#phv*s

[gongyoohooo]

" it's a gift for the morrigan. " the druid smiles, placing his offering of herbs at the base of the magnificent tree before them. " you might say that we're good friends, she and i. "

His companion’s nonchalant outlook settles his nerves as he follows behind. Bittersweet scents waft in as they tease their flavorful aromas of candied decay. Wilted leaves crush under his steps as he makes way, cruising through a few other sights for the sore eyes. Gloomy melody of the wind sing their wails and absorb his heat, the lesser druid tightening his robes as he goes along with Eriel’s whims and demands. It does not take long for him to realize precisely where they now stand.

Before them looms the darkening tree of legends and lore, branching wide and reaching the limitless sky. Even in the cloudy atmosphere, the aura of such a living being removes the burden of the heavying weather. Hurriedly, he uncloaks his brown hood and adjusts his woven basket, feeling the obligation of greeting nature before them as if someone or something compels him. Watching the light locks of his fellow order droop as the gift is presented before it forms this lump in Yoo’s chest, unable to still himself as curiosity and wisdom both push him to ask for questions. Nonetheless, he bites his lip to hold his tongue, unsure whether such a time might be appropriate in this circumstance. He chuckles out of hesitance, “Hmhm, it seems to be a wonderful friendship indeed, brother Eriel.”

Thoughts swirl at his words though, knotting his stomach at the suggestion. Good friends? What ever could he mean... A sigh releases the tension building within, as he digs through the basket to at least lay an offering as well. He feels the curvature of his old boline against the new one he had received help with crafting earlier this week, feeling his spirit encourage him to showcase it to Eriel. “Here,” he steps forward to lay it beside the neatly set herbs, “I pray this may be enough to receive her guidance and protection.” Moving his gaze from the tool to his partner, he smiles and reminds him, “So, I suppose we should make way. We should accompany their travel while we can still catch them on the way.” Again, he looks up at the sky, presuming a time, “I am sure we can make it there before their departure.” A hand gestures to Eriel, insisting he lead on as usual.

[gongyoohooo]

The Rusted * Self (H. Ode)

Study, study, study for there is too much to learn About your hypnotic resonance on this dastard Earth... Might I combine nickel with gold or iron with carbon burn, So that I can create something a sliver of your worth? Many must of presented their gifts of wealth and joy, Compelling me to believe that even my candid soul might not show To a lady idolized by all, not loved and merely lusted. Yes, yes, look at this magnificent metal alloy, Or perhaps, take a peek at this lava flow aglow. Though, all of it pales in comparison to being your trusted.

@spvtnik

[gongyoohooo]

Soul. & Welcome back.

What Does My ‘Soul’ Sound Like!? Meme [ Accepting! ]

“You do know that questi—” Yoo holds back his philosophy from intruding into her curiosity, “Fine, but listen closely because I will say this once only.” A deep breath through his nostrils and an exhale through his mouth rejuvenate his core, focusing solely on her, specifically, her sounds. “Sorrowful water dripping… it is as if the rain has stopped recently. Where there are cracks in the ceilings, the liquid falls. Plip! Splish! Each making a different sound than the last hundred drops.” Eyes remain closed as clearer audio enter his eardrums, “Ah, the sound of a church bell, oh so distant. It rings once, waits, then rings twice more. The earth, perhaps? No, the sky…” Thoughts wander for a moment before he adds in, “Most significantly, there is this piano with an octave in such a high pitch, happy yet played pianissimo. Sometimes, it is alone, but a lower octave joins in harmony every few rings of the bell.” A smirk dawns upon his face, sympathetic towards her for reasons unknown, merely felt.

[gongyoohooo]

Wisdom’s Curse * Self (Ballad)

There is a madman, you see, Who brings forth strange abilities of knowledge free. Many more have come to show What magical mystery they possess for the patriarchy.

Victims fall in love with it all, From concoctions heavy to constructions tall. Many more have come long ago Now under his strings no bigger than a thrall.

There is a woman, I hear, Who provokes imagination untold, only to behold no fear. Many more have come to grow, Yet in my personal cage she is bound to appear.

I fall in love with her arrival, Understanding that my touch can aid in survival. Many more have come to bloodied glow Where sacrifice is needed to induce promised revival

There is a small chance we hold By working hand in hand and doing what we are told. Many more have come to woe Trying to discover the origin behind white gold.

The emperor falls in love with the throne, Watching his dominion seek truth behind every cheekbone. Many more have come to realize foe And pursue the end in hopes of finding the Philosopher’s Stone.

@91sjh

[gongyoohooo]

Routine Bean * Yoo & Blue

Itching away, Yoo rubbing the part of his forehead above his right brow to remove the marker residue from an early touch. Dried, the emerald spot fights for its life as the teacher starts vigorously heating the area with continual motion of his finger. Nothing he does removes the dainty stain, his trash bucket filled with tissues not making things any better. Better leave it be, then. Away he walks from the little mirror in his office closet, catching up on the miscellaneous cleaning of the day. Passing chatter resonates outside his classroom door, the man minding his whiteboard and wiping it down clean for another day tomorrow. Few crumpled papers and stray pencils, he picks up what he can around rather than have the custodian have the issue, even finding a wireless mouse left behind. In his pocket it goes, to put it in the bin in his office later should a student come rushing in to retrieve it.

Unfortunately, he expects someone to bug his at this hour, knowing full well that some of the writers in the class are below proficient when it comes to the essay due at the end of this weekend. Alas, Yoo slouches into the chair in front, scribbling down a few things and attempting to finish grading some content. “Hey, Yoo,” a fellow English professor down the hall addresses him just outside the hall, “Join me for a late lunch? I have the rest of the day free.” The idea seems pleasant, but he prefers to opt out to finish the work instead, “Maybe next time. Still have this to go,” tapping a neat stack of clipped paper. They share a quick wave of goodbyes before resuming his read, only pausing to dig through his drawer for a replacement pen. Is the prompt too hard? His concern for the writing task now larger than the speck of green still stuck on his head.

[gongyoohooo]

HC#1 * Merry Accompaniment

Yoo adores the animals the visit him at his home in the suburbs. His affinity with nature often cause him to live in olden customs of tranquility. That is not to say that he avoids television, nor does he garden on a daily basis. Simply, the man enjoys his sense of quiet, finding it with the company of a fellow bird or snail as he reads away. As of late, he manages his library all on the tips of his fingers, rather preferring the tablet than a wall of old tomes. Open cages hang from the ceiling corners of his house, nary a companion put behind bars and having the liberty to leave when they wish. Some are residents, staying their welcome in his sight while a few only pass to grant him more wisdom or ask for such. However, all are considered his friend, caring for each and every as if they are his own children. The druid holds no regret for his line of work, understanding that to help humans means to help its helpers and previous caretakers. Merely, he is repaying a long forgotten bond between. Although he might outright deny it at first, he does have a favorite, a pure white pigeon enjoying a single black spot atop its head.

[gongyoohooo]

Licensed Adoration * Self

“No, no. You must not think so shallow,” harshly criticizing his fellow coworker in tad sarcastic tone. Sitting down at a classroom not of his own, Yoo converses with the younger lady, finding their dialogue engaging. “Of course, you cannot take that kind of responsibility. The students will seek our help when it comes to small detail, no need to list every tangible point. Let them make the connection, and if they cannot, that is when you step in.” Advising his acquaintance put him in a mood of uncertainty, fearing that his aid might have the opposite effect of what he intends. Nonetheless, he shares his thoughts and provides a solution to her dilemma of what she might put into her lecture for Monday. Yoo strongly urges her to pursue an active class, where live discussion inhibits an environment rich in everything required to later add onto an exam, where the leader not only guides, but secures a strong understanding between the lesson and its people. “In the end, if you are happy with what they have given back, then there should be no problem, yes?” Both parties share agreeing smiles, finding a common ground of consideration.

“I will be just a moment,” removing himself from the seat and making way to his office down the way. The section of the university tends to stay quieter during the off hours, no entity causing disruption unless coming from the mess hall. As he creeps inside, he grabs onto a backpack he previously left beside the doorway, bringing it inside his corner office room to lock up as no one has yet to retrieve the pack. Leaving the magenta sack behind his desk, the man buttons his sleeves once more; his collar following suit as he tightens his neck with the first clasp. In greaser style, he cleans the tips of the collar before wrapping around a charcoal black tie in front of the mirror. An adjustment here and pull there, Yoo perfects the appearance down to the length and calmly folds over to cover the unimportant areas of the tie. One pat in front of the mirror finalizes his quick clean-up, the professor ready to escort his partner a few minutes ago to their date.