#mk;rep

[moniwakaname-blog]

ιитяσ || кαиαмє & тα∂αѕнι

It’s been too long a day.

It’s winter now and the air has a chill that cools Kaname’s skin, sends a freezing arrow right to her bones. Winter is too long. There isn’t enough sun in the sky and everything feels dead and it makes her feel drained.

She’s so exhausted by the time she walks into her dorm.

The familiar scent of ripe apples along with strawberries fill her nose and make her feel alive again. It’s warm in this room, in this little piece of eternal springtime where the plants are always alive and well and everything exists in harmony.

Kaname is happy again, here in her shared room with her long time best friend. Even though it’s her last year here, she’d much rather spend it with someone who shares a piece of her, whose heart beats to the same springtime drum as hers.

She takes off her shoes at the entryway before walking the synthetic grassy-- she could’ve gotten it to be real grass but that wasn’t allowed-- floor and flopping down next to the nymph who smelled like apples and sweet sunshine.

Home. This is where she is.

[rgcero-blog]

nightwater girlfriend { AU } ₪ cero;seolhyun

rgseolhyun

home ec has never been mikhail’s strong point. he’s decent at soccer -- if a scholarship is any kind of testament to that, although he doesn’t quite need it. the thing is, for kids like him, who’s had everything served to him on a platinum platter, home economics isn’t something he thinks he’s going to need in the near future. why make something himself when he can just pay others to do it?

still -- just because mikhail finds no use for it doesn’t mean the educational curriculum would think the same. that doesn’t mean that he’d be too happy about it either.

the only silver lining in this oppressive domestic cloud is the fact that he’s paired up with the cheerleader to make up for the whole baking mess that they’ve gotten themselves into. 

mikhail makes an effort to clean his apartment. living alone has its benefits, like his parents never telling him what to do ( as if they’re ever around in the first place ), but it’s not meant to be hospitable in the first place. and it isn’t meant to be a place where they can practice baking, but he buys all the necessary ingredients and utensils beforehand. heck, he didn’t even realise he had a refrigerator until today.

he’s busy making sure that everything’s in his kitchen ( and that he actually has a stove, and an oven ) when a knock brings him to the door. mikhail’s hand runs through his scalp when he opens it with a smirk. “hey. didn’t think you’d actually come.”

[rgcero-blog]

death doesn’t do room service ₪ cero;junghan

rgjunghan

hatred had a way of consuming cero until it was all he could breathe. the mere thought of anyone from the suryan court skipping into duuri territory twisted his gut and forced him to curl roughened hands into hardened fists. anger set alight nerves that were usually frozen over, covered with a layer of playful mystery and harmlessness. 

but it was because of this hatred that he had contacted connections he would rarely use. with this war -- cero didn’t believe in a ceasefire -- raging on while those indulgent assholes were enjoying this festival, the security was tight in ways that they probably weren’t aware of. excursions (conducted during his own time) and patrolling while he was on duty meant that he could study and learn and plan, and tonight he would finally carry it out on his own.

it was easily to knock out a few guards; a friendly gesture went a long way when one wanted to fool idiots who didn’t know any better. cero took the least conspicuous way, feet landing upon the roof, allowing him to open the window to the room and sit upon the sill. the light was still on -- it was easier not to alarm its inhabitant. and, if his previous warnings served him well, she should have expected this to happen, one way or another.

“huh,” he uttered loudly, the knife that had been clutched so tightly now being played with, as if it was normal to do something as to climb into a stranger’s room with a weapon. “i didn’t know the princess cut her hair.”

[rgcero-blog]

wicked games ₪ cero;seolhyun

rgseolhyun

he was dressed casually again tonight. he felt no need to put his hood up; there were too many people to be concerned about who might take notice of his scar. in this commotion, with so many happenings and goings-on, it would definitely be challenging to pay attention to details. this was why he preferred crowded areas: he could disappear in them easily. his presence was as silent or as imposing as he wanted it to be, and should he run into anyone from surya who set their dirty little feet on duurian soil, he could easily slip away in order to avoid conflict. 

this was a festival, after all: meant to be enjoyed, not fought in. to cause trouble for a few was to cause trouble to many, and cero would rather enjoy the festivities than to engage in combat. (how indulgent of him, to be so comfortable with the idea of strolling around without obligation, to enjoy his day off so casually!)

content in this, he continued on, and it was when he was enjoying fried food on a stick that he ran into trouble. quite literally so.

cero’s arm shot out immediately to catch her if she fell, not realising who she was until his mind kicked into gear at the sight of the very fire lily he’d left at her window sill -- and his heart twisted in his chest with disdain, not because of anything in particular. call it a learned response, no matter his intentions for the note and the flower. yet this was the kind of contempt he willed to be kept inside him, to be covered by a strained grin and fragile civility. he wondered briefly if she would remember him; he supposed that the absence of the mask on his face might not do him any favours. he hoped his voice would do it, that the disgusted familiarity would jog her memory. “enjoying duur, lady seolhyun?”

[rgcero-blog]

night light daze ₪ cero;sojin

rgsojin

a mere two years in duur have given him enough time to memorise all the ins-and-outs of the place -- particularly, where all the royals spent most of their time in. it  wasn’t hard for the boy who’s always had a knack for knowing where he was and where his feet were going to land next. and today his feet were bare, as he preferred them to be, all rough and scuffed by the earth and everything else. his limbs were nimble and light and silent, moving among the shadows in a night too alive to be asleep in.

granted, he would probably regret this in the morning, when he would start the day too early again, but for now the night was young, and should be enjoyed.

all too easily he found himself slipping upon a windowsill, eyes dancing with fire and a smirk now-visible as the mask had been placed in his pocket, not needed, not now. although he would probably give a lot of work for the staff later on, he slipped into the room, finally making a loud-enough sound with his feet hitting the floor. 

“you aren’t going to spend all night here, are you, princess?”

[rgcero-blog]

clueless (in duur) ₪ cero;hani

rghani

festivals were a time of great celebration, for which cero was always happy to see -- mostly because there were hapless little souls ripe for the charming, and cero did like himself a little game in the form of people. 

besides, there was many  to choose from. the personalities that came from all corners of the known world meant that cero had a chance to have a taste of those places he hadn’t been to yet. elvians, particularly, were people he had almost always fascinated with. there was something about being in the far north that seemed absolutely unattainable to someone like him, who’d come as far south as the badlands. to be able to meet more of them was exciting in itself, but he tried not to keep his hopes up to high. cero had duties to attend to, after all, and one of them --

was definitely not bumping into some girl who seemed clueless in the city.

he walked into her, having not seen her until the collision, her presence in the space he’d previously thought occupied a most embarrassing wake-up call -- especially since he was wearing his uniform. he stumbled and blinked and was bewildered all at once, the mask never slipping from his face before he stood upright and at attention yet again. 

“i apologise,” he remembered to say, his bow a little awkward and a little too forced and all too quickly ended. “you look a little lost, miss. may i help you find your way to your destination?”

[rgcero-blog]

lumina ₪ cero;sojin

rgsojin​

it’s not often that cero takes the time to admire the world that’s fucked him over more times than he can count. then again, he hasn’t had much time to admire anything ever. there’s hard-wired caution laced deep in his bones. the badlands can do that to a person: tear them apart, expose their nerves, all live wire and electric, and never put them back together again. cero has spent most of his time outside it trying to correct that; not that he thinks he’s had any progress. apparently, his superiors believe the same, which is probably why they stuck him in escort duty. again.

cero, to his credit, isn’t complaining. he is stuck on something so dull, but that doesn’t mean that the person he’s escorting is any less the gem that she’s turned out to be. diamonds, however, are sharp, and cero knows better than to cut himself open.

so he does his job, even though it probably doesn’t look it. he sits comfortably, except his right foot is a little bit forward, ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice. his arms are crossed over his chest, eyes closed as if he’s asleep, and he’s remained immobile and unyielding for the past few hours of travel, and probably will continue to do the same for the next few days. the only indication that he’s alive is that he’s breathing. he is listening -- and he listens as well.

the thing about escort duty: it’s not fun if he doesn’t at the very least pretend that he’s relaxed. showing how alert he is is just going to make them both anxious, and that’s never a good thing to endure for long trips to all of the princess’ political destinations.

but silence has never suited him much, nor does inaction, so he cracks one eye open and tries to lighten the mood. this isn’t the first time they’ve done this, but he’s always left to wonder if it’s the last. 

“you feeling a little bored there, princess?” the grin on his face makes the mask over his mouth stretch a little. his tone remains as playful and light as ever, but his eyes always contradict his lighthearted jests. “you know, ‘escort’ can mean different responsibilities in a different context. just say the word.”