출처 : SEND A 🙌 AND I’LL INTRODUCE YOU TO AN NPC RELATED TO MY MUSE ! 물음 : YEO CHEONSA, DAUGHTER. 지위 : ACCEPTING !
⸢ † ⸥ despite her lack of years, roaming the earth and taming its many challenges - she is fairly independent. as independent as she can be at such a nonage, anyway, as the amount of innocence contained in her golden eyes is so immense that one may wonder if she had ever experienced any pain at all. and she had : for she lost her mother a mere year ago, and though the move from new york city to seoul had been exciting, it was frightening - a new, foreign place … though strangely familiar, and a language she had only casually used with her father whenever he would visit or communicate through electronic means. but now, she lives with him - and has been since early last year, when the battle with cancer had claimed her mother’s life. she loves her father, however. she is happy to be able to live with him ; to see him every day as opposed to when his schedule or the taming of the atlantic separating them would allow.
adaptable, like her father, she has learned and compensated for quite a bit since her migration across the sea. she has discovered what she is certain she wants to do with the rest of her life - to be a singer, like all the idols she would see on tv, or that her father would bring around due to a friendship or a business tie that held them together with varying degrees of tightness. the little cherub has retained her father’s stubbornness as well - for rarely ever would she ask for help, unless she were in dire need or at a state of comfort with the other party to be able to do so. her dark curls fall behind her as she pushes them over her shoulder, determination emanating from the eyes her father had given her - and she gives her finest stretch - lengthening her tiny body as much as she could ( that was something she had inherited from both of her parents : a lack of height ) in her quest to grasp the glittering jar atop the counter ( she can almost reach it ! she’s gotten taller ! )
it is when another presence can be heard nearing the kitchen that her limbs retract - the young girl’s head whipping toward the direction of the open doorway, where her father’s shadow materializes against the ivory wall. when the inquiry of what she is doing reverberates into the room, she nearly slips running to the other side of the kitchen, scrambling to pull out a barstool to sit on, innocently.
