hwasa is accustomed to decision-making.
some choice are small: the colour of her walls, carpet or furniture; the next recipe sheâll try out; if sheâll get out of bed at the time sheâs supposed to, or five minutes later.
some, more impactful: if she'll return to the family that had crumbled away her confidence, her security; if sheâd take the risk of having her own business; if sheâll get out of bed at the time sheâs supposed to or hours later, missing out on many business hours and a lot of profit.Â
truthfully, she hasnât ever had to make one about which path to take. she isnât a wanderer, never having much reason to trail out of town, and whenever there is a fork in the road sheâs fond of letting her feet lead her wherever. sure, itâs not the safest of options, but itâs new. interesting. hwasa really needs to broaden her horizons and mental map sometimes.
everything is different and unfamiliar in a fucking magical forest, though. through all the trees and shrubs, hwasa isnât even sure how two paths could be visible -- but they are, and theyâre definitely separated. both set her senses alight with precaution and worry, but in different ways: the first, more visibly vicious with foul-smelling, ebony puddles akin to oil lining the horizon, yet something much sweeter and fonder lying out of vision; and the second, blinding and radiant and ethereal, magic almost tangible in her vision and a tinge of nostalgia pulling at her thoughts. while the left is a visible threat, isnât it always the innocent-looking ones that are the most dangerous?
after a long few moments of contemplation, hwasa decides that forests canât really play tricks and the second is a more comforting option, as painful to the eye as it is.
the intensity only increases as she moves down the path. everything is so vibrant, flora shining with something akin to caramelisation; baked by the sun and light, yet still so richly viridescent. laughter flows around her, crashes around the coppery wood and rushes through emerald fronds, but she disregards it -- her previous hints of magic give her enough to suggest that the bursts of sound are only meaningless distortions, so she doesnât give them any space of mind, simply going on, on, on...
mere metres away from her stands a dream of the girl who lingers in her memory. moon byulyi, while having re-presented herself to hyejin in reality, is still a figure whom she canât ever bring herself to stop thinking of in the past. perhaps simply because it was happier. perhaps because she tried so hard to let go that it only stuck harder. perhaps because hyejin now knows that byulyi is not hers to claim, and will most likely never be.
hwasa rubs and averts her eyes. the mirage is nothing more than foolery.Â
itâs easy to make it through the rest of the path when sheâs very, very focused on not caring. it doesnât take long to reach the end -- but hwasa is pretty sure sheâs far from out.