YA GIRL IS BACK FROM HIATUS!! wanna plot? like this!
will byers stan first human second
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

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@obsbex
YA GIRL IS BACK FROM HIATUS!! wanna plot? like this!
PLOT CALL // Â i know iâve been slow with replies (slow with everything really) but if anyone new&old would like to plot please like this and ill shimmy into your message box!!! thank you (:
switch.
* &. for @obsbex
it occurs to ten (sadly enough) with a twinge of disappointmentă Ąthat he really isnât someone who makes good or, at least a pitiful amount of, wise decisions. and it occurs to him that telling his boss he would be available to cover the night shift (what, eleven at night to like two in the morning? by now heâs sure he wasnât in his right mind when he answered) falls under his category of âchittaphon leechaiyapornkul, what in the fresh hell are you doing?â that heâs tried to avoid. so all in all, he realises heâs not doing a good job at all with life.
how does it prove to be a bad decision?
someoneâs following him. maybe at one point, somewhere in the distant pastă Ąit would have just been his paranoia taking over in waves. but after the recent events,attacks and the dim aura that flickers amongst the dark streets of sunseong dangerously, the fae is willing to bet this isnât any coincidence after all like he had wanted to believe before. and all he can think is that he does not, he repeats, he does not want to die in the same way that the other poor fae had.Â
his footsteps speed up unconsciously, gravel and grit underneath his feet as he curls his hands into fists that he knows wonât help him at all. he hears the light footsteps behind him get quicker too, though itâs so minimal he wouldnât have heard it unless he had been expecting it. thatâs the turning point for him.
ten pauses, then makes a sprint for it.
see, it probably wasnât a wise move in the first place, when he can hear someone behind him attempting to keep up with his pace too. he thinks: christ, this really is how iâm going to die. the lingering taste of bitterness remains in his mouth, leaving a bad feeling.
whilst heâs running, he swears he sees a flash of long locks.
itâs hunt or be hunted. bex is unsurprised to find sunseong fallen to such foul circumstances, that a game is formed out of the hunt for the supernatural; creatures treated as nothing more than game.Â
barbaric as that may be, it does offer a sort of entertainment to a bystander like her.
(not that bex was automatically off the list of the hunted, but little has attempted to approach a reckless, nasty thing like herâif only for the sake of self preservation, or, perhaps, even fooled by the frail image her frame provides.)
which calls to reason why she roams the night, our vile little witch aching for entertainment in the purest methods. nothing like a hunt to bring some excitement back into townâand should any bodies remain salvageable, she could even add some new things to her apothecary. a âwin-winâ, at the end of the day.
but dreams of any sort of action proves to be futile with the way the fear hangs over the city of sunseong, bone chill in the night perhaps the main reason behind abandoned streets, not a lick of blood or fear in sight. dull.
if she had known itâd be like this, then she would have stayed indoors and studied the magical capabilities stored in a faeâs wings.Â
(perhaps, she was even too hopeful to assume that there would be another specimen out and aboutâwaiting for her harvest.)
though our little witch quickly found herself misspoken, if not caught slightly off guard by the parade of footsteps, panicked breathing that passes her byânose twitching at the distinct stench of faery magicâand a few dozen others that follow close.Â
(here, her heart skips. pounds a couple beats harder. adrenaline filling her veins as she inhales, gulps of crisp night air tinted with a metallic fear. has she gotten as luck as to stumble across an actual hunt? has her luck changed for the better in that she would be able to have an upfront view on bloodshed? what a night this turned out to be.)
it takes little urging for her to follow, feet already on the move to follow before she even fully realized the situation. bex follows the small group into an alley (folly was the fae decided that was a good idea), bright eyes gleaming in the dark while a grin, one more wicked than it is charming, twists onto her features once her eyes settle on her prey (their prey, but a scavenger with just as much of a taste for blood is still a predator).
her heart pounds even harder (crazed with adrenaline) at the sight of ten.Â
perfect.
hand it over (and iâll give you what you want).
[ obsbex ]
the smile on his face twitches as she speaks, the realization that he was in way over his head, that he was well and truly fucked for at least the next month.
hyerin drops the smile entirely and narrows his eyes into a glare.
he deserves a raise. a promotion even. maybe he can intimidate his superior into getting that trainee brat off his watch and into a proper daycare. hyerin deserves so much fucking more than heâs getting, considering how much weight heâs pulling in this unit. âfine. but if you make me wear a uniform iâm going to burn this place down with faerie fire.âÂ
hyerin huffs, before spotting a note pad by the cash register. he reaches over and grabs it, doesnât care at all that he pushes bexâs arm out of the way in order to do so. taking the pen from his shirt pocket, he begins writing. âyou can have a lawyer look over this if youâd like,â he pauses, before crossing out a word and continuing, âbut i assure you this is thorough enough.â he goes silent filling out the rest of the page before signing at the bottom and turning it to her.Â
âsign the contract and iâll start tomorrow night.âÂ
unsurprisingly, the first real sign of displeasure on the hunterâs face elicits the first real grin from her own. thereâs nothing else to say about bexâs taste for chaos, for suffering, for whatever it takes to put herself at the very top of the food chainâin controlâand everyone else below. not that hyerin was agreeing to exactly that, for bex is sure the hunter has her own reservations about her and this little arrangement, but one doesnât have to be necessarily perceptive to see who exactly won this particular battle.
and the absolute glee that came with watching the hunter succumb to her conditions was one she didnât bother hiding.
âyou can wear whatever you like as long as itâs not neon or flannel.â she retorts, offering a little dismissive wave, uncaring of the otherâs dismay with the turnout. âand of course, keep your little gun or blade or whatever it is you hunters use hidden away.â bex grins a little. âi wonât be held accountable if anyone attacks you because you let it slip that youâre a hunter.â
she reaches for the paper with a light hum, retrieving it to inspect the messy scrawl. âthereâs no need for a lawyerâdonât you know what happens when you break a contract, word of mouth or not, with a witch?â bex arches a brow, leaning forward slightly to pluck the pen from her hand as she continues, words teasing.Â
âi assure you the consequences wonât be as pretty as i am.âÂ
our little witch takes little time to sign her name beneath the hunterâs, tongue flicking over her lower lip briefly as her eyes rises to meet the otherâs. âwe open at ten so i expect to see you then, my dear hunter.â bex nearly croons the moniker, coquettish in the way she speaks, seeing no real harm in being a tad more friendly now that theyâll be working together.
âand youâll have your footage by the end of the week, so long as youâve been a good employee.â
hand it over (and iâll give you what you want).
obshyerin:
[ obsbex ]
hyerinâs eyes flit downwards, gaze caught by her kittenish lips curving into a feral grin. it only serves to prove that even bex (or especially bex) is as wild as heâd thought, a force of magic better kept on lock and key than roaming the streets like a disaster waiting to happen. still, he canât quite look away. perhaps heâs been charmed in more ways than one.
âyouâre making things very difficult, bex.â he clicks his tongue, head tilting to the side as he considers it.
âbut alright, what about me? i assure you, a pretty young woman outside your shop isnât going to scare anyone away. and i wonât wear the badge either, so youâll have no fears of anyone thinking iâm an officer.â
hyerin steps back, hands tapping out a rhythm against the counter. he feels less like the respectable hunter he is and more like a groveling salesman on his last leg, but if this doesnât work heâll have little else to offer her. and heâs sure theyâd both find the idea of him offering up his body tasteless.Â
âso, what to do you say? i wouldnât mind seeing your face every night.â
she would not be bex if she was not difficult. perhaps the hunter had not researched on our little witch before stepping foot into her part of town, has not extended the care into looking into the vices our temperamental witch are susceptible for. pride, for one, power, for another â but above all, chaos is what sheâd like to see when it comes to the city of sunseong.Â
oh, how sheâd love to watch it burn. to watch it pay for grievances its caused herâwhich, though not significantly much, still proved to be enough of an inconvenience to sour her opinions on sunseong.Â
(but if sheâs honest, sheâs never needed much reason to be sour â misery loves company, that was the saying, wasnât it?)
"you?â she echoes the offer with the smallest of amusement, pushing off to make her way around the counter as she contemplates her options. it wasnât as if hyerin didnât make a solid point, most would likely look past someone of her statureâround eyes and an unassuming heightâbut there were quite a few cons to keeping a hunter around her establishment, wasnât there?
âyes, i suppose a pretty young thing outside my shop wouldnât scare a flyâthat is, assuming you donât intend to stand out there everyday," bex circles around the smaller girl, taking in the garments she adorned, the weapon she undoubtedly has tucked away within reach, all possible forms of magic she can faintly sense emitting from her frame. âthen, it would be a little suspicious wouldnât it?â she reaches out, fingers ghosting over the badge pinned to her chest.Â
âsince a pretty young thing like yourself would surely stand out in an area like this, no?â she hums, leaning against the counter slightly to catch her eye. âi think you might be better off taking a side job in here, officer.â bex suggests coyly, a smile on her lips. âthat way you can âprotect meâ and keep a closer eye on this face of mine that you wouldnât mind seeing.â
a knowing hum, a catlike curve.
âof course, that means as an âemployeeâ youâd have to sign a nondisclosure agreementââ the witch taps the badge lightly, as if indicating to the dsem. âitâd be bad for business if any of our trade secrets were to be exposed.â
far be it from her to invite a wolf in without taking the necessary precautions.
âso? do we have a deal?â
â night walking.
@obsbex
the thing is, handong never learns from mistakes.
sheâs prideful, vainâtoo confident in her abilities to understand the gravity of some situations. when the news broke out of murder, or violence and terror, her grandmother gave her strict instructions to not leave the shop unless itâs an emergency, sheâs given permission, or she has someone trustworthy to keep her safe.
as much as handong loves her grandmother, respects her decision and understand sheâs worried for her safety, handong canât take much of the walls she sees everyday of her existence. she needs outside contact every once in a while; otherwise, sheâll go insane. she tells herself thatâs the reason that she ventures out into the evening, eyes looking around for any sight of danger that her grandmother is sure there isâbut when handong canât find anything immediate, she continues on.
she tells herself her curiosity about whatâs going on isnât a driving factor behind her reckless decision, but she knows herself well enough to not believe it.
perusing on the streets as the night gets later and later, handong hums as she sees a familiar form, the aura around them having handong slow her walk as she eyes them in wonder, questions milling about her mind. her tongue swipes over her lips.
âbex?â she questions softly, head cocking to the side as strands of her hair fall into her face. âfancy seeing you here. why are you out on a night like this?â
thereâs little to fear when youâre the one that goes bump in the night. at least, that had been how her mother liked to teach herâarmed with a dangerous sort of fear-inducing brilliance that bex dreams of achieving. sheâs halfway there, but not yet fully so.Â
still, mother had been careful to instill her ideals since her youth, pushing them into the soft backbone, taking care to slip them between each vertebrae:Â thereâs nothing to fear when you have power.
(and because she didnât have power, our young yejin spent the early years of her youth fearing her)
which places her now, power hungry and driven blind by the egoâperhaps rightfully, perhaps foolishlyâwalking down the unsurprisingly empty streets of sunseong. indeed, only the foolishly insane ones are out to roam the nights with a supernatural killer on the loose. but bex would have never considered herself insane, not even a lick of foolishâif sheâs honest, she might hover closer to those eager to court death.
(not to say sheâs any ways wishing for death â but bex canât help the way the bumps on her skin rises, incoherent whispers she can barely pinpoint, the smell of death (of turmoil and pain and anger) that hangs over sunseongâs nightlife like a thick curtain; the way all of that calls to her)
so, like bees to honey, our little witch drawn to chaos is out and about at (hilariously enough) the witching hour, inhaling the crisp night air and the jarring metallic tinge that accompanies it. but if she was being honest, sunseong has yet to come across as alive as it did now, bleedingâchickens cut off at the head and running about recklessly.
she did love it, just a little.
but a time of chaos calls for abandoned streets and frenzied hearts, leaving bexâs little nightly walk a little more than disappointing. admittedly, she had hoped to walk into a bit of entertainmentâsomething with a little bit of bloodshed, little bit of bloodcurdling, little bit of adrenaline inducing would have gone perfectly with dinner.
and yet, here she stands, ultimately disappointed.
tragic.
even with the appearance of another witch, bex couldnât find it in her to be too pleased. not when handong looked more well than she would look covered in bloodâwhich undoubtedly would have made this nightly stroll much more interesting.Â
âwould you believe it if i said i was out looking for trouble?â a small grin teases the corners of her lips, fingers lifting to rub along her jaw absently, eyes turning peer down the empty street absently. âthough it doesnât seem as if sunseongâs nightlife is as grandeur as it used to be,â bex heaves a sigh, tongue clicking. âdisappointing, really.â
âbut what about you? it doesnât seem like an hour youâd be allowed out.â she nearly sneers, almost unable to come across as teasing without being wholly patronizing as well.
âdonât you have a bedtime, handong-ah?â Â
hand it over (and iâll give you what you want).
[ obsbex ]
âbex.â he repeats, a smile at the corner of his mouth. he hadnât thought that the honorific, of all things, would be the one she would point out, but heâd also expected sheâd be a lot faster to kick him out of her shop too. his eyes follow the movement of her hands- was she considering it? or was she playing him too, seeing how far she can stretch his politeness before she expects him to make a mess of his reputation as an officer?
well, if she cared at all about reputation, then he supposes she wouldnât have let him in in the first place.Â
hyerin leans forward, forearms resting against the counter as he lowers his voice- unnecessary, but it seems everything this girl does is for dramatic effect, and so heâll play along, even if it irritates him. âbetween you and me, dsem probably wouldnât have offered you more than cash up front. and not much at that.â
he pauses, wets his lips in thought. âhow about this- iâll arrange for security services around your shop, starting an hour before sundown till an hour after sunrise. and while iâm sure you have sufficient wards,â
for once, hyerin dreads the talk his superior is going to give him.
âand since theyâll be your security, theyâll be at your beck and call. during that time, of course.â
âiâm not interested in money.â money has no value to her. isnât it the nature of a witch to just take what she wants? superficial needs such as money, paper, meant nothing to her. hadnât her prerogative always been to develop her magicâto hell with everything else? yes, what she could achieve with money certainly pales in comparison to the accomplishments that magic brings her. bex knows this all too well, and therefore is all too willing to compromise morals and twist and bend and break for power.
but the hunterâs proposal still poses to be somewhat interesting. having dsem at her beck and call at a time like this is definitely a bonus, although she couldnât be too sure of the pros in having hunters stationed on the storefrontâitâs more so bad for business than anything, isnât it?
ânot that it isnât temptingââ she starts slyly, fingers tapping against the counter in thought. âbecause far be it for me to turn down having the likes of dsem at the whim of my will,â bex manages a grin, a hint of teeth showing betwixt coy curves of her lips. âbut itâs rather bad for business, donât you think?â
she offers the woman a pointed look with that. certainly, she must be willing to come up with something better than that if she wanted the tape that badly.
âiâm sure even in desperate times like this, not a  single soul would even entertain entering a place guarded by hunters.â
so what else do you got?
hand it over (and iâll give you what you want).
[ obsbex ]
bex dances around the word ânoâ with more eloquence than heâd expected, spitting her sarcasm with a deadpan so dry itâs admirable. heâd been told she wouldnât cooperate easily, though the warning isnât necessary. hyerinâs never met a supernatural that doesnât bitch and moan about hunters needing to keep up their side of the âdealâ. theyâre not on equal ground to be making demands like this so itâs little more than pathetic when they try.Â
bex - he wouldnât associate that word with her.Â
heâd also been warned that they really do need the tape, and so he decides heâll at least make a paltry attempt to negotiate. âno, i suppose it wonât. canât expect you to follow through without anything in return.â
hyerin steps closer, the fingers of his right hand pressed lightly against the edge of the counter, tapping out an unfamiliar tune. he gives her a knowing smile, looks up at her (god, sheâs tall) through his lashes. âso, is there anything the DSEM can do for you, maâam? iâll do my best to accommodate.â this last week hasnât been easy for anyone, but hyerinâs never had so many people coming to him at once, trying to cash out favors. he hopes that with this at least, they wonât need to see each other again for quite a while.Â
what a shame.Â
evidently, the hunter seemed to know just what she wanted. or at least, she had assumed so. though one tends to completely underestimate the bounds in which bexâs insatiable need to be in control knew none of. and in this case, it was far easier to be in control (to dig beneath skin and snake her fingers around something valuable) of a single soul than an entire organization.
much less the fact that she cared a considerable naught for the likes of dsem.Â
she doesnât shy away when the other moves forward, unwavering in their locked gazes while her head cocks, filled with the most succulent sense of complacency as she stares down at the the hunter before her. (though she doesnât deny the way her nose crinkles slight in distaste at the honorific) âbex.â our witch corrects dryly, absent in the way her gaze lowers to the manila envelope, fingers dancing along the edge as she hums in thought.Â
âi find little use in empty promises on behalf of hierarchical establishments as outdated as dsem, no,â no, there was nothing the organization itself was willing offer that interested her. (she figures thereâs the chances that anything hyerin promises her now on the behalf of dsem would be carried out are minuscule). instead, she sets her eyes on a little bit more realistic, so to say.
and here, bex leans in closer, lips twisting with a coquettish curve. âwhat do you have to offer me?âÂ
certainly, something better, depending on how bad it is that she wants that tape.
hand it over (and iâll give you what you want).
@obsbex
hyerin lingers in front of a bookcase, eyes tuned into the sound of her speaking to a customer. sheâs not quite what he expected - tall and lithe, more feline around the eyes than one would expect a witch to be. heâs not one for rumors, doesnât know what they say about her behind closed hands, but hyerin, human as he is, wouldnât even need his wards to smell the magic radiating off of her. like gasoline, burning the hairs of his nose in a way he canât just ignore.
one book is nearly falling out of the bookcase, probably put back carelessly by a customer, and he pushes it back into place. the solesian guide to basic herbology and potion making for young witches.Â
whatever sells, he supposes.
once the door closes behind the customer, hyerin steps away from the bookcase, moving towards the cash register. âgood morning,â he says curtly, reaching into his bag for a manila envelope and sliding it over the counter to her. âpark hyerin, officer for the DSEM,â heâs careful to avoid the word hunter, knows full well what that word means in these parts, âi have a warrant for the security camera outside, the one connected to your shop. the footage may aid an ongoing investigation.âÂ
since the day she was born, doused in magic, she has never lived a life blind. rather, we can say that our little witch was, and still is, a keener for living in the âknowâ. living with knowledge of each and every thing that went on around herâat least, things that affected her. it had affected her not when the city roared in chaos over the first dead supernatural body. and it had affected her nil the second and third timeâup until the werewolf from across the street spilled his innards all over asphalt.Â
pathetic.
nevertheless, it does explain the presence of the hunter in her establishment, lurking in the background while she aided a curious soul in the proper method of dreamwalkingâas if she hadnât spotted the likes of dsem days ago across the street. as if bex would even be surprised by the watchdog in her line of vision, moreover the envelope she slides her way.
much less the warrant she presents her.
in fact, she feels little else but the usual sense of defiance that came in the face of an âauthority figureâ. indeed, what right did this human have to come in and demand things of her?
"if youâre from dsem then surely you would know what side of town youâre in, what youâre dealing with...â her lips curve, âa piece of paper wonât help you here, officer.â her weight shifts, ribs pressing into the counter as her elbow rest on the surface, chin resting on the heart of her palm. ânot to say i strive to be against the law,â bex starts dryly, âiâd love to be an upstanding citizen after all, but you know there are things such as rules and common courtesy...â her tongue clicks.
âand whether or not the footage aids your investigation has absolutely nothing to do with the wellbeing of my shop.â
IN THE BEAUTY
                                                                 (tw: gore)
look away, traveler, eyes are not meant to see this. mortals are not meant to lay eyes on such an ethereal thing, such an abomination of nature, such a petrifying sight. see, no matter how our little witch boasts (blood pure, magic a birthright laid out for her and her solely) thereâs nothing divine about the âmagicâ that is to occur here.
that is, thereâs nothing magical about this. that is, organ harvesting, i mean.Â
âWHY SHOULD I help you?â her brows knit, lips pursed into a small thin line. the mere thought of it is so baffling it almost amuses her. when, more importantly, how did she manage to give off the impression that she was the GIVING TYPE was beyond her. nevertheless, the absolute gall to come to her asking for help is somewhat admirable, even if bex had less than a notion to actually be any sort of helpful. still, a curious mind is often one easily swayed.Â
but to her credit, bex is easily versed in the act of seeming uninterested, eyes never once torn away from the magazine she held in her grasp even with the imposing presence of another before her.
 âyou know i prefer not to carry out favors without getting anything in return.â
â satisfaction.
@obsbex
curiosity killed the cat.
curiosity is a central foundation in handongâs being. itâs the founding reason on why sheâs so adept in her spell work. itâs the reason why she knows so much. without curiosity, she wouldnât have delved deep into enchantments, into books with worn pages and smell like blood. without her curiosity, handong wouldnât be half as talented of a witch as she is now.
talented and malevolent, but thatâs another thing altogether.
she watches the form with lidded eyes, arms crossed as her foot taps a rhythm onto the ground. a hum leaves her lips, head slowly tilting to the side, messy strands of hair falling in her features as curiosity, potent as ever shines in orbs of brown.
âwhy them?â she murmurs, eyes flickering to watch the girl from the corner of themâshifting in place. sharpened fingernails scratch at the lace on her sleeves, picking at stray strands idly as her teeth worry at her lip. ânot that it matters. i donât care about the semantics behind your reasoning. iâd just like to know why.â perhaps itâs to note how horrid they must be to entice the girl to come to handong of all people to practice curses. maybe they had done something catastrophic, or appalling. or perhaps they had done nothing at all.
but handong doesnât care either way.
it would be a lie to say she didnât crave a coven. that years of being surrounded by her own kind didnât offer some form of comfort. but she was different now, hell in a woman with teeth sharpened, mouth hungry for power. the kind of woman she was now was no follower, ego forged with ire and foolish pride that left her unflinching, unable to back down.Â
no, though she missed her motherâs hive so, bex would never be able to join another.
but having the power of witches at her fingertips proves to be useful, as is the exchange between her and handongâreckless nineteen with viable potential to be a very powerful disposable right hand of hersâpliable youth hungry for the sort of destruction bex knows well enough to utilize for what she wanted.Â
what was a mere spellâ a curse aimed to maimâin exchange for what she wanted? nothing really.
âif it doesnât matter then why bother asking?â the older manages a small chortle, dark acrylics carding through pale blonde absently as her attention flickers from the soon-to-be victim to the witch addressing her. had it not been for the fact that bex abhorred getting her hands dirty, she wouldnât had bothered with the whole charade, hadnât have to put up with simple small talk in exchange of getting something as simple as this done.
(but she supposes beggars canât be choosers, not when it is itself blessing already to find someone as easy as handong to manipulate into doing her bidding.)
âbut if it sates you soââ for she doesnât quite care if the girl knows or not. âthey have something i want and you need a practice dummy, do you not?â bex spares the girl a coy smile, leaning in just the slightest closer, eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. âor rather, i suppose you regularly need even less than a reason to practice those little curses of yours,â she continues, almost snidely (as with most instances of interactions with other supernaturals the witch views as below herâan inherent characteristic, bex is every much a snob as she is a witch raised under the impression that she was to bear her motherâs mantle as head of their coven), though her smile tells otherwise, near encouraging as lithe fingers trace up the arm of the younger, resting on her shoulder to offer but a small nudge.
âgo on, show me what you can do.â
she honestly is, very much so curious.
KRYSTAL x NYLON JAPAN
The Excessively Detailed Headcanon Tumblr Meme
tigersniper:
Send me some numbers, and I will tell you:
What does their bedroom look like?
Do they have any daily rituals?
Do they exercise, and if so, what do they do? How often?
What would they do if they needed to make dinner but the kitchen was busy?
Cleanliness habits (personal, workspace, etc.)
Eating habits and sample daily menu
Favorite way to waste time and feelings surrounding wasting time
Favorite indulgence and feelings surrounding indulging
Makeup?
Neuroses? Do they recognize them as such?
Intellectual pursuits?
Favorite book genre?
Sexual Orientation? And, regardless of own orientation, thoughts on sexual orientation in general?
Physical abnormalities? (Both visible and not, including injuries/disabilities, long-term illnesses, food-intolerances, etc.)
Biggest and smallest short term goal?
Biggest and smallest long term goal?
Preferred mode of dress and rituals surrounding dress
Favorite beverage?
What do they think about before falling asleep at night?
Childhood illnesses? Any interesting stories behind them?
Turn-ons? Turn-offs?
Given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen?
How organized are they? How does this organization/disorganization manifest in their everyday life?
Is there one subject of study that they excel at? Or do they even care about intellectual pursuits at all?
How do they see themselves 5 years from today?
Do they have any plans for the future? Any contingency plans if things donât workout?
What is their biggest regret?
Who do they see as their best friend? Their worst enemy?
Reaction to sudden extrapersonal disaster (eg The house is on fire! What do they do?)
Reaction to sudden intrapersonal disaster (eg close family member suddenly dies)
Most prized possession?
Thoughts on material possessions in general?
Concept of home and family?
Thoughts on privacy? (Are they a private person, or are they prone to âTMIâ?)
What activities do they enjoy, but consider to be a waste of time?
What makes them feel guilty?
Are they more analytical or more emotional in their decision-making?
Would they consider themselves a Type A or Type B personality?
What recharges them when theyâre feeling drained?
Would you say that they have a superiority-complex? Inferiority-complex? Neither?
How misanthropic are they?
Hobbies?
How far did they get in formal education? What are their views on formal education vs self-education?
Religion?
Superstitions or views on the occult?
Do they express their thoughts through words or deeds?
If they were to fall in love, who (or what) is their ideal?
How do they express love?
If this person were to get into a fist fight, what is their fighting style like?
Is this person afraid of dying? Why or why not?
fresh.
obsnoyna:
noyna leans forward, staring into the murky liquid in the jar. its sealed tightly, though the ward on it ripples, air distorting around it with the sticky sweet smell of magic. she narrows her eyes, leaning just a couple inches closer like it would make the dirty green liquid any clearer. whatever she was pickling in there, it stunk of a magic that tasted a touch too familiar to give her anything but an annoying sense of déjà vu.
thereâs a sudden noise from behind her, the open-shut of a door, and she jumps, turning around quickly on her heels.
sheâs met by an unimpressed gaze, vague distaste and noyna returns it with irritated politeness. she hadnât been expecting hostility, though she gets the strange feeling the woman in front of her has deigned her beneath even that with one glance. noyna doesnât think sheâs felt so uncomfortable around another person in a long time.Â
noyna steps towards the counter, clearing her throat and working up a smile. âyou wouldnât happen to be bekah, would you?âÂ
first and foremost, she is a witch. make no mistake in assuming that bex would come to accept of an identity of anything else. she is a witch, vixen imbued with magic, tongue versed in incantations, force to be reckoned withâoh, hasnât she gone through lengths made sure everyone whoâve heard of her knows?âand so, first and foremost, her concern had been in mastering magic.
so, bex has gotten increasingly arrogant in what she had to offer to the world.
(to be clear, weâre talking about drugsâconcoctions drawn up by the likes of our own little witch, hungered to be the best in the city, even when it comes to contorting her magic into something the likes of her motherâs coven would spit on. why not? everyone does it, and bex would not be bex if she did not ache to be the best of the bestâeven if it means damnation.)
so what? if sheâs gone off the deep end, if knowledge and magic blessed by the spirits have been utilized in gateway drugs. so what?Â
it was, and continues to be, her life does it not?Â
(oh, if there is ruin between her and what she wants, would she not drag herself and everyone around her down into hell to make through it? and thatâs the thing with witches like her, creatures like her: selfish, corroded, beautiful creatures whose hunger precedes oneâs own mortalityâbex didnât give a damn whether or not the world burns so as long as she got what she wanted.)
but being the best, or rather, the path to it, did not come without incidents, without sacrifices and stepping stonesâdidnât come without competition. which is what she figures the faeâsmelling pungent of a stale, musky sort of magicâawaiting her in the shop when she returned from break was here for.
after all, few tend to come by seeking a witch by her name without a mission in mind.
âquite jumpy for someone who knew exactly what she was walking into, arenât you?â the witch commented dryly, returning to her usual position behind the counter in a few confident strides to regard the fae, head cocked slightly to the side.Â
naturally, she hadnât bothered to answer the question, seeing no particularly needâif anything, anyone would half a brain could have pieced two and two together. much less a fae.
âcan i help you with something?â
red light.
* &. for @obsbex
she looks normal at first sightâmaybe a little too pretty, hair tucked behind her ear almost carelessly, a fairly polite grin gracing the upward curls of her lips as he enters through the door, a spark in her eyes that show something he canât quite put his finger on but would unsettle him if he looked for too long. he knows she isnât, though, can feel it in the air that surrounds the both of them in the store, wistfully around them like curtains.Â
the curtain settles and drops.
see, tenâs not so naive that he canât tell whether someoneâs inhuman or not and the female employee falls in the latter column of the chart easily. thereâs something different about her, more powerful, thrumming underneath fingertips and underneath her skin thatâs powerful enough that he, a mere water fae, can just feel. and he wonders whether she can feel him too, feel their similar ambiance that radiates magic.
digits trail over the shelves, over some numerous medicine that he canât recognise and canât be bothered to recognise, honestly. a faint throb eats away at the back of his head, gnashing away at him and it takes half a mind not to just pick the first thing off the shelf and down it in one go.
at last he musters up the courage to approach the too pretty employee with the odd aura, and he patiently waits before tapping her on the shoulder, eyes averted to the sign behind her.
âexcuse meâ⊠do you know what medicine helps for headaches?â
itâs called true sight.Â
our lovely witch is obsessed with it; the notion of her enemies (anyone, really) laid bare, naked to her eye, vulnerable to her type of manipulation (eager hands, pulling and molding for her own use) undoubtedly excites her. although rarely ever does she find the need in enveloping her entire being in the spell; for being a witch, a damned soul blessed by the purest of magic, came with a sort of advantage in that regardâbeing sensitive to even a whiff of magic.
and so to say, magic that bottom of the barrel creatures of sunseong manage to scrape up are ones especially pungent.Â
for example: vampiric magic reeked, often saturated with a metallic revulsion found only in the speciesâ penchant in sticking their filthy little fangs into human dermis and piercing major arteriesâpositively barbaricâbex could smell the faint magic that crowds a vampire from miles away, if the sickly complexion doesnât give it away first.Â
(how pitiful, those nasty things, to have to live like that.)
although it wasnât as if the rest of the population faired any betterâdid werewolf magic not stink of wet dog? beast-blooded of whatever blasted hellhole they crawled out of? and fae, fae, wellâquite frankly, the mere existence of fae aggravated her to no end.
(born of magic, you say? inherently magic? was that not her birthright? was she not far more brilliant than any egotistical fae? more well-versed? is magic rightfully not hers more than it is theirs?)
oh, does jealous burn bright in our vindictive little witch.
nevertheless, the distinct scent of purity (magic perhaps even purer than her own, an absent thought seeping in embitterment) is one she quickly picks up, as with the chime of the bell tied to the front doorâannouncing the presence of one (bex has already formed her opinions about this oneâread: same as every ghastly blemish of a magical being out there) before he even managed to pry apart his mouth to speak.
here, her shoulders stiffen to the slightest, near imperceptible to the unknowing eye (as with everything in sunseong, one only starts to see once they know where to look), fingers tightening around the jar in her possession, its contents swishingâaliveâin according to the surge of irritation she feels.
here, bex mercifully forgoes the unwarranted attempt in capturing her attention, pivoting on her heel to face him, lips pressed together slightly. âwhat kind of medicine are you looking for?â you incompetent silly thing. do fae even get headaches? the witch canât honestly say she studied too much in terms of those inherent pride magic beings. but nevertheless, bex finds herself caught having to at least pretend to do her job.
âwe have tonics, potions, incense, sageâthe works.â she musters a coy curve. âanything helps, so long as youâre willing to try.â
PLOT CALLÂ because i lowkey tanked my last one... pls,, just like this and ill hit you up