ORIGINAL SIN

[neojaein]

BOUNTIFUL.

[neojaein]

neosaeyi‌:

she knows full well what jaein’s doing here, and it’s not for the party. it’s a strange combination of fate and affinity that keeps them in each other’s gravity, their idea of ‘working’ at the afterlife very different and yet somehow compatible. “well. roaches come out when it’s dark,” she points out, and tilts her head towards jaein. “who’s caught your eye, huh?” jaein’s jobs are out of the norm for saeyi but always fun, so when her fruity drink comes she leans in and offers, “want a favour for the vodka?”

jaein grins at the presence beside her, the sheen of her hair and the slope of her features, examines her profile with appreciation. jaein can respect a pretty thing when she sees one. beauty is a weapon, sure, and one she uses well herself, but saeyi is no stranger to that, wields that power in her own right on plenty of occasions. perhaps, one might think, like tonight. “on me, “ she agrees, laughing quick, airy as she brings a hand up to toy idly with the other’s hair, removing it once more to grip her own drink.  

“more than i ought too, that’s for sure. is anyone ever going to open up a club to take this place down? it’s  a bit stale frequenting the same old hunting grounds,” she points out, a dimple to her cheek and a sparkle in her eyes. if anyone would understand the stagnation she experiences it would be saeyi.  though, jaein would be the first to insist on the relative morality and goodness of her own actions in comparison to the other’s self serving purposes. but selfish or not this is elysium and all goodness is painted in sin, all gold tarnished and worn, all wings broken. 

the way saeyi lilts over the comment sends a shiver down jaein’s spine, that anticipation and thrill that come with the mayhem she makes, the power she wields in a place like this, in a dress like this, with the wild fire she has in her. saeyi is a kindred spirit in many ways,  but she wonders if perhaps, she herself has gone a step too far these days. taken in past a place where she can still earn her own salvation, in the midst of all her best laid plans. what is that archaic saying after all? the road to hell is paid with good intentions? 

but then, so what if she isn’t meant for heaven. who’s to say it’s even a place, right? someone has to do the dirty work, the things no one else will touch, clean up this rotten city in one way or another. and what is a better cleansing than blood? “only you, for now, darling.” she laughs out, leaning against the bar to regard the other with a spark of interest, the lifting of her her brow in an arch over dark eyes. “i wouldn’t ever say no to a favor,” she admits easily enough, “what’d you have in mind?” 

[neojaein]

ADRENALINE.

[neojaein]

noeulneo‌:

jaein?” he calls out, and it seems to go unheard. “jaein?” he repeats, but that’s useless too and she almost crashes into him. 

he catches her, nearly stumbling back himself before he put his foot back down to steady them both. her nails dig into his shoulders, cutting as always, and he winces, inhaling sharp. she seems off, he notices, and it only amplifies his worries. “yeah it’s me, i was calling you - did you not hear me?” he asks, brows furrowing while he searches her face, “what the hell’s going on with you?” 

nails sink into his shoulders. she stumbles across the last few squares of concrete to collide into his back, anchoring against him to haul herself back upright. her head spins. assessing the situation is difficult, like she can’t get her brain to cooperate, can’t get her senses to order themselves properly. it’s as if all her systems have powered down, a toy with half dead batteries, a light where the bulb is flickering just before it finally burns out. she blinks furiously, as if this will return clarity to the world that suddenly distorts around her. there is a pounding that rises brutally against her temples, threatening to burst. 

it’s when she notices,  faintly, that the franticfast beat of her heart has suddenly waned, slowed to a slow and arrhythmic thud that echoes infrequently in her bones. fuck. have her reflexes gone offline, the adrenaline fading fast from her system? it would make sense. god,  thinking becomes a challenge, like her head is too heavy and her brain swollen, some broken thing that can’t perform it’s function, stuffed full of cotton and mist. 

“low heart rate.” she grits out, “plummeted.’ she adds, pushing her hands against his shoulders to draw herself upright. she’s dizzy with it. “i think my reflex implant’s fucked,” she frowns, suddenly, blinking fast. a few test movements later and it feels like her stomach had dropped out of her body, a cold seeping dread. “fuck, i think it’s all off.” her throat is clogged with the admission, an unwitting expression of vulnerability. she shoves a hand at his shoulder, hard enough in the sudden spike of panic that he stumbles backward. “the mods are down,” she half-whispers, a frantic rasp of sound as she fumbles, a blade appearing in her hand. 

she can’t remember (can, can remember, hates to remember, can’t even begin to think about - ) the last time she was this vulnerable. this exposed to the world around her. this human in the face of humanity at it’s worst. her stomach twists in sickened knots. 

[neojaein]

BOUNTIFUL.

velvet skims her hips and the crimson lipstick slashed over her lips is a warrior’s paint, wielded with a smirk. she’s on the job and eager for it, having caught wind of a particularly atrocious up and coming young businessman, who seems to think his barely there nouveau riche status gives him a carte blanche when it comes to extra curricular activities. even in the midst of the blackout, she figures that afterlife will be a good place to check, as worthy a hunting ground as any other. 

but she’s underestimated, perhaps, the resilience of the community. with afterlife still lit up and flickering, the party seems still to continue, and it’s hard not to get drawn into that allure. after all, how much trouble is a little bit of darkness, anyway? surely they’ll get it all fixed in no time and until then, it makes for an interesting excuse to congregate in the last bright spot in a dark world. there’s so many people she thinks she might go mad with claustrophobia, a crush of bodies that extends even away from the dance floor. 

so she pushes towards the table instead, fumbling a grin towards the bartender and a smile on her lips as she requests a drink, adds it to the ever growing tab, and turns to survey the crowd, which seems intent on pressing in closer around her by the second. after a few sips of the liquid she’s got a friendlier disposition to her, perhaps disregarding her hunt for the time being, and she turns to a nearby figure, brow arcing as she lifts a drink in salute. “what a fucking night, right?” her head shakes, dark tresses shifting with the movement. “who knew a blackout would get the party going like this, huh?” 

@ open! beginning (ish) of phase two 

[neojaein]

CONSTELLATION.

power supply or not, the afterlife is alight with voices, the buzzing murmur of an intoxicated and fearful population. she’s fairly drunk herself, if she’s being fully honest, and has mostly gotten over the fact that she was interrupted from the night’s hunt by all this madness. it’s at least a small favor, now, to find herself nimbly weaving through the crush of patrons. she adjusts the thin strap of her dress, a black velvet number that skims her body in such a way that she’s able to hide the blade strapped to the inside of her thigh while simultaneously distracting most of those who would be suspicious just enough to keep them in check. it’s not that difficult to do, if she’s being perfectly frank. 

she’s content enough, too, for company. the tension between them, even in the midst of all this chaos, is still palpable. it’s a physical thing that pulls between them, like the force of a magnet or the pull of the sun, hyper-massive and inescapable. she scratches idly at a spot of dried blood on the hem of her dress, an unfortunate reminder of lost targets. she knows he’s there before she sees him. she could chalk it up to her improved senses, augmented reflexes, but is that the reason? the hair on the back of her neck stands up as if on a whim, her heart stuttering in her chest as always. there’s a single split hair between jaein and a blind rage, a single wrong move from feral. 

she calls it a survival tactic. she looks at him from over the edge of her glass, amber liquid swirling within. “taking advantage of the chaos sungki?” she drawls, in an idle question meant to do little beyond break the silence, fingers tip toeing up his arm, wondering at the steel beneath, an intrusive thought bubbling to the surface of her brain. what would happen if she unfurled one of the razors beneath her nails and dug down to the metal she knows must be housed there?

@neosungki second phase in afterlife

[neojaein]

ADRENALINE.

@neonoeul / shortly after the start of phase three 

the power outage is one thing, and the backup generators going down another. jaein can handle herself. these streets are hers and she’ll tell you that, the neon glow a second skin. and in it’s absence she is the velvet night, slipping soft between the margins of the city, through cracks and crevices. the whole thing doesn’t sit right with her, the strangely systematic one, two punch of the shut down. the city holds it’s breath, and jaein does too. her senses are, as ever, on high alert. she’s used to it now- the way adrenaline keeps her tense and taut, wound tightly and buzzing with frantic nerves. she’s used to the lack of sleep, from that, and the grim dark exhaustion that lurks just at the edges of her consciousness. what she doesn’t expect in any of this is for it all to snap off, like a lightswitch. one moment the world is in an array around her of sensory decadence. every barest whisper of a breath a potential thread, every slight flicker of movement an early warning sign. every sense on high alert, endlessly. and now what? nothing. for a single, horrifying second the world is as it must have been once, long ago. muffled and slow, her heart rate drops precipitously. it leaves her dizzy as her blood pressure plummets and every inch of her is exhausted. the world is dull and dark around her, as if someone has wrapped her in some kind of veil. 

she stumbles, staggering to the edge of a building and pressing her hand against the smooth shining stone surface, panted breaths between her lips. her head is foggy and clouded and she feels as if she’s pushing through viscous air to try and progress forward. had she been going home? she can’t remember. she pulls herself upright with some struggle and there is a very palpable fear that grows inside her at the earnest fear of her position, the horror of facing the world as just a girl, something that had been proven in the past to be fragile and breakable. perhaps it’s just her luck, then, that she quite literally stumbles, vision graying out at the sides, into the figure in front of her, who catches her in shaking arms with a tone of surprise. she uses him as leverage to pull herself upright, unbothered by a wince as she grasps at his arm. “noeul?” she mumbles, clearing her throat. “what the fuck?”

[neojaein]

i’m here joining the second muse hype train everyone, this is rua’s mun april with my new darling do jaein! please forgive me for the lack of pages and for the really bad application, just skip that okay. i also took ten years to pick her a name so sorry admins for changing that up on you last minute. anyway details are under the cut!

elysian born & raised to a young, happy couple (what??? in elysium?? really??)

they were youthful revolutionary types but it was doomed to fail obviously

basically they were in a little rebel group or faction or whatever but it was small and unsuccessful due to a fractured message and hotheaded impulsiveness and so on

so she grows up pretty normal and run of the mill but her parents get involved in a demonstration that turns into a riot and the elysian policeforce reacts with violence and she witnesses them basically open fire into the crowd, including taking out her parents

things go downhill after that and she really doesn’t cope well with the trauma or the anger of  all of that. she never goes through the grieving process appropriately and begins lashing out at literally anyone

she’s in a vulnerable position being a newly orphaned youth and all that, does her best to keep her head above water, takes on odd jobs and delivery deals mostly, likes zipping around on the motorcycle the company gives her to do the work and all that 

it takes her a lot of effort to make friends but when she does she’ll be loyal until death basically

she started augmenting herself over the years in order to avoid being further victimized and as a sort of attempt at controlling her own weaknesses , she’s deathly afraid of vulnerability in any form 

she fully and truly believes the police force is a pile of bullshit and that no one is looking out for the underdogs of the city, so she’s taken that upon herself

thus turning into a bit of a vigilante and all that over time, really digging herself into a violent niche in the city

for the most part she keeps her actions as vigilante generally on the downlow. not like wearing a bat mask or anything but she’s not exactly hugely obvious about it. it’s something you could figure out if you pay enough attention, however. 

she augmented herself a LOT in order to be able to hold her own and reliably come out on top in a fight, but she’s also generally strapped in weapons too because she doesn’t believe in really taking too many mad chances. the worst idea was the wired reflexes, however, because it has her adrenaline amped to 100 near constantly, which takes its toll on her in a really big way and generally makes her an erratic, twitchy, overheated mess.

but its too late now *nervous laugh* it’s totally fine

she’s lowkey bounty hunting for cash and takes on various day jobs she gets fired from abruptly for being a paranoid hothead, so you’ve probably seen her around

[jenoltd]

[one-976]

[novr-deactivated20190712]