#ideunbi

[archiveidjowi-blog]

rosy.

@ideunbi // a club in gangnam, 12:47 pm vip lounge. there is, on occasion, an aggressive need in jowi’s heart.

the need to be someone else.

anyone else. so tonight she seeks anonymity from herself in a bottle of wine, and a bottle of vodka, and a bottle of soju. a lot of soju. the choker around her neck is restrictive suddenly, so she ditches it. stuffs it into the pocket of the maroon silk bomber, which is soon discarded in turn for just the croptop, a plain black number, just as black as the jeans that hug the curves of her legs, rise to high waist to accentuate the swell of her hips. the heel of her boots is chunky and lofty to the point of outright aggression. they’re boots built to kill - combat against jowi herself. strong enough to kick down the door to escape. they dance their way relentless through the mitigated crush - the club proper is a disgusting mass of people, but in the swankiest depths of gangnam, even the vip lounge tends to get overrun with bodies. but she needs that. that anonymity. that distraction. she hides herself there, drapes herself across eunbi. they’re a study in feline eyes and ferocity veiled in sweetness. eunbi is so unapologetically herself that jowi can do nothing but envy her. envy her longrunning career, envy her public recognition. envy her beauty, too, and her poise, and the fact that any man in the room would drop easily at her feet. she tangles her finger’s into the other’s hand, pulls her tight against her. a hand balances unsteady at the slope of her shoulder as she leans in, still required to half-shout in her ear. “you wanna get another shot? i’m thinking...lemon drops.” she loves the ring of sugar to chase the stab of sour down her throat. “or you wanna sit?” she doesn’t want to sit. jowi is to busy outrunning her demons (fat chance of that jowi, your demons are internal, how can you outrun yourself?) to sit down, busy spinning through the room like a tornado, a twirl of sleek not-quite-black hair. regardless, she pulls eunbi with her, out of the crush, towards the edges. the music is still pounding in her veins. she thinks her heart may have synced to the bass heavy beat, aggressive and punishing where it thuds in her sternum, shakes her down to fragile joints, ready to unravel (always ready to fall apart, that ahn jowi). “thanks for agreeing to come out tonight,” she adds, offers her an expression more honest than most she levels in public, though it vanishes just as quickly, replaced with that characteristic mischief, with the wry twist of a smile that never curves more than a corner of her lips at once. “i’m forever in your debt,” she drawls, grandiose and unnecessary to the point of comical.

[iddongwoo-blog]

✗ digital –

( ISAC EVENT ) | 398 w. with @ideunbi​ + PRE-FUTSAL

dongwoo despises having to do this as much as the next person (or maybe that’s just kisol), but that doesn’t mean he likes losing, either. there must be some degree of effort exerted for any kind of victory. being here might be tiring enough, and has him itching for a smoke or a drink (or both), but partaking of either would end his career completely, and maybe get him kicked out of poizn. he convinces himself eventually that this isn’t for himself – god forbid anyone who has to learn to deal with the rest of the assholes in his group. at least he knows a thing or two about good sportsmanship and teamwork. he hates compulsory events like these, but congeniality and sobriety are key in projecting an image that 99 wants, as far as he was informed, and what better way to showcase this than by winning? sprinting may not have been his event, as far as single performances are concerned, but he’s determined to make futsal work to his advantage as much as possible. besides, there’s never any downside in winning, and looking good while doing it.

he seeks out a staff member, of course, and asks who’s in his team. a little bit of needling and some old-fashioned subject-switching got them to spill the beans, and he heads with every intent to challenge his teammates into a victory. hands in his pockets, and with all the confidence in the world that this strategy will work – and that this team should work – he approaches a team member. granted, it would be very embarrassing if he got the wrong person, or if the staff member got the team roster mixed up, but he counts his lucky stars and tries not to think about it too much before he opens his mouth to speak. “eunbi-ssi?” he asks, walking up behind the familiar face only seen on tv (on the rare occasion he pays attention to it). “i’m kang dongwoo. from poizn? i don’t know if you know me,” he begins, which is bullshit – the dirt surrounding his name lately must give an idea as to who he is, if not what he’s allegedly done. “i believe we’re in the same team for futsal. would you mind talking a little bit about it? i want to be prepared before we go head-to-head with other people.”