DARKEST HOUR

[iseul-choi]

[iseul-choi]

thundcrstcrms​:

status: open. location: the spot. @slayershqstarters​

Connie was the sort of bartender that didn’t speak unless spoken too. He was a listener. The sort that listened to women cry about the fourth man that’d broken her heart that month. He didn’t offer advice – he’d learned early on that that was a terrible idea. People, especially humans, didn’t want to fix their problems. They just wanted to complain about them and act like their misery was no fault of their own. 

The Spot was mostly empty tonight, which meant Connie had been blessed with ten whole minutes of silence before he was waved over. 

He had a sort of sullen look to him, eyes too-wide, sunken into his face, mouth a pinch too big. It usually served well to put people at ease when he cracked a soft-edged smile. “Yeah? What’ll it be?” 

He hated the smell of bars - sweat, liquor, and grease. The uncomfortable odor of humans wafted from every packed up corner. Iseul fought a grimace when he approached the bar, picking out an empty chair to sit down, not caring enough to look over the man who spoke up: “Beer,” The fae answered, shrugging off his jacket. “Whatever you’ve got on tap’s fine.” He pulled out his wallet, picking out a few bills that covered his drink and then some. 

“‘M looking for someone,” Iseul said, fingers over the money, his gaze finally fliting up to meet the other’s. “You think you can help me with a few questions?”

[iseul-choi]

(ok taecyeon , cismale, n/a) VIGILANTE has their eye on CHOI ISEUL. HE is a THIRTY FIVE YEAR-OLD FAERIE who lives in THE SOUTH SIDE. according to VIGILANTE’s intel, they work as a MERCENARY  and are known for being CLEVER and DISLOYAL. hopefully, they don’t give VIGILANTE a reason to strike.

Iseul’s childhood, if asked, he’d say was unremarkable. He could recall easily the smell of his home, a small backyard painted in perpetual autumn colors - dull browns and vibrant yellows. His mother picking up leaves and pressing them between the pages of heavy books that lined the shelves of father’s study. Daehyun Choi was a quiet, unassuming man who spent more time with his books than with people. He spoke in quotes and carried the scent of ink and pages with him. The only magical thing about Daehyun was his wife - a faerie.

Jiwon had yellow spots in her eyes and the sound of her laughter echoed clear like mischievous bells. The family had two children - Iseul and Ilsung. Iseul and his brother couldn’t have been any different. Their mother joked that Iseul had inherited their father’s sullen nature, the love for quiet and solitude where Ilsung was her spitting image - fiery, bright and with a desire for adventure, for exploring.

Jiwon couldn’t have been more right. But the boys loved each other. Inseparable, always by each other’s side - Iseul quiet, ever willing to follow his brother’s unwise ideas that more often than not got them in trouble. He did so patiently, quietly, and without protests. When Iseul’s university letter of acceptance arrived, Ilsung decided he’d enlist instead. Without a moment of doubt, Iseul followed him in that too, balling up the letter and tossing it in the trash without a word.

Five years ago in September 2016 his brother was declared MIA and Iseul still refuses to accept that. It seems impossible, he knows, deep down somewhere that it can’t be true. That somehow he would know. His parents begged, pleaded with him to stop searching, to mourn - properly, to move on. It’s what Ilsung would’ve wanted, they’d say. Iseul hadn’t spoken to either of them in years. Now he works as a mercenary - selling his skills for those who have use of them to make money while hoping to figure out what happened to Ilsung.

[iseul-choi]