The Originals Sentence StartersStatus: accepting! | ↳ @kmortale
A vindictive mind would notallow any form of offense not to be countered with a worse one – especially ifthe intention is far worse than what was done, or even if the intention isn’tclear but the damage is too immense. Ormaybe just because you’ve wronged and that itself is a grave sin. Justiceis always sought, and if added with grudges, it easily translates to vengeance.
You reap what you sow. Cliché as itmight be but that’s how it is for Lorraine. A wild justice, but no one couldever get away Lorraine without paying their debt. They owe her, whether it’s broken bones, deep wounds, blood, or theirlife. A life mission, it has already become. For with eternity, and a missing humanity, what else couldshe live for but on this? Augment it with the number of people who did so muchto ruin what could have been a life, truelife, for her, and resentments that seem to boil and haphazardly mix altogether,and there it goes – the urge for revenge as substantial as her thirst forblood.
What satisfactiondoes it bring? Gratification. A senseof fulfillment, like thirst quenched. Yet a thirst recurring, a thirstworsening. It’s a never ending chase, and so when a commentary is dropped,Lorraine does not even wait for a second to digest every word. Intuitively, hercrimson-painted lips rebuts, seemingly unthought-of but full of conviction.
“And so?”
Offenseis not meant for the woman, yet the spite of Lorraine’s thoughts easily slinksinto her tone. Peace is too good to be sought by a monster as her, and whatpeace could she have if her whole existence (and its lifetime) is never meantfor such luxury? Who would have peace with having to live and survive at theexpense of others? Who would have that peace with malevolence embedded in theirmutated DNA? Who would have peace in a world, with humans, with otherbeings, living in egocentrism, decadence and iniquity?
Peace is far-fetched– to her, or to anybody.
“If I wasseeking for peace, I would have let you pierce a stake in my heart.” Kyungri can’t.
A wickedhumor.
But death is the only way for real peaceto be attained by her.
Character in general: what a nasty bitch. what a little snake that i wish to choke in non-romantic way trust me. not even kinky one. literal one. anger one. she is so evil i almost like her. walking paradox of hate and hell , bb cream queen, forever slaying me with her bitchass suck my non-existent dick attitude literally forcing me to step on her face . which means. i love the portrayal. beautifulHow they play them: you are a skilled writer . i never said you are a writing queen nope that was not me. definitely. keep ya mouth shut or get thyself out i aint here to get cyber bullied by some immortal wanna.beThe Mun: less bitch attitude than kyungri. i feel disgusted for saying this. but you are definitely precious. : ( shit now i felt disgusted again. jk in case you went insane which is 9/10 possible so dont question me. i am glad we crossed paths again now i am not here to arrest you. maybe : 0000 you can never trust Woohee
Do I:
RP with them: i was wondering what time is it now in South Korea, we dont rp senpai is a goner, senpai is immortal wannabe??????Want to RP with them: my legs hurt massage them and i may reconsider answering that
What is my;
Overall Opinion: shit talker, bully, pisses me off 10/10, i dislike her a lot. she knows it. she loves it. that sounded like some kanye song but i promise it isnt. kmortale and genesxis express their love to each other by hating one another ok.
**Note: Mun’s answer are all to be completely honest. Don’t send url if you don’t want brutal honesty
It’s silent. The cold making the street the last place for people at this time of night and a perfect place for her. Cloaked in familiarity, wandering on the edge of midtown where the fog settles and she can be at peace as the world is still. She lights a cigarette—-fire manifesting under her gaze—-as she sinks down into the concrete letting her head fall against a light post that’s missing a bulb. But, as always, her sliver of peace can only last momentarily and soon enough she hears footsteps approaching.
For a moment, she contemplates outing the cigarette and ducking into her car because in this state she’s not right for human interaction. Instead, she fixes her face into something she hopes doesn’t scream "i’d like to suck out your existence because my hunger is eating me from the inside" which isn’t easy to do.
But then the footsteps stop and a distinctly female voice speaks
"You know, you really shouldn’t be out here all on your own.
It takes all of her not to scoff. The woman doesn’t know that if she could unlock her full potential she could shift the stars, change the river’s course, dance upon endless possibilties. If. Only if. But now her eyes are sunken in from fatigue, and all she’s got her disposable is adolescent magic that pales in comparison to even the dullest of stars. So, she exhales, words coming easily. She can do this.
"What? Afraid for me?"
Kyungri turns shifting so her face She doesn’t know the woman but she’s a vision, platinum hair contrasting starkly against the night sky. Beautiful in a way that’s odd, almost alien like, like those runway models who never smile with their faces frozen in seriousness. For a moment she just stares until she finds herself digging her nails into her palm and she has to glance away, letting her cigarette hang from limp fingers.
Her voice is shaky when she speaks again,
"Are you my lady in shining armor? Come to whisk me away from all the cruelty, and keep me safe from all the monsters that plague this vast earth. Or are you just fucking with me?”
Her smile is sardonic when she finally glances up again, the irony of her denying her own nature making it comical in a sense. They lock eyes and she winks, plucking another stick from the pack like second nature.
"Wanna smoke?"
It's late enough that most people are safely tucked away in their beds. Half of her world is asleep and the other half is lurking around in the dark. It's time for the monsters to come out to play, to go bump in the night and scare all the children that haven't yet succumbed to slumber.
She is a monster without fangs, only claws. Hers aren't sharp, but they're enough to keep others at bay.
The silence amplifies the sound of her heels on the concrete slabs of sidewalk exponentially. Steps echo down blocks and around corners, spread out and conquer the waking world like gunshots.
Up ahead is something like a mirage - a vision in the concrete jungle that allows her to hope for something that she hadn't known she'd needed. She's not noticed by her vision at first; the only movement she sees is the smoke from the end of the cigarette wafting off to its inevitable destruction.
But when she opens her mouth, she's granted response, so it's not as if this woman is too out of it. Good.
Her newest companion speaks again as she draws closer, comes to a stop just a breath away. Personal space is something she doesn't believe in and it looks like her friend doesn't mind either way. Nervous, but accepting. That's how it always is, isn't it? She gets what she wants because she's pretty. This woman would get the same treatment, looks like. Beautiful and intriguing in a dark, mysterious sort of way. The latter probably as something to do with the fact that she's standing under a street light at some ungodly hour of the night. Maybe Sunjung will ask why later. Now, she must speak.
"Why not both?"
She quirks a brow, allows small smirk to form. And she plucks the cigarette from the other's fingers. She hasn't smoked in a long time, but it's always the same basic process. And she's not a cough. It won't hurt.
"Maybe I was here to fuck with you, but decided to save you instead? Maybe I was afraid I wouldn't get another chance to talk with you if I didn't."
There's a struggle in this one's eyes but she can't figure out what for. what would have someone unable to sleep and alone in the cold night? Too many things, really. This world is a cruel place and too many fall victim to the terrible circumstances it creates. But this woman doesn't look like a victim, beaten. There's still a fight, there.
Maybe she'd like to watch.
"I'm going to need a light, if you wouldn't mind too much. Don't carry anything on me nowadays. Might need to borrow a set of armor, too. Left my shiny one at home tonight."
SEND ONE IF WE HAVEN'T INTERACTED ( OR EVEN IF WE HAVE THE MORE THE MERRIER)
There’s something about the way he can still smell that blood on her that drives him to insanity. Or was it really insanity when such terms were defined by humans with a language that would never be as expressive as his own? Nonetheless, he can smell it with every fall of her footstep, every turn of her head and he hates her for it until the thought passes by his head. With humans there were never distinct rules that they followed (as they should because the Lord has given them precisely that). So when it came to their kind there was always a why. Hyunseung learned this through his many years, for his actions were always questioned. There was never a moment he could do as his heart desired without a verbal slap across the face, another why plastered to his cheek as he stares them down with nothing but blank confusion. Why did he need a why?
He was lucky that this time around, he had an answer to her question. His arms are around her waist, fingers clutching onto the back of her shirt because that’s what he learned was called intimate. To any passerby it would seem like the embrace of perhaps a rather confused female lover, and her passionate counterpart, but to him romance had no physical meaning. He’d felt lust, drowned himself in it, but it did nothing to satiate a hunger that craved something so much more. This isn’t lust, in fact it had been the first way he could think of keeping her in her spot because who would want to talk to a strange man on the street? He’s taking his chances of being slapped once again and there’s not an ounce of amusement written on his features as he lowers his head down to her ear.
“Because you seem like you need one.” He doesn’t tell her it’s because all killers did. He doesn’t tell her that it’s because maybe that would draw her out of whatever void he believes she’s fallen into. He doesn’t tell her that it’s because he hopes it’ll bring back a saint he’s not sure was ever there. He doesn’t tell her any of that because he assumes she knows. Assumptions only make an ass out of him — and only him.
NONSEXUAL ACTS OF INTIMACY - SELECT FROM THE FOLLOWING FOR MY MUSE TO RESPOND TO…
♠:Your muse adjusting their jewelry/neck tie/ etc.
Hey baby 셋을 셀 테니 당겨Bang bang bang내 운을 시험해 볼 Time 시작해
Stark eyes follow every minute movement, every flick of the finger, the slightest sound one would make simply plants doubts and malice over their skeptical minds. In an assembly of women, take note, not-so-ordinary-women in a closed warehouse stuffed with brick red satin cushions and granite round center table just so to even the lavishness of the women surrounding the room, trust isn’t something one would even expect nor hope on someone. Trust no one but yourself.
With jaw muscles clenched tight, the heavy breaths each take,Lorraine could hear them everywhere. A slight increase in depth of the intake of air the lady in front of her took, clear as the soft wheezes as the air hurries up and down her tubes. Asthma? Not too good. Especially when the ghost of gun powder escapes throughout the room.
That is, if she is even breathing to inhale it.
"Without saying, I assume you all know why you are gathered here."
Was it the sternness of her voice that appalled such enchanting ladies to have their lashes flicker at Lorraine’s sudden appearance? Or was it fear for having known what they had done to entitle them a seat inside this circle? All of them knew. Each of them has their own ways that lead them here. It is the conspiracy they had that will break one, and ultimately them all.
"Is this some kind of a sick joke?" The thin voiced female stood from her seat, gathering all her courage to take a step up and question. Lorraine recognizes her face very well. She’d like to think that being the wife of the mastermind of sabotaging LGC’s finances, she earned the same audacity her husband has. But even that would not matter anymore.
"I’m continuing what you have started, Mrs. Son." Perhaps the way Lorraine had darted her eyes over the other woman had silenced her, pushed her down back to her seat, but Lorraine knew it was the fear, the same fear that now lingers at the side of the women’s glistening eyes as they witnessed her irises turns red in fury. They weren’t expecting this, were they? Definitely not. They never knew the monster that is hiding beneath her beauty. The monster ready to slay each of them.
But if she is to draw blood out from these woman, it will never be from her hands, but from their own hands, themselves.
The cold metal excited her skin as it tightly leans against her one thigh, a lacy strap elegantly tucks in safe and ready to pull out. Lorraine isn’t someone to use such tactics. It is easy to pull it off from her purse but then she insisted. If it isn’t for her idea, Lorraine wouldn’t agree. But she is now on it. Lorraine could sense her smile beside her.
Her one hand clenched something as she moves another to pull up her skirt and draws out the silver piece of small gun hidden. A revolver. She leisurely dangled the said gun, its empty cylinder revolving around in a tune that made their hearts quiver. Slowly she walks near them, her poignancy highlights the start of the game.
"One or all. All or one."
She loads one bullet from her hand onto one chamber and her fingers pleasurably stroke the cylinder to turn into a fast pace, so fast they would never guess where out of the six chambers the bullet is in.
"You know how this works, my ladies. You shoot the gun, you get 1 out of 6 chances of living. You don’t shoot it.."
Her head raised to hover her eyes above, and with a flick of her fingers, red dots appeared on each of the women’s head. A few inches above the nape. Directed right to the brain stem. A perfect target to end their lives in a snap of her finger.
"The shot goes to you."
The terror immediately took over those women as she laid the gun at the center of the table, and with frantic eyes, they could only tremble and pray as the gun starts to spin…
Waiting for it to direct its first victim.
Lorraine withdrew herself and watches from the side, anticipating the entertainment brought by the agony of these women. Definitely it wasn’t her style to put up such torture, but an interesting idea could never be unrecognized.
Another pair of heels sounded against the cement floor going adjacent where Lorraine stands, and then she stood still. In another second she felt a cold and heavy thing being slipped back to where the revolver has been and the lace strap tightened. Too tight.The face that welcomed her has a proud smirk beautifully etched upon her face.
"And so it begins.." Kyungri speaks, arms crossed against her chest.
"Must you watch this? I bet you’ve tried this yourself."
Kyungri’s eyes only rolled as she removed her gaze from Lorraine to the gun and the woman it pointed.. The first victim is chosen.
She tapped the gun hidden in Lorraine’s thigh before she turns her back, seemingly uninterested in whatever may happen next. Whether such game now bore her or she isn’t in the mood for a gory sight, Lorraine doesn’t know. Probably both.
"Take it. You’ll need it later on."
And Kyungri slithers back into the dark as the first shot is fired.
▐ ░▒ i've got my tongue in twists and fangs in my heart;
At some point down the road, they met. Nothing fancy, nothing out of the ordinary--just Ivon enjoying a show he wasn't exclusively invited to but which he had savoured thoroughly while leaning against the chair he found in front of the bed, fingers intertwined and on his knees. And from that point, red became his favorite colour and a certain girl with autumn hair and high heels for weapons his shotgun.
He doens't think much about how fucked up the entire thing is, he doens't think because he likes to be intoxicated with magic and girl's got a handful of it. Why take it away when falling, spiralling downwards into insanity has never been more amusing. They enjoy the ride, they scream in the car and pain each other's cheek red, something drips from theirs lips and for your own peace think of it as mere wine. It's better that way instead of finding yourself to be buried in what is anything but the resting place you dreamed of spending eternity when the ticking bomb in your chest just stopped.
They're somewhere in a bar on a highway, tank full and the leather in his car has never smelled as strong after they've driven under the merciless sun of a summer day. He's got his bangs clinging to his forehead, shit eating grin on his face as he knows he's going to win this game and take all of the money they bet on his embarrassment and humilation and a femme fatale watching him, throwing him inconspicuous smiles from a stool at the bar as she's sipping her favorite drink and somehow this all falls perfectly in place as if this is where's he meant to be and nowhere near the things he believe to be true to his identity.
He's playing pool, watching each ball roll across the table and falling into its designed socket with each chuckle he gives, each sigh of frustration let out by his opponents and each cracking of the knuckles he hears from the back fo the bar coming from some bulky man who thinks he's got his prey for tonight to bash the head of to make up for the failure he is when it comes to treating his family right. And isn't Ivon just the perfect little shit to feed into the stereotypes and fantasies of poor, narrow-minded men who think they've got it all straight until they're proven wrong and bask into the glory of being superior to them?
The game ends after no less than half an hour with him winning, gathering all the money and patting the backs of the losers, moving slowly to the empty stool next to Kyungri, adding a certain sway to his hips he knows she's very much enjoying witnessing, especially when he feels her fingers drumming against the wood of counter and giving him approving looks, staring at the dollar bills and realising they're solved for the next three days without Ivon having to pitpocket some unfortunate dude at a gass station while she pretends to be looking for something in the stalls.
He orders the same thing as she's having, throwing the bartender a bar and ignoring the information about when she's finish her shift as he takes his drink, lithe fingers wrapping around the glass and drowning half of it in one throw of the head. ❝Enjoying yourself so far, baby girl? Cause the people in the bar sure are.❞ His voice is husky at the edges, lower than usually and he slurs his words at the end slightly despite not being nearly tipsy. Years of wasting his life in bars and getting his way around the right people with the right informations about certain matters taught him how to handle his alcohol just right.
He looks around the bar, especially at the spot on the wall behind her where a crack, a big one at that that just can't be ignored once you notice it, graces the wall and disturbes the elgance the establishment tries to pass as having. It's something he finds beautiful, the way it breaks everything, from illusions to skulls, to the teeth of some unfortunate dudes who pisses the wrong person while completely wasted and out of his mind, when he tried to pass as someone much stronger than a frutrated cubicle worker who masturbated just to pass time. Certainly beautiful.
But his attention doesn't remain much longer on the wall as his eyes he averts back to the attraction of his life, of the night. Beautiful as always and hungry, he hopes he has entertained her enough to tame the famish inside of her. The beast he's tried to play with, the beast he's turned out to adore in ways he cannot even explain although with words he once prided himself with being good at. He's tried countless of times to determine and define their relationship and her importance in his life but the results with which those questes ended up were never satisfying enough and just remained lingering thoughts until the next shot of a very strong brand of alcohol. It's always been like this and he has no intention to change it. ❝Found anything to suit your taste?❞
The question is vulgar, perverted even, despite the innocent undertone the people that can hear them get. A small secret between the two as he gives her a smile that curls at the end of his lips and moves to his eyes where it forms small wrinkles in which darkness seeps, a reminder that today marks the third night since he's last slept. He doesn't mind it and he's sure she doesn't either. She's looking as flawless as ever, his little Kyungri, with those red lips of her you can never tell if they're painted and created out of the illusions make up can offer through its art or its simply nature offering her best. You never know and he's sure you wouldn't want to find out. Not exactly.
Biographical Information
Full Name: Kyungri Park
Alias: K, Ri
DOB: December 18th, 1954
Age: 23
Blood Type: O negative
Blood Status: Pureblood
Physical Information
Gender: Female
Species: Human
Hair Color: She was born with raven colored hair that falls in natural waves. Currently, she keeps it dyed a burgundy color and likes to cut it short.
Eye Color: Her eyes are dark brown but in most natural light they are nearly black, the distinction between pupil and iris barely there.
Height: 175 cm
Weight: 60 kg
Body Build: Lean, always standing tall with her back straight and chin lifted. During all the vigorous training before and during her training to become Auror she worked on building her strength, she has a layer of lean muscle on top of a lithe figure.
Appearance: Kyungri is tall, her mannerisms oozing confidence. She’s usually seen dressed in the basic Auror uniform; including, stiff pants black pant suits with a brown trench coat draped over the top of her outfit. She has an assortment of different colored shirts to tuck underneath the suit jacket (her way of breaking the uniform code) which cover the tattoos she has scattered across different parts of her upper body. The only thing that is particularly extraordinary about her appearance is her oddly colored in hair that’s cropped short and falls over her eyes.
Wand Information
Wood: Dogwood
Core: Dragon heartstring
Length: 14"
Magic/Combat Information:
Skills: Defense against the dark arts, hand to hand combat, transfiguration, potions, and charms
Strengths: Taking on a leadership role, making quick decisions and changing her plans on whim
Weaknesses: Runes, occlumency, herbology, alchemy, being a team player, unwilling to do anything that she dubs illogical, overconfident in her abilities, and vindictive
Additional Information: Went through Auror training: self defense, combat, and an assortment of fine tuning in magical abilities.
Stats:
Compassion: 4/10
Empathy: 5/10
Creativity: 5/10
Mental Flexibility: 8/10
Motivation: Her motivation is herself; she wants to be the best version of herself and become the best at her job.
Stamina: 7/10
Physical Strength: 8/10
Battle Skill: 9/10
Initiative: 8/10
Restraint: 4/10
Agility: 7/10
Strategy: Her strategy is never the same as it alters for ever unique situation but she always prefers charging over taking a round about road.
Teamwork: 4/10
Employment Information
Graduated from: Hogwarts, Gryffindor House
Employer: Department of Magical Law Enforcement
Years Employed: Four years
Additional Information: Auror, stationed at Headquarters, in charge of coming up with strategic methods of capturing wanted criminals. The head sees her mind as more valuable than her hand on the field so that’s why she is rarely ever out on cases until she was transferred to Hogwarts.
Extra Information:
Likes: Nail polish, heels, french fries, innovative thinkers, sarcastic individuals, muggle music, candy, and hair dye.
Dislikes: Mud, Snow, pastels, incompetence, and recklessness.
Hobbies: Jogging, reading, sleeping, collecting muggle movies, and investigating cold cases.
Boggart: Her dead body.
Patronus: Wolf.
Personality:
During childhood, her opinions were often disregarded so in adulthood she eats up the chance to share her opinions and is strongly opinionated. She is loud, aggressive in most situations, and eccentric with little regard for others unless they are or like family. Often, she’ll make jokes at the expense of other and doesn’t mind for it to be the other way around. Currently, she is working on trying to be more understanding and empathetic so she can appeal to a variety of individuals in her line of work.
Biography:
When she was a child she was just young female face, another blur shadow when compared against 4 other shining faces, with ebony hair tied with a frayed ribbon. Her belonging confined to a toy box filled with things that didn’t interest her so she moved onto books with tattered covers and dusty insides tucked in the back of their car. Her mother, a Korean immigrant, had met their father on an odd job in Hogsmeade and settled down with him in Dublin where there story bloomed into something like a fairytail. He whisked her away just like she was a princess to another land and thus, a family flourished in a little stone cottage.
They were simple individuals, never taking more than what they needed, and always careful about their magic. Kyungri always felt different than her sisters as they all raced in the wild grass, never quite fit into the personality her parents expected. While they couldn’t wait to end up in Hogwarts to study Herbology she longed to do something else. Be a warrior. Not a person hidden in the tent whilst all the action happened outside. She didn’t want to be her father, the man painted in tales illuminated by orange flames. Curled around his large arm chair by the fireplace is where he’d retell all the golden moments of his time at Hogwarts alongside his friends. There were magical mishaps, wonky flying, and Hufflepuff only things she’d tried to drown out.
Those were stories they’d heard since they were children and so it was only natural to want to be apart of that except she didn’t want to be apart of that legacy. Kyungri would rather practice defensive magic than mess around with a bunch of herbs. And so, when the letter came she left with a bag and the knowledge that she wouldn’t be fulfilling her parent’s dreams. When the sorting hat announced her house it surprised everyone but her. She took her place in Gryffindor and steeled her reserve knowing exactly what she was striving for.
From the beginning, she proved to be an exceptional student as she continued to work towards staying sufficient in nearly every subject. She didn’t strive for friendships that wouldn’t further her academics. It was in her third year that changed, and she met a boy. A boy, who made her feel as though she was edging along something dangerous and she didn’t have to be that little girl with a frayed ribbon in her hair. But there was darkness in him, darkness she could not let herself be swallowed by so they ended. Heartbreak changed her outlook on herself and so she changed it. She took rusty shears, chopped off the locks, and dipped them in red.
Send me "sleepy, much?" to talk to my muse, as they're half-asleep.
Glancing at his watch, he noted that he had roughly 30 minutes to spare until his scheduled meeting with a prospective client. Closing his eyes for a brief moment to rest his tired eyes, he slowly started to drift into a peaceful sleep on the bench.
That is until he heard someone ask him, ‘Sleepy, much?’
Opening one eye while leaving the other closed, he peeped to see just who it was. After recognizing the female standing next to him, he closed his eye again.
“A consulting detective never has time to sleep— I’m merely resting my eyes,” he scoffed.
