MORNING DEW. @seungseuls - Tumblr Blog

leo ✧･ﾟ*

“I will have two sent over, discretely, this week. All I ask for is feedback.” If the printer model works efficiently, and does what Leo intends for it to do, he can ride the Green Wave of industry to a very big payout. A lot of his patents have become more relevant lately; it is like the universe is trying to tell him that it is finally time to branch out on his own. Leo has his reservations. With the House still mending and recuperating after Ervig’s death, his stability is needed more than ever. On the other side of the same coin, house relations are volatile and the future is uncertain. Leo has ran the pros and cons, risk versus reward, and come up wanting. There is no actual statistical way to guarantee his success and he hates that. Numbers are supposed to be the one thing he can always rely on.

A small laugh at her answer. “We can’t have you off-brand for any press interviews.” He holds his forearms up and out, the simple patterned short sleeved collared shirt on display. “As you can see: no one will know unless you want them to know.” Leo has taken to wearing the subtle armor whenever he leaves his flat nowadays. After Ervig’s death, he spent nearly thirty hours in his research lab, working on finishing up the prototype that has been on a mannequin for weeks. It’s funny how grief can manifest, and make things seem much more urgent and important.

“You are important, Iseul.” A rare show of complete honesty and intensity from Leo. Iseul is smart and capable, and she has built something from the ground up with her own two hands. That success should be rewarded by the world. He blames his sentimentality on Ervig’s death and the good coffee in front of him. “Not just your work, or your contribution to this house, but you, specifically. Don’t forget that.”

✧･ﾟ*

“You’ll get an extensive yelp review as always...it’s really become the most amusing part of our trade.” In light of receiving such ‘gifts’ from Leo, she had instructed the members of the collective to maintain a keen eye when using the machinery. There weren’t ever many complaints, but they informed Iseul of the smallest of concerns and in turn she compiled all of the feedback and relayed it to Leo. Most of the review held praises, but she knew how valuable constructive criticism could be. “I’ll give you the first report in about a week and you’ll get updates as they come in.”

She would do the same with the armor if that got any use— but she hoped more than anything that neither herself nor Leo had the opportunity to try out this particular product of his. While she carried a gun at all times, Iseul had never fired it and the same could be said for the bisu knife that had been gifted to her sometime ago. Still, “that’s impressive,” she has to say, because the man is truly brilliant, “it’s especially needed now...you know, it feels as if any one of us can be attacked at any moment.” And I’m not a combat specialist, she finishes in her head. While she didn’t deem herself as important as Ervig ( not important enough for outside parties to make attempts against her life, ) having a form of protection like this one, would provide some peace of mind.

When Leo speaks again, her smile is less confident. People like her, these ‘agents of change’, are sometimes deemed expendable in the grand scheme. If she has built her collective successfully, it will function as efficiently when the sands of her hourglass have fallen. This is what she tells herself in light of recent events— this is the life she has chosen to live. And yet, Leo’s words touch deeper than her platitudes...to be acknowledged as a standalone is more than she can ask for, “thank you, Leo...” she thinks to keep it at that but decides against it, just this once, “it’s hard to remember sometimes, you know? I get lost in the bigger picture.”

In those moments, she doesn’t think she matters as much; but words are heavy. “Thank you...I know it might sound like I’m just echoing the words you’ve said to me but you are as well...and I mean all parts of you, those that are essential for my people and those parts that exist with no purpose at all...”

#✧･ﾟ* leo #✧･ﾟ* leo 001

leo ✧･ﾟ*·

The back and forth of wits with Iseul is always refreshing, like a cool glass of water on a warm summer day.

“For your cattle, I’ve been testing out this new three-dimensional printer model. It can uses recycled materials and filaments that are biodegradable and twice as strong as the plastic garbage most commercial products are using.” Leo speaks in a disinterested sort of way, like he’s talking about the weather or NASDAQ score for the day. There are only a handful of tells that belay his excitement: the way he sits up straighter in the chair, the quickness of his tone underneath the feigned mundanity, the spark of his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses. He’s learned how to hide his giveaways, with physical barriers and muted responses, but a clinical eye can see through him, if they know where to look.

“For the master herself?” His fingers drum out a specific rhythm on the table for a couple of beats. Bronze Age has been working on new armor, but it has not hit the catalogue just yet. The testing for the material has gone exceedingly well, but Theo still has reservations about the patents that are pending. Luckily, Iseul is too busy to do something like try to reverse engineer it for exclusivity rights. “I may be working on a new prototype material for personal safety. Something that would blend in under a blouse, protect major organs, all of the fun stuff,” Leo drawls.

“The possibility of war is on the horizons,” Leo knows this to be a fact. The houses have been alive with chatter, and some of it worries him. There are too many variables at play. Too many what-ifs surrounding Lorenzo, Janus, Minerva, and the balance itself. Leo’s last trip to the Middle feels tangibly wrong, and a foreboding has been following him since. “Only a bad general would go into combat unarmored, wouldn’t you say?”

✧･ﾟ*

Iseul has always believed that you can uncover a multitude of things when a person spoke of their passions; at the least, one can uncover if a person has their passions and how ardently they feel about them. During these conversations of theirs, it’s hard to miss how his eyes light up ( it’s certainly an entertaining part of their business dealings ). There are certain things in this world that are obvious to those who make the conscious effort to look. Then there are those things in life that you will miss if you make such efforts to remain oblivious.

The collective has been using the former to combat the latter for some time now and she is just one of many that have extended their thanks to the inventor hidden in darkness. Whenever he begins describing the latest product Iseul tries to immerse herself regardless of her own expertise in this field. If somethings go over her head, something else will stick. The first of his proposed products already seems promising, with the members of the collective having pushed for an increase in eco-friendly machinery. “Just what they had been asking for; it was a hot topic at our last barn meeting,” she says with a soft laugh.

As far as her own safety measures...Iseul likes to say that she’s preoccupied with other things. Not that the woman believe’s she’s invincible or that she has a devil-may-care attitude about her life but such concerns tend to fall to the wayside when you’re the figurehead for an anarchist group. She’s lucky then, that Leo and his prototypes can serve this purpose— otherwise she wouldn’t be the first shop for items that would salvage all of her necessary organs. “That’s certainly something I would need...even more so if it doesn’t detract from my fashion choices,” the end of her sentence more of a joke than anything else.

She continues with a little more seriousness, “I think we’ve all felt some sort of shift...” what with the recent events; Iseul would have to be stupid to remain oblivious of the increasing dangers. “I can’t risk leaving them without a herder, right?”

#✧･ﾟ* leo #✧･ﾟ* leo 001

zahra ✧･ﾟ*

❛ ☾ ◟━ LOCATION: basillica di san lorenzo ❛ ☾ ◟━ TIME: sunday, november 7th, 2021, during the funeral service ( event one, occasion three. ) ❛ ☾ ◟━ STATUS: closed for sunghee iseul || @seungseuls··

“—Can we PLEASE make sure that the invitations are being checked. Those who do not have one, kindly prevent them from entering inside. I’m not going to repeat myself again and if I do, not only will you have to rectify your work, but there will be a significant decrease on the invoice if this poor service continues…”

God Zahra wanted to physically STRANGLE someone like her own personal human stress ball. Handling this was a pain in her ass, but someone needed to get the job done and the event planners were weak when it came to making their point across. So what if these individuals were influential people? It was simple, those who did not have an invitation had no place here. It doesn’t matter who the fuck they were, this was an organized service with a SELECTIVE bunch. She needed a clear line of sight of the attendees. And frankly, she does not give a shit about the ‘OTHERS’ who genuinely wanted to pay their respects. If they’re IRRELEVANT, they can take time out of their own day and conduct that once Ervig’s in the tomb.

She was on the clock and at that very moment, she was craving a strong drink to get her by. However, her demeanour and behaviour said otherwise as she made her rounds, composed and collected as ever. She glanced over at Lorenzo and Andrea who were doing a great job at accepting the condolences, thoughts and prayers of their fallen brother. They were SELLING it, whether it was real or not, and Zahra had no issues with that. All they had to do was keep that up and continue to play VICTIMS of such a heinous crime.

Now, it was time to focus on THEIR people. While many had their fair share of sentiments, the Consigliere made it clear that the most important thing they should NOT do in the public eye was crash and burn. Whether Ervig was a bastard, a hero, or every name in the book, they needed to accept the fact that he was ONCE their fearless and driven leader. They were all welcomed into the Rossi Family and House of Janus under his command. If they were to rebel, then they’d not only look like absolute fools, but they’d face Zahra’s WRATH.

Scanning the pews, she caught sight of Sunghee Iseul. A voice for change and completely passionate for her cause, Zahra decided to start with her when it came to the check-ins. She held her to the highest regard, especially since she is their Healer. If there’s one person who’s levelheaded in all this, it would be her. Therefore, she approached the younger woman and took a seat next to her. “Iseul darling, how are you holding up?” Meeting her gaze, her composure displayed that she was attentive and ready for a genuine answer. However, she still clarified, making sure the other understood where she was coming from. “And be honest, please. I’m not one for generic responses.”

✧･ﾟ*

When the news had first broken about Ervig Rossi’s death, Iseul had taken about an hour or so to sulk about the fact that she had to attend his funeral ( the logical progression of thoughts, of course ). Even those who knew her best were not privy to her extreme aversion for post-mortem practices; it wasn’t necessarily the best conversational point.

Still, someone of her position ( with her affiliations and loyalties ), had responsibilities. As a member of Janus she was to show her respects; as the head of the collective, she was to act as an exemplar for others in their House.

The black articles of clothing in her closet were being used, her condolences were being expressed to the appropriate parties and she had delivered the funeral invitations as was asked.

This didn’t collect enough good will for Iseul to be forgiven if she played truant.

As such she found herself sitting in one of the pews of the Basillica, trying to temper any temptations to disappear into The Middle. Instead, Iseul had busied herself with the religious iconography that was scattered around the church— religion had never been her strong-suit, but the woman could still admire the architecture and its adornments. The childlike coping mechanism was the preferable alternative to her cellphone, whose apparition in her hands would be nothing short of rude. All for appearances sake.

To her surprise, a distraction from her previous distraction came in the form of Zahra; Iseul was surprised that the woman had taken a moment of her time to regard her, being as there were more important matters at hand. Still, it’s welcome.

The questions that are so commonplace for a funeral, are not as welcome. But how would the other woman know? It would do Iseul no good to grimace so publicly.

She turns to the woman, and almost laughs... “Zahra, I was going to supply you with generic answer B: I’m doing as well as anyone else here, but you’ve removed any ounce of fun of I would have found in said answer,” people like Zahra were perceptive; she had to be given credit for the skill. “As I’m going to be honest with you, I only ask that you swear to secrecy,” ( not a good joke to make...but here we are, ) “I’m waiting for this event to be over; I’m more so attending for appearances sake.”

Perhaps she was too candid these days— but hadn’t she always been?

Legs crossed, she rests her elbow on her knee, and rest her chin on the respective hand. All airs aside, Iseul is sure that Zahra can understand that these things are enacted for strategy. And Iseul understands that the House must show its unbreakable unity after a loss like this. “I know what this funeral means; I believe we all do, but you must admit that this is a little tedious.”

For all of her words, she’s still in attendance ( not that there was much of a choice there ). For all of her words she was playing her role as well as she was able.

#✧･ﾟ* zahra #✧･ﾟ* zahra 001 #i am SO SORRY THAT THIS IS SO LATE #my biggest apologies

leo ✧･ﾟ*

“Fascinating,” Leo says with a shake of his head a lack of his usual sarcasm. The collective is truly something to behold, full of ideals and forward progress that realistically should not work so well in the real world. Not because the thoughts are wrong, or there is a flaw with the concept, but for the sheer unpredictability that is humanity and the unwitting selfishness that comes with it. Iseul has managed to harness that human factor into something more manageable, and if Leo thinks too hard on it he’s sure she has to be a cult leader or some kind of social genius. Maybe a bit of both.

“And the lab rats aren’t wanting for anything?” Leo asks with a quirk on his brow over the top of his sunglasses. The coffee is smooth and refreshing, warming Leo up as well as the morning sun. He knows Iseul is smart enough to read in between the lines of what he’s asking. Out of all of the members of Janus, she is perhaps closest to his hidden secret, getting to see some of the prototypes and developments of a company that does not exist in the public sphere. Not yet, at least. A handful of his global patents have returned in tact and approved, and Leo can feel the rumblings of something big and dangerous almost ready to be unleashed on the world.

“And what of the puppetmaster herself?” Leo leans forward, his lackadaisical posture improving as he takes a sip of his coffee. His words are bladed but dull still, lacking a bite. He has too much respect for the woman in front of him to insult her or what she’s created.

✧･ﾟ*

What an oddity, to hold secrets from those within your circle. What a greater oddity, still, who one may hold those secrets with. Iseul doesn’t necessarily remember how this agreement of theirs came to be, but it had benefitted them both equally— he was given numerous yelp reviews from those in the collective, and in return, her agents of entropy were given the necessary tools to push against the forces that be.

It was an amalgamation of two very unique skill sets, hiding in the shadows lest they risk push-back from the more important members of Janus. The nature of their agreement, keeps her from being candid as her lips hover over the rim of her mug and she asks, “is there ever a moment when they aren’t wanting?”

She must be the first to admit that bloodletting for the sake of this goal of theirs is archaic, and if she can keep her people from the dangers of their cause, she will do so. Those who have chosen to join her are much more than cannon fodder, and she worries for their wellbeing with the same fervor as she would worry for her own mothers. As such, the so-called lab rats are always wanting, and their leader even more-so. Sometimes you just have to fight fire with fire, and Iseul had yet to run out of gasoline.

A laugh bubbles within her when he regards her— the puppet master. She knows the word lacks any malice...and she’s certainly been called worse.

“As the sommelier of your inventions, what is it that you would recommend for one puppet master?” For all of her ‘endless knowledge,’ she wouldn’t pretend to understand a single thing about the man’s inventions. He had yet to lead her astray in what he had provided, and she had faith that he wouldn’t disappoint her this time either.

#✧･ﾟ* leo #✧･ﾟ* leo 001

miran ✧･ﾟ*

Miran pondered that for a moment. The essence of politics. For better and for worse (and it was often the latter), he loved his work. He reveled in it. The pride he felt when he saw a bill successfully passed spurred him forward, but recently his days were filled with a special perplexity and depression. The path of public duty was unusually rugged indeed. It wasn’t the lack of compassion that bothered him, nor the criticism, or comments. What rankled him the most was a record of written proof spoiling his service record.

Blinking back to attention, Miran smiled, thankful. He and Iseul’s friendship was not an obvious one, but it was a connection he appreciated all the same.

While listening, he dug his wallet from his pocket. A black credit card was set on the edge of the table in preemptive expectation for the waiter and their arrival with the bill. Miran held mixed feelings towards the death of Ervig Rossi. He was loyal to his house, and Lorelei… well, he’d always liked her. But murder – even the one of a known criminal – was unacceptable.

He took in Iseul’s words. Her quiet anger, her grim acceptance, and he nodded.

“There should be justice.” He murmured, and vaguely in the back of his mind Miran acknowledged that surely the two of them would have different definitions of what justice meant. “I can’t say that I liked him very much. But his death was a crime.” Against his will, a narrative began to form in the back of his mind. He pushed aside the thought. For now, anyways.

“I don’t know yet.” He answered honestly. “The funeral is Friday, isn’t it? I planned to go, but I’ve heard it’s by invitation only. I’ve yet to receive one, though I expect to.” He tilted his head to the side, looking at her curiously, “Are you?”

✧･ﾟ*

Justice— it has always been such an interesting concept, albeit obsolete in the hands of the lawful. The blindfolded woman with her archaic scales and rusted sword had long lost her way ( or had she always been lost? after all, the highly-regarded code of hammurabi was far from the paragon of law and order ). Disregarding the potential recency of the matter, justice had become lethargic when the have-nots were the focal point.

Mostly this manifested itself in ways far removed from death, ways that Iseul had an acute understanding of. Then there were those manifestations that were slightly less removed, where the law still felt sluggish in its movements— one less, or something along those lines.

As such, justice was sought by those most affected ( i.e. the Rossi family ).

Ervig Rossi’s death affected Janus, and by proxy his death affected Iseul but ( respectfully, of course ) there were other matters that required her attention. Slightly more important matters. And truly, it’s not like she was a bruiser, or some hired gun for the house— she wasn’t interested in equalizing over something like this... “if someone is to seek justice for this, and I’m sure they will, it wont be me...it’s not my area of expertise,” and she wanted nothing to do with that area.

One glint of hard plastic captures her attention for just a moment; she doesn’t linger on the black credit card that he’s produced to cover their bill— Iseul only humors the fleeting thought that the rectangular piece of plastic is a poetic accessory to their current conversation.

“Membership is the one invitation that requires no répondez s'il vous plaît...I’m sure that my lack of attendance would be deemed highly disrespectful to Ervig—” Iseul doesn’t voice her displeasure for such events, but, when does a person happily attend a funeral? “I’m sure you’ll be receiving an invitation before then, though you didn’t hear it from me.” Not that it should surprise him.

#✧･ﾟ* miran #✧･ﾟ* miran 001

julian ✧･ﾟ*

ᴡʜᴏ: ᴊᴜʟɪᴀɴ ᴘᴇʀᴇᴢ & ꜱᴜɴɢʜᴇᴇ ɪꜱᴇᴜʟ ( @seungseuls ) ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ: ᴀᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴡʜᴇɴ: ꜰʀɪᴅᴀʏ ɴᴏᴠᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ꜰɪꜰᴛʜ, ᴍᴍxxɪ

Perhaps it could be considered somewhat TACTLESS for the House of Jupiter to be throwing the doors of THE AMORE open so soon after the tragedies that had befallen Janus and Minerva – though, truthfully, Julian was surprised it had taken this long. They empathised with the other houses – of course they did, understanding the pain that came with GRIEF, suffocating and sticky and all-consuming – particularly with their former peers in Janus, but they also knew that their own house wouldn’t be kept subdued for long – that the need for CATHARSIS and EXCITEMENT would have, sooner or later, outweighed that for SENSITIVITY.

So, of course, Julian had found himself entering the doors of the Amore as soon as they opened – the place which had become almost as familiar to him as the back of his own hand. It had been the place where he had first been introduced to JUPITER – where he had first learned that there may have been a life outside of petty thievery and desperate survival, a world filled with light and beauty and ART – one he could have only dreamed of on the streets of CARACAS. Some might argue that Julian was enticed by this way of life – but he would argue that he was drawn to it, that, no matter how long it took, he was destined to end up here.

They sit off to the side of the room, sprawled over an obnoxiously large sofa with a drink in hand ( an OLD-FASHIONED, only their second for the evening ), contentedly watching people dance and mingle to varying degrees of joy and drunkenness. They take another sip from their drink before spotting a FAMILIAR FACE on the other side of the room – a grin instantly tugging at their lips as they manage to make out SUNGHEE ISEUL. It is said that every artist needs their muse – and Iseul had long become Julian’s. They’d first met when he was still snugly within the ranks of JANUS – he had seen a softness, a grace within her that stood out sorely against the jagged edges of Janus – something that was both captivating and enchanting.

It was common now to see her likeness in many of Julian’s pieces – their partnership extending beyond Julian’s time in Janus and persevering into Jupiter ( thankfully – his relationship with Iseul is one he does not think he could cope with losing, not on top of everything else ). They like to think they see a depth to her that few others do – though they can’t imagine how others would miss it. They push themselves up out of the seat they’d claimed and glide towards Iseul, sliding in beside her with a grin. “Buenas noches,” He says by way of greeting, “May I buy you a drink?”

✧･ﾟ*

Some odd hours before entering the premises of the Amore, Iseul had convinced herself that she could navigate the crowds of this nightclub with the same ease that she could navigate the crowds found in the midst of a far-from-peaceful protest ( that is to say, some odd hours ago Iseul had lied to herself ). The two could be similar enough if she reduced each one to its basest element— but the idea of a gathering of people united for one singular reason was far from monolithic.

Besides, she wasn’t a scientist...what did she know about baser elements— that and, for all her internal monologuing about the crowd, she had ventured onto Jupiter territory for an entirely different reason.

Had that one reason in particular been removed from the equation, it’s certain that Iseul wouldn’t be associating herself with an event that had such resemblance to a celebration. After all, Janus was in mourning; as head of the Sunghee Collective, she was expected to mourn as well— hence the all-black attire.

Per contra, she was not here as the head of the Collective ( she wasn’t even here as a member of Janus, for that matter ). If she had entered Amore, it had been done as Iseul ( as the person she was at her basest element, if she so happened to fancy herself a scientist ).

And though she’s the one looking for them, Julian is the one to find her in the crowd. It must be true: to be a muse is to be a wonder in someone else's eyes, flaws and all...

They’ve always been the type of person that just...makes it easier to breathe. Such is the reason why one of Janus’ members finds herself gravitating towards one of Jupiter’s. No— such is the reason why one Sunghee Iseul finds herself gravitating towards one Julian Perez. It shouldn’t surprise a single person then, that the fact would remain regardless of their allegiances. She had never favored Julian for his affiliations.

“Buenas noches,” she greets him just the same, “you may...only if I may borrow just a bit of your time.”

Another version of Iseul, one of a million other permutations, may have taken the opportunity to express an added thought. ‘ I miss you, ’ she wants to say, but the declaration would open the doors to a conversation that she didn’t want to have— not here at the Amore ( and not ever, if the words risked tainting this moment they shared ).

“I’d like a brandy alexander,” Iseul says instead ( though she’s tempted to ask Julian if the bartender could make her a chocolate martini— Julian’s presence has proven itself sweet enough ). ‘ I miss you, ’ she thinks to say and once again, the words die on her lips. Some other time, perhaps, when they’re through reminiscing.

#✧･ﾟ* julian #✧･ﾟ* julian 001 #dare i say perfect

valentine ✧･ﾟ*

where & when — val’s apartment above the pomegran(ate) cafe after closing. night of funeral. who — iseul @seungseuls

“I’m so glad you’re here.” She says softly before placing the tea mug in front of Iseul. As she adjusts the towel around the young woman’s shoulders, she smiles. Valentine opened her cafe to anyone she cared about without any hesitation. Only it was her Apartment that was kept as a safeguard and only open to those she could trust. Particularly on a gloomy rainy night. Thunder pounded against the roof of her apartment. Taking a seat in her comfortable chair, she watches Coco climb on the table. The brown cat offered a soft meow in the presence of Iseul. Valentine offers a soft sigh. “Not on the table” She gently puts the cat on the tile flooring. Her eyes draw to the woman sitting across her. A fondness can be felt. “I can only guess why you’re here…” She breathes out as her finger moves around the top of the mug. “Evrig… and I didn’t have the best of relationships.” In this instant she realizes the weight of her words. “I can’t imagine how this loss has effected you or Janus.” She is sincere to the best of her ability.

“He’s put me in a position that I can’t get out of, Iseul. What I did… well wore at the funeral was a reminder to those who know that his death is a great relief to people like me.” Her eyes look past Iseul to the red dress laid out on her bed.

Soft eyes and features reflect the inner workings of valentine. “It doesn’t reflect how much I care about you. I hope that you can feel the same towards me.”

✧･ﾟ*

For just a moment, Iseul has to focus all of her attention on displacing the wet strands of hair that had adhered themselves to her forehead. It’s all she can do to collect her thoughts— not that she lacks certainty in the feelings that matter. She doesn’t feel anger towards Valentine ( no, she could never even feel resentment towards the woman ), but the words she’s rehearsed don’t sound right... “I don’t think that I do well with death...ironic considering the happenings of the world around me, but...I just don’t.”

When the words had been released into the ether, she tries to laugh ( really, she does ), but in the process she finds her eyes watering. Silly, she thinks.

In truth, she’s not so stunned by the passing as those that were closest to Ervig...the two had never bonded in any way that ( in her mind ) justified a high level of grief. In truth, Iseul had experiences with death that had primed her response to such events. Losing her mother, and losing the other woman that would have been her mother— that was her mother— had impacted the way that she dealt with death...even if the person was as removed from her as Ervig.

“I think seeing you attend the funeral dressed the way you did helped me with the whole funeral thing...I know that sounds weird, and not good but...it was a distraction I wouldn’t have admitted that I needed, and well...I can’t blame you for doing what you did—”

Her mother Dahianna, in all of her endless wisdom had once told Iseul, ‘ try to hold on to the ones still living— they will be in your life much longer than the dead. ’ The words had been directed at her grandparents, as they had stolen moments from the mothers and their daughter before Haneul’s passing...but they seemed relevant enough to the present, they seemed easier to accept. And for what it was worth, she wasn’t even mad at Valentine— there was no need for the theatrics or the tears, “what am I saying...I’m so sorry, thank you for having me over.”

#✧･ﾟ* valentine #✧･ﾟ* valentine 001 #BIG SAD #BIG. SAD.#i hope this is okay!#she doesn't like funerals #love that for her

leo ✧･ﾟ*

for: @seungseuls when: early morning where: small bistro near the collective

Leo doesn’t function without coffee.

Like clockwork, every morning, he stumbles through a hazy fog until the first sip of caffeine for the day. His personal lab, professional lab, and even his office at the Palazzo Rossi are all fully stocked for any caffeine emergency. Although never one for gratuitous spending, there is a five hundred dollar espresso machine within twenty feet of his bed kept in meticulous condition.

So it should come as no surprise that there is already an empty coffee cup on the small, street side table Leo occupies. He drinks his coffee black when it’s good, and with one and a half sugars when it’s not. They are far enough away from the city that Leo can breath while sitting outside; the streets are less congested and the air feels lighter on the way to the Collective. Although he could never join them the lifestyle that Iseul fosters is noble. And, more importantly, it’s a fascinating experiment that Leo has yet to get sick of observing.

“Good morning,” Leo says in between sips of his coffee, both hands curled around the ceramic mug. His sunglasses still cover his eyes as his head tips back to soak in some of the early morning glow, enjoying the feel on his skin. If he was more of a gentleman, he would stand and get her chair for her. Instead, his head tilts at the empty seat left at the table for her offering an invitation and smirk. Her usual tea order is still hot and waiting for her. “How is Waco doing?”

✧･ﾟ*

Some people say that Rome wasn’t built in a day— to hear Iseul tell it, the city certainly didn’t fall in one. La revolución was a massive effort that required much of her time. And she wasn’t the type to be swayed by the idea that a singular randomized effort could upend centuries of bullshit. It’s no surprise then, that her ‘schedule’ ( if one may call it that ), demands more overtime than a more traditional career would.

You’d have to forgive the amount of times she scanned her cellphone for any important text messages— and you’d have to wonder just how she made it from point A to point B without experiencing even one pedestrian collision.

Even before she had admitted the fact, her mothers used to call her a workaholic ( for a very good reason )...they always knew her better than she knew herself. At the very least, Dahianna and Haneul had once known her...before the sands of time had claimed one mother and the grief had driven the other away. Some things had changed since then and some hadn’t. With the years coming and going, Iseul had continued to allow herself less breaks than she’d allowed anyone else in the Collective, but she’d stopped purchasing coffee beans and started a connoisseurship with looseleaf tea instead.

That being said, her caffeine rehabilitation wouldn’t keep her from gracing Leo with her company every once in a while. He’d always ordered her favorites, after all, and she sees that this time is no different when she sits across from him, eyeing the peach oolong. “Good morning...thank you for the tea,” Iseul finds that it’s just the way she likes it, “I so humbly state that it’s thriving in the absence of organized religion...we lab rats thank you for caring enough to ask.”

#✧･ﾟ* leo #✧･ﾟ* leo 001 #idk what this is but i hope you like it

javier ✧･ﾟ*

when: — early morning, nov 6th. where: sunghee collective.

@seungseuls·

“ i get it, thank you. ” it’s the third time he tries to dismiss the person in front of him. and it was the second one that they got out to try to convince him to leave. it was his fault, really, coming in noninvited and for the first time without letting her know, but to be fair he didn’t plan on it going this bad. “ can you just go get her for me? ” the plead comes off his lips once more, but all he earns is a hard no and another request for him to get out. it didn’t help that his face was still bruised up from his fight a few hours ago at the amore, and that they spotted the gun he always carried with him when he first claimed to know iseul. he could understand the overreaction, but still he didn’t like it.

javier ended his night with a few more drinks, and then no battery left on his phone, and not enough money in his wallet to pay a car back to his house when the sun was up. he could make the trip to the collective though, it was close and all he needed was to crash for a bit. “ iseul! ” his voice echoes at the lofted area when he finally sees her, and he whistles trying to catch her attention, relief washing over him when she glances his way. “ will you tell your friends i’m one of the good guys? ” he does his best not to chuckle at his own statement, pointing at the commotion around him. “ pretty please. ”

✧･ﾟ*

Nothing can make you regret renouncing coffee quite like an early morning. She tried ( really tried ) to fuel her body with as much caffeinated tea as one could stomach, but it just wasn’t the same. If, by some twist of fate, she had not been leading the collective, Iseul would have allowed herself one or five late mornings, but civil unrest didn’t abide by those typical office hours. And between herself and…well, herself, Iseul didn’t like to delegate every single task she had outlined for the position— those responsibilities were her own.

As such, you could always find her waltzing back and forth through the collective, making sure that those who had joined her branch felt as if they had her support. Yeah, all in a day’s work.

She’s busying herself with one of these chores when she hears her name— truly...all in a day’s work.

Sending off the community organizer she’d been following around for the past half hour, Iseul turns to the source of the voice, more than a little surprised to see its source. It was no wonder he hadn’t made it more than a few feet inside; while she had an open door policy, he’d never been one to take advantage of it…still, a guest is a guest and she’s as much of a host as the collective will ever have, so “Javier?”

The space between them is closed after a few minutes ( she wasn’t exactly rushing ), “you can let him through— he’s mostly harmless…” she’s curious as she regards him, the discoloration on his features is hard to miss, “to what do we owe the visit?”

#it's amaaaazziiingggg #i laughed reading it #✧･ﾟ* javier #✧･ﾟ* javier 001

miran ✧･ﾟ*

She was right. Clean politics? It was an oxymoron. For all of Miran’s idealistic tendencies, even he wasn’t so foolish as to be blind to the industry he was in. That being said, in those early years… after college, and his very first internship… he used to dream of being better, and of rising above. He never forgot the ills of his childhood. Of the way that the people in charge trampled over their employees, or their citizens. Miran wanted to change that, and he didn’t want to do it with the help of the people creating those problems in the first place.

That didn’t last long. He never would have even had a shot of winning the seat he now held if it weren’t for the money and donations of those with special interests, and it had been a juggling show ever since. To keep his job, his influence, his ability to spark change… or to keep steadfast to his most deeply held morals.

Noelle’s words from the night before turned over in his head. He didn’t dare mention to Iseul what they’d discussed, but the idea sat there like a tumor, waiting to be excised.

Miran let her finish, and when she did he smiled at her. “Thank you, Iseul. I really do appreciate your advice. I’ve never… been in a situation like this. I wanted to consider every option before going forward, and your voice is valued. Really.” He spoke like a true politician, sincere and earnest in each of his words. Of course, he could sound like that even if he didn’t mean it, but that moment he did.

“I can’t say facing criticism is my strongest point, but I suppose we can all be better at something.” He glanced sideways and waved to the waiter, indicating that he wanted another iced tea. “Anyways, speaking of your voice. How are you doing? After Mr. Rossi’s death?”

✧･ﾟ*

It is obvious that there was some similarity in the earlier chapters of their stories, but the two of them had gone down two very different paths in order to reach a similar goal. He had been a halcyon in his youth ( that much was evident ) and while he couldn’t be blamed for the idyllicism in his youth, she had hoped that he would not shy away from accountability...at the very least, she hoped that Miran would keep her words as a footnote when moving forward.

All the same she took his thanks, diplomatic as it may have sounded, and knew that he was genuine in his words. “I think it says something about you that you’ve managed to exist unscathed in the political sphere for as long as you have...but the essence of politics is exactly this.”

She would say more ( much more ), but now wasn’t exactly the time to go on about her beliefs— she was always so candid with Miran that nothing else needed stripping. “I don’t think criticism is the strongest point for anyone in your position,” she teases a laugh, “so you’re not alone there; still, you may be alone in considering betterment as far as that goes.”

It’s as much of a compliment as she can offer given the circumstances...

“As far as my voice...I guess my immediate reaction is always loud; loud anger, loud outrage, loud grief. But death doesn’t lend itself to that...” from one odd circumstance to another, from one person’s misfortune to another. “This time, my voice was quieter— due to shock or proximity, or out of respect, I don’t know. It’s weird when these things happen.”

Death was an inevitable thing in this life; while she knew this, it never affected her any less. “It’s one of those certainties of life that will always render you stunned and confused— but that’s life. Are you going to the funeral?”

#✧･ﾟ* miran #✧･ﾟ* miran 001

miran ✧･ﾟ*

“Ha, well, this conversation will probably be better for you than it is for me. Lucky day.” He reached across the table for his glass of iced tea, washing away the lunch he’d just eaten.

While sipping, Miran contemplated his words. Iseul was, by all measures, an odd choice to go to for advice, which was precisely the reason that he was here. He wondered sometimes: were they more alike than they were different? Or was it the other way around? Sure, they resided in different houses. Warring houses… he thought idly, setting his glass back on the tablecloth. But that never seemed to matter too much. Miran cleared his throat.

“I don’t know if you’ve seen the news. About, er, me.” His voice was unusually stiff.

In general, Miran prided himself on his charisma. He navigated a conversation with an ease that only a shipwright might feel on the clearest, windiest day. It was one facet of everything that made him the perfect face for the public. “Lying. Ten years ago.” He was clearly uncomfortable, loathe to admit to his own mistakes.

“It was for a good cause.” Now came the rush to defend himself. “My opponent wasn’t sufficiently… forward thinking, to phrase it that way. I was young. New. I had bigger, better ideas. And so I made up lies about them. And now the press knows, and my name is all over the news, and… yeah.”

Miran rubbed at his face, and sniffed. “So, uh, I wanted to ask your advice. About what I should do. I trust your judgement, Iseul.” Mostly, anyways. They did live in a commune, after all. “How do I fix this?”

✧･ﾟ*

Well, Iseul had never promised Miran that in her company he’d have a good time; that much was certain. Still, he was enough of a friend that Iseul would lend him her ears in earnest— she lost nothing by listening to his plight, “lets first see how it goes.”

In truth, she already knows the focus of his concern— in some sense, it’s highly important that she knew these things about the people in his line of work...her own work is always better off for it. When she had first learned of the whole thing, Iseul had felt some sympathy for Miran. Now, the sympathy was not misplaced in the sense that one would forgive his actions; Iseul would not be one of the people to assuage any guilt he may have towards the lies he had spread. But she did feel some pity for the man who made mistakes those ten years ago, if only she pitied his mindset at the time.

So, she takes a deep breath and tries ( truly tries ) to keep her words from sounding as harsh as they should be. “I...”

Another deep breath and she tries again, because he’s genuine as he speaks and she does value the sliver of friendship they have. “I want to preface this by saying that I don’t pretend to believe that there is such a thing as clean politics because you’re not the only one whose done something like this, Miran...you wont even be the last...even if your intentions were better than the others. That being said, it’s out there now, you can only face the criticism.”

In her mind, there was no erasing this. As someone who led the largest insurgence in the city, Iseul knew that those looking to strike the tipping point seldom forget these mistakes ( even if there were others out there doing worse things than he ).

“That’s probably not what you wanted to hear,” her words are softer now, “but I can’t think of any other advice to give you. If you’re sure that this is one mistake in a career that is otherwise free from them, then trust that the people who put you in power will forgive you...if you’re earnest. They can smell bullshit, you know?”

Of course, she didn’t expect him to follow her advise blindly...or at all...but Iseul does hope that he’s smart enough to keep from exacerbating the situation. “Or just let it die down if apologies aren’t your thing.” She shrugs and takes another sip of that bitter soft drink.

#✧･ﾟ* miran #✧･ﾟ* miran 001

miran ✧･ﾟ*

WHO: Miran Yildiz and Sunghee Iseul @seungseuls· WHEN: Monday, November 1st, 2021. 1:45PM WHERE: Trattoria D'Angelo

Lunch was delicious. He’d ordered the lunch special: a juicy lamb shank. It’d been slow-cooked for eight hours according to the server, and was infused with fresh rosemary and sage. Served beside it were smooth mashed potatoes and char-grilled, crispy asparagus, topped with a tangy golden-brown glaze. It was a meal he would not soon forget.

Miran pushed back his plate and set his fork down, looking across the table at Iseul. He’d offered to take her to lunch under the guise of friendship, but there were ulterior motives at play. Miran was in a bit of a crisis. Eight years ago… or was is ten…? At any point, a long time ago, during his second campaign for local office, he’d told a lie (a few of them, actually) about an opponent. He had gone so far even as to enlist a financial backer to help him with his charade. “Witnesses” were bought off, negative ads were ran… etc.

He wasn’t proud of it. But it’d got him to where he was today. Truly making a difference.

Unfortunately, the news of his past digressions had come to light. He was being blasted daily by the opposing political party, and with his reelection approaching, he couldn’t afford it.

“Delicious lunch, right?” He said happily, maintaining the same happy mood he had for the earlier portion of their meal. “I appreciate you letting me take you out.” He took a sip of his water. “But as nice as this has been, I brought you here because I wanted to ask for your advice.”

✧･ﾟ*

Iseul is not so naive as to think the people she operates around will live for the sake of simply living. One lunch begets a favor begets a debt-owed and then suddenly you’re stripped naked of all defenses, finding yourself at the mercy of the malefactor. And while this way of thinking has served her well through the years, every so often she thinks to test the theory. She’s proven wrong nine times out of ten— much to no one’s surprise.

It’s the reason she finds herself at the Trattoria D’Angelo, nursing a glass of some bitter Italian soda that she could never fool herself into enjoying. Life was too bitter to be consuming bitter spirits. And when Miran finally decides to do away with the veneer of ‘sharing a meal with a friend,’ Iseul adds another tally on an ever-growing list.

At the very least, he knows enough of her to end the request at advise. She sets the glass down, thinking to finish it later ( begrudgingly ), and raises a single brow, “Delicious as it is, the meal is only as good as the conversation...”

Iseul doesn’t think to voice that she appreciates the meal, or the company— he should know.

“There isn’t much that I can do...or that I would do, considering...” she makes some motion with her hands, trying to encompass the dichotomies between them, “but please, let me know what’s troubling you and I will try not to mention the fact that these ententes are not viable.”

If he had come to her, willing to divulge his worries and ask her for some form of guidance, Iseul hoped that he had come to her expecting honesty. She was never one to be nice for the sake of it— she’d never delude herself into thinking that there was an ounce of diplomacy in her bones. Whatever it was, she would chastise him if need be. That is the only way that a woman like her could show a man like him that she cared.