someday, everyone you love will die. everything you
love will crumble to ruin. this is the price of life. this is
the price of love. it is the only ending for every true story.
— m. brockenbrough
★
( + detail your character doing a variety show appearance. )
this is how ban hyera truly shines—by acting, that is. the studio lights the multitude of cameras; she’s in her element, truly, and it shows, peeks through invisible curtains of velvet and red. the applause, though silent, erupts in anticipation for, ladies and gentlemen, the performance is about to begin.
this is their—what, third? fourth? time on the show, and the result has always been the same, the product of the same regulated formula of actions and words. smile here, laugh there—seldom does she crack a joke, though in the lull of entertainment, she is often forced to.
it’s pre-decided—before any of the four had any of a say in it—what their positions are in appearances like these, what ‘characters’ they’d be portraying for the next couple of hours. this is where ban hyera truly shines, for it is only here where she can compensate where she lacks elsewhere.
(in talent, that is.)
for jawbreaker’s hera, you see, beloved rapper and eternally sought-after visuals is the sole member of such a complex group to have an image like this, to have a reputation that allows for such tomfoolery that her father would scowl that, that her mother would lower her head in embarrassment from. some would blame her age, buts others would label the cause as her indifference, her lack of necessity.
the stumbling over her words, for instance, causes such laughter amongst hosts and staff members alike. her slight mistakes in the dance portion of the show—she can already read the headlines of the articles in the morning, the very few that praise her excellence for entertainment while the majority hone in on her difference, her divergence from the other three of such genius and expertise.
[ +442, -525 ] hera is so funny!! she really stands out in jawbreaker
[ +613, -124] hul.. don’t you think hera’s trying to hard? she should really stick to standing there and looking pretty.. ㅋㅋㅋ
but she cannot complain, no—not when they make it so easy, though they refuse to admit. how dare she ever doubt such planning, despise managers and company alike for branding her in such a way when they themselves have drummed into her mind that there is no such thing as bad publicity, my dear.
and so she laments, grieves over the epitome of poise that once was before the ruins of fame came crashing through, but the exponentially increasing views in her individual fancams and clips has her second-guessing such resentment, such sorrow. (since when has she worshipped glory? popularity? since when has her reflection on a higher being shifted from god to herself?)
thus, she sits there, ever so perfectly and ever so intriguingly, in that infamous white chair of theirs, lets her giggles echo between the white walls and grey cement as if she has no care in the world. as if she was having fun.
this is why ban hyera truly shines.
for she is an actress, and this is a show.
if it is right, it happens—the main thing is not to hurry.
nothing good gets away.
— j. steinbeck
★
( + detail your character recording at a music show. )
how does she say that she hates it?—and when says she hates it, she means sighs and frowns, and concrete, and that guttural ‘h’ in the very beginning and the way the tongue juts at the bottoms of teeth for the short, stopped ‘t’ in the middle.
she hates it, the hot breath and sweat, the secondhand stress and anxiety that oozes off the wall—she’s worried of getting infected, of catching this nasty plague of perfectionism only workaholics have the pleasure of enjoying.
wouldn’t now be such a good time to stop time?
how silly, such dreams; though, they’re the very same thing that led her to here, aren’t they?
her fingers secretly tug at the hem of her dress, wishing that the fabric wouldn’t prick at the surface of her tights like a threat and more like a safety blanket, like armor. she catches one of the stylists eyeing, hurriedly smiles and refolds hands back in lap as the blinking of her eyes attempt to separate the bind that mascara has on her eyelashes.
eyes trail over legs, and she wonders what would occur if she placed a sheet over them, if covering such bareness almost meant shielding vulnerability and weakness.
but that’s impossible on a stage of such bright lights, sweetie.
don’t you think she knows already? is an expert on everything and anything pertaining to such a topic?
ban hyera has trained herself in the expertise of visual seduction, has well-been affiliated with the mastery of deception and enticement through a television screen. corners of her lips perfectly curl upward in delectable smirk; eyes flick through eyelashes in an almost flawlessly-executed fashion. chin down, arch back, turn sideways, tuck in—instructions in a guidebook that no one wrote for her, no, but rather she drafted and penned herself.
the cheers keep her going; the calling of her name, the waving of lights in a crowd of seemingly black. their single has been well-received this time around, and for that, she is grateful; but at what cost?
at what point is it not enough—the recognition, that is—for this to not be worth it anymore? is it when she finds herself staring at exposed body in mirror with a gaze more surgical and critical than that of the internet? is it normal to feel this disgusted, even when looking so pretty? is this what they want? is this the kind of daughter her father expects her to grow up to be?
(that was a trick question; father never wanted a daughter at all.)
and so, the creaking of the dressing room door and the announcement of jawbreaker on deck! snaps her out of her drowning thoughts, brings her back to a reality where she’s staring at a reflection and has to take a second to realize that it’s hers. and she sighs, heavily. lets her lungs collapse for a brief second before refilling them with air, before returning herself to an airiness of oblivion and numbness.
how does she say that she hates it?—or maybe, she already has.
the days are long, but the years are short.
— g. rubin
★
( + november schedule, guesting at a gaming convention. )
for most idols, this would be a dream---a personal invitation to perform at a large convention, an upcoming project with one of the biggest gaming companies in south korea.
but for her, it’s simply a nuisance.
though it’s not like she can admit it---not aloud, at least. for she has signed a contract, has accepted the investments in both time and money to be led to this point; success seems to be so close, but why does she still feel so far away?
for she has not considered herself to be the same, to not hold the same intentions as before when she first stepped on stage; the transformation is obvious, to say the least, but she’s still stuck, still doing something she simply does not love.
and it’s not as if she’s ungrateful---no, but rather, she’s the exact opposite; completely thankful for the career the group and the company have gifted her, she considers such connections to be paramount in her progress thus far.
but it’s not enough.
it’ll never be enough.
because singing, and dancing, and performing are simply just stepping stones to the other side, short detours on a jagged path across rushing river of silent rapids and white rushes. for they are to keep her from drowning but not to teach her how to swim---the life of an idol is not the life of an actress, and ban hyera wants to be an actress.
and so, with every second of downtime that she’s not posing for their photoshoot, she’s memorizing her lines; for every moment she’s not standing behind microphone in recording studio, she’s sitting on couch with phone in hand to monitor herself in recently-aired episodes. and it’s evident---so painfully so---that her dedication is placed elsewhere, to the point where her attitude towards current occupation can easily perceived as laziness, indifference.
but she remains obedient (no matter how much it annoys her to do so) to the commands of her superiors---to the producers, directors, staff members, managers---because that is what she has been trained to do, what she has prepared herself for in the past three years spent in a dungeon, caged behind bars of uncertainty and hopelessness, before being freed, before embarking on a journey that she (somewhat) has control over its course of direction.
she does not smile,
for that would be unfair.
to trick those around her to believe she doesn’t already have one foot out the door, isn’t already prepared to leave at any viable second. for sometimes---those seldom few times---she feels guilty, for acting so half-hearted in a community full of ambition and passion; she questions, maybe, that her position would be better suited for someone else, for someone who actually wants it.
for she doesn’t want this, no, does not want to be attached to some concepts and images; she is not a singer, does not hold the same affinity for music like her peers.
and maybe that’s her downfall, her biggest fear,
to be remembered as jawbreakers’s hera for the rest
of her life.
