* automata.
most never even thought about its existence: the bitter scent of machinery, but mijoo did. truthfully, it is something impossible to avoid when one slow inhalation brings the tang of iron and steel stinging to her delicate nostrils. because of it, the young woman had taken to wearing a shielding face mask whenever she visited minkyung’s laboratory on her own. the black cloth concealing her lips and nose was embroidered with the shape of a golden bird on the upper right-hand corner and mijoo happened to fancy the attention to detail when minky had presented the gift to her on one of their rare outings together.
( a rare confession: the simple mask is one of mijoo’s treasured possessions. )
measured footsteps lead her further into the lab and mijoo gracefully plops down on a settee far enough away from the machinery so as to make herself comfortable without venturing too close. she liked to disturb minkyung always -- call it a professional privilege -- but a hard-learned lesson keeps mijoo away from directly interrupting her owner at work. once before and never again: mijoo could still feel the ghostly sting of a pulled feather right above her hip when minky had gotten too experimental with her own card. “minky!” a disgruntled huff matches the unhappy look in mijoo’s eyes as she leans forward from the sofa. her accusing gaze trains on the other. “you promised you’d go to coex with me. i want to go now.”
@ccminkyung