WEEKLY PROMPT CHOSEN: First line prompt.
WORD OF THE WEEK: Servile.
She didn’t want to go out on such a night but…
Simply put, she had no choice. The members had decided to throw a mini party (in other words, to take her out for a meal that was more substantial than what they usually had), in order to celebrate their return to the stage and the fact that, by now, the scandal had more or less cleared, leaving Tzuyu with the support of more people she could’ve ever imagined she would appeal to. It was rather overwhelming, unexpected in every way, and the best feeling she’d ever had in her entire life.
That didn’t mean she was any more enthusiastic about the outing, but she didn’t want to be a spoilsport. And, besides, she’d avoided going out with her unnies for long enough already, they would worry much too much if she did the same now. She’d tried to argue that Bliss would miss her too much, that the puppy needed to see her ‘mother’, but even that fell flat eventually, and she just had to give in. But now, alone in her room, in front of the vanity table, she felt a stronger urge than ever before to get away. She just wanted to rest, really, maybe a movie and snacks. Being out sounded more like a chore than a prize.
But she wasn’t going to upset them like that. Instead, she pressed her hands to her cheeks, squishing them together as she always seemed to do when something was unnerving, then picked herself up from the table and made her way to the door – back straightened impossibly much, head up, the tiniest glimmer of panic in her eyes, but relatively well hidden. Since when had she turned so afraid of being in public if it wasn’t strictly on stage? She couldn’t quite tell, but it felt as though any such thing was an opportunity for someone to observe her, to find something wrong.
Stop thinking, Tzuyu. And stop she did, when Jihyo’s voice, loud as usual, resounded from the kitchen. “Are you ready, Chewy?”
“Yes, unnie! I’m coming right away.” She retorted, her tone more servile than she would have wanted it to be. No matter. They probably wouldn’t notice it.
It is MANDATORY to pick one of the three prompts. You may mix them, use two, write three separate prompts, whatever you deem useful. Tag is #aoe:04 . Hover over titles for more information!
First-line prompt !
Well, so much for not getting involved.
Scenario prompt !
What secret has your muse got that they would hate to be made public? How would your muse react if someone close to them attempted to blackmail them?
SERVILE - adj. Having or showing an excessive willingness to serve or please others.
↬ Is there anything you regret?
@elegentia
“There’s nothing at all.” A lie, if told long enough, easily could mask itself as true, and to the unknowing, this mark would melt into one face. The demigod flashed a wide, white-teethed smile, making everyone listening aware that he had no single care in the world. He cared for nothing and no one, thus, he could never regret anything.
But --- perhaps there was something he did regret. A long forgotten something that’d been nagging at his insides. Did he feel regret? Could Akakios really feel an emotion he could not quite grasp, that found no recognition in his vocabulary? Perhaps the ruckus he had caused on the Olympus could have counted as one of the rather unlucky cases, but never did he ever call what he felt regret. It was an unfortunate event. Zeus just never knew how to understand some fun and poor Akakios had always been the one to taste the fruits of the god’s peculiar antics. Granted, the demigod had never been a servile or pleasant company to have around, but he never acted on bad intention or malice.
It is MANDATORY to pick one of the three prompts. You may mix them, use two, write three separate prompts, whatever you deem useful. Tag is #aoe:04 . Hover over titles for more information!
First-line prompt !
S/he didn't want to go out on such a night but...
Scenario prompt !
You are forging someone's signature but it's for a good reason. What is that reason?
Interview prompt !
Is there anything you regret?
Word of the week !
SERVILE - adj. Having or showing an excessive willingness to serve or please others .
WEEKLY PROMPT CHOSEN: First line prompt.
WORD OF THE WEEK: Recondite.
The first Christmas she could remember was also her best Christmas ever.
She was little over four years old, at that point of development where everything was a fascinating adventure (though those who knew her would argue that things hadn’t much since then for the idol), filled with questions and mirth and wonder, and, until then, never for even a day deprived of her family’s affection. She hadn’t spent a single day without seeing each member of her little family: the brother that liked to share his treats with her late at night, after they were supposed to be asleep, and after their parents had decided that Tzuyu should be allowed no more chocolate for the day, her mother, with her smile, warm and kind like sunshine, and her father’s low, nearly menacing voice that managed to curl around words so lovingly that she’d never had to be afraid, not even for a moment.
They celebrated Christmas, though not out of any religious impulse: they were not Christian, but the children had seen a Christmas movie on TV once, the year prior, and had expressed their wish to have something like that in the future, and they’d been granted it the next year. They’d always been spoiled like that, though they would only later on realize it. There was just one blemish on the joy of the holiday: just a few minutes after having unwrapped their presents and thanked Santa Clause, they’d been hurriedly rushed out of the living room and into the care of their grandmother, and, with each hour that passed, Tzuyu’s voice became more high pitched, more demanding and imperious when she asked for her mother, and her grandmother’s forehead became more wrinkled with every response, until, finally, many hours later, instead of the usual “You’ll see soon”, the children didn’t receive a proper response, instead, they were ushered into the family’s car, and taken away.
“Where are we going, nai nai?” Her brother questioned, just as impatient as Tzuyu had become, by now, and not willing to be kept in the dark for one second extra.
“To the hospital, to see your mother. But you need to be very good, very quiet, so that you don’t disturb your mama and the other patients… Santa has left a present for you two there, too… but you can only have it if you’re very good.”
They didn’t say another word – instead, Tzuyu and her older brother kept exchanging meaningful glances all the road. The recondite word meant nothing to them: none of them remembered having been to the hospital before, they had no idea what that could possibly be. But the instructions were clear enough, and nai nai didn’t lie. When she said they’d receive a present for being good, that would precisely the thing.
Upon entering the hospital room, small, warm, and white from floor to ceiling (so much so that Tzuyu’s eyes hurt when she first looked around), she couldn’t help but wonder why she was supposed to be quiet, because from a little crib by the side of the bed occupying most of the room, the shrillest, most heart-breaking screams erupted, one after another. But she didn’t question it, instead, letting go of her brother’s hand (she’d held onto him all the way, for support, because he was her gege and her rock), she tiptoed over to the bed, to better examine her mother. She looked tired, and a little ill, and worried out of her mind, though the latter was a little too subtle for Tzuyu to pick.
“Wo de ai, do you want to meet her?”
“Meet who?” The child repeated, confusion obvious in the little furrow of her brow.
“Your sister, of course..”
Tzuyu could only reply with a screech: she did recall being promised a little sister, but she hadn’t been told when would such wonderful surprise come. Of course, she should’ve thought that Santa would bring it! That was only natural. She made her way to the crib, then reached her arms out to her father, that carefully pulled her up on his lap, so that she’d be able to see inside. The baby was small, just a little bigger than the family’s cat, Tzuyu reckoned, and her face was red and streaked with tears: a little like her own was when she was very upset about something. But when she was upset, she’d feel better if she held her brother’s hand. Perhaps her sister would be comforted in the same way?
Cautiously, she reached over the crib, sticking her fingers out to the baby, and gently pushing the tips against her miniature palm. The little girl didn’t quite have the energy to clutch them as Tzuyu herself would have, but she did something akin to holding on – and the cries stopped, falling into little whimpers next, then quieting entirely as Tzuyu inched just a little nearer – her face just centimetres away from the one of the baby, from how she bent over the crib, held in place by baba.
“She’s so beautiful, mommy!” She nearly cried, though she was quick to lower her tone when the baby yelped in alert.
“Just like you, tianshi. What would you name her?”
The question made her ponder. It wasn’t the kind of thing one could answer right off the bat, and it took her a full minute of playing with the infant’s hand to finally reach a conclusion, that she proudly stated. “She should be named Bambi!” She stated, proudly nodding her head, only to be met with barely muffled chuckles from her mother’s side, and utter horror written on her nai nai’s features.
“But baby… you’re our Bambi. We can’t have two children with the same name, can we?”
↬ You wake in the night and turn on the light but it’s not working. What are the possible reasons for this?
@elegentia
Heavy eyes opened and closed reluctantly. Her tired body turned to the side. The light of the digital clock mesmerized her for a short moment before she snapped back to reality. Past midnight. Her weary eyes traveled back to the ceiling, before -- though hesitantly -- she got herself up from the bed. Something felt wrong to her that night. A wave of peculiarity passed through her entire small body until it had her on her feet, wandering about the small apartment and seeking the source of her inner distress. It felt as though some strange power had hidden in her own four walls and it left her paranoid and in fear.
Rae reached for the light switch when she leaned against the door frame. Her attempt of turning on the lights was in vain. The reasons for the malfunction remained recondite to her and so she kept wandering around. This time, she found her backpack filled with equiptment. If the lights were not to work, she’d find a gadget -- a more trustful one -- in her own collection of electronics. The small person rumbled about the small bag, threw out things she deemed unuseful and finally stopped at an odd looking gadget with green lights. A wide grin tugged at either corner of her mouth leaving a rather boy-ish look on her features. “There you are”, she mumbled and when it didn’t work at the first push of the button, it certainly did after a few times hitting it. As soon as all lines around the cube lit up, so did the entire apartment.
“There you go.” A satisfied smile formed and she looked around. Finally, Rae stood up and started to look for the dark power hiding in her apartment. Perhaps it was some sort of calling from home, or so she hoped. She had found, whenever her folks interfered with this world, it would cause electricity to become disturbed and so Rae kept her hopes high.
Something small rushed right beside her. Rae’s heart started pounding loud against her chest. Oh how joyful it was! She was not forgotten! As quick as her tired feet could carry her, she followed the shadow. Again, it passed across the room, now behind the curtains. Her grin grew wider and wider. She approached the heavy velvet drapes. When Rae pulled them away ---
The intruders she found were only a few rats who must have followed the General back to the apartment. A sigh of disappointment filled the room before she plopped herself back down on the bed.
It is MANDATORY to pick one of the three prompts. You may mix them, use two, write three separate prompts, whatever you deem useful. Tag is #aoe:04 . Hover over titles for more information!
First-line prompt !
The first Christmas s/he could remember was also her/his best Christmas ever.
Scenario prompt !
You wake in the night and turn on the light but it's not working. What are the possible reasons for this?
WEEKLY PROMPT CHOSEN: Interview prompt.
WORD OF THE WEEK: Ethereal.
The questions take her by surprise, because it’s not the sort of thing that people would ask her of all people often. At sixteen, she’s one of the youngest idols (though April makes sure she doesn’t take the crown), and people seem to have made a most annoying hobby out of treating her like a baby. She’s never enjoyed it: the diminutives employed for everything, the baby talk her sunbaenims would sometimes use when addressing her, the change of topics and the way they often met her questions with a contemptuous “You’ll understand when you’re older” or “You’re too young to know these things”.
But sixteen is not three, she’s not a child that needs to be protected from the vileness of the world at every step: instead, what she needs is to learn and create her own defensive tactics. How is that going to work if people just brush everything off around her? And, like she often enjoys pointing out, at 13, she’d moved from her hometown and home country to live away, on her own, in hopes of becoming a star in a country she’d never seen before. Many people that were many years her seniors hadn’t yet moved out from their parents homes – didn’t that mean she had more life experience? That she could be more mature?
Shaking the cloud of thoughts off, she forced herself to focus on the interviewer once again. “No, I don’t think I’ve ever been in love. I haven’t—I mean, you’d think I’d know if that happened, no?” She paused, corners of her lips raising in a little smile: she’d dreamed about it, yes, ethereal thoughts gone all too soon, but from that to experiencing it, it was a long road – one she didn’t think she’d get to travel all too soon. Perhaps her hopeless romanticism was to blame for that, too. But no matter. “So I suppose I should say that I haven’t had my heart broken either, but… I think it can be broken by more than just romantic love.”
Another little pause, this time to gather her thoughts instead of dispersing them. “Disappointment of any kind can do that, so long as it’s profuse enough, isn’t it so? So…I think it was broken, and more than once, too, but that only means that I’m good at fixing, since I’ve still got it working in what I’d call a good enough way. Heartache only opens the way to growth – and that can be good or bad, depending of the direction taken, but I think it’s worked out well enough for me. I hope it has.”
