Moon-Hwa

[moon-hwa]

[moon-hwa]

with: @haelimthewatcher when: recent days; evening time where: the bazaar in eterna notes: as we discussed in da dm's!

It was said all Witchers developed a sixth sense, a supernatural perception for danger. As Moon strolled through the market that evening, her blood began to tingle - someone was following her. Whether it was due to that sixth sense, or the fact her own flesh and blood was near, she immediately could tell her dearest cousin was on her tail.

"Has the Grim Reaper finally come for me?" she asked aloud, not even bothering to turn his direction as she continued waltzing past the bazaar's various stalls. In the evening time, many of them switched to selling street food and drinks, the latter of which she'd already helped herself to. She hadn't drank enough to enjoy a conversation with Haelim, though.

Moon inched forward a few more steps before she suddenly whirled around, dark cloak and darker hair fanning around her as she confronted her cousin. "Hmm, you're not death. Just someone who reeks of it." Her aura was one of disappointment, a feeling made clear as she let out a dramatic sigh. She was in her early thirties, practically the end of the line for a Witcher. Haelim was even older, but somehow still kicking. They were both on death's doorstep, which unfortunately meant they had something in common. "Can I help you, Wormie?"

[keirmorozov]

With a practiced flick, Keir released a knot secured behind the booth. Velvet curtains poured from the ceiling, cloaking the pair in secrecy. His gaze lingered on Moon-Hwa as he moved closer. One hand traced the line of her thigh through her dress, the other braced against the seat behind her. Then, with a quiet exhale, Keir sank to his knees. The motion was elegant, reverent even, as though he were bowing before royalty.

"A demotion implies I needed a crown to begin with," he chuckled, his breath warm against the inside of her leg. "King, queen… it makes no difference to the one moving the pieces." Very few alive knew of his midnight pursuits—the faces he wore, the lives he ended. Moon-Hwa was no exception, but a smile curved his lips when he imagined her approval.

"Besides…" Keir's fingers ghosted along the curve of her ankle, "I find the view rather inspiring." He moved higher, letting silk gather in loose folds against his knuckles. "I've advised kings who couldn’t command half the presence you do sitting in silence," he mused, pressing a kiss just above Moon-Hwa's knee. They both knew exactly where this would lead, but Keir had never been one to take the easy path. No, he’d make her ache for it first.

[moon-hwa]

As the curtains closed around them, she arched a brow - leave it to a bard to engage in such theatrics. The booth still wasn't as private as she normally preferred, but it would do - for now. She watched as he slowly sunk to the floor, like an animal about to prowl for prey. "For all your acting prowess, you're doing a poor job pretending you didn't miss me." His hands were already all over her, a fact she wanted to poke further fun of. She certainly would have, if she didn't know him well - if she didn't know that every touch was deliberate, purposeful. Her skin, already flushed from the alcohol in her veins, turned to searing underneath his lips. Part of her, warm and relaxed from the wine, wanted to sink back against the velvet cushions and let him have his way, but the other part of her enjoyed foiling plans far too much. It was practically her favorite past time.

"If you've thoughts of teasing me, I regret to inform you Queen's have little tolerance for such frivolity." Moon raised a foot, planting the sharp heel of her shoe onto Keir's chest. She pressed - not too hard, but just enough to hurt slightly - and to keep him from moving any higher up her other leg. There was a glint of metal underneath her dress, the movement revealing a dagger strapped to her thigh. It'd been coated in holy water, of course, for only the ignorant would waltz into a den of vampires improperly armed. She knew Keir was dangerous - in more ways than one - but that only made him more magnetic.

She gazed down upon him, "Plus, you've wined me, but you haven't dined me. I arrived with the quite the appetite, you know." Perhaps it was bold of her to speak hunger as a living being amongst the blood-thirsty dead, but he'd be wise to satiate her first, if she demanded it. If only she was forthcoming as to what she craved.

[keirmorozov]

Keir welcomed her audacity with a low hum, his eyes gleaming as her hand found its mark. "All is fair in love and war," he shrugged, enjoying their familiar back and forth. Her scent hit him then—rich, dangerous, maddening. He leaned in, just enough to let it sting. "If memory serves," he added, voice dropping to a hush, "those fingers were wrapped around something far more interesting, my Queen."

The waiter appeared at Keir’s elbow with all the subtlety of a warhorn. "Vintage as requested, Maestro," he said, slipping in with a tight smile and a flick of his towel. "Shall I serve the lady?" Keir didn’t move. His eyes remained on Moon-Hwa, even as the chill of interruption swept across the table. Only the slight tilt of his head acknowledged the waiter’s presence.

"No need," he sighed, reaching for the bottle when he didn't get the message. Refilling her glass himself, Keir recalled the nails she inspected drawing bloody lines across his back. "If you're a queen," he resumed, placing the wine down, "it would be treasonous not to kneel." He let the word linger, heavy with implication. "You know I’m well-versed in court tradition."

[moon-hwa]

Keir had always been strangely hypnotizing, in a way that kept the noncommittal Witcher coming back for more. Moon knew it wasn't magic at play, for even the slightest attempt would have been met with her blade, but never had she been swayed by such natural charm; and her past bedfellows had either been too soft or too stubborn. Keir managed to give her just enough to keep her wanting more. "And like I said, you enjoyed that too."

She almost thought to claim her new title from his lips with her own, it'd only require a short turn of her head, but then the pesky waiter was interrupting, again. Moon felt the boy's stare burning into her cheek, but quickly deemed him to be beneath her, and thus, he was ignored. Even Keir hardly acknowledged his presence while still managing to dismiss him so swiftly, a display that set something aburn inside her.

Keir continued to stoke that fire, offering her a full glass and an opportunity to see him knelt before her. "Demoting yourself from King to peasant so easily? Your idea, not mine." Even still, she nursed the wine in one hand and pointed a clawed finger towards the ground with the other. "The night has only just begun, and you're already on your knees for me? I do wonder where this will lead..." The Witcher trailed off and sipped the sweet, red liquid, with an innocent bat of her lashes, as if she didn't already know how the night would end.

[gominsispam]

GO MINSI Merythod BTS

[keirmorozov]

Keir watched her with the same disquieting calm he wore like a second skin. Moon's mockery didn’t wound. If anything, it amused him. "My time," he echoed softly, rolling the words over his tongue. "You make it sound so sacred. I assure you, I have plenty of it. The undead are nothing if not generous with their schedules. I simply choose not to waste mine."

His gaze raked over her again. He’d seen the twitch of her jaw when he spoke of Seraphiel, the way her fingers tightened ever so slightly on her glass. "And yet here you are. Peering into mine, dying to know what I’ll do next." Keir leaned closer, his lips brushing her ear. "The question isn’t whether you’re worth my time. The real gamble is whether I’ll survive yours."

Leaning back, he crossed one leg over his knee. "For what it’s worth… I don’t make a habit of missing people. I do keep an eye on what might kill me one day though." He tipped his glass in mock salute. "Would you prefer I address you as Captain?"

[moon-hwa]

Dark eyes sparkled as he closed the distance between them for a moment, her hair standing on end as he grazed her ear. He wasn't wrong, for she was all too eager to witness his next move. This was only part of the fun, wasn't it - poking and prodding the other until someone caved first. It wasn't going to be her tonight, if she could help it.

Her true qualm as a Witcher laid with Witches - the undead and their like were relatively safe from her blade, as long as they played nice. "If I wanted to kill you, I probably would have done it already. I do remember vividly my fingers have already been wrapped around your throat. But you liked that, didn't you?" She mirrored the way he had slunk in closer to whisper in his ear, except she went one step further by placing a hand on his thigh.

Moon leaned away, always wanting a clear look at his reaction, but her hand stayed put. "If we're going to play pretend and call me a Captain, why stop there? I think Queen Moon-Hwa has a nice ring to it." She made a show of haughtily inspecting her nails, "My father was nobility, after all. It's only fair."

[keirmorozov]

Keir didn't turn when she sat beside him. Only the subtle tilt of his glass acknowledged Moon-Hwa's presence, as if he'd known she'd appear all along. Lifting two fingers, he beckoned an attendant. "A bottle of the same, if you please,” he said, voice low—honed in courtrooms and marble halls for almost a century, his Astorian accent was subtle. The waiter hesitated, his attention snagged on Moon-Hwa. Unfortunately for him, the flicker of amusement on Keir's mouth didn't reach his eyes. "That’ll be all," he dismissed, his tone warning against further delay.

"A change in leadership?" Keir repeated once they were alone. "That’s a delicate phrase." He swirled the blood in his hand, watching its slow drag along the crystal edge. "Forgive me for prying, but Seraphiel isn't the kind to step aside. Spectral captains don’t retire." He could almost hear the echo of the banshee’s voice across Tiber Bay.

Keir took a drink, letting silence settle between them. His gaze drifted slowly up Moon-Hwa’s thigh, pausing at the curve of her hip before tracing the elegant line of her collarbone. There was a tension in her posture that hadn’t been there the last time they met. Finally, his eyes met hers.

"No, love. I’ve been waiting for a distraction worthy of my time."

[moon-hwa]

Actually, she didn't forgive him for prying, but it was nothing another swig of her drink couldn't solve. Why would she expect anything less, from a man whose job revolved around information?

"There's not much more I can tell you, unfortunately. I was made to sever Banshee heads, not get inside them." Not born, not trained, made. Twisted and turned from the inside out until she was a perfectly imperfect killing machine. A reminder of such would have served her well when she'd first met Seraphiel, for trusting him in the first place hadn't gotten her far. Whether she could say the same for the other undead locked in her gaze was yet to be determined. Not that the living were anymore trustworthy.

Waiting for a distraction? Cute. That must be a new way of saying you missed someone, nowadays. She chuckled and scoffed at his pretty words. "My, my. I certainly hope I'm deemed worthy of the Keir Morozov's time. I'm sure it's very precious." Moon patronized him as she inspected her nails, always a flair for the dramatic even if she wasn't bard. "And what of my time, love? Is coming here going to be worth it?"

[keirmorozov]

who: @moon-hwa when: current where: veil of veins

The butcher didn’t speak when Keir entered. He just wiped his cleaver on a blood-slick apron and stepped aside. Past the rows of swaying carcasses, behind a crate of salt-packed offal, a door cracked open. The music from a piano rose to greet him as he descended into the waiting dark, each note punctuated by a sharp exhale or muffled moan. At the bottom, a set of velvet curtains parted, revealing the sanctuary nestled in the underbelly of Eterna’s bazaar.

Patrons lounged in private booths atop silken cushions, necks bared, sleeves rolled, eyes half-lidded in ecstasy. A pair of twins draped over each other whispered for him to join. Their companion held out his wrist in silent invitation. A man with a violet ribbon knotted at his throat appeared in front of them to take his coat. "Always a pleasure, Maestro. We're honoured by your presence tonight."

Keir offered the maître d’ a polite nod and continued to the back of the speakeasy. Above his usual table, a woman hung like an offering, suspended from the rafters by rope. Keir removed his gloves one finger at a time, placing them beside the waiting crystal glass. Candlelight pooled in the hollow of his throat as he leaned back, watching her descend. She spun in slow, hypnotic circles, her gaze never breaking from his. When her outstretched arms hovered inches from his reach, she drew a slender blade from between her lips. With one practiced flick, blood spilled from her palm in a gleaming ribbon into the cup below.

"The service here is impeccable, wouldn’t you say?" He murmured to the shadows, attuned to the rhythm of the raider's approaching heartbeat. His jaw shifted slightly as he exhaled. Moon-Hwa hadn’t been on the water for some time. "What's brought you to ground?"

[moon-hwa]

Moon-Hwa knew better than to linger in Caribella for long after Seraphiel's disappearance. Bold as she was, there were only so many lines she could cross without his protection. Further, the crew of Thalassa's Armada feared her more than they respected her - a fine scenario until they were faced with the possibility of her truly leading.

To Eterna she wandered, engaging in a more cautious form of her usual violence and debauchery. The Veil of Veins was fun - perhaps not the usual destination for a Witcher, but the odd stares made the speakeasy all the more tantalizing. Plus, there was someone here she needed to see. Moon had to admit he was quite magnetic, making him never hard to find.

The brunette settled down upon the soft velvet of the booth, next to Keir but just out of reach. Watching as the performer poured some of herself into the strigoi's cup, she wondered what she, herself, tasted like. Poison, probably. "A... change in leadership." She answered and sipped from her own cup full of crimson, letting the wine soothe her throat and bristling nerves. The near-mutiny of her old crew continued to stoke the eternal fire within her belly, despite her distance from the sea. She could have - should have - chopped off their heads and dangeled them from the mast of the ship like bloody accessories for their sails.

Moon's stare seemed far away for a moment as she sneered at the thought, but she brought her glass back to her lips quickly to disguise the look. She crossed one bared leg over the other, finally locking eyes with the strigoi beside her - red against brown. "Why so curious? Did you miss me?"

[hiddenvaldis]

who? @moon-hwa where? The Hanged Man, Caribella when? Post most recent plot developments

It’s the night before her planned return to Lysara and the Tower, and Valdís is enjoying the typical Caribellan night. Sitting on an empty table in the corner of the Hanged Man, she is enjoying the atmosphere of chaos, soaking in the energy to gather the strength to endure more of the Tower’s sterile education. Valdís has a drink in hand, and is humming in rhythm to the bard playing in the corner, and an overall sense of peace settling over her. 

It’s not true peace, for she has never known the sort, but it is the sort of peace that comes from being at ease in the middle of a hurricane, always expecting the next curveball life throws at you. 

In this case, life throws her a curveball in the shape of Moon-hwa. Looking at the first mate of the Thalassa Armada over the rim of her tankard, Valdís raises a brow as if questioning her presence. 

“Did you miss my presence so much you separated from your captain, witcher?” She asks, tone nearing sarcastic even when she is genuinely curious. As far as she had heard, Seraphiel wasn’t in Caribella. Was his first mate not with him? 

[moon-hwa]

Moon was still amidst the chaos of the tavern, allowing it to recharge her rather than overwhelm her. The Armada was docked as of now, Seraphiel tending to other matters while Moon took a well-deserved break. As if the universe sensed her trying to relax, the all-to-familiar voice of a female captain pierced her ears despite the steady thrum of music. She sighed, turning while taking a slow drag of her cigarette. "Are all captains and first mates meant to be bound at the hip? I'd say no considering your first mate is..." she looked to her left, then to her right before continuing, "nowhere to be found."

Moon figured she may as well make this more entertaining, if Valdis planned to consume her time. "I've my own free will. Quite a lot of it, actually. It's why he likes me." she said coyly, as the witcher stood and closed the distance between her and the witch's table. She used her cigarette to push down the rim of the Valdis' tankard, to better see her face. "Sometimes I use it to make other people's days. Just like this."

[jeezepizzas]

go minsi 🎞️

[porldpic]

고민시

[sindorimstation]

minsi ❞ (more)

[haelimthewatcher]

Ugh. This was the last thing that Haelim had wanted. While there had been no part of him that wanted to see his baby cousin die right in front of him, he also longed to be far away from her judgmental eyes and sharp tongue. As for the others? There was no point worrying about what he could not control. While Haelim cared what happened to the individuals, he also had no personal attachment or emotional commitment to any of them. He could not protect them from afar; that was already made clear once he realized there was no way to get to them. It made it a lot easier to be the Witcher he once was and not bother fretting for them. Instead, he busied himself with inspecting his new glaive. Though he had not turned his back to Moon-hwa where he sat, he had also not paid her any mind or even acted like she was there. There had been nothing but a short glance in her direction when it was clear that they were alone, then he remained aloof.

Moon-hwa spoke and only Daewonsa seemed to pay her any mind, glancing over briefly. The wyvern was sat tall next to the older Witcher, her eyes scanning their surroundings carefully. Haelim took his time to respond, silent for a few seconds as he turned the new mithril glaive over on his lap. "Do not fill the silence with questions whose answers you care nothing for," he finally replied, eyes roaming down the blade of the weapon.

[moon-hwa]

Helping Torsten had resulting in a surprising number of opportunities for self-reflection. And Moon hated self-reflecting. Even since she was young, there'd been a deep emptiness within her that had no reason to exist. Before she'd become a Witcher, she'd been surrounded by love, and yet could only feel the opposite. Anytime she thought about it, she was reminded of how broken she was, of how her heart didn't quite function the way it was supposed to. And how once she became a Witcher, the rest of her body followed suit. It made her want to stab something.

She'd despised Haelim, when she first met him, and she could hardly ever conjure a valid reason why. Just because he'd been different from her, better than her, she wanted to see him suffer. She was a sad excuse for a cousin, but she didn't know how to be anything else. And so she continued, pressing his buttons, just to feel something. "What do you mean? I love hearing about your mistakes." Or maybe she loved knowing he wasn't always better than her at things. "But fine, don't answer. You're no fun." she mumbled, looking away in silence for several moments as she watched the snow fall. She'd kind of missed the cold flakes melting upon her skin. And for whatever reason, she felt a need to keep speaking. If she talked enough, he'd start to argue with her, eventually. "Cool glaive. I guess."

[gominsispam]

GO MINSI Arena Homme+ Korea

[shopaholixs]

Go Min-si wearing a dress by Runaway The Label.

Photographed by Yeongjun Kim.

Vogue Korea August 2024

[hiddenvaldis]

who? @moon-hwa where? Eterna, Lysara when? Morning of Day 2

Her head feels lighter than she is used to. It’s an imperceptible difference, but it’s enough that Valdís has taken to taking loops around Eterna to try and get used to the difference. No need to mess up her balance just because her hair is suddenly a foot shorter than she is used to. In between loops, she finds a small carnival, and sees a dagger throw booth. Coming to a slow stop, she considers the booth for a long moment, and she is about to move forward when she notices a familiar face in the crowd. A dangerously sharp smirk crosses her lips, and she moves to fall into place next to Seraphiel’s second in command. 

“So they let you off the boat, huh?” She comments playfully, keeping just out of reach so as to not be punched. Gesturing at the booth with her chin, she smirks at the witcher. “Care for a test of dexterity?”

[moon-hwa]

The Witcher hadn't stumbled upon the carnival on purpose, but she certainly was trying to leave with haste. One thing she hated about festivals - there were too many people here, many of them children, and if one more bumped into her, she was going to start shedding blood. The booths all looked identical, and finding her way out had become a struggle. As if her day couldn't get any worse, a certain captain appeared, already taunting her, none-the-less. Perhaps this was karma catching up to her, considering how their last encounter began.

"And I see you made it back to yours after running away." Moon's comment was less playful and more bitter, for clearly their duel had left her unsatisfied. She followed the captain's gaze to the dagger throw booth, Valdis's proposition causing her to smirk whilst raising an eyebrow. "You want to play a children's game?" Well, maybe most children weren't hurling weapons for fun, but 'twas the childhood of a Witcher. "Why settle for a practice target? Scared of a rematch?"

[moon-hwa]

with: @haelimthewatcher when: during torsten's quest where: outside of the temple notes: for you, my love

"So, we're both unworthy." There was a scoff followed by a laugh, though the latter didn't have any humor to it. Moon wasn't surprised she'd been deemed as such, but she also wanted to know who the fuck had made that decision, and just what their definition of 'worthy' was. Maybe they would find out once Torsten and the others returned from inside the temple, if they returned.

For now, she waited next to her older cousin, knees pulled up to her chest as they sat in the snow. Her body was still sore from getting pummeled by a giant, a grisly demise which Haelim had saved her from. She still hadn't mustered the pride to thank him for it. Blood and dirt still stained her cheeks, but she wore the grime proudly, not bothering to clean it off despite their moment of respite. Even though the rest was much needed, she hated sitting still, hated sitting quietly. She decided to continue pestering her cousin, instead. "What'd you do to make the temple mad at you? If I imagined anyone being able to waltz on in, it'd be you."