ᴘᴀʟᴇ ɢᴏʟᴅ.

“You'd be a wonderful woman if you'd just let your tiara slip a little." { ᴏᴄ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ ʙʟᴏɢ. }

[semblanc]

HIATUS: May 24 - June 1.

There’s a lot that’s been going on in my life, at my internships, etc etc. I’ve just been so busy. But everything will be over by June. Sorry for such a late update! Take care.

[semblanc]

HIATUS: May 24 - June 1.

There’s a lot that’s been going on in my life, at my internships, etc etc. I’ve just been so busy. But everything will be over by June. Sorry for such a late update! Take care.

[semblanc]

HIATUS: May 24 - June 1.

There's a lot that's been going on in my life, at my internships, etc etc. I've just been so busy. But everything will be over by June. Sorry for such a late update! Take care.

[semblanc]

Cᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴛᴇ ᴅɪʀᴇ ᴀᴅɪᴇᴜ.

[goldmythos]

The attire of tailored tweed has been replaced with different shades of green merging into one. Youngkwang looks down and doesn’t recognize himself, but it’s not a sight he despises. It’s just—different. Different in the sense of the color and style, along with the differences it will make in his life. The previous night had gone by like a typhoon raging past him, leaving nothing behind besides debris and a scattered heart. While his face remains the same (stoic, stern and stale), within his chest he feels the anger of a storm along with the anxiousness of the sea.

Point taken. Youngkwang is never anxious, not in the least unless it involves his diagnosis. This doesn’t have to do with any of that, because it doesn’t feel the same way. His heart doesn’t twist, it doesn’t feel like he can’t breathe. He’s just incredibly and utterly empty; echoing like a lonely room.

It’s like he’s working via autopilot, barely grasping at the words she had thrown at him. Normally, he wouldn’t be surprised. Seul’s temper could and had a tendency to flare up, but mainly in the form of shutting off completely. He knows her better than he wishes he did sometimes.

The car ride there is silent. He sits behind the wheel and drums his fingers at an irregular beat to music that doesn’t play. He doesn’t have any concerns about completing his military service, no; that’s not the problem. His concern lies with Yang Seul, a woman with the palest of necks, often adorned by his own jewelry. Even if she is decorates by stunning beauty, there’s more to her than just that (although Youngkwang rarely wants to admit that to anyone but himself). They’re so alike, yet so far apart. A woman who wants to please her parents, be the perfect little daughter. A man who wants to be associated with his company and nothing else, especially not his father. In this contrast it appears as if one is the leader, and one is the follower. But he knows it’s just a mask, Seul knows very well how to lead. It’s one of the reasons why he even bothered pursuing her, the various traits she can both display and pull back into her head within an instant.

He’s at fault, too. It’s far from fair to tell your partner that you’re leaving for fourteen months the day  before departure. It might even be classified as cruel.

Youngkwang can’t wait much longer on finishing his service. He needs to get back to work; before he’s even left he’s thinking of all the responsibilities being left behind. Seul being one of them. She’s so young, she probably still hasn’t realized what and who she wants. The risk is that she’ll be gone by the time he comes back, at least that’s what he predicts based on yesterday’s tantrum. But she’s not always easy to understand, whether or not he knows how to read her.

Making his way onto the train station, he sees the sun rise at the edge of an apartment complex in the horizon. The skies mixes in blood and cotton candy, freshly pressed orange juice oozing into it. Loads of loved ones bidding farewell with tears in their eyes, wavering voices and tight embraces. He’s not exactly repulsed by it, but it all seems too cliché. Like it’s a film rather than reality. He passes bodies, meets with the eyes of his future comrades. There’s no substance behind them, just tears and wet eyelashes. Eventually, he comes to a stop. Somewhere on the platform he finds enough room to rearrange his backpack, straighten his back. The surroundings don’t affect him—but the absence of his woman does.

Even when time passes, Youngkwang somewhere in his temporarily boyish heart wishes she’ll come running. She won’t; but with a brain ready to board the train, the heart still lingers. Just a few more minutes, a few more glances to the stairs that lead up to the station. Rationality does take over after a while, when shoulders shrug and hands clasp around the straps of his bag. Youngkwang corrects his cap and turns around to place his foot on the first step.

And so he hears a much too loud voice which is on the verge of startling him. It doesn’t stop him to begin with, until he can make out what the yell had contained. It’s a name he recognizes, because it’s his own. His head turns around faster than he could imagine, for the first time in his life embarrassed. All the eyes that still remained, both outside and inside of the train, were directed at the female who had yelled. This was even more cliché, even more like in a movie. He hated it, yet he found no reason to care. Why? Because she was here.

She’s here.

His feet refuse to move, rather just blatantly staring at the familiar paleness. There are many firsts today. This is also the first time he has seen her the least amount of disorganized. Slightly disheveled hair, a crooked edge of her dress, a necklace with the locket thrown to her back.

Without a moment more of hesitation, he steps back down from the stairs and takes his strides towards her (ignoring the feeling of embarrassment). He stops, a little too close to her. Eyes wander over her whole being, taking a closer look at every crevice and curve to make sure it’s her. Then their eyes meet. “Seul-ah.” Is the only thing that comes to mind. His voice is just as harsh as his expression, which usually contrast. Voice soft as a breeze, they said. Face as harsh as a tornado, they said. No they didn’t, but that’s what they imagined. He could feel anger, disappointment and everything in between. But what Youngkwang does next flaunts nothing of the sort. Instead, an arm almost too casually wraps around the small of her back, forcing her close enough for them to touch; and a bend down for a kiss. Now it really is like a cheesy, romantic film which every girl adores. But Youngkwang only adores her.

[semblanc]

➳ How terribly absurd, to think that a girl like Yang Seul would have rushed onto a train platform, allowed the public to see her in such a disheveled manner, and called the name of a man for everyone to hear. For everyone to cast their first impressions of the young, presumably innocent girl before them and the kind of relationship she shared with the older, broad-shouldered male based on the desperation of her voice when his name fell from her lips.

Their visuals were far from those of relatives, much less siblings, so one could only assume the two were lovers, perhaps even acquaintances with unresolved feelings. Nevertheless, the two assumptions would only be half-right. They were never on good terms with simplicity.

     Seul was skilled in a wide range of disciplines, yet this never made up for how miserable she was at expressing her feelings. Love and other things.

Perhaps this is why she appeared as out of place as she did on this train platform, with unstable breaths and a mess of loose tresses threatening her modest updo. Had she even once taken a glimpse in the mirror? She hadn’t thought about it until now, a fleeting thought soon forgotten the moment Youngkwang had come into sight. A thought replaced by one that contemplated running to him. But she didn’t. She couldn’t. As daring as she had proven to be already, people were watching.

     She wouldn’t run to him. He wouldn’t run to her. This was the summation of their entire relationship. No matter how much one desired the other, no matter how much one loved the other, and no matter how much one would miss the other, they would not say it.

Her chuckle was cold. His first expression alone spoke at a comfortable volume: she shouldn’t have bothered with the commotion. Despite the man he was beneath his gold watch and luxury button downs, the man she’d gotten to know so intimately, he’d never project any notion of their bond. No matter the how little of time remained between them, he’d never shed his exterior. As rebellious as he made himself out to be, he too was a product of this world, where image was indispensable.

It isn’t as if she’s in any position to criticize, though. She’s much the same in every aspect, regardless of the denial she professed whenever he made parallels.

It’s quite difficult to imagine how Seul was able to find flaws in this picture-perfect spectacle. Seul the Cynic. Make no mistake — the female’s emotions were ripping at the seams. She wanted nothing more than to be held by him, and tell him everything she hadn’t the night before. But nothing was as romantic as it seemed, and simply put:            He should have run to her. Instead, he took long strides.

She has trouble facing him once he stands before her. Her gaze instead rested on the camouflage pattern of his sleeve. Such an eyesore, she thought, she wouldn’t dare allow herself to be seen in public with him if he sported such an unappealing combination of greens and browns. Really, this was all an attempt to conceal how bashful she had become in his presence. She hadn’t applied any blush this morning, yet her cheeks were a rose tinge. She naturally met his gaze almost as if on cue, in an attempt to prove that the woman before Youngkwang was indeed his other half.

But as her name left his lips, she had suddenly felt a slap of discouragement. Was he always this cold? No — not when it came to her. Never in private. Yet, his tone was nowhere near as desperate as hers, failing to give little insight to the feelings they had professed on countless occasions of daybreak, where she had found herself residing in the comfort of his arms, attempting to recall when she had ever felt so complete. She found herself at a loss for words, hesitating to combat this notion of disappointment, and rather than provide Youngkwang with an explanation for her actions, she began to mentally prepare herself to leave with an averted gaze, even going so far as to take a step back.

     A short-lived attempt. When was their relationship ever dependent on words? As refined as their rhetorics were, they shared an unspoken preference for actions. After all, success required initiative, not diplomacy: the mindset of true millionaire children. Business ultimately ran throughout their veins, whether or not they embraced it.

It’s rather astonishing how a mere kiss can make her come so undone. Only a moment prior she had begun to regret her place on this platform, and now here she stood, a hand grasping onto the polyester of his new uniform, hoping to eradicate any remaining atoms that separated his lips from her own. She can’t seem to depart, but when they did, their jagged breaths were synchronized, and something indistinct was whispered between the two. Their eyes met again if only for a second (and still, his glare is unwavering),      “Why didn’t you run to me, the moment you saw me?”

This is all the female was able to muster before she receded into the crevice of his neck, her arms firmly wrapped around his shoulders. She can no longer face him, for if she continued, her pride would surely prevent her from saying all that needed to be said, words she wouldn’t permiss to haunt her for the next 14 months. She emitted a discontent sigh as she realized the absurdity she had just asked him. A few bystanders remained on the platform along with uniformed men, watching the scene before them.

     “I’m sorry.. ..,” she offered. “For everything. For last night. For leaving so stubbornly. For not embracing you enough — ” Seul paused to take a breath, rubbing her profile subtly against his skin.      Her tone was now laced with frustration. “I’m sorry for being so goddamn difficult. But even so, you can’t just leave me. I don’t want you to. Not yet. Not if you’re not able to caress my face after a day or two’s time.”

At that moment, 14 months seemed like an apparent eternity. 56 weeks. 425 days. Her embrace around him grew tighter (if that were even possible), and she rose her head so that her gaze once again met his. When would be the next time she’d get to see him like this? Time wouldn’t come to stop just because she wished for more of it. It was during this encounter where she came to realize three of life’s coldest realities:            The young heiress could, contrary to popular belief, not get everything she wanted.            Her greatest desires were beyond the scope of what money could buy.            Yang Seul was undoubtedly in love.

     She made no attempt to relay any of these realizations to the man that held her.

[anorexics-deactivated20120421]

For your hair was full of roses, and my flesh was full of thorns.

Aleister Crowley, La Gitana (via awdoll)

[strngnoir-deactivated20160722]

— ( ⚾️ ) ‘ it’s nothing. ’ aw, who was getting shy now? ‘ i’m just tired is all. coming down from a spectacular high && here you are NAGGING me about how i’m feeling AGAIN. ’

[semblanc]

➳ Normally, the females gaze could kill, but she was much too accustomed to his overall unpleasantness, that she didn’t bother. Instead, what she did offer was a customary roll of the eyes, pale arms finding their place upon her chest. “You’re rather insufferable,” she sneered; unpleasantry seemed contagious. “Do you realize what season it is, how busy I am, and the time I took out of my schedule to visit you?” “... I would leave. But every time I do, your ninety text messages never fail in causing some sort of inconvenience.”

     Seated upon a chair, she crossed one slender leg over the other, setting her bag down. “So I’ll wait.”

[adornment-fetish-deactivated202]

[paleinks-deactivated20160519]

guys! please REBLOG THIS POST if you don’t mind roleplaying with unpopular faceclaims. i’m having a real hard time with this (recently created) account, since the faceclaim is not known by most people and i wanna know i can count on you when it comes to rping. thanks in advance!

[semblanc]

BlisslessIgnorance.

[semblanc]

(` facvdex. )

                ⊰— ⚜ : the rest lies here. —⊱

The ride isn’t long. Before he knows it, the coal-black vehicle arrives in valet. Staff members greet him at the automated glass doors while long strides take him into the lobby. So far, everything seemed to appear fine and in order. Nothing out of place, nothing different. Receptionists were busying themselves with greeting guests and answering phone calls. Security made sure that no suspicious activity occurs. Everyone seemed to be doing what they were paid to do.  As soon as he finishes making his rounds on the first floor, his next point of inspection is the floor above - spa treatments, masseuse, and health and fitness center. Dark optics notices the elevator opening while a figure enters. Quickened footsteps allows him enough time to wedge his chestnut oxfords in between the closing elevator door to stop it. Once the entrance opens up again, eyes fall upon a familiar face. What have we here? ❝ Oh really? ❞ A brow lofts, studying her features carefully. ❝ I never took you as the type to stop by unannounced. ❞ The raven head takes a step inside and watches as the door shuts. ❝ Does your father know you’re here? ❞ Pause. Hand outstretches towards the buttons. ❝ To which floor shall I be escorting you then? ❞

➳   Despite hailing from families in overlapping industries, his father a hotelier hers a real estate magnate, she was never particularly close with the property’s heir. Then again, making friends with fairly important people was never an interest to the young heiress (it wasn’t as if she had any urgency to ‘climb’ to the top; after all, Yang Group dominated the property stratosphere, whether it was development or operations). 

Much to her mother’s dismay, the woman was no socialite. As pleasant as demeanor was, Seul was ultimately a reserved woman, speaking only when spoken to and present only when need be. Perhaps if it weren’t for her elegant charm, her unparalleled beauty, and her holistic talents, she would’ve so easily faded into the crowd of wealthy children, so easily blended into the white semi-gloss interior of Hotel Soleil’s elevator. 

     But Yang Seul had a presence that dominated everywhere she went, even in matters where she wished to so desperately remain unnoticed. If she came to fail at anything, it was not standing out.

And so there she stood before the young CEO, poised as usual though her mind rapidly scrambled for a response. He was assessing her, expecting a justification—perhaps even hoping for something incriminating. What could she tell him? What explanation would both her and her father’s pride allow? Evidently, he had no knowledge of her coming to Soleil, for if he did he would have no-doubt sent his best men to stall the female. Or at the very least, sent her a voice message indicating his disappointment.

          And indeed, he had every right to be disappointed.

     The young female’s chuckle was curt. “You say this as if I’m an adolescent girl. Isn’t it apparent that I’m an adult? I have no obligation to inform my parents of my whereabouts, much less ask for permission.”

At this point, her body had grown tense, her posture impeccable as she calculated her next move. How could she possibly remain in a rival hotel so nonchalantly, so casually accept his offer to input Floor 2, as if this were not a complete act of treason? Yonghwan would surely never allow her to live it down, and if news broke out to the press, neither would anyone else.

Seul checked her phone momentarily, then cleared her throat as if to commence her explanation. “I was actually supposed to meet a client of sorts here, a very important donor to the museum I work at, but it seems as if she’s wished to reschedule,” Ah, yes. Perfectly plausible.      “As much of a pleasure as it was running into you, Yonghwan-ssi, perhaps I ought to go—” She bowed her head, her gaze fixated on her onyx pumps as she proceeded to place one heel in front of the other toward the elevator’s exit. 

Usually, her strong gaze was her best weapon. But she more than anyone knew that the most successful of businessmen were masters at distinguishing liars from the rest.      The heiress was not too keen on taking that chance, in case her designer perfume had not fully masked the fragrance of fabrication. 

[semblanc]

(` chaewn. )

{ MSG TO: notsulli

“i’m shy?” oh yah, is this you opening yourself to me? however, I believe in you being busy. truly we must talk about your ability to take a break.

I wanted to spare myself you hurting my heart as you do twenty times in person. must be a record or something that you’re going for.

I am a photographer forgive me if my hand slips when there’s a lovely sight before me. where’s the fun in not being suggestive. ah but these pictures are wonderful do not worry. They’re PG-13 don’t worry! What kind of man do you take me for.

well i’m about to be korea’s flynn rider. with several bounties on my head.

( ✉ → hyungwon. ) evidently. i’m an open book, remember?  ( ✉ → hyungwon. ) breaks? ha ha. a luxury even i can’t afford. plus, i like to work. it’s... relaxing in a sense. though it’s no match for a spa day in hong kong. ( ✉ → hyungwon. ) you know me. always trying to establish a higher standard. how many times did your ex-girlfriend break your heart? i’ll increase it two-fold.  ( ✉ → hyungwon. ) ...flattery shall get you nowhere, hyungwon. the moment i see these photos in some third-rate tabloid magazine is the moment your career ceases to exist. ( ✉ → hyungwon. ) i’m scary, right? maleficent-esque, perhaps? evil queen? odile, not odette? ( ✉ → hyungwon. )  i don’t understand the allusion. sorry. typical you, always making matters weird and confusing.

[semblanc]

(` alztr. )

From the second she opened her mouth Alastair knew she was going to deny him of what he wanted. Oh, what a mistake she was making. For surely if she knew who he was, she would have done otherwise. Alas, she did not and no one other than who needed to know knew of him; it was better that way after all. With a shake of his head, he snapped his fingers together once more for his sister to come to his side. “I’m sure there are others who are more capable than you in getting what I need. My assistant shall get the contact from you and I shall make my own arrangements.”

Handing the old notebook to her, the demon straightened his suit before dismissing the other woman’s invitation. There was no need to look at the others, he can’t have all the good ones (not that the other paintings were up to his liking anyway). “My tour of this exhibition ends here. I shall be in contact with the gallery of my review. I’m sure they wouldn’t be too impress with how one of their big sponsors left with such an unpleasant experience. But all in a day’s work I assume.” It was natural for him to taunt, to give off such snide remarks, but it was her fault for crossing him and this was simply the most pleasant way of him dealing with it. Without needing to paint the floor red. 

  Dismission was not something the young curator took lightly. Since solidifying her place in the art realm, Seul had gone to great lengths to exceed expectations, boasting her vast skill set in the areas of contracting, interior decoration, public relations, and ultimately getting a piece sold for far more than the minimum standard. An entire collection of traditional art surrounded the trio, mediator and consumer; yet despite the presence of works any sensible collector would find foolish to pass up, the patron she had been assigned to sway could only see the piece that served as mere decoration. Wanting what one couldn’t have — wasn’t this typical human nature?       “How terribly childish,” the female muttered in a voice barely above a whisper. 

If it were up to the female, she would’ve gladly held the exit door open for him and his assistant. As far as she was concerned, he hadn’t proved himself deserving of even the most obscure piece in the gallery. Perhaps this is why she detested these private collection shows: nothing but an open house for uncultured ostentation. Her comely expression did not falter, even in light of his sour remarks and subtle threats.        “I can assure you, sir, you can contact every curator in Seoul, but you shall not get this piece. If the owner was interested in selling it, he would’ve informed me. But by all means — contact the owner, contact the gallery owner, contact the National Ministry of Art, and inform them of your unpleasant experience with my presentation and unwillingness to compromise my direction for the sake of a commission. Do you honestly believe I’ll receive a slap on the wrist?”

The young heiress scoffed. If only he knew how much esteem she possessed, whose daughter she was and her father’s close ties with the owner.  Her slender arms entwined across her chest. Despite her personal conviction, her task was to appease this patron. And Yang Seul was not incapable, much less a failure.       “I suppose we can reach a compromise. Perhaps I can save you the trouble of making a call later, and we can assess his willingness to sell you the piece here, together. Although, I still don’t understand why you’re unable to appreciate the other works around you. Do you realize how sought after they are?” The woman had opted for the trivial detail over commentary on the other works’ artistic merit, in light of the characteristics she had come to pick up. Ah, yet another wealthy fool looking to redecorate his den.             What a terrible waste of art. 

[semblanc]

(` chaewn. )

{ MSG TO: notsulli

it’s a surprise I know you at all with your extreme avoidance tendencies. I would almost assume you didn’t like me.

What could be more important than your dongsaeng?

Actually don’t answer that question, I’d prefer to keep my spirit sup this season.

You are capable of suing me however that doesn’t mean you can sue me before these pictures spread. It’s a good thing I am such a gentleman and mentioned them to you beforehand. I am a good photographer though I must admit.

this is life or death where is your sense of sympathy?

( ✉ → hyungwon. ) ㅋ. it’s nothing personal. i’m shy. and most busy! ( ✉ → hyungwon. ) you made the right choice. did you really just try to ask a 24 y/o woman what’s more important than a boy? aha. ( ✉ → hyungwon. ) . . . this is serious. i don’t like being taken pictures of without my consent. also, why are you being so suggestive? do you know something i don’t? ( ✉ → hyungwon. ) i’m sure sympathy is the only thing i was born without. otherwise, i’d be korea’s snow white, not our country’s ice princess.

[lifeinpoetry]

I can’t listen to you. I can’t listen to your voice. It’s as though I’d drunk a bottle of anise and fallen asleep wrapped in a quilt of roses. It pulls me along, and I know I’m drowning – but I go on down.

Federico García Lorca, from Blood Wedding, Three Tragedies: Blood Wedding, Yerma, Bernarda Alba (via lifeinpoetry)

[koreanmodel]

[iactuallyburncold]

BOLD WHAT APPLIES TO YOUR MUSE.

PLACE IN SOCIETY

Financial: Wealthy / moderate / poor / in poverty

Medical: Fit / moderate / sickly / disabled / disadvantaged

Class or caste: Upper / middle / working / slave / Unsure

Education: Qualified / unqualified / studying

Criminal record: yes, for major crimes / yes, for minor crimes / no

FAMILY

Married - happily / Married - unhappily / engaged or betrothed / partnered / single / divorced / separated (presumed to partake in an arranged marriage with a fellow heir. )

Has a child or children / has no children / wants children

Close with sibling(s) / Not close with sibling(s) / Has no siblings

Orphaned / adopted / disowned / raised by birth parents

TRAITS + TENDENCIES

Extroverted / Introverted / in between

Disorganised / Organised / in between

Close minded / Open minded  / in between

Calm / Anxious / in between

Disagreeable / Agreeable / in between

Cautious / Reckless / in between

Patient / impatient / in between

Outspoken / Reserved / in between

Leader  / follower / in between

Empathetic / Unempathetic / in between

Optimistic / pessimistic / in between

Traditional / modern / in between

Hard working / lazy / in between

Cultured / un-cultured / in between / unknown

Loyal / disloyal / unknown 

Faithful / unfaithful / unknown

BELIEFS:

Monotheist / polytheist / atheist  / agnostic / ( more interested in the art of religion and its influence on society rather as an actual practice.)

Belief in ghosts or spirits: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care

Belief in an afterlife:  yes / no / don’t know / don’t care

Belief in reincarnation:  yes / no / don’t know / don’t care

Belief in aliens:  yes / no / don’t know / don’t care

Religious: orthodox / liberal / in between / not religious

Philosophical: yes / no

OPINIONS

Pro-suicide / anti-suicide / doesn’t know or on the fence

Pro-euthanasia / anti-euthanasia / doesn’t know or on the fence

Pro-choice / anti-abortion /  doesn’t know or on the fence

Pro-marriage / anti-marriage / doesn’t know or on the fence

Pro-death penalty / anti-death penalty / doesn’t know or on the fence

Pro-drug legislation / anti-drug legislation / doesn’t know or on the fence

Pro-murder / anti-murder / doesn’t know or on the fence

Pro-cannibalism / anti-cannibalism / doesn’t know or on the fence

Left wing / right ring / middle / doesn’t know or on the fence 

SEXUALITY + ROMANTIC INCLINATION

Allosexual / Asexual

Alloromantic / Aromantic

Sex repulsed (more chaste than anything, for the sake of being proper.)  / sex neutral / sex favourable

Romance repulsed / romance neutral / romance favourable

Sexually: adventurous / experienced / naive / inexperienced / curious

Potential sexual partners: male / female / agender / other / none / all

Potential romantic partners: male / female / agender / other / none / all

ABILITIES

Combat skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

Literacy skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

Artistic skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

Technical skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

HABITS

Drinking alcohol: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

Smoking: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

Other narcotics: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

Medicinal drugs: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

Indulgent food: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

Splurge spending: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

Gambling: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

[semblanc]

                  ⊰— @xkkit | in response to ( ⚜ )  —⊱

NOW WHY EXACTLY WAS THAT NECESSARY? Had he given her a reason to spitfire a response? All he said was, ‘Excuse me.’ What exactly clawed its way into her life for a scummy response such as ‘Don’t talk to me.’? In truth, this whole situation seemed completely UNNECESSARY, all she had to do was take two steps to the left, allowing him to push past and out of the elevator to the floor she clearly didn’t need to get off on. No sound comes from the wolf, just a slightly wolfish grin that resonated from the other man in the room who seemed to be very preoccupied on finding out what Kit would do NEXT. A fight would break out, of course, but this was a new shirt and that was the last thing that’d be smeared in this guy’s certain defeat. Before he knew it, a ding echoed from steel walls, doors shutting quietly and on came the candid G-force. Now, he was really getting TICKED OFF.  

          “Miss.”

                   “What? What do you want?”

         “..hn, try to guess the answer.”’

    First impressions were of great importance the heiress. Every action, every word, every intonation mattered — especially in a world of consistent scrutiny and grapevine conversations. After all, what was in a name, if one’s reputation could not live up to it?  But alas, when the heiress had the disgusting pleasure of presenting as her father’s coveted lapdog to the sons of potential partners, she found it rather difficult to assume a chipper presence. So she went about entering the elevator, arms crossed, donning a pair of Fendi cat-eyes. Her profile, though silent, spoke a distinct string of words: Don’t dare speak to someone like me. 

And nobody did. Not her single bodyguard, nor the other man encapsulated in the mutual surrounding. Her only objective was to reach the 20th floor without any bother; the sooner she ended this white-collared rendezvous — the sooner she finished portraying herself as the strait-laced and frigid woman she was — the better. She had been forced to  miss an exhibition  for such an atrocity. This verity alone threatened her composure, and before she knew it, she had snapped.          “This elevator’s going slow on purpose. Why on earth does it keep stopping on so many floors?” Complaints that hung in the air, only further adding to the tension in the 7-by-5 vicinity. No obnoxious response from her bodyguard, only a mutter from a low voice — was it a request of sorts? Frankly, she didn’t care, and so she impatiently pressed the close-door button.           But he persisted. 

Really, the female wasn’t a brat, nor did she claim a temper. But the clock ticked, and the more she dwelled on her place in this society, in this wretched elevator, the less she could manage. The door closed successfully. Floor 12. 8 more ahead. Could she bear eight floors without being bothered? Yeah, right.  And so she responded  to the man’s grouse with a tone of disregard, but with an eloquence that could never abstain.         “Pardon me, sir. But I have somewhere to be, and time is of the essence.  Surely, it wouldn’t kill you to withstand eight more floors, would it? Preferably in silence.” She hadn’t acknowledged him visually prior. But for this moment, she thought to turn, assess him beneath designer sunglasses, and dared to offer a contemptuous smile.

            “No matter — it isn’t as if you have a choice anymore, is it?”

[semblanc]

(` fasullossi. )

CHARMING GRIN SKETCHED ON HIS FACE whereas securing his frame close to the female. Confidently, Kyungpyo rest his arm on the counter, and then catch the weight of his head with his prompted limb. Slightly inclining as he view the glamorous female up close. 

There’s no bodyguard in present, for if there’s one, Kyungpyo will not be able to survive up to this point. And even if there’s one, he’s so sure he could handle it. Whilst, the confession uttered by the female only guaranteed his earlier speculation. The elegance isn’t just a facade. It is her whole package.

❝ I assumed your bodyguard is slacking off, because you see - I’m already here. ❞ He confidently muttered, the grin on his face effortlessly stretching wider. ❝ Is buying you the best liquor in the shelf can do the trick or should I prove myself more? ❞

  Was she allowed to chuckle? Not particularly. Though she found the entirety of circumstances far too amusing, she could not bring herself to exude such a reaction. Seul offered a simper at best, her expression altered with a nuanced upward curve of pigmented lips—                and then there was a scoff. The female’s regal countenance never faltered, but was exemplified as she dismissed the male’s gaze, allowing her own gaze to travel to the selection behind the young bartender.      “I’ve always been perplexed by this notion most hold, that quality is contingent upon price. Though the finest of liquors does tend to be more expensive than its low-grade counterparts, the most expensive liquor on the shelf isn’t necessarily the most succulent. With that, I’ll say I’m quite the fan of Spanish Brandy.” From the distance held between the pair’s profiles (which treaded between appropriate and beyond), the female could distinguish the aroma of charred oak and sweet herb, surely the remnants of a cigar—and a high-quality one at that.      “You were smoking an imported cigar before you approached me, correct? I’m quite sensitive to smell —and you’re far too close for one to not distinguish such a strong fragrance. Was it a Cuban or something less familiar?”