( ; one message, followed by another, then another. he has already begun to question joonmyeon’s sanity, wonders what goes through their mind when they text him. he’s lost all vice to respond, straightened his spine from the slumped posture and grabs his phone, but not to read or respond. no, this time, he flips it over, pops the back off, and detaches the battery, setting it off to the side. sound diminished, screen fades into hallow black. he places his phone down ( for the nth time ) beside the battery, before pushing himself back and rises from his seat on the chair. turning toward his bed, he proceeds toward it and drops himself down onto the mattress; it’s time to ease his mind from the thoughts of a restless day. )
( sms; fratello ) HOLY FUC-- THAT'S FUCK. FOR JOOHYUN.
( ; a long, exasperated sigh was drawn from his lungs when he received a second message after the previous one had been sent. he doesn’t need to check to know who it was from, to know what it says. once again, he reaches for his phone, unlocks it without glancing the preview, and simultaneously types out a response as he reads. )
( sms: royal pain ) I’m going to forward that message to Joohhyun.
( ; and he doesn’t say anything more, he doesn’t need to. joonmyeon, albeit his prestigious title as the king, is - and always will be - nothing more than a mere child in his eyes. sure, he respects them but he’ll never say that to their face, knowing that they’ll hold it against him until the end of time. he places his phone down onto the surface of his desk, sets his documents off to the side, and leans back against the chair. he’s tired from all the assignments and mission he’s been taking on. each day consisted of work, work, and more work. brushing his palm over perfectly polished locks of ebony, he closes his eyes, easing them from the toned down lighting in his room. )
20. If your character was allowed to murder one person without any consequences, who would that person be and why?
Hunters must abide with the rules and regulations devised by both the Hunter Association and Vampire Society, simple as that. If Boxian were to overturn their guidelines and act on his own consent ( which has happened once or twice in the past ), then he’d have no other choice than to accept whatever punishment they have in store for him; the severity of said punishment varies on the rule that had been broken. However, if he were granted permission to do as he’d like and kill whomever he pleases, then he choose Shizuka Hio, a prestigious pureblood vampire whom had sank her fangs into his neck, turned him into a vampire, and murdered his parents.
His hatred toward her has grown stronger for days on end. Each waking moment he spends doing nothing, he comes up with different strategies and tactics he can use against her. He has thought of many ways to hurt her, to harm her, and to torture her - physically, mentally, and emotionally - until she pleas for mercy, begs for forgiveness. Boxian will eventually obey, but only when she stops struggling, when her body falls limp and she closes her eyes, when her final breath has been taken and she slowly fades into bleak nothingness. He’ll leave her be, watch her body decompose in her own pool of blood, before he lights a match and sets her remains on fire. He won’t leave, not until he knows for a fact that she’s dead.
21. Your character has been granted 3 wishes; what would they wish for and why?
First wish: An alteration of the past.
Boxian’s love for his family is as strong as his hatred toward vampires, so there’s no doubt that an alteration of the past would be the first wish on his list. If he had known that Shizuka was planning an attack on the Byun household, he would have trained for days, months, years - just to prepare himself for the date of the scheduled attacked, and once she appeared at his doorstep, he would have sprung into action and killed her right there and then. Maybe then, he wouldn’t be living his life in solitude. He’d be able to return home to his family after a long, excruciating day at work. His mother would be in the kitchen, preparing supper; his father would be in the living room, catching up on the latest novel he’s been reading, and his brother would be in the bedroom, doing who-knows-what. At dinnertime, they’d be able to sit around the table and share a night full of laughter and love with each other.
That’s what he wants, that’s what he needs.
Second wish: Humanity.
To be categorized as a vampire burns him, burns him right down to the core. Boxian hates vampires. Nothing more, nothing less. He wants to be able to return to a time where he was once considered to be more of a man, and less of a monster, but what’s done is done. He cannot change fate, he cannot change who is is - what he is.
Third wish: Shizuka Hio’s death.
Reasoning could be found above.
22. Does your character trust people right off the bat or does it take them some time to warm up to someone?
No, he doesn’t, simply because his trust has been tarnished at a young age.
It all began when Boxian’s mentor gave him his first lesson. He was seated by a tree, spine pressed to the flat of the bark as he skimmed over the notes he’d taken earlier that day, but stopped only when he heard muffled sobs in the background. Curious as ever, he set his notebook to the side, headed toward the source, and found a woman crying. He stayed by her side for a good twenty minutes, caressed her back, and assured her that everything will be alright. Boxian genuinely cared for the stranger, thought that she meant no harm, but was fooled. She attacked, his mentor stepped in, and consecutively lost an eye.
Three years later, he and his younger brother were returning home after a long day and encountered another woman crying ( Shizuka Hio ). Baekhyun wanted to go and comfort her, but Boxian told him not to, as their seemed to be something peculiar about her. One week later, the woman appeared at their doorstep, the night ended in blood and gore. He learned that Baekhyun had gone against his instructions and ‘befriended’ her.
23. Do they prefer romance or affection? What is the quickest way to your character’s heart?
He doesn’t necessarily prefer either, but if he were forced to choose between the two, then he would choose romance. In his opinion, affection doesn’t mean a thing if comes from someone he doesn’t love and care about. If he were to be hugged by a stranger, he’d feel uncomfortable ( would probably shove them before they could do so ), however, if he were to be hugged by the person he loves, it’d be the complete opposite.
Ways to his heart:
Time, patience, and understanding: Someone who is able to oversee his flaws and imperfections, someone who is willing to stand by his side and support him despite his tough exterior.
Persistence: Boxian is a complex man, need I say more? If he says one thing, he means another. ( i.e. — if he says “just leave,” he actually means, “please stay” ), so this person must be able to see past this and act accordingly to what he implies he doesn’t want. Persist until he gives in, because he eventually will.
+ Bonus: Those who know him personally know that he doesn’t smile / laugh easily. If you can make him do this, you’re someone special to him.
24. Does your character have any enemies? If so, who and why?
Shizuka Hio, and again, the reasoning is mentioned above.
25. Do they have any weird bedroom habits? Any unusual kinks?
No, he doesn’t.
According to yoruv, he has a kink for killing vampires.
( sms; fratello ) You know. I never really know where heaven is... until you came along and showed me that heaven is real. Heaven is a place, here on earth, with you.
( ; it’s the distant buzzing of his phone that draws his attention away from the documents in hand and he glances over at the message that appeared on the screen. though he was only shown a preview, the first few words have him cringing. he fancies the notion of removing the battery right there and then, but he didn’t. instead, he reaches for his phone, thumb swiping across the screen before he reads the message in his mind. a short, arid, ‘gross’ leaks from his mouth at the thought of the elder seeing him as something more than just friends sickens him, especially when the they’re already married. typing up a response, he sets his phone down onto the side when finished, turns his head toward the papers once more, and picks up where he had left off. )
( ; a flicker of curiosity clouds his features when the female opens her mouth to speak, but the spirit disappears and is soon replaced with confusion as he tries to make sense of the supposed term she had thrown at him. the language was foreign to his ears, fails to awaken the neural interstices deep within his mind. she’s doing this on purpose, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to understand. long lashes flutter shut as a breath of co2 is drawn from his lungs and elicits past pale, thin lips. he turns his head to face her, eyes narrowed once their gazes meet. ) ... ( ; he doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t know how to respond. he is not a native spanish speaker; knows little to nothing of the language. unwilling to give her the satisfaction of receiving the last word, he retaliates, and when he does, his tone is bathed in facile indifference. ) Fucking excuse you.
“I won’t let you be on your own, not when you’re like this.”
REACTION MEME: Bruised and Broken Version
&& — here, accepting
“Fuck,” spills out of his mouth upon realization that the blood lust was beginning to seize control of both his mind and soul. He’s slumped against the wall in his bathroom, chest rising and falling in a useless attempt to draw oxygen into his burning lungs, however, each attempt was no better than the last. It was not air that he needed, but blood. He turns his head toward the pills spilling out of the small, black case, gaze enraptured by the serial number engraved across each capsule. BL-XXV. Blood tablets; created to serve as the salve over vampires’ unquenchable thirst. He had started with one, then two, and finally, three, though it seemed as if no amount was enough to satisfy his cravings.
Luhan’s expression darkens, vexation flourishes at the sight of the inconsequential tablets. Fingers slowly curling and unfurling, before he clenches his hand and smashes his fist against the case, its contents demolished beneath imposing strength. He tips his head back until it comes in contact with the wall, long lashes fluttering shut as the distant scent of blood slowly pollinates the air. When he broke the case, its remains dug into his skin and cut him; that much was expected, but he paid no heed to the pain as it lanced down the nerves of his arm.
Then his attention trails toward the bathroom entrance, and he sees his brother standing there, out of breath as they stare at him in something akin to that of concern and annoyance. Baekhyun is the last person he wants to see, especially because they were the reasoning behind his turning. “Go away.”
But Baekhyun simply remains where he is, proceeds toward them after seconds and kneels down beside them. “I asked you to leave, not to come near me,” he sharply spat, tone dripping in lethargic venom as his impassive gaze tears through the younger. “Fucking get out, Baekhyun. I don’t have time to waste to waste with you.”
”I won’t let you be on your own, not when you’re like this.”
Oh, but composure and resistance fails to keep him together as he stretches an arm toward the other, grasping them by the collar of their shirt. Luhan has no control over his actions when he’s like this, when his spirit disappears and is replaced by the bloodthirsty beast he’s tried to contain for years. “You’re annoying.” He separates the short distance between them when he pulls the other closer, grimacing at the pain that shoots down his spine, but it wasn’t enough to deter him from his original intentions. “So, fucking annoying.” And he drags his lips against their neck, tongue darting out as it grazes across the naked flesh; the taste wasn’t pleasing - salty - but the taste that will soon grace through his system will be worthwhile. He tightens his grip of their shirt as fangs extract from his teeth and tears through multiple layers of skin and flesh, in search of the vein that he’ll dine upon.
He stares at his reflection in the mirror, palms pressed to the flat of the marble counter top. His face has become a myriad of cuts and bruises after an unfortunate encounter with a fragment of the past. Warm blood traces down from the wounds slashed across the temple of his forehead and cheek, the corner of his lip busted, just barely swollen along the seams. It wasn’t a pretty sight, to be battered as so. Luhan reaches for the gauze found inside the first aid kit and holds it under the faucet, before he turns the novel and allowed warm water to soak up the material. He never liked cleaning his wounds, but if he didn’t do it, no one wound. He presses it down against the opening of the cut, gingerly swipes it along the trail of blood, and repeats it for the others located across the expanse of his countenance. Next, he - with careful, attentive hands - spreads an antibiotic cream over the wound and conceals each one behind a band aid.
One step, followed by another. Luhan descends down the grand staircase in his home, pads of his fingers brushing along the baluster in a subconscious gesture as he progresses to the living room. It He wasn’t just suffering from the pain weaving through the nerves of his face, but also from the pain stretched along his temples, the pounding sensation from the headache he received was irritable.
When he reaches the final step, the doorbell rings. He wasn’t excepting a visitor, especially at this time of the day, so to say he wasn’t irritated would be nothing short of a lie. Nimble fingers grace through his blonde tresses as he opens the front door with his free hand, eyes trained ahead at the lanky male who stands before him.
Oh Sehun.
“What happened to your face?”
Expectation led to the irritable sigh that he gives, shoulders slump as his hand trails down the slope of his head and relocates itself along the nape of his neck. He was tired, even more since he had just returned home after a long, exasperating day. “None of your business,” he voices out, before he opens his eyes to meet their gaze. “It’s nine o’clock at night, what the hell do you want, Sehun?”
Mundane lives masked behind immutable indifference, pessimistic musings revealed through one’s own dismal outlook toward life. He sees everything, notices everything, yet chooses to say nothing in his inconsequential wake against humanity, for he is but a walking shadow amidst this restless life.
Earbuds in, world out.
He discloses himself from the world around, focuses purely on the soft tune that elicits from minuscule speakers and threads through the thoughts enclosed within his mind. His fingers are coiled into a loose shape around the cup in hand, filled to the brim with a caffeinated that streams through his veins alongside his blood and keeps him from slipping into unconsciousness. Luhan brings it to his mouth, the tip of the straw jolts between pale lips as he takes a simple sip, the perfect ratio of bitter and sweet dances across his taste buds before descending down his throat.
It’s the distant sound of another’s voice that draws him away from his reverie, and he glances over his shoulder at the female who was rushing over to him, both arms extending out as though to pull him into an embrace. His first intention was to step to the side and let her be, but heightened senses directed him to the box truck uncontrollably swerving toward his direction. He quickly steps to the side, and just as he’d done that, the female was standing beside him; bystanders are screaming and shouting, horns are honking, and Luhan remains silenced throughout the entire thing. Another glance to the side and he notices that the woman is standing near him, so he quickly curls an arm around her petite frame and gracefully jumps away from the scene, the soles of his feet land upon a parked vehicle in the far distance and he watches at the truck from early crashes into a building. Wreckage from the crash is thrown from the scene, the hunter habitually turns to the side and shields her from anything that may come hurling toward their direction.
