyes and the way it makes her clothes stink, he’ll tell her to stick it up and shut up. and so forth, and so on. she doesn’t even have the energy to say anything this time because soon enough he’s throwing it on the floor. better. gyeowool takes is as an olive branch of sorts.

“i’m not going anywhere, minseok,” she says, sounding overly tired. “i need to feed the cats. and besides, i’m not getting on that thing. do you even have a proper license?” she looks at his motorcycle with doubt. she doesn’t trust to ride on that thing not even for a second. and minseok’s fame is not that good when around vehicles, to be all that honest. “whatever. mess. you’re thinking of doing. just don’t count me in this time, okay?” she says, motions with his hand for him to move. the way one would shush a dog.

[hrsgyeowool]

and no heaven can help us

@hrskitaek

there’s something about kitaek that makes gyeowool feel quiet.

but quiet in the good sense of the word. not quiet as in silent, or unwilling to speak. it’s as though when she’s with him the ongoing storm inside her chest quiet down to a soft drizzle, and she can breathe, be. she doesn’t know what it is exactly but it’s there. maybe something about his face, the pretty and soft lines, the way he looks at her with attention. seeing her. actually seeing her.

or maybe it’s just good to have a friend. of sorts. if she could call it that, or allow herself to call it that to be more precise. it’s a difficult thing, you know. when you got used to the idea that no one can see any worth in you.

but kitaek does. maybe. enough to call her in some lazy end of afternoon, night falling already as she pulls to his house and drives him to the coffee shop so they can get some food and drive somewhere off. to drink. to talk. or to just be quiet. whatever they feel like.

the coffee shop is empty and gyeowool plays with her phone while kitaek places their order. it’s almost a reflex whenever she’s in public, to look on her phone, to seem unbothered. but she can almost feel it in her skin. the stares. the whispers. more at him than her, she knows. gyeowool’s rumors go too far past for people to even bother that much. the girl who tried to poison another girl back at school, don’t you remember?

but kitaek. well. the rumors around him never went away. the way people treat him never went away. so when the waiter hands them their food, gyeowool watches as he picks it up, hoops a finger in the pocket of his jacket and drags him out of there. she picks one of the coffees to try to ease his task so they can get to her car soon and be out of there. but just as they head out of the shop, suddenly his phone starts to ring, making kitaek pause at the door. 

and it’s almost a reflex. when she reaches out to his pocket to pick his phone for him. they are friends, so she just does it, without thinking. she doesn’t think as well as her fingers touch something else, something cylindrical that makes a known noise. she tries to ignore it though, picks up the phone and hands it to him in exchange for the other coffee so he can pick it up. 

then, she waits. 

gyeowool leans against her car, the faint feeling of the package against her fingers, the noise the pills made as they rattled against each other. it’s not her business, she reminds herself as she watches him on the phone. it’s not her fucking business. and it could be anything. it could. she tries to shove the thought to the back of her head. so when kitaek walks back to her she offers him his coffee, tries a smile. “important call?” she asks as she opens her car’s door. “take care of the coffee, i just got it washed,” she adds as they sit down. “and seatbelt, please.”

[hrsgyeowool]

you’ll find me in the world of yesterday

@hrsyeoreum

schools at night always feel like a dream. or a nightmare. maybe in her case it’s more like a nightmare. gyeowool has close to none good memories of the place, of its grounds, of everywhere. and it’s kind of creepy the way it seems like nothing changed as she walks through the grounds. everything is the same, suffocatingly so. gyeowool clings to her coat and marches on, her heart uneasy. 

she feels stupid for being here. no. she decidedly is stupid for being here. she shouldn’t be here in all accounts -- be it for her mental health, be it for the the fact that if any security does catch her here she’ll be in trouble. but the biggest reason why she’s stupid for being reason is the why she’s here. 

at this point, gyeowool should’ve learned to say no to yeoreum. 

she takes a turn, away from her last memories. high school was the sort of hell she’d never want to face again and it feels good that she can just turn her back to it now. sixteen-year-old gyeowool would’ve envied her for sure. but her sister is not waiting for her there, in those long lost memories. though in a way, she is. the yeoreum that still smiles and breathes in gyeowool’s heart is lost to her, and her heart is the only place she still exists. 

once she arrives on the outside of the classroom, gyeowool sighs. for a second, the splint of it, the breath of it, she thinks of leaving. just turning around and leaving yeoreum stuck in her classroom like she deserves to be. because if she was stupid enough to do this, then why is gyeowool the one outside with a fucking crowbar ready to get her out of it?

oh well. maybe that’s what she’s always been for her, in the end. 

gyeowool looks inside before vandalizing the wrong room. inside, her sister sits in the dark, the only light the faint flame of her cigarette. gyeowool makes a face. then she hits the window. 

“what will the kids’ parents say?” she shouts, glaring at the thing. when their eyes meet, gyeowool’s heart twists in an unpleasant manner. she hates what she sees there in her eyes. and this is the thing. it’s not hatred. not annoyance. not anger. resentment, even. 

she sees nothing. 

[hrsgyeowool]

raise your hand who’s excited!!

hello! my name is lana and i’ve been waiting for this opening with much enthusiasm. i haven’t been in krp for a minute, so be kind and gentle with me. a few things that may be important to know about me as a mun is:

my timezone is gmt+1  i work full time so i may be a little slow on replies here and then. please don’t hate me.  i have a thing for angsty plots so don’t mind me if i’m suddenly bringing up some random drama to a fairly chill plot. i thrive on pain and suffering. 

now, about who matters. my girl jung gyeowool is 29, and has small silent breakdowns whenever she remembers she’s turning 30 next year but she’ll deal. i have a more detailed about here but i’ll throw a tl;dr version because why not:

- rosefinch canon, bscly used to run with the popular girls and got outcasted.  - lark told everyone she tried to poison her and she lost a scholarship. needless to say she has lark on very high regards.  - from bright and lively, gyeowool turned into a very cold, mature, withdrawn, quiet girl. after losing her scholarship she settled down to a job in the city’s funerary. she’s sort of a do it all there, honestly.  - she doesn’t mind her job, and doesn’t mind her lack of prospects. has a small place far from downtown, a hand me down car and very few people to call her friends.  - she will feel closer to outcasts, people who weren’t in her group in high school, people who society as a whole also turned down. so i feel she can have good plots with canons like magpie, wren.  - sister to chickadee, tho some ppl even don’t know that by how chickadee treats her.  - gyeowool is very thoughtful, and she can make a really good friend to someone who can understand that she has built a giant wall guarded by a river and crocodiles around her. she very rarely will let someone in, and when she does there’ll still be some distance.  - pessimistic, she doesn’t trust people. expects the worse in every situation. doesn’t see a way out of the sort of life she has now.  - very sensible. enjoys sad music, has three cats and many plants around her home. she enjoys writing short poems that she never shows anyone. 

ok. i also have some plot ideas but I need to confess I ended up not being able to write them down. but i’ll be off today and hitting you all up so we can plot our little bbs and all that. i’ll also finish her plot page to make things easier. 

hope we all have a great time, folks!

[kamadaeva]

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