she’s got enough bows and satin to be an entire christmas present, but she’ll admit to the fact she feels pretty good about herself at the moment. sure, she’s recycling a costume, but she’s a girl on a budget who gave up the prospect of proper adulthood for a chance at a pipe dream, so really people should have lower expectations from her.
she knows she could have, should have, gone with something more understated or more aesthetic or something that would read as trendy and instagram chic. instead, she’s an anime character from her childhood. but like, isn’t that the point of halloween? it’s not like she’s wearing this out to the itaewon clubs (she would never). it’s a company party. if she can’t show off that she’s a good sport for costuming, for themes, for being a little bit over the top in this context, how is she ever going to prove to them she could be an idol? they’ll end up in weirder outfits at one point or another, she’s sure.
besides, she loves sailor moon.
and she looks damn good, too, she thinks, in slinky boots and a fluttery blue skirt, the white top fit tight to her form and the ever-so-slight schoolgirl accenting to the costume giving it that kitchy sexed up halloween flair that young adulthood is so known for.
plus, hime had agreed to play along.
she finds the other girl as she enters the party, a laugh on her lips as she grabs her by both hands, leans back to make a show of examining her. “you look absolutely brilliant,” she tells her, her lips pulling into something heart shaped and sweet, full of an enthusiasm that perhaps does not often flutter over her features. but it’s a night to be a bit happy, a bit giddy, she thinks. “did you bring props?” she adds curiously, grinning at her own expense to add, “i thought about it but honestly i figured i’d just get annoyed trying to keep up with a wand or whatever,” she admits, cheek dimpling with the half-slanted grin that follows the words. hooking an arm through her’s she adds, “have you been here long? can i get you a drink?”
@lgcwren
week four, late, at the dorms.
movie marathon.
it takes a lot to break soho’s concentration. but she’s practiced and practiced to the point today that she has to recognize the truth of things. that there is an unfortunate physical limit to all things and if she continues to push herself forward and forward relentlessly she’ll be a quqick half-step away from a stress fracture or a ligament tear or some kind of strain. it’s the last thing she needs and one of the most important things for a dancer to learn: how to listen to the signals of her body. so she’s sitting, with a brace on her knee and ice on her ankle, just in case. it’s best to head off swelling before it manifests with too much severity, to provide support to overextended limbs before they become properly damaged. she’s careful about that, learned it from her brother. if anyone understands the strain that dance can put on muscle and bone it’s him, after all. without his studio she’d never have made it this far, without the foundation he’d given her. the least she can do now is remember his cautions and advice before it’s too late.
and so, late into the night (or is it early in the morning) she finds herself flopping onto the couch alongside the other girl with a tired, sweet smile on her lips. “what’re we watching?” she questions, pulling a pillow onto her lap and wrapping her arms around it, letting her chin and cheek sink into the plush fabric. the faint blue-pink glow of the television illuminates their features, slightly haunting, and it takes her a moment to try and focus her attention on the screen, the haze of exhaustion working through her bones. “it’s been a long few weeks huh?” she sighs, tilting her head to pout playfully over at the other.
it’s the second week of the show when she looks down at herself, in a gray oversized sweatshirt, black leggings, and a pair of basic airforce 1s that she realized she might need a makeover. it’s not that she’s ugly (clearly) but the whole thing where she’s spent the last four and a half years of her life prioritizing training and had been heavily invested in dance and university before that means she dresses somewhat perpetually in athleisure at best, straight up gym wear at worst. at least in summer she mixes it up with denim shorts and various fits of that nature, generally verging towards the tomboy side still, but as autumn comes ever closer she can’t help but find herself feeling like she needs to step it up just slightly if she’s going to show up on film. even if she only manages a few seconds of screen time, she’d like to not have it be immortalized as a pseudo-slob or a fashion reject.
if she could just get to the part of her life when the company debuted her as an idol and dressed her up pretty and styled perfectly she’d be happy as a clam. it’s the part where she’d have to invest real money in that process right now that stresses her. it’s not like she’s a complete mess or anything, but there is a prioritization of comfort and functionality with a shade of tomboyish streetwear that isn’t necessarily universally appealing. she needs to show she can be versatile, she can be styled into things. she needs to show there’s promise, not that she’s already set in her skater girl ways.
rina knows what to do, though, and reaches out to her distress call with the promise of shopping. soho doesn’t hate shopping, as many less fashionable folks do. it’s just that she relentlessly chooses slightly oversized tshirts and skinny jeans or denim shorts or leggings, alongside an array of sneakers, to the point that it becomes redundant and absurd. “it’s not that i want to completely change my style,” she explains as she links an arm through the taller girl’s. “it’s that i want to...update it. i need it to be a bit better, you know? like, a television ready version of myself.” she half-laughs. it’s a little strained. “i just don’t know how to get away from my wardrobe staples.” she scrunches her nose upwards with a chuckle, a little whine in her throat.
soho feels like she’s swallowed a mouthful of bees.
they buzz and bumble around the confines of her stomach, a nervous energy she can feel reverberating through her bones, echoing in the spaces between her ribs. despite it, there’s a smile relentless on her lips, even as her fingers tap a nervous pattern against the noraebang microphone. the music pulses in the background as king finishes screech-singing his serenade (because who really, really sings at a noraebang anyway?) and she grins, an approving nod in his direction as he returns to the couch, flopping there behind the table and across from her.
“are you worried?” she blurts it out as if she hasn’t been thinking about anything at all since this show was announced. she’ll be on a screen. if even more then ten people watch it she’ll be happy. just for the chance, she’s happy. happy and incredibly pressured. it feels like an elephant stepping on her chest. “what if i say something stupid, “ she worries, fingers curling around the microphone in her hand. “what if no one thinks im funny?” she groans, pushes her hand back through her hair. soho has been around the block and her skill set shows it. but if the world wants power vocals, it won’t be her. if the world wants a stand-out incredible beat them all dancer, it won’t be her. soho is personality and performance reliant, not the best at anything but not the worst either, the kind that has to catch your eye. she’s no main anything, maybe a lead or a center there to be eyecatching, but even then, does she have the visuals for that? they like to package center and visual these days. she frets her way through the first few bars of the instrumental, flopping back dramatically against the couch and throwing a snack into the hair, catching the peanut in her mouth and chewing it with a dour expression. equal parts playful and melancholic.
“maybe it was a mistake to sign up for this.” she laments, puffing her cheeks out. before she rolls her head towards him. “tell me you’re even slightly worried about this. misery needs company or else it will fall apart.” she pauses, jabs a finger at herself, “it’s me, i’m misery.” there’s a hint of a smile, always the type to laugh at her own stupid jokes.
bae soho does not drink to excess at company functions.
truth be told she wouldn’t drink at all, out of sheer ambition adn paranoia of staining her image with the higher ups, if it didn’t make her look like a complete stick in the mud. korean drinking culture basically mandates her inclusion in some respect. and frankly, lets be honest, most company functions are only bearable if you take the edge off a bit.
she’d just as much prefer to get soju wasted with a few friends in a noraebang where she didn’t have to worry about fucking up the career of her dreams. it’s ridiculous, how careful she is lately, as if any misstep can send her rocketing into a life of obscurity and missed opportunities. but as social media swamps more and more celebrities in stupider and stupider scandals, soho gets worried. could her wings get clipped before she even has a chance to fly? she won’t chance it.
she will dress up for it, though.
so she’s got a rum and coke in her hand and a nearly almost criminally short blue skirt, the sailor-inspired top of her costume hugging against her curves. her hair is brown and lacking in ornamentation, but she’s pulled it into the required style and donned the circlet the senshi is known for, and she plucks at the ribbon on her chest. there’s a matching ribbon at the small of her back, satiny silk and a shining red. she looks good, boots a little too high and heels a little too tall, but she’ll be damned if she misses out on the chance to be sailor moon, second year in a row. maybe next year will make it three. whatever, she’s on a budget.
maybe next year she’l have debuted and paid off some debt and made a living for herself, and she can buy a new costume. it doesn’t hurt to have aspirations.
then again, maybe she’ll die before next year, because here comes seho with a look on his face like he’s going to devour her body and soul, his grin wide and wolfish despite the dapper sweetness of his features. how someone can look like the ultimate fuckboy alongside the ultimate boy next door escapes her.
it also prompts her heart to beating in double time, a pout on her lips that she disguises in a gulp from her drink, brows knitting into a furrowed expression. maybe she’ll have just two drinks this time, instead of one. she might need it.
“whatever you’re gonna say, save it.”
she’s a little sore over him ghosting her, she’ll admit it. it’s been a bit since they...enjoyed each other’s presence. it’s been a bit since the show started, too. it’s probably related. she’s still probably more than a little bit grumpy about it. “and if you say a single bad thing about my costume, i’ll sneak into your dorm and cut your balls right off.” she adds, for good measure, hissed half-playfully only for his ears.
@lgcmiso
between classes, practice rooms.
week 2, latata !
it’s strange to be in practice rooms at lgc that are unfamiliar to her. they sprawl around her new and modern, shining smooth floors and fresh papered walls. not a smudge or scratch to speak of on the mirrors. it’s unfamiliar, and that in itself seems as if it’s been impossible. the walls of lgc practice rooms have been her home for almost five years now, after all. but there’s a quiet understanding here, that they’ll all upgraded a step for the purposes of the show, allowed onto a new floor, between new walls. another new proving ground to challenge.
it’s a strange feeling. with dance practice winding down, soho is content to take a breather, coating her throat in the eska water they’ve been provided, groaning low in the back of her throat as she sinks down to kneel next to the familiar face nearby, squatting on flattened feet and balancing her hand on her knees. “no, don’t get up,” she scolds the other, who seems to shift as if she might stand. “your legs are eight miles long and i’m trying to look like my proportions are okay.” she informs her sagely, pointing at the little camera not-so-surreptitiously in front of them. “in fact if you could just angle your chin down as far as possible and really press back until you’ve got a half a double chin going that would be fantastic.” she adds brightly, lips blooming to a heart shaped smile, too gummy, with bunny rabbit teeth on full display. maybe she should have had them shaved down like her mother had suggested. now everyone will see them and it’s too late to get rid of them without clear plastic surgery speculations. her heart flutters in her chest. no use worrying about it now. but of course, she will anyway. it’s what soho does- suppress worries with jokes at her own expense, endearing to a fault.
she shifts slightly, thunking into the other’s shoulder lightly and passing off the extra bottle she’s brought over. “it’s a good choreography right? you look so pretty doing it.” she sighs, pouting as she rolls her head slightly to regard the other, faux scolding, “stop stealing the spotlight and share some with me instead.” she teases, a playful pout on her lips. “everyone’s gonna fall in love with you like that,” she says, accenting the final word with a snap and an exaggerated gesture, before clasping her hands together, batting her lashes. “i know i did.” she dissolves into rough-around-the-edges laughter, taking a sip from the bottle once more.
what do you think of the choreography for latata?
the choreography? she repeats, taps a finger against her thin as she formulates a thought. it’s funny, she gets a lot of questions like this from them, about the technicalities of things. maybe becasue they realized she’ll ramble about the musicality and composition at any given opportunity regardless. are they going to paint her as some kind of song surgeon, picking it all apart carefully? it’s not entirely untruthful. part of her prior studies and her backup plan has meant a specific focus on marketability and likeability, both of songs and of herself. “it’s great, honestly.” she admits, grinning slightly as she does, her gaze slightly distant, as if she’s currently visualizing it, isolating moves to express her appreciation for. “when you look at the overall picture, it seems very fluid and powerful, but in an understated way. unlike some choreography it lacks that intense and powerful shoe-squeaking and stomping sharpness, “ she kind of misses that, enjoys that powerful engagement with a song, “and while that may make it look simple, and indeed, makes it a bit easier to sing - or rap- stably alongside it, it’s definitely got it’s own challenges. when you restrict the movements to something more restrained like that, you have to be much more technical about each one. when it leaves you s much room for personal feeling and interpretation, you really have to make sure that your performance can shine with your personality, and with the mood of the song.”
do you think the choreography suits you? what about the other girls?
“i think this is the kind of choreography that can suit anyone who is able to embody the mood of the song. it leaves a lot of space to integrate your own personal details while still looking like part of the cohesive flow, and it’s one that’s easy to communicate with one another and augment in little ways that can leave an impressive impact. because the song itself has such a driving but restrained intensity, it’s important to capture the mood and energy of it. i think this group of trainees is really excellent at that, honestly, so i hope we can continue to improve. i think personally i’ve been keeping an eye on miso as we practice. she has such a gift for putting emotion into her features as she dances - probably because she’s such a skilled actress and model, you know? i hope i can learn from her a little bit on how to channel the song not only in my movements but in my features as well. there’s always room for improvement when it comes to performance. “ she cuts off the ramble with a little nod, pushing her hand back through her hair and then dropping it abruptly, fingers flying up to the strands. “oh, i forgot about the hairspray, did it get all wonky?” she questions, looking worriedly at the pd.
weren’t you recently noted for your performance abilities, though?
she bursts into a quick, rough twinge of laughter, slightly too loud and covered up just a moment too late. “yes, and i’m incredibly thankful for that. but that doesn’t mean i have nothing to learn. besides, i was only practicing one or two songs obsessively back then. now there’s much more to do in much less time. i need all the tips i can get.”
the rain falls in a gentle pattern against the windows of the cafe. it’s a rare glimpse of freetime in the midst of pre-concert crunch time and while she would, honestly, perhaps prefer to have holed herself up in further practice endeavors, she also knows she needs to take care of her mental health. she needs a moment to breathe, to recharge. so she went for a jog, got her hair done, and found a cafe worth exploring. the ride into jamsil is quick and the bus is mercifully empty, two things she is grateful for as she walks up to the counter.
the prices are high, but she gets it. it’s part of the “van gogh” gimmick and she can’t help but fall prey to one of the macaroons decorated with a delightful landscape reminiscent of the painter’s work. she takes the macaroon and her coffee to the communal reading table that stretches long beneath the massive painting on one wall, lets herself fall into the mood. she leafs through the pages of one of the large art books on the table, sips coffee, drowns herself in the calm of the moment.
it’s strangely cleansing, all this beautiful art around and in front of her. she forgets almost, for a minute, who she is and what she is working toward. exists in a state of pure contentment, imagines the streets outside to be some distant locale, and not just the familiar seoul, painted in monsoon and cement grays. she’s brought to remember it by a familiar face beside her, turning a grin in his direction as she pulls out her earbud to greet, “oh, hey, fancy seeing you here.” she notes with a smile, taking a sip from her coffee. “how’s preparation going?”
@lgchyunjin
maybe, yewon could be a decent actress someday. she surely isn’t at the moment, but she does have a certain quality she thinks could probably help. if you’re kind, you’d call it empathy. she can put herself in other people’s shoes. if you’re honest, you’d call it sensitive. she gets easily affected by those around her, her mood changing too easily, shifting too quickly. if you’re rude, you’d say she’s a giant baby. now, any of these may be correct to a certain extent. it’s clearly visible when she’s at a gathering or an outing of some kind, or, in cases like right now, when she’s practicing her vocals.
she’s been praised in the past (at least, as much as anyone is praised in this particular industry) for her ability to convey emotion and concept well. the downside of this comes with practicing and performing what one might call “power ballads.” she tends to find herself emotionally overwhelmed alongside the crescendo of the song, as she is now. as she pushes herself to reach those soaring notes, she pours forth the ache of her heart at the prompting of the song itself, lets it burn from her lips and when she’s done, she’s half in tears.
she looks an idiot, like that, sitting cross-legged in front of the practice room mirror, the tip of her nose a bit red and her eyes watery, and she laughs at her reaction, mirrored back at her by the walls of glass. she covers her face in embarrassment to see another trainee approaching, catches their gaze int he mirror. “good thing we’re not going super emotional for the family concert, huh? i’d really embarrass myself.” if she’s good at anything, it’s jokes at her own expense.
@lgcsohee
