what’s that comin over the hill is it a monster- no it’s just kiwi who is super thankful for all of you. BUT WHO’S THAT NEXT TO HIM ? yeah a monster for sure. han jinkyu, heaven-sent face but definitely actually from hell boy but ain’t he so handsome and lovely ? let’s take a look !
◜☾ ─ ◞ AHN HYOSEOP, CISMALE, HE/HIM — hold on, isn’t that HAN JINKYU walking around uiyeong ? there have been rumors spreading around that they HAVE crossed through the veil. maybe someone will get lucky ! they’ve always been known to be rather PERSPICACIOUS & TENACIOUS, but can also be pretty EGOTISTICAL & CALLOUS. as to be expected from a TWENTY-FIVE year old DARK MANYEO. hopefully the town of uiyeong doesn’t find itself in too much trouble !
you can hmu @ 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕚𝕤 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕪𝕠𝕦 ♡#7529 on discord !
the goblin ( lil long ) !
born as the fourth generation to a full lineage of witches with a family tree mapped out in tapestries & stories. each large room ricochets every sound into the next, most notably filled with countless relatives who occupied the mansion. a past always being remembered by the mouths that passed them on & in the diaries of those who had first told them. there were no secrets kept in his home, no illusions in the fact he was a witch. it was a life most dream of. in spite it all, there is a hollow in his chest he can’t place that only grows. there was a balance to things, he was taught before he could speak or before he even could remember. as he grows, this idea is cemented through constant lessons. nature is kind but unforgiving & he wasn’t to tip the balance. he ultimately doesn’t heed the advice, to the dismay & shame from his own family. ( what gave nature the right to say what he couldn’t do ? what gave anyone ? )
he is six when he began learning, honing his skills in spells & simple rituals. ‘he’s still too young to understand yet but he will,’ his mother said. balance. how could witches hope to keep the balance when humanity itself was so unfair ? his grandmother sees inklings of it, can see the sparks behind his eyes. she tells his mother she used to have the same thing. tells her that she grew out of it in time, that streak of stubbornness. he doesn’t. he doesn’t grasp it yet but he’s sure that balance doesn’t exist. unabashed even to this day, some things just never fade in time like his family may have hoped. some things only get sharper and more gnarled rather than softened.
age ten and he’s making the kids who say bad words to him trip on their way up the stairs, leaving them with bloody noses and mouthfuls of curses. balance, right ? he thinks his mother would be proud but when he tells her all he hears from her is scolding. ‘what about balance?’ he asks. ‘karma isn’t for you to deliver,’ she reasons. he doesn’t like the idea of balance, not anymore. he’s been burning so long he can no longer feel the heat but everyone sees. everyone sees the blisters crackling over his skin. they’re scared he is heading down a road he won’t return from & they are right. he started learning to hide himself & hide the interests in the dark & untamed spells. they think he got better, that he truly learned the balance but they were wrong. he’s the perfect storm, the most lovely cocktail of kindly smiles & hands behind his back holding what he shouldn’t. a tempest that doesn’t know how to stop & frankly doesn’t believe it ever should.
age sixteen & he had gone beyond what any of his familial bonds could ever hope to stop. his blood sings a song of violence & he has begun stand unflinching in the eye of loss. he’d lost his mother & his newborn sister. he’d lost his best friend & his eyes have seen far more than they should have. ( WHAT OF BALANCE ? WHAT OF EQUALITY ? ) he and his friends find trouble wherever they go. their eyes always go to him first, like they know. his grandfather makes failed attempts to reel him in. him & his dark eyes. him & his lesson in awakening. he comes to adopt emotionally compromised teenagers into his social circle, those with the wicked smiles and eyes that hold the stars. they hold a silent reverence for him & it only feeds him, only scratches the itch he’d had for so long.
he’s twenty-two when he starts his own coven, full of misfits & outcasts who are more fearful of him than respectful. they have every right to be but their gravest mistake was letting him sense that. what else was he to do but curse them ? turn their food bitter before it reaches their tongue or turn their beds into one of nails. they retreat, he weeds out the weak this way. found other minds like his this way, too. ( the sort to smile kindly while they pull strings behind your back to tie your hands. ) his gravest mistake would be to trust them, even if it was only partly. he’s ambitious, hopes the world for his coven if only to further his own strength. they are a second family, almost.
twenty-five is when his coven grows tired of him, grows weary of the way he operates. what follows after is what he can only come to recognize as betrayal though what the world may recognize as karma. ( he knew, he knew better. ) a change of power, even the thought has his blood boiling. he puts a curse on the one who suggests it & the rest of his coven retaliates. roots from a nearby pierce his skin, something hot seeping through his abdomen and something black pours from his lips. he’s dead before he can defend himself & he lay dying just as he’d always lived. ALONE & BITTER.
after being dead for nearly half a year.. sloop sloop he’s back !!
wanted connections !
childhood friends or acquaintances
ex-covenmates, he’s .. gonna be gunning for your muse but hey go for it friends ! some of them were genuinely supportive of him.
an ex fling, he doesn’t play around with love unless it benefits him somehow.
an ex, i thought you loved me kind of deal you know oops or even someone who still thinks the world of him
young witch he’s mentoring !
someone who wanna kill his ass again lbr he deserve it
‘friends’ he really doesn’t have any but he sure can pretend like no one else !
