#ksolpa

[rionpa]

empire.

@ksolpa

tw: bullying and violence. 

if rion had to describe himself using only one word, it would all boil down to passive. becuase that’s what he was and always had been, passive.

life enjoyed throwing obstacle after obstacle in his way, tripping him up no matter how far he tried to run. and what did he do when he was faced with it all? nothing. he merely did nothing but take a deep breath and brace himself for the worst. and he was shattered, after it was all over, he did nothing but picked up all of the pieces and learned to hide all of the evidence. a victim surrounded by nothing but vicious cycles.

it didn’t matter where he was home, whether it was home, a battlefield that left him walking on tip toes, or school, where his bullies were persistent. he had gotten used to the feeling of pain early on, so his bullies had to get creative in their efforts to terrorize him.

rion had been surprised when his day had started off pretty good. his father had left early on in the morning, headed for a long day in the greenhouses. and his mom had been in a good mood, humming to herself as she had made his breakfast. the walk to school had been quiet, leaving him time to listen to some music and to review for his upcoming test as he made the long trek from the outskirts of the town to the heart of it.

class had gone well, the subjects had made sense, and his extra studying had paid off. the test having been a breeze compared to the last one where he had done nothing but struggle. but rion should have questioned it.

he knows now he should have questioned everything. he thought he had been given him a day, a reprieve, when he hadn’t spotted his bullies on the way down to the cafeteria. but he had been lulled into a false sense of security. he hadn’t been prepared for the hands to grab him before he could turn the corner and head down the stairs, instead they had dragged him into an empty classroom, smirks on their faces.

and that’s where rion found himself now.

he stares up at the familiar faces of the classmates that terrorize him, pressing his back further into the feeling of the rough wall behind him. rion knows he should say something, should fight back but he’s too tired for this. he’s long since learned there’s no point in trying, when it’s never going to stop. and so when he feels them grab the collar of his uniform, he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes trying to steady himself before impact.

[pahyorin]

DAYS LIKE THIS

with @ksolpa

Eleven A.M. comes and goes with the tick of the clock. The ennui sets in slow but deep, equal parts blurred and distinct, and the four walls of her office feel like they’re closing in on her — faceless, looming, claustrophobic. Boring, boring, boring. It’s evident that her and a 9-to-5 are a match made in hell; she’s allergic to routine and ill-suited to the pretences that accompany office life. But the alternative is similarly colorless: to waste her days alone in her own head, the unchecked liberty a surefire way to an early expiration date.

Best not to leave herself to her own devices for too long.

Back to the present: five past eleven, all her daily tasks done, the tall cup of coffee drained and wired into her system. Near-impossible to sit still and even pretend to be doing anything accounting-related (not that anybody is fooled by her occasional keyboard tapping and periodic messages — they all know she’s far too efficient for the slow crawl of the work she’s given). So she gives up the act that no one’s been buying and heads for the door with barely a word of explanation. One hallway into another and she’s knocking on the door of Sol’s office, absent eyes scanning the plaque as they’ve done nth times before. After a beat she charges in, any semblance of propriety discarded at the doorframe; when it comes to her and Sol, politeness is merely a word with no meaning.

“I saw that bitchy secretary flirting with your new hire again,” she says in lieu of a hello, “who’s gonna tell him that she’s also fucking his boss?” One pro of office life: the ability to observe the worst of humanity, salaried and unionized to be lazy to their heart’s content.

Sliding into the guest chair, she looks her friend in the eye, smile soft and devoid of innocence. She knows perfectly well how disruptive she’s being, but she’s the last to be inclined to care. “I’m bored. What’s up?”

[pajuno-blog]

omission.

is a lie of omission as bad as a straightforward lie? juno wonders that, for a moment, as she catches sight of her friend across the way. sol is beautiful as always, in a way that suggests she’s barely making an effort. the epitome of the “woke up like this” meme. meanwhile, if juno were to go out with a “woke up like this” look, her dark circles and pallor would likely give rise to complaints of zombie virus running amok. she’s not eager for that reminder of the toll her life is taking on her. 

she’s at odds with herself in the same way she always has been. years spent as an outsider have made her eager to please but incredibly stubborn. both critical and yielding in a way that doesn’t seem like it should be possible, a way that can be written off as fickle. but she’s just lonely, when you get down to it. to her very core. it something that’s always been there- the loneliness and the fear of mortality, the surety of death. 

of course she grew up strange. who could blame her? half isolated and on the verge of death on more than one occasion before five years old alone,  not to mention the years thereafter. and then the incident, still emblazoned in her head in capital letters. the day everything changed, and who knows why? the forever nagging mystery of a week and a half of time spent in the blink of an eye. what had she done? where had she been? what horrors had been visited on her? 

so yeah, she hasn’t told sol. but sol hasn’t asked either. then again, who would ask that of a friend, really? hey, juno, are you a fucking witch? do you happen to be making psychotropic potions to assuage your own misery? are you using that biochemistry degree for hedonistic and occult purposes? it’s not exactly tea time chat material. 

but still, sol hasn’t asked, so juno doesn’t have to tell her, so they can still be friends. sol doesn’t have to look at her like she’s a crazy person and juno can have someone to get drunk with and everything can be fine. some part of her life safeguarded from her own shortcomings, wrongdoings. that’s the hope, anyway. 

she’s sipping punch from a crystal, shimmering glass when she does finally approach sol, with a smile on her face and warmth in her heart. “I meant to come over and say hi sooner,” she tells her, “but i keep getting distracted..” her attention span has run away with her tonight, and it puts a crease between her brows. she’s always been prone to that jump skip hop of attention, flitting curious from one topic to the next. she squeezes the other’s hand lightly. “what have you been up too? you want me to get you a drink?” she offers both in a single breath, the package tied up with a sweet smile.

@ksolpa midsummer, forest