#feyminki

[feyminjun]

67%

prompt #70: 67% partner: @feyminki​

date: august 2019.

minjun would probably regret later that same day when he parked his car in front of the house that looked suspicious enough, if it wasn’t for the blinding lights and loud music coming from the inside. his friend had been nagging him the whole morning and afternoon about attending that party, even though the witch just wanted to go to his basement and work on the incredible amount of orders he got online earlier that week. 

however, to his unluck, they were too persuasive, enough for minjun to just accept their request just to shut them up, which was that case. His eyes found the cellphone, the screen informing there was just 67% of battery left, making him swear under his breath.

“it’s not even a hanu witch party, I bet this one will suck”, he muttered under his breath, a hand running though his newly dyed pink hair before locking the door behind him and facing the house once again.

The air was too hot for minjun and it made him regret wearing that purple velvet coat, but once inside, it was surprisingly cool. His eyes scanned the crowd immediately, from the decoration to the small groups of people, some of them flirting, others dancing, but all of them having fun. “Maybe this won’t be so bad.”

He picked his phone again, his eyes darkening as soon as he read the message his friend sent him. “sorry I won’t make it. Have fun, Jun!”. Once again Minjun swore, everything falling out of place, suddenly. The night was going to be a nightmare.

“I need a fucking drink.”

[feyharin]

after hours.

↳ @feyminki

Someone’s shining a light in Harin’s face. It’s the first thing he’s aware of, though it dawns on him that the light isn’t concentrated enough to be a flashlight shining into his eyes. And that’s good, because it means he isn’t about to open his eyes and find the Seoul Metropolitan Police are hauling him out of an old woman’s vegetable garden. Victory number one; victory number two is the creeping realization that it’s the sun. Nothing artificial. Just dawn, advancing.

Whatever feeling of hazy triumph it lends him, though, it’s fleeting as Harin tries to sit up. His joints don’t ache like this normally, but what’s worse is the headache that makes itself known with a little delay, like part of his head hasn’t caught up with the rest of him. Oh. Drinks, lack of sleep, loud music. Drinks. Really, how much had he had? Things don’t affect him quite the same as they used to, though it doesn’t stop him from trying to reach the old level on occasion.

What it’s earned him this time is a night on someone’s floor. Not like he doesn’t know the guy, though it’s practically more by reputation than personal connection. Nice house, though. Real generous of him to let as many people inside of it as he does, because parties are never forgiving on their environments.

It takes a few seconds for Harin to get his bearings and establish important things like whether or not he’s wearing all the clothes he should be (the answer is yes, although the buttons on his shirt are in a creative order where they’re fastened at all), but then he pushes himself to his hands and knees, and then risks standing up. The motion sends a flurry of colorful spots dancing in front of his vision, but they clear, and he doesn’t have to embarrass himself by crashing back down to the floor. After the vibrancy of the party, the stillness of the house is all the more apparent, now that he feels conscious enough to observe it—Harin frowns as he picks his way across the floor, avoiding empty glasses and bottles that have been unceremoniously left in places they shouldn’t be.  

He’s made it almost all the way to their host’s kitchen when he encounters another body. Conscious, like him—Harin wonders if they’ve woken up early as well, or if it’s simply that they never passed out in the first place. Either way, he offers a bleary smile and a greeting as he passes them, attention less on who exactly it is in favor of getting to the kitchen sink—he really just wants a handful of tap water to clear the sour lingering taste of alcohol in his mouth. “… good morning.”

[feysehun]

castor

@feyminki

kiha had learned early on in his life that having a lot of time on his hands with nothing to fill it was particularly dangerous for him. it had led to far too many difficult situations that he barely escaped with by the skin of his teeth. so as he grew older, he learned how to fill it with anything and everything to cure his boredom or at least that’s how the partying started. 

long ago, parties had been nothing but decorum, something attended to only save face or build reputation. but then as the times changed  and things shifted, the party scene did as well. and kiha can definitely say that it’s much more fun nowadays. and there’s more variety too: clubs, raves, bars, and houseparties, which were by far were his favorites. he loves the simplicity and the anonymity that comes with it. it’s much more fun to slip in, to lie through his teeth, cause a little bit of chaos and slip back out. 

tonight’s no different, he forgets how he heard about this party. but it was easy to find, the booming music could be heard from the street, calling to friends and strangers alike like a siren calls to lost sailors. the energy of the room entices him, encourages him to stop by the counter filled to the brim with an impressive amount of alcohol to grab his own overflowing cup of soju and from there he makes his way around the room.  kiha creates a story as he goes, the life and trials of kwon jihoon, 24 year old senior of seoul university, studying engineering and practically drowning as the semester boils down to an end. 

he settles in against the plush couch cushions and lifts his cup to his mouth, pretends to the take a sip and swirls the soju inside of the cup, catching hints of peach. covering up the grimace that threatens to take over his face at the strong smell, kiha laughs along with the joke and starts to spin lies, stories of his time on campus. 

[feyxzhixin]

TANSY

- Send A Flower : Accepting! - …start a fight with your muse.

He used to really like book stores. As a kid they felt like his only escape from training or long-winded history talks from his father and provided a rather solid excuse of education to keep him from being scolded for running away from the responsibilities of being the only child in a household upheld by honor and tradition. To this day he still thanks his mother for keeping secret all of the times he was found asleep in their study with a book balanced in his palms, but being thankful only goes so far when it feels like the only moments he was ever truly protected from the life he was forced to live. He used to like book stores when he had someone to comb the titles with and it felt normal to visit from time to time when classes ended earlier than expected. It’s been too long since he’s smelled the pages of a hard cover, a first edition decades older than he was, too long since he’s stepped foot in a shop purely out of leisure, and he half wishes this time was different, that when he opens the door it’s just to lazily nod to the person at the front desk before getting lost in the isles like every other, normal customer.  He closes his eyes when the clang of the door echoes behind him, imagining it, the ghosts of normalcy that he had once. It’s a mourning that he can’t meet with tears anymore. Opening his eyes at the faint rustle of another person, likely taking notice of him, he turns towards the sound and makes his way to stand before the front desk. The composure he wears like armor, visibly has its dents and dings. It noticeably takes some time for his rigid posture to feel animate, like a key turned somewhere in his spine and he finally lined up with time and space where they stood. “You should really work on making better friends, ones that won’t wave your scent under the nose of a threat the moment they feel vulnerable. However, I can’t say I’m too surprised, loyalty doesn’t look to be up your alley.” 

[feyharin]

SUNFLOWER

SUNFLOWER …help your muse. / send a flower! ❀ / @feyminki / accepting!

A dog's nose, Harin has learned, has somewhere around forty times the power of a human's. A werewolf in human form can't exactly boast the same extraordinary detection, since this way he's lacking some of the physical parts that would be necessary, but he's definitely been sharper these days than before. Maybe it's just being more attuned to smells now, knowing how much they matter.

It's kind of a weird twist of events that leads to Harin helping someone clean out their parents' attic over the weekend, carrying boxes out to the street and into a car or a bin in the alley. A lot of the boxes smell musty, but it's the case of books that's the worst. They smell like mold; like a forest after too much rain. And they end up in the back of Harin's car, because his friend won't let him throw them out even as they refuse to take them themselves.

Fortunately, there's Naver search to solve the problem. A list of used book stores. Ah, isn’t that one ...?   

So on Monday morning, Harin enters Minki's bookshop with the cardboard box, all faded printed logos and tears around the seams, and sets it down unceremoniously on the front desk. There's a little cloud of dust particles that leaps up and drifts through the air, visible in the beam of sunlight from the nearest window.

"I haven't purchased a book since 2018," he admits, propping his elbows against the edge of the box (a movement which tears it at the corners just a little further) and leaning forward to peer over the edge. "Which means I have no idea what these are worth, and honestly, I don't want to know. So guess what -- I'm making a donation. How does it sound?"

[feyxrina]

RANUNCULUS

send me a flower; accepting!

Not many smells can entice Rina but walking into a bookstore with older books just makes her happy. When the clouds take over the Seoul sky, she finds herself going across the city in her search for the rare and old medical journals. Though if she was honest with herself, it was the young manager, Icarus is his name she believes, that she saw on occasion that brought excitement walking into the bookstore. She didn’t expect anything of this little crush but Rina liked to ask him questions about what she was looking for, even if she had already found what she needed, it was just some fun to entertain herself for a few seconds. However on this particular day, she felt unusually moody in hopes to find a medical journal dated from the Korean War. The weather was her usual cloudy but the humidity was off the charts and was not helping in any way. She looked for the manager once she made through the doors like many times before, giving an over exaggerated wave to signal him over and a sigh of relief he was close by; though she didn’t expect what came out of her mouth next, “You always look so handsome when I come. If I didn’t hate going outside so much I would be here all the time just to see you. Not to mention you have a nice smell.” Rina realized right after she closed her mouth that she spoke her thoughts, that were suppose to stay in her head and away from the young man. The color on her cheeks was a deep red, like she had just exposed herself. Her statement could be taken two different ways and it wasn’t like she could run away and never return, this was her favorite store, “Ah-- Ummm... I was wondering if you had medical journals dating back to the 1950′s? And if you could forget everything I just said before that? Not saying it’s a lie but  you were not suppose to hear that.” 

Now Rina is just pushing her own buttons while the wheels in her head are turning, trying to get her to shut up.

[feykijung]

` * ∞ floret

he comes to this bookstore in particular often. maybe he’s a creature of habit, taking comfort in something that grows familiar-- of a place he enjoys. maybe it’s out of the character he’s built for himself in the past few years, but he doesn’t care. he’s lived too long to care much of what people think of him, or what to he “learns” in school. he does care about true learning, and knowledge, and how much of it still exists in the world for the taking, even after 400 years. 

he sits in one of the chairs for now, backpack at his feet, giving the illusion of studying in an environment conducive for it, not no. instead, he leans back, reading a book about flowers of all things. it goes into detail about the meanings of them all, and their history, and the history of their meanings. it’s such a mundane thing, and a book he picked up simply because he couldn’t decide what to read, but he finds it fascinating.

he decides to buy it, if anything, because the cover looks nice and will look good on one of the bookshelves in the living room. mei might like it too, but he’ll certainly read through it, and maybe refer to it afterwards. he steps up to the counter, and sure enough, there’s minki at the helm. no one else is in line, so he pauses.

“did you know in ancient times people would hang roses from the ceiling to indicate anything said below them was supposed to be a secret?” it might be strange to approach with this opposed to some small talk, but kijung isn’t really the type, and minki knows it by now. sharing information between them is commonplace, and for kijung, it’s almost a competition to see who knows more, even though they both benefit in the end.

                     ────────────────────             ` @feyminki *

[idrisfey]

playing with fire.

to be a monster is to be a hybrid signal, a lighthouse: both shelter and warning at once, ft. @feyminki.

the spring rain leaves the city awash with the weight of nostalgia, and it does not help that he’s meeting the history aficionado, minki himself. having met the other through a random class that he took in the university even when he’d known everything prior, experiencing some as well. still, it can be fascinating, how humans view the history as they learn from it. and he didn’t take notice of the witch at first, but once they got along, he feels like this might be an odd dynamic that he relishes in nonetheless.

meeting minki again feels like almost a routine in spite of the possible wandering thoughts, ones which sometimes he doesn’t welcome. this time, the rendezvous point is set at the may fair, where he knows plenty of his kin would gather considering the rumors on the abundance of blood donors. regardless of his age, sometimes he still fails in comprehending why some humans who are aware of their presence would be willingly provide such a service for his own people, even when he can understand the appeal emanated by vampires. perhaps that’s why, and perhaps that’s why plenty of people line up to dazzle him, too, one way or another. he’s not interested in them anymore these days, the charm of biting necks has worn off a long time ago.

he’s arriving at the fair earlier than minki, it seems. sending a text to indicate that he’s already there, waiting for the ( much, much ) younger company to approach him as he stands idly underneath the tree. there were some of those that he’s seen through various events, specifically the annual galas held by the council, so he smiles at them politely as they greet him. upon having his company there, however, his smile widens into a grin, which reveals a tad too much of his fangs so he doesn’t let the gesture linger. “not missing out on the chance to get free meals, are you?”