with inho, taeyeon, luna, hyungwon, jinyoung // la la latch !
acapella, it turns out, is much harder than it looks. however, with a whole month to practice and not much else to work on during training, this group that eve has found herself in manages to get a great performance going. though she’s never done an acapella performance like this before, by the time they walk into the performance room she’s mostly confident that she can pull this off.
normally singing evaluations are automatically easy for her -- barely a challenge, because singing is like breathing. but acapella is different: she doesn’t always have the melody during this piece. for a lot of the song while the others have their lines, eve is actually just doing things like “da da da” or “ooooo,” which has been incredibly difficult for her to memorize.
it was enough of a problem that she finally suggested that she and taeyeon just double up on parts when they’re not the main part -- each of them have their own lines, of course, but when they’re on harmony they can follow each other and sing the same thing. that helped eve get a lot more confident in herself, and after the last few days of running the song as a full group basically nonstop, she finally feels ready for this evaluation.
before they start singing, she takes a deep breath in, sends up a quick, wordless prayer, and lets the breath out in a sigh that releases the lingering nervous tension from her shoulders.
she and taeyeon open the song with their “la la la” melody, and as soon as the first note leaves her lips eve is in the zone. she sings automatically, letting her vocal cords do most of the work -- it’s almost like muscle memory, except vocal memory instead. it’s a familiar sensation, because that’s the reason they practice everything so much.
as the song goes on, she nods and moves along with the beat luna sets, making eye contact with the other group members as she sings. she hardly notices the cameras, the judges, the watching eyes -- it’s just another practice, and she’s singing without meaning to.
SEPTEMBER EVAL - DANCE !
CHOI JINRI, new and improved independent woman !
dancing to: if i’m lucky by jason derulo ! ( 0:00-1:15 )
jinri is honestly just glad she wasn’t assigned to rapping. she’s actually been working on dance quite a bit this year, but it’s felt like all of her evaluations have focused on singing, so aside from that one group performance, she hasn’t really had a chance to showcase her improvement. of course, she’s still far from the best dancer -- she’s got a long way to go before she can hold her own through any dance, and it takes her longer than most trainees to fully learn new choreographies.
but overall, she’s glad to be working on dance this month. it gives her a break from singing, which she never thought she’d want. she feels like she’s hit a wall with her singing -- she can sing anything that’s put in front of her, and while she’s empathetic and emotional enough to put the needed feeling into any song, she doesn’t have any real desire to work on her singing anymore. it feels like she’s reached her limit, like she can’t grow anymore from here.
it makes her glad, for once, that she’s never been very good at dancing. it gives her something else to work on, something she feels is useful that she can constantly feel like she’s improving in, even though she ends up sweaty and exhausted and gross far more often than not. that’s one advantage of singing practice -- significantly less sweat is involved, but jinri’s come to appreciate the exertion. it feels nice, makes her feel strong.
she starts practicing on her own with her dance coach the week before the bootcamp. “i want to do a sexy choreography for the eval,” she tells coach kim, having found him in the sphere building at the beginning of independent study. he’s been her favorite dance coach since almost three years ago now when he pulled her into his remedial dance workshops, and he feels like the only of sphere’s coaches who have actually recognized how much she’s been working on dancing lately.
“a sexy song, huh?” he asks with a smirk. he isn’t too much older than she is, and their relationship has always been slightly playful. it’s still definitely the formal relationship of a coach and trainee, but since jinri’s been here for so long they’ve become slightly more relaxed around each other. “like a girl group song?”
jinri wrinkles her nose and shakes her head. “no, i’d rather do something more....individual? if that makes sense,” she says, but isn’t sure if she got her point across.
her worries are assuaged when mr. kim smiles and nods enthusiastically. “good,” he says. “it’s time for you to be doing unique choreographies.”
jinri’s eyes widen as her heart nearly stops -- she can barely even learn choreography, how in the world is she supposed to come up with it? but mr. kim just laughs at her expression, waving a hand flippantly. “oh, no, you won’t come up with it. that’s not the point of this eval,” he says. “i’ll make one for you. did you have a song in mind?”
jinri blinks. she isn’t sure what she had been expecting to get from this meeting, but it certainly wasn’t that. “i-you don’t have to,” she stutters awkwardly.
mr. kim rolls his eyes at her impatiently. “yes, i do. where else are you gonna get a choreography? besides, it’s not a big deal. i make up choreographies all the time for the workshops. now, did you have a song in mind?”
“i-uh, no, not really,” she says, her mind taking a moment to process the revelation that while choreographies were this huge, impossible thing for her to ever comprehend or consider doing, other people come up with them all the time, like it’s no big deal.
“great,” mr. kim says, already looking down at his phone and scrolling through something. “i’ll let you know when i have something for you. we can work on it during the bootcamp next week, for sure, but i’ll probably have it done before then. now i would recommend using the rest of your independent study to practice the choreography from our lesson today. you were still lagging behind at the end.”
and with that, he pats a blinking and stunned jinri on the shoulder and walks away, leaving her standing in the empty hallway gaping at nothing and still trying to process that conversation.
true to his word, mr. kim approaches her after dance practice a mere three days later to tell her he has the choreography finished. later that same day, she meets up with him in a practice room and watches as he performs it for her. it’s perfect -- it isn’t so sexy that she feels like she’ll die of embarrassment trying to perform it, and it isn’t so difficult that she’s worried about learning it in the little more than a week that she has left.
it’s actually a fun looking choreography, and while no dance is fun while jinri is trying to learn it ( due to her tendency to get quickly frustrated with things she isn’t amazing at right away ) she’s sure that if she works on it enough over the next week, she’ll actually have lots of fun with it by the time the actual eval comes around.
“thank you so much for doing this,” she tells him over and over, until he actually gets annoyed with her and tells her to shut up and just start practicing.
mr. kim lets jinri film him doing the choreography with the music, and they spend hours upon hours in independent study going over the steps at painstakingly slow speeds. even after independent study ends and mr. kim goes home, every night jinri stays late practicing, rewatching the video and repeatedly going over everything mr. kim told her.
during the boot camp, she spends the lessons working the provided choreographies and honing her technique, accepting detailed advice from mr. kim and the other instructors. every independent study, she pulls up that much-viewed video and watches it over and over, then watches herself in the mirror as she does the moves herself.
the first time she performs it all the way through for mr. kim, he only nods once before getting to work critiquing the details of the dance. “you didn’t miss any major moves, though,” he says. “you’ve really worked hard and come a long way, even just in the last few months. keep at it like this and you’ll blow them away.”
and even with all the constructive criticism he gave her, even with all the parts she knows she’s still messing up on, that’s high praise. this is the first time jinri’s ever really learned a dance on her own, to be performed entirely solo. she’s used to learning dances in large workshops, or at the least in a group of four or five during eval prep. this is the most independent she’s ever felt while learning a dance, even though she is relying heavily on mr. kim’s guidance.
as he prepares to leave their independent study a few days before the eval, mr. kim pauses and looks at jinri seriously, watching her go over the hip movements from the middle of the choreography. “jinri,” he says, and she looks over immediately, freezing for a second in an odd pose before remembering to relax and turning to him fully. “i’m proud of how far you’ve come, but i know you can go further. improve even more, and try to impress me in this evaluation.”
the words bring a grin to jinri’s face, because it’s exactly what she needed: she was starting to get worn down after dancing so much, after improving so much only to know she still had miles of path ahead of her to run before she or her coach could be satisfied. this is a challenge, and she and mr. kim both know it. he’s already proud of her, so while that should mean that she’s done, he’s challenged her to go further, to show him -- who’s witnessed her entire transition and growth over the last few years and last few days -- how much she’s grown. it’s a challenge to surprise someone who’s walked with her every step of the way.
and she doesn’t know if she’ll succeed, but she’s excited to take on the challenge anyway.
the evaluation day feels just like any other, but for the first time in months jinri feels invigorated by the thought of it. she steps into the evaluation room bowing as she always does, looking at the small table of sphere’s dance trainers she’s been working with so much this week. among them is mr. kim, who gives her a small half-smile and leans back in his seat, his arms crossed.
she’s actually wearing heels for this evaluation -- they’re short, just an inch high, but they help her feel sexier, and she’s spent the last few days carrying them around with her to change into when she practices for the eval, so she could get used to dancing in them. she doesn’t know how she’d fare with any higher shoes, but with these shoes on this dance she’s perfectly fine, and she thinks the shoes do add not only to the focus the dance already draws to her legs, but also to her own confidence going into such a sexy dance.
“i’m choi jinri, and i’ll be dancing to ‘if i’m lucky’ by jason derulo for you today,” she says before getting into position. standing still and relaxed as she waits for the song to start.
the moves don’t come naturally to her -- she isn’t that talented. even after all her practice, while she does have quite a bit of muscle memory helping her out, she makes sure to focus heavily on her movements, specifically on keeping the sexy, alluring feeling to them.
the dance goes by far faster than she expects it to, and about halfway through a smile finds its way to her lips because she can feel how well she’s doing, she knows she’s killing it. briefly, she thinks back on herself three years ago and her grin only grows, because that jinri would have died if she saw herself now.
the moves alternate between flowing with the notes to simple popping movements with the beat, and jinri focuses closely on each transition, because those are the spots mr. kim was always most worried about. she doesn’t dare look at his face -- it’s too big of a distraction. she pushes him and his challenge from her mind as she dances, knowing that thinking about it will just throw her off.
the first chorus ends with her going into a pose with her finger over her lips, and the track she provided fades out. it really did go by so fast that jinri almost worries that she somehow missed a part -- but no, that was easily one of the best run throughs of the dance she’s done. she relaxes and bows when the track cuts off, and as she rises from her bow she catches mr. kim’s eye.
he seems to be pretending to take down notes like the other trainers around him, and when they make eye contact he smiles and winks.
jinri bows her way out with thanks to the trainers for their time, panting slightly behind her exhilarated grin. as she walks down the hallway, heels clicking with every step, she knows she’s strutting, because she just killed it.
jinri’s been debating this decision for months, since the first debacle when she signed up for the extra training without thinking and then backed out after it caused an almost-fight with luna. but they’ve talked about it since then, discussed both of their reserves about both sphere and royal, talked about the risks and benefits of staying or leaving. it’s the most conflicted she’s felt in probably years, because this decision could mean everything.
( she sits at the piano, brace removed from her still-healing arm, even though she’s sure it’ll hurt after playing like this. her fingers position over the keys, the camera angled to view her face rather than the instrument itself. )
those who sign up are committing to signing with royal entertainment if they succeed in the show. this is a big decision -- she’s essentially deciding between sphere and royal, here and now, and while once the decision would have been easy and she never would have left sphere for anything, she feels a lot less confident in the company lately.
sphere feels like home -- it has for almost exactly three years. but then again, where have those three years gotten her?
( she plays the first few chords, and since the piano part being so simple makes this even easier, allows her to focus more on putting more focus on the emotion in the lyrics, once they come in.
Out of the ashes, I'm burning like a fire
You can save your apologies, you're nothing but a liar
I've got shame, I've got scars
That I will never show
I'm a survivor
In more ways than you know
she eliminated the first verse and chorus to save on time, to get the lyrics she loves the most into the short minute she has. she’s loved this song for years, but especially since the media invented that nepotism scandal during the mgas. )
sphere got her on the third season of the mgas. it got her featured in a documentary. it got her a stage with the ceo of the company. it gave her some of her most valuable friendships with some of the greatest people on the planet. and yet still she wants more, still she’s greedy to be on screen, to be on stage sooner.
she doesn’t know if that’s a sign that the industry’s turned her into a monster or not. she doesn’t really know who she is anymore, or what her priorities truly are.
( she skips the chorus again and goes straight into the stronger final verse, the piano volume increasing as she does.
There's a part of me I can't get back
A little girl grew up too fast
All it took was once, I'll never be the same
Now I'm taking back my life today
Nothing left that you can say
Cause you are never gonna take the blame anyway )
she thinks about baek jiyoung, about how she held her hand at the mga finale, and about how so many members of her team ended up making it to sphere. she thinks about jinwook, about how she gets to see him every day.
( when she finally does sing the chorus, it’s strong -- she keeps it sounding graceful and elegant, but her voice screams of independence, of confidence, of revenge. she’s not going to let the industry ruin her like this. she’s not going to lose herself in her greed. even if she does do the show, she’ll hold onto this. she won’t let another goddamn survival show ruin the last sparks of whatever good is left inside her.
Now I'm a warrior
I've got thicker skin
I'm a warrior
I'm stronger than I've ever been
And my armor, is made of steel, you can't get in
I'm a warrior
And you can never hurt me again
No oh, yeah, yeah
You can never hurt me again
the song ends with a few final, gentle notes, the same chords that she’s repeated through the whole song. she looks into the camera and scowls at it before her face crumples and she starts sobbing, the tears she spent the whole song holding back finally coming out. the camera records it all, how she curls in on herself and holds her face in her hands, how she sits there for several minutes even after the trembling in her shoulders stops, how when she finally looks up to stop the camera, her eyes are still red and swollen and her expression has lost all the confidence it had while she was singing.
she edits all that out, of course. she ends the video when the song stops, and keeps it saved on a flash drive, still unsure whether she’s going to do it or not. )
she wonders if luna’s going to do it. they talk about it regularly, and neither of them have decided yet, even with the deadline looming just a few days away.
they’re both waiting until the last minute, apparently, and jinri can’t decide if she thinks that’s funny or not. after all, they didn’t hesitate much to sign their sphere contracts in the first place. luna did more so than jinri, who took what in retrospect feels like nothing more than a few moments to consider before turning her signed contract back in.
they didn’t hesitate in auditioning to be coaches for the next mgas. they didn’t hesitate when baek jiyoung asked them both to do it. they didn’t hesitate when it came time to renew their contracts -- they signed for sphere all over again. it’s been their home for three years, and now what? they’re just going to leave?
jinri knows why luna wants to. she knows how much the she’z choreography bothered her best friend in the july eval, knows how much she longs to be on stage again, how much she longs for the spotlight, even if she won’t admit it. in a way, jinri’s in the same boat. she’s greedy, she’s so greedy for the spotlight. she wants to be on tv again, wants to show baek jiyoung what she waited too long for.
but so jisub passed her up too. luna brought that up once, how they could show jisub what he missed out on. how they could shake up the whole thing by showing up when they’re practically the faces of sphere’s trainees after the last mgas.
but then again, they’re the faces of sphere. sphere has been good to them, has given them a home for three years, and could continue to be home for who knows how many more. jinri hardly knows anything about royal, hardly knows any of the people there. sphere is home. she knows and loves everyone. but still she isn’t sure, still she’s scared to make such a big decision. still she’s terrified of potential regrets.
it’s the last day to turn in their audition videos. jinri paces up and down a hallway outside an office in the samsung building, turning the flash drive over and over in her hands. when she looks up on what feels like her hundredth pass, she sees luna standing a few feet away, just watching her. “did you?” jinri asks, the nerves clear in her voice.
it wasn’t even a complete question, really, but luna clearly understands what she meant, and shakes her head. “no.”
jinri swallows. it’s been nagging her all day -- what did luna do? she’s almost mad at herself for it, because isn’t she trying to be more independent, wasn’t she trying to make this decision on her own? didn’t they agree they would each make their own decision? but she can’t help it -- luna is such a huge part of her life, and has been for so long, that jinri can’t help but factor her into whatever decisions she makes.
she thinks she had already mostly decided, anyway. she stands up straighter and grips the flash drive tightly, then marches straight toward the office door.
CHOI JINRI ; APRIL EVALUATIONS!
rose scent breeze ; red velvet | song!
jinri has been thinking about rain a lot this month.
it figures, right? april showers and all that. she’s always really enjoyed this month -- with her birthday right at the end of march, it’s always been easy to go into april happy, and to let that carry her through even the dreariest weather.
but this year the rain has reflected her mood more often than she would like. she supposes that’s just what happens when the first week of a month involves surprising herself with her own ambition and nearly wrecking her relationship with her best friend because of it.
one impulsive decision managed to turn her world upside down, though jinri’s at least thankful that she was able to withdraw her name from the show without any trouble. it didn’t take her long to realize what a mistake it felt like, and she hates that there’s still a part of her that whispers that she should have done it anyway, that she should take any opportunity she can get, no matter what.
even if it means leaving luna behind.
she’s spent a lot of time this month on her own, fighting away those thoughts and chewing on the guilt that festers in her chest. she and luna seemed to have come to some sort of silent agreement soon after what jinri has tentatively called ‘the fight’ in her head, even though it wasn’t, really. they mutually avoid each other as much as possible, what with them living together and being forced into close quarters for training for most of the day.
rather than spending her meals and free time with jinwook or luna, jinri spends most of them in various practice rooms around the sphere or seocho facilities, practicing for the evaluation.
in an ironic, self-deprecating sort of way, she thinks it’s hilarious that this month’s evaluation requirement is to perform a slow song. it’s right up her alley, in her element. she should have no issues with it whatsoever; after all, her team was the only one on the mgas to perform a slow song outside the ballad stage.
her team also suffered an elimination after the ballad stage, that jinri was so confident going into. that’s part of where the irony comes in.
the rest of it comes from the fact that she hates how comfortable she is with it. she hates how she feels like she has nowhere to go, like she’s trapped inside a box that she built and locked herself. after pulling away from the chance to expand, to get back in the public eye, to maybe even debut, the last thing she wants to do is go back to what she’s comfortable with.
she wishes she had the confidence to dance. she wishes she could challenge herself, could push her limits and break out of the box she’s locked herself in. she and jinwook danced to a slow song, on the mgas. for about two seconds, she considers asking him to do something similar, but immediately shuts the idea down. this isn’t a reality show, it’s an evaluation, and their relationship as it is puts their contracts at stake. it would be nothing short of blatant hubris and stupidity to flaunt it in front of a panel of the people who could turn them out onto the streets for breaking those contracts.
but jinri doesn’t want to dance alone, knows she can’t choreograph anything for herself and doesn’t want to approach anyone for help. normally she would ask luna, either to help her herself or if she knew anyone who could. but jinri doesn’t even consider that this time, and not only because of the rift she can feel between them. she wants to do this on her own.
( maybe that’s a mistake, too. maybe she should reach out, work with another trainee or two. after all, it was her own impulsive decision, made without consulting luna or anyone else, that started this whole catastrophe of a month. )
jinri initially has four or five songs she’s considering, pulled instantly from her spotify library. she puts them in a playlist and plays them on a loop whenever she can during training over the next few days. she practices each a bit, and quickly rules out a couple. she decides one is too upbeat for the evaluation’s requirements, and performs it when she leaves one day to visit the festival.
by the time she’s a week away from the eval, jinri still hasn’t decided which song to sing. she’s narrowed it down to two, and learned both, splitting her time between them equally and lying up at night, weighing the pros and cons of each song.
it’s not like this is evan that big of a deal. the public won’t see her. this isn’t an audition. she’s not doing the show. it’s just another evaluation. and sure, there’s always the chance they’ll decide she hasn’t improved enough, that her contract needs to be terminated, but that hasn’t been a concern for her in a long time.
the evaluation itself doesn’t feel important, not really. not like her performance at the festival did. but the song somehow feels important, like there’s some kind of symbolic decision she has to make here.
one song, rose scent breeze by red velvet, is what jinri thinks of as her signature style -- powerful instrumentals, a strong and technically difficult vocal part, and moving lyrics. the other song, rain by nara, is what jinri thinks is a bit more out of the box -- at least for her. it’s more jazzy, still a slow song but in a different style.
she’s actually starting to worry about it -- what if she can’t decide in time, what if she just ends up flipping a coin before she walks in? -- when she finally manages to decide. it comes easily, with a prayer. she lies in bed, praying that god will help her make the best decision, and that he’ll guide her down the right path, her full spotify library playing on shuffle quietly in her headphones.
during her silent prayer, the red velvet song plays, the opening instrumental immediately recognizable after how many times jinri’s heard it this month. her heart skips in her chest -- out of her full library, what’s probably hundreds of songs, this one plays? she takes it as a sign, and decides then and there to perform rose scent breeze.
she falls asleep with the song on repeat, and wakes up with her headphones out of her ears and tangled halfway under her pillow.
jinri walks into the practice room bowing, the setup familiar to her. she’s done this before, so many times. how many more times will she do it before she gets to debut? how much longer has she resigned herself to trainee life by giving up the show? does it make her a bad person, to be this greedy? she ignores the questions that have plagued her all month, bowing again as she steps up to the center of the room.
please start, one of the panel says, and jinri nods, immediately hearing the song start playing from the speakers around the room.
the song is about missing someone, about being left behind and having to deal with that. jinri realizes that this is ironic, too -- that that’s what she nearly did to luna, what she decided to do without a second thought. she’s starting to really hate irony, and is really beginning to understand what people mean when they call it cruel. it makes her see her own cruelty, makes her not only see, but feel what she would have done.
every song she was considering this month was the same -- breakup songs, or lonely i miss you songs, stories about being left behind by a loved one and having to pick up the pieces of your own heart. jinri remembers breaking down in tears on far too many occasions, the instrumental of whatever song she was trying to learn continuing on as she fell to her knees and cried, too overwhelmed to keep singing.
but with repetition the emotions faded, until her eventual chosen song was just another song, just another evaluation, so as she sings now her voice is clear and strong, though emotion still seeps into every lyric.
the song is a strongly emotional one, which is part of why it plays to jinri’s strengths -- she’s always been empathetic, or at least she likes to think so, and as a result she’s good at finding ways to relate to lyrics even if she has no personal experience with anything they discuss. this time, her empathy only adds more irony to the situation, because she’s singing about how luna probably would have felt had jinri left to do the show, and especially had jinri won and debuted without her. her empathy and her guilt at what she nearly did, at what she has done to their friendship, are what led to her crying so often as she learned the songs.
as she sings, she’s silently glad god helped her choose this song in particular. the loud, powerful instrumental works well with her voice, and makes the whole thing feel like a song from the ost of a drama, something to be played over an emotional montage after a huge turning point in the characters’ lives.
A rose scent flows in the breeze
And my sorrowful sigh scatters in the air
I can’t hold on to them. I can no longer hold on
To you as you move farther away
the chorus is beautiful, jinri thinks. her favorite part is approaching fast -- the final bridge and chorus, which she sometimes finds herself describing as explosive in her mind. the whole song builds to it, sure, but she remembers the first few times she really listened to the song, truly considering it as an option for her to perform, she loved the way that while the song clearly spent a lot of time using the instrumental to build to the final, vocally challenging chorus, it still seemed like it came out of nowhere. like after all those emotions had already been poured into the rest of the song, it seemed like there would be nothing left to give, but then it just keeps getting stronger.
as jinri finishes the chorus once more and the electric guitar takes off, giving her a chance to breathe before the powerful last section, she thinks, not for the first time, about how this reminds her of that day with luna, in a practice room so similar to this one.
the emotion seemed to come out of nowhere, with jinri walking in feeling uncertain and strangely empty, and then suddenly being surprised by luna’s passionate reaction to the news. everything had skyrocketed so fast, both of their feelings kicked into overdrive and leaving them both overwhelmed and struggling, crying and shouting at each other because they just didn’t know what else to do.
jinri’s voice doesn’t waver as she enters the chorus one final time, but her eyebrows are furrowed slightly and her eyes closed, her mind far from the evaluation as she sings. she isn’t in this practice room anymore -- she’s in one about two floors up, several weeks ago, sitting helplessly with tears running down her face as she watches her best friend pace, agitated, upset because of jinri.
she’s in their apartment a week later, watching as luna moves through the kitchen late after training, her eyes not once going to jinri at the table as she prepares herself a snack and takes it back to her room.
she’s standing on stage at her first mgas, accepting the contract from baek jiyoung and later signing it with luna. then she’s on stage at her second mgas, holding hands with baek jiyoung and luna, being told how well they represented sphere even if they didn’t make first.
and then it’s all stopping. after the final high note, the song immediately drops in volume and power, as if it’s simply run out. she keeps her eyes closed as she sings the final line, and she remembers hugging luna after the fight, telling her she wouldn’t do the show.
i can no longer hold on
hold on to what? jinri’s too emotionally exhausted to consider it, how it might apply to her, if it even does. she opens her eyes and blinks in surprise to find herself standing in front of people, but quickly recovers and hopefully doesn’t show any shock on her face. she can feel tears in her eyes, and bows quickly to hide them as she blinks them away. the panel dismisses her quickly, and she hurries out of the room, feeling simultaneously lighter and like she has more weight in her chest than she has all month.
over in that house, there’s a kid who thinks you’re the greatest. and it’s not because you’re a space ranger, pal. it’s because you’re a toy. you are his. toy.
toy story! presented by: @rkrachel as buzz / eve as woody
- 0:50 - 2:51
the day of the performance brings the excited nerves eve always gets from an evaluation, but she isn’t worried about messing it up. she gets ready that day saying her lines to herself, practicing again in the mirror even as she applies her usual layer of makeup and runs a brush through her hair.
they initially wanted to do one of the more lighthearted scenes from the movie, like woody and buzz’s first introduction, but they decided that the parts of those that were only two people were awkward and choppy lengths, so they started looking at the more serious scenes. their research made eve glad she owned the movie on ituens, so they could easily skip through it on her tablet.
the scene they settled on is closer to the end of the movie, and is a big moment for both of their characters: buzz is getting over his realization that he actually isn’t a space ranger, and woody finally accepts the fact that buzz is a better toy than him, and he’ll never be able to compete. these realizations push both of the characters to do what they need to in order to make it back to andy’s house in time for moving day, and it’s a big turning point in their whole relationship -- the scene when their goals finally become one and the same: get back to andy.
eve finds herself muttering her lines to herself throughout the morning, and by the time they’re about to perform for the judges, she can’t stop bouncing on the balls of her feet, can’t stop running through the two minutes of lines over and over with rachel. the elder reassures her one last time -- we’re fine, we’ve got this, you’ll do great -- and suddenly they’re introducing themselves to the panel.
“i’m ha sooyoung,” she says, and rachel continues.
“i’m ham saebyeol, and we’ll be doing a scene from the movie toy story. i’ll be portraying buzz.”
“and i’ll be playing woody,” eve finishes, and the panel signals for them to start when they’re ready. they bow in acknowledgement before moving a bit further away from each other, until they’re sitting on the floor, several feet apart. eve kneels, drawing an imaginary line along one of the wood panels in the floor in front of her because woody is stuck under a crate. i can’t move past that point. a few feet away, rachel sits crosslegged, back bowed under the weight of an invisible bottle rocket as she hangs her head.
“psst! psst, hey, buzz!” eve begins, picking up an imaginary screw and tossing it at rachel’s head. she moves her head slightly as if hit by it, then glances up at eve and away again as eve continues her lines. “buzz i...i can’t do this without you. i need your help.”
“i can’t help,” rachel says, and the scene continues flawlessly, exactly as they practiced. eve pretends to hold onto the side of the invisible crate, and rachel mimes looking at the missing sticker from her arm.
“you are a cool toy!” eve exclaims. “as a matter of fact, you’re too cool,” she adds, leaning back on her haunches. “i mean, what chance does a toy like me have against a buzz lightyear action figure?”
she leans back against the imaginary wall (something that took more practice of balance than she cares to admit), and tells rachel that she should be strapped to that rocket.
and with that, the scene ends. they stand up and bow, and she can’t help but grin and squeal in joy as they leave, because wow. she did it. she’s an actress.
it’s been interesting working with this group for the eval, to say the least. eve had never really interacted with hwang inho much before he approached her in the first week of the month to ask her to be in his group. her immediate question was “can luna join too? she can beatbox and rap,” because she had a feeling inho wasn’t approaching her purely for her good personality.
her suspicions were confirmed when she showed up with luna to their first planned practice to find kim taeyeon there, as well as another trc trainee and a boy she thought might be from nova, though she’d never met either of them. hyungwon and jinyoung both turned out to be fairly talented and nice to be around, though she can see what inho’s done here. he honed in on the trainees who are best at singing and recruited them immediately, creating a power group who would be perfect at this evaluation when combined.
eve let the others take the lead on the creative parts, trying her best to learn more about the creative process. everyone approaches it a different way, and she files her observations away for later, focusing on helping with creating harmonies and distributing lines.
they spend countless hours locked in a practice room together, and while she knows luna best and can communicate most of her feelings to her with just a look, it is nice to work with some people from other companies for a change. with everyone at sphere focused on convex, it’s nice to have been chosen for this group based on the fact that she’s one of the best female singers in the samsung group. she knows that’s why inho approached her — why else would he have gathered the trainees that he did?
she doesn’t mind being chosen only for her abilities. in fact, in this industry it’s her talent that’s gotten her where she is now, and it’s her talent that will continue to send her along her career path. the fact that inho’s shrewd eyes chose her out of the dozens of options available to him actually fills her with an odd sense of pride, though she doesn’t dwell on it too much.
over the course of the month, though her relationship with everyone except luna remains highly professional as they don’t waste too much time during their meetings, the group does share laughs and jokes from time to time. eve is used to practicing with the other sphere trainees, though and this group is definitely less playful than the trainees.
though she supposes that’s to be expected —after all, she’s been training with the sphere kids for ages, and except for luna she hardly knows anyone here. of course she knows about taeyeon and her talents, but mostly just in the way that you hear about anyone who’s as talented as the two of them are. she’s sure taeyeon’s heard at least as much about eve in the same way.
after their first couple of practices, eve doesn’t have time to think about this stuff. all of their focus is soon on arranging the song, distributing parts, and practicing. by the end of the month, though, she does feel as though she got to know the others at least a bit more. hyungwon and jinyoung are no longer just random faces she sees in the corridors. taeyeon isn’t this looming, silent rival of hers in kt. of course, eve will probably always harbor at least a few feelings of rivalry towards taeyeon just because of how similar their skillsets are, but she didn’t let that stop her from getting along with taeyeon this month, and she won’t let it stop her from continuing to be the other’s friend in the future.
it’s nice, really, being in this group. by the time of the eval performance, eve feels like she’s made several new friends from across the companies, which is what she was excited about when samsung first created these new facilities.
jinri isn’t used to having her hair done professionally. sure, a few years ago she went to a professional salon to get her hair dyed red on a whim, with some support from her friends in high school. and once she had rachel help her get colorful extensions in her hair, but that wasn’t anything like this.
“hmm,” the stylist says, brushing through jinri’s long black locks. “they want you to have long black hair, it looks like. well, you’re already there! congratulations,” she says, her tone dry. “but i’ve still gotta do something about this. it’s clearly been a while since you’ve had your hair cut, because you have a bunch of dead ends. i’ll get those off, and maybe a bit more length too. and then if we thin out your hair, it should allow it to curl a bit. yeah, that’ll look good,” she babbles, seeming to talk more to herself than to jinri.
jinri just sits there quietly, watching in the mirror as the woman washes her hair and combs it out before snipping off ends. she doesn’t know how long she sits there, but she knows it isn’t nearly as long as some trainees will have to be there -- at least jinri’s hair doesn’t need to be bleached and dyed -- that can be a process that takes an entire day of sitting in the salon chair.
when the stylist finishes cutting her hair ( still without actually talking to jinri, who kind of wishes she could at least chat with the stylist ) she blow dries it, then spends ten more minutes putting product in it and styling it.
she takes several pictures of jinri and her hair when she finally finishes, saying something about meeting with the commercial producers to see if this is what they want. jinri is dismissed shortly after, and she grimaces every time she accidentally touches her hair, feeling the product making it stiff and gross.
oh well, she thinks. she supposes this is just something she’ll have to get used to -- having her hair styled or even dyed without her consent, and even having to wear clothes she doesn’t necessarily feel comfortable in. the thought makes her slightly grouchy for the rest of the day, as she struggles to pull her sticky hair back in a ponytail and repeatedly fails. she allows herself to be grumpy about it for now, because it’s not a big deal; she’s not on camera or in public. but she knows that in the future, this will be her entire reality, and she needs to get used to it soon.
You’re led down the hall by a staff member early in your day at Sphere Entertainment, to Baek Jiyoung’s office. When you step into the room, she’s seated behind her desk, and she greets you with a smile that’s both gentle and professional. The staff member motions for you to take a seat across from you, then leaves. One quick glance around the room, and you can spot the same lawyer that was present when you first signed your contract.
“Hi, Jinri,” she begins, her lips still quirked up into a tiny smile before she becomes more serious. She shuffled through the paperwork on her desk for a moment, then glances back up at you. “It’s already been two years. You’ve been through a lot here. Thank you for your hard work.” Another pause, and she glances down at the papers again– shuffles them more until one manila folder is on top of the stack. “I know it can be difficult to train for so long with little to show for it, but I hope you see the same progress, growth, and promise in yourself that I see in you. If you can stick with me in Sphere a little longer, and put in more of the hard work I’ve seen from you so far, I think we’ll be able to come up with something great together.”
She opens up the manila folder in front of her, and presents a pen and contract, specifically marked where each new signature is required, to you with a bright smile. “Everyone at Sphere would love to continue working with you. Now it’s your turn to decide if you’d like to continue working with us. Feel free to take your time thinking about it, if you need it.”
[ september 1, 2016 ]
jinri knows where she’s going this morning before the staff member even finds her. she walks in the ceo’s office with her head high, wondering why she isn’t more nervous.
she thinks maybe she should be nervous, should be worried since baek jiyoung holds her entire future in her hands. jinri could leave sphere today, never to return. jiyoung could tell her that she hasn’t grown enough in her time here, that she doesn’t think she’s right for sphere’s vision, and that she’d be better off in another company, or worse, in a different career altogether.
but as much as those thoughts should terrify her, they don’t. because from what jinri knows about baek jiyoung, she would never do that. this is the woman who said she wished she could sign jinri and luna’s entire mga teams, who offered myungsoo a second chance to join sphere even after he rejected her on the mgas. this is the woman who took jinri’s hand on the mga finale and told her how much she’s grown into her role, and how well she represented sphere on the show.
somehow, jinri doesn’t think she has anything to be worried about. baek jiyoung has already shown jinri how proud she is of her by first choosing her to be a coach, then by saying such kind things to her on stage.
a small part of jinri thinks for a second that maybe this is overconfidence. maybe it’ll come back to bite her in the butt, and baek jiyoung won’t renew her contract after all, but she doesn’t listen to those thoughts.
walking into the office and seeing the ceo blows all the thoughts out of jinri’s head. jiyoung’s smile sets her at ease as she sits down, and she bows her head politely in greeting. she watches the ceo closely as she shuffles through all the paperwork, and she pays close attention to her words, a proud smile growing on her lips as she thinks back over the last two years.
whatever nerves were subconsciously lingering in the back of her mind disappear at the sight of her new contract. her smile widens to a grin, and she looks up at the ceo, nodding immediately. “i don’t need to think about it,” she says. “sphere is the right place for me. thank you so much for allowing me to stay,” she adds with a bit of a bow, or as much of one as she can achieve while sitting down.
she then turns to the contract lawyer she noticed when she came in. “if it’s okay, could you help me sign this now?”
a few minutes later, the contract is signed, and jinri bows once again to both baek jiyoung and the contract lawyer on her way out. once she’s outside, the ceo’s kind words still echoing in her head, she heads straight to her first lesson of the day, her first of the next two years.
