he is a weapon, a killer. do not forget it.
you can use a spear as a walking stick,
but that will not change its nature.
sehwan lee; 40 yrs | florist at l'or vert
tw: divorce, parental death, murder, law enforcement, substance abuse mention
Lee Sehwan ( Daniel Henney ) was raised in Parisby his South Korean mother after his parents divorced. His mother brought him up to be a kind, loving, young man with a strong desire to protect those around him. When he graduated from high school, Sehwan went to the U.S. to track down his absent father and to go to university. His search for his father only lead to disappointment, but it was during his education at the University of Richmond that Sehwan finally figured out what he wanted to do with his life. After working his way up the ranks of the secret service, he was assigned to the senator of Maryland seven years ago. He ended up falling in love with the senator’s daughter who, unfortunately, was killed five years ago in retaliation to her father’s political dealings. The guilt he felt sent him in a downward spiral. For the last four years he has wandered from place to place, drowning his grief and guilt in alcohol, drugs and sex until his cousin snapped him out of it a year ago and he managed to return back to the city where he grew up.
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about
Full Name/Nickname: Lee Sehwan
Age/DOB: 40 / September 30,1982
Zodiac Sign: Libra
Gender: Cis-male
Place of Birth: Arlington, Virginia, USA
Arrondissement: Entrepot
Sexual/Romantic Orientations: Heterosexual
Religion: Non religious
Occupation: florist at L’or Vert
personality
Goals/Desires: To protect those around him, to feel safe, to help the ones he cares about to feel safe, to feel less like the shadow of who he once was
Fears: Not being able to protect the people he cares about,
Hobbies: Gardening, spending time in nature, singing, collecting stamps
Likes & Dislikes: He loves dogs, especially his dog, Min. He likes puzzles and science but is terrible at both. He adores music but can’t listen to it at all if he’s trying to concentrate on anything. He dislikes wearing shoes in the house or people who wear their shoes in the house and even worse, put them on the furniture (couch, bed, etc). He can’t stand tea and only drinks black coffee.
Hogwarts House: Gryffindor
family
Parents: Trevor Morris ( alive, but estranged relationship with Sehwan ) and Lee Eunjin ( deceased )
Sibling(s): N/A
Cousin(s): Serina Thyssen
Pet(s): A golden retriever he rescued named Min
potential connections
connections to his old life/secret service days:
people who knew the girl he fell in love with & was killed. she was a rich socialite/daughter of a politician
people who he was friends with/knew during that part of his life but who he ghosted when said girl was killed & disappeared for several years
ANYTHINNNNNNNG CONNECTED TO THE KILLING!! (maybe whoever killed her has been trying to track him down all these years later to tie up loose ends?)
connections to his childhood in paris:
childhood/family friends
childhood crush
connections to his spiral
5 years ago, after said girl was killed & he ghosted, he disappeared for a while. traveling to middle of nowhere places all over the world where he drowned his pain & guilt in alcohol, drugs & probably sex
connections to his current job/current life here in paris:
works at l’or vert so co-workers
someone who SEES him. sees the pain he’s in, the struggle to do/be better & not go back to his spiral, and they encourage him some how, kind of helps him deal, is a bit like a saving grace
these are ALL just vague ideas, happy to build on ANY part of them!!
Sanchit nodded quickly. “Oh yes! I mean, my heart is racing like crazy, but that’s pretty normal. I’ve been in biking accidents before,” they said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. In a way it was, the centre of their hometown was mostly bikes, but there were very many ways to get into a tangle with cars or pedestrians or even other bikes. “Thank you,” they added, aware of the offer of kindness. “I really think I overestimated my balance… or you, if there were no cars whatsoever, I totally would’ve made it home!”
—
“So this isn’t a first, hmm?” He offered the person a teasing grin. Sehwan couldn’t help but wonder if they chose to ride their bike in inclement weather on a regular occurrence. “No problem at all. Though, I hope this whole thing helps you think twice about riding that thing in a snow storm.” He teased, slapping the person’s shoulder playfully. “How much further are you headed?”
Somehow, Sehwan looks exactly the same to her as he did when they were small, even as a grown adult. When she looks at him she can’t help but picture the little boy she’d spend all of her time with as a child, doing crafts with his mother and baking with her grandmother or going to the park with them both. It’s almost painful to think of for her, so Elise can’t imagine what seeing her again must be like for him. She can almost catch it on his features, noticing the small shift in emotion that crosses over him as he brings his gaze away from her. It nearly breaks her heart, even though part of her is livid with him for not reaching out after he’d clearly gotten himself settled back in Paris, with a job at a flower shop and all. But then she watches as a smile spreads across his features and Elise can’t be nearly as angry at him as she wants to be, though she tries.
“I live here,” she says blatantly, quiet irritation flowing through her words. “Well, not here, but here. In Paris.” For nearly a decade, she wants to add, but Sehwan likely wouldn’t know that. They haven’t spoken much since his mother’s funeral, and even then conversation had been brief. He’d been grieving and she didn’t want to overwhelm him, as much as she could relate to the heartache he felt over losing the woman Elise quite honestly considered to be a mother to her as well. She turns to him fully, hands wringing together nervously as her brows crease together. “You didn’t tell me you were coming home.”
—
His gaze stays trained on Elise a moment longer than is probably necessary. He’s just still not convinced this is all real. It’s almost unnerving how much a single person can bring back so many of his memories from childhood that he had long ago worked to bury so deep beneath his subconscious. Part of him had to work hard not to wince, pulling away from the emotional onslaught of so many memories overwhelming him at once. It wasn’t that they were bad memories, in fact, they were probably some of the happiest in his life. But they were laced with the presence of his mother and the fact that she was no longer around to create more memories with was still almost too painful to bear for Sehwan. But another part of him, couldn’t help but revel in the familiarity of it all. There were few, if any, people left who held so many shared memories with him and his mother. Elise, whether or not they’d been in contact in the last few years, was an integral part of his past and he hoped that this reunion could mean she would play just as big a role in his future.
When she finally spoke, snapping him out of his memory induced trance, he notes the irritation in her voice, her stance, everything. He can’t help but find it funny, reassuring even, that after all these years he can still read her... even if it’s just a bit. A chuckle escapes his lips in what is probably the worst moment since she is clearly annoyed at him. Then it hits him. As her last statement washes over him, he realizes what an incredible ass he has been. This time he really does wince. “Shit, Lise, I’m sorry.” His apology is sincere as he takes a couple more steps towards her so they no longer have to talk across the shop to each other. He reaches up to tug a hand through his short hair, a tell tale sign of frustration - with himself. “I’ve been painfully self-absorbed for the last few- well years.” he admitted. He couldn’t go into all of the details of the last six years, the dark spiral he had been in before his cousin finally managed to drag his ass back to reality, but he wanted her to know he was genuine in his apology. “I’m only just starting to settle in and working on getting my act back together.” It wasn’t much, but this was probably the most in depth description of where he was at currently that he had given to anyone since returning to Paris. But if there was anyone he was going to push himself to open up with, it was Elise.
Snow and ice may have made a home in the city in the last few days, but Elise has been determined to ignore the cold and bring some brightness to her home. So she’s made her way to a floral shop she hasn’t yet gotten to explore yet on the other side of the city, determined to find the best flowers and plants in Paris to litter her home with. She’s only heard good things about L’or Vert, checking it out for herself is just a given at this point. She’s milling around the small shop, running her fingers gently over the array of florals when she hears a noise behind her and she glances towards it — and the man she sees entering the shop from the back leaves her frozen in place.
“Sehwan.” His name leaves her lips almost in a breath, loud enough for him to hear but too quiet to show she’s absolutely sure it’s him. Something bubbles up inside of her at the sight of him that Elise can’t quite place, an overwhelming assortment of feelings that she can’t keep locked away. In part, she’s sure she must be dreaming, or hallucinating. She’s almost convinced the man in front of her will disappear as soon as she gets a grip on herself, and she’ll blink once only to find he’s morphed into a complete stranger once she opens her eyes. So she does just that, blinking not once but twice for good measure — but Sehwan still stands there. All it does is leave her more confused. “What are you doing here?” she asks, followed by a thick swallow as she gives him a once over in an attempt to keep her emotions at bay. It doesn’t work well. “Why are you covered in dirt?”
—
It was just another day, well except for the freakishly cold weather they had been experiencing lately, where Sehwan happily - or at least, as happily as Sehwan could these days - buried himself in his work at L’Or Vert, literally. It was just another day as he came in from working out in the greenhouse, ensuring the plants out there were warm enough to fight off the chill from the storm, until all of a sudden, it was anything but just another day. “Elise.” Her name was just as much a question as anything else as it fell from his lips, though he wasn’t sure if he’d actually said it loud enough for anyone but him to hear. Almost instinctively, without really making the conscious choice to do so, his lips pulled upwards in a smile at seeing her.
The sight of his childhood best friend had practically taken his breath away. Something seemed to tug on his chest as he stared at her, memories from their shared past flashing before his eyes, brought to a screeching halt when one particular memory of his mother trying to teach the two of them how to make maedeup, a traditional Korean, craft of making decorative knots. It was impossible to remember his shared childhood with Elise without his mother. Her touch was present in each and every memory, whether or not she had physically been there in that moment. Averting his gaze as he gathered his emotions together, Sehwan clamped down on the memories that threatened to flood over him. When he brought his eyes up to meet hers, taking a few tentative steps towards her, his smile was genuine. “I work here.” he replied, casually taking the gloves he had been wearing off as if this wasn’t a huge turn of events for him. “Man, it’s great to see you, Lise! Are you in town for a visit?”
starter for: @alyayd
location: alya’s apartment building in elysee
Sehwan let out a sigh as he let himself into the apartment building. In the year that he had been back in Paris, he had gone through 2 tenants at the apartment his mother had left for him. Not because it wasn’t a wonderful apartment - it absolutely was. But because he somehow managed to attract the flakiest tenants. As he took the stairs leading up to the 5th floor - preferring the physical exertion of the stairs to the cramped space of the elevator - Sehwan felt the familiar pang in his chest. Even after being here for a year and several visits to said tenants, he was still always struck by the lack of his mother’s presence when he walked into the familiar building. He couldn’t believe it had been eight years since she had walked these halls. But he quickly shook himself out of said thoughts as he began taking the stairs two at a time.
When he finally made it to the 5th floor, he moved to let himself into the apartment. The latest tenants had moved out after just 7 months as they were expats and had been relocated to some other European city by their jobs, their one complaint that the front door often got stuck. He had to shove his shoulder against the door to get it to open even after he unlocked it, a resounding noise echoing through the hallway, so he couldn’t really blame them. As they’d left quite suddenly, he hadn’t had a chance to inspect the apartment till now. Leaving the door open, he walked into the living room, immediately noticing the scratches and chips of the paint in the living room, where furniture had no doubt been bumped against the walls. Slowly, he walked into the kitchen, inspecting drawers as he went.
WHERE: outside of a grocery store WITH @paristarters
Sanchit wasn’t new to snow storms. Though they had seen videos of them in other countries, West-Europe was pretty mild in comparison. It was mostly a lot of wet snow and very very icy roads. To a point where trains would stop driving - which they already did regularly - or people were told not to drive their cars around. Paris was different, people took it way more seriously. While Sanchit, as smart as they were being, was biking. They had to slow down for a car and almost fell on their butt. Despite it, they were laughing, pulling their bike from the ground and sliding to the sidewalk. “That was a good safe right?”
—
Sehwan couldn’t believe the snow storm they were being blasted with currently. As he purchased a few necessities, in case he needed to hunker down in his apartment for a while, he scanned his childhood memories, trying to remember if he’d ever experienced weather like this in Paris. He couldn’t. And as he grabbed his bag of groceries and headed out of the grocery store, he let out a sigh, pulling his hood up over his head. He had just set off for the short walk to his apartment when the screeching of brakes against bicycle tires jolted him to attention just a few feet away. As his heart began to slowly return to normal speed upon realizing no one was hurt, Sehwan nimbly closed the distance to where the biker was getting to their feet. He was reaching down to offer what help he could in steadying the person, when he heard the biker’s laughter. “I don’t know about a good one, but it was a save, alright.” he responded, with a chuckle and a shake of his head, giving the other a quick once over to make sure there weren’t any visible signs of injury. “You sure you’re alright?” he asked, unable to step away from that protective nature in him, even when it came to strangers.
