#vel:task

[vel-sumyeong]

activity check! (task 008) development: what goals do you have for your muse? or would like to see for their growth?

i think there's a lot i want to explore with sumyeong but for his growth, i'd specifically like to see him be able to open up to vulnerability and grow from being so afraid of losing important things/avoiding letting himself get attached because of all he's lost. i want him to become more open with his emotions and learning how to convey them and address them. i really want to delve into this. i know a lot of the focus i've put on him so far as been his family losses and its related trauma. which i might just need to spend some more time writing into these bits to really see how he processes through all of that first!

i also love putting my muses through hard times so it'd be interesting to see him go through some sort of break. it seems like something he's on the cusp of and something i've considered and talked about in some plotting with others! but i just haven't really dug into it writing wise.

evil mun set aside, i think i would love to see some of his old dreams fulfilled. sumyeong has always wanted to leave velgrove. i think it would be amazing to see him let go of the things tying him to the town so that he can just be free. at this point, i'm not entirely sure if velgrove is a place that he'll feel truly disappears from him or not. 

it's been a long time since i've had a muse like sumyeong though so there's a lot i'd like to do with him!

[velminki]

activity check! (task 009) shadow: what is something about your muse they're afraid to let people see or learn about?

more than being found out as moonsik, minki is afraid of people seeing him for who he really is. he knows that there’s something wrong with himself, that a normal human being shouldn’t act the way he does, so he’s extra careful when presenting himself as minki to the world, so no one will see the secrets he hides so well.

there were moments when people came close: his brother, his parents, a so-called friend or two. yet, each time people turned away from him, taking a step back when they realized what they were about to find out could change their perception of him forever. it was easier for people to pull away then, to pretend nothing happened so nothing had to change. if they did go on, however, minki knew he would have to kill them – there is no one who can hide a secret like his.

a part of him wonders what would happen if someone saw himself, the real him. how would they react? most likely with fear and disgust. still, together with this fear comes a deep desire of understanding, of finding someone like himself, who will see him and not run away.  how would things go between him and this hypothetical person? would he finally feel a sense of belonging? would he feel like a human? minki isn’t quite sure, and he fear she will never find out.

[vel-jane]

for @vel-sumyeong.

velgrove finds ways to be jeweled and cut as the dusk dries into night, its fireflies like blisters where they burst upon leaves and flatter themselves into clusters. pleiades, ptolemy, coma, wishing well.  

in the strange grey and blue of post-light everything looks both dusted and ash-soaked; there is jane, like undine rising from the waters && the farmhouse, the dark wood where dante first met virgil.

jane is leaning against its open doorway, shifting her bare shoulder back and forth and watching the moonlight spill over her skin to illuminate the dark foyer in various degrees. it is strange to be here and hear no star-bellied beasts thrumming away in its walls. the lace of her dress drags along work boots that are scuffed && only slightly sticky with honey, and a lantern dances by her thigh, its handle at the very ends of jane's fingers. it clinks against the wood of the farmhouse every now and again, when jane twists enough the moon's light can illuminate the whole room.

there are secrets she could spend her time trading with the history of the house while she waits, but jane chooses to watch the fireflies move instead. when she squints they split into little crosses. she can hear sumyeong inside, somewhere, body turning imperceptibly in his direction.

sum - yeong. she murmurs, for the first time since the day she saw him in the fields, sunlight staining everything in sight. the breath is a shoal of fish, brilliant and silent. a star splinters apart in the heavens above, just out of sight.

[vel-misol]

❝ inspiration: what inspired the creation of your muse? or what other setting could you envision your muse in? + development: what goals do you have for your muse? or would like to see for their growth? ❞ ⤷ activity check! ( task 008 ) ˎˊ˗

inspiration

i touched upon misol's primary inspiration being mabel pines, and initially, elsa of frozen. some sibling inspo when first bringing her into fruition was also drawn from hansel and gretel & timmy and tommy (animal crossing). at her core, she's extremely family based and values her relationship with those close to her. her more bubbly features, however, stem from a mix of old muses, whom i miss dearly. yashiro nene (tbhk) inspires her boy crazy, lovesick tendencies (almost as much as mabel, if not more). serena (webtoon) inspiring the small parts of her that start off as childish and bratty, but hide a passionate drive to meet the potential she's always been capable of— she just needs to lock in and deliver.

that said, i just imagine misol living the fairytale/princess life she'd probably grown up reading in books. in a land full of supernatural and mystical beings, she is certain to be a fairy.

development

getting back to plotting messages lately, i've been reminded of the initial grit i'd originally intended for misol. i'm hoping that the current shadow event can act as a catalyst of this change. she's forced to deal with the matter at hand all on her own— no one for her to rely on. in retrospect, misol has a tendency to react defensively in situations that affect her negatively. similarly to the childhood bullying and her mother leaving out of the blue, she puts up a wall and shuts the world out.

following the event, i imagine that she won't be the cheerful misol that we've all come to know. i'm hoping that she'll have a bit more bite and ability to protect herself more, rather than jumping head first into situations without much thought.

[velhaeil]

activity check! (task 007): beauty: how does your muse react to being loved? or how are they in love?

it’s when you’re well and fully grown and all around settled on your two feet, off on your own doing anything and everything that might spell similarly to an adventure. that is, until the day turns out to not be so magical or book-worthy; and that sometimes cowards do make it onto the front cover of someone’s story in the form of a lesson, or a weapon, or about something like leaving the home in an unresolved tizzy. the specifics don’t matter for this case.

it is, then, when she gently nestles a hand on the one he had left palm facing upward on top of the thin sheet of the hospital cot to feign, good and proper, at easy composure and a bit of nonchalance, because he’s doing very well and he is fully grown and all around settled on his feet— well, settled on his back, and—the specifics… don’t matter, in this case either.

it might be when something brick-hard begins to swell behind the eyeballs. when a ballooning, compounding pressure that’s all dramatic and devastating, and a thousand times, a million times, so embarrassing that it plants sea urchins inside of his chest to scratch at his sternum on their way out— when his mother squeezes his hand and he’s right at the conclusion of the after-effects of some new opioids and he’s remembering, all at once, why hangovers and excruciating heights don’t blend quite well, like water and oil; why he had refused to even phone home in the last six months, because he left it in such a state when he should have, perhaps, talked to someone instead.

a lot of the times, it’s in response. it had been looking into his mother’s eyes and admitting, openly and at risk of bruising, that “maybe i shouldn’t have left like that,” like that: in rage, in violence, in spite. ‘like that’, and he means, i’m sorry that i didn’t let any of you in this time and yet you’re here anyway. “i was wrong.”

[eudoravel]

: ̗̀➛ activity check: task 009 ˎˊ˗

SHADOW: what is something about your muse that they are afraid to let other people see or learn about ? #tw: mentions of death (familial, non-descriptive) & allusion to g*ns

eudora carries a quiet fear, like a shadow stitched to her heels. even in the softest of lighting, she can see its silhouette — the uncanny shape of her brother's broad shoulders against a door, the chiaroscuro of three mismatched polaroids. this fear clings to her in the pauses between her words ; in the way her gaze falters when her eyes run over those flimsy, palm-sized photos.

she speaks of her brother, aaron, rarely.

when she does, her recollections shift like sunlight through water — sometimes warm, sometimes fractured. what is truth and what is omission is difficult to tell, but the weight of it trails her all the same.

the things eudora remembers most about her brother aren't his voice ( light and lilting, always on the edge of amusement ) or his smile ( wide and white, his overlapping front teeth ) — although, at times, these images do come to her, bearing grievous weight.

rather, it's the way his shadow used to fall across hers as they walked together, side-by-side, home from school. in the summer, his shadow would stretch tall across hers; in the winter, it was shorter and sturdier, and when they would stand with their backs to the distant sun their shadows together looked like a deformed little house, all odd angles and creeping rafters.

now, when she catches her own shadow long and lean before her in the fading summer light, it feels wrong, somehow. thinner ; alone.

she doesn't like to talk about the night he died.

not because she can't remember it — it comes in jagged fragments that resurface when she least expects it — but because the details never seem to line up the same way twice. the time of day, the weather outside, these particulars are lost to time, or something else ; what she does remember is the sound, that deafening POP and the unbearable silence that followed, like the world drew in a breath that it never let go of.

sometimes, eudora can feel the ache in her lungs, like she's still holding hers.

she's grateful that people don't ask about him anymore ; grateful that she keeps the polaroids tucked safely inside the cover of her journal, away from prying eyes. when they do ask, she's learned not to offer much ; to let the silence speak for her. it's easier that way. and besides — some truths can change shape when you hold them up to the light.

[velgroverp]

example activity check! (task 000)

for your first task, please answer the following prompt before activity check is conducted this 06/08 @ 11.59 gmt-6. if you are choosing to substitute your activity this week with a thread (starter/response) please follow the second set of steps below.

completing task:

please answer one of the questions below. your answer must be at least 150 words. (you are free to answer more if you'd like)

secrets: what is a secret that your muse will/ would carry to the grave? (for themself or for others)

safety: how does your muse react in a dangerous situation? are they more likely to fight or to take flight or freeze?

sinners: what is something your muse sees as unforgiveable? (something to do or others doing to them)

once you have prepared your answer, keep the title format and tag your post with "vel:task".

substituting task with thread:

keep the title format - activity check! (task 000).

in the body, please indicate "thread for activity check MM/DD".

link the body with your thread response.

tag your post with "vel:task".

make your post!

[velmina]

OPEN GRAVES @velxgraves

the land of velgrove yearns for blood.

it is a tale as old as time and in the marshes, or the quaint corners of the forest where the leaves return back into the cold embrace of the earth, it is the most apparent thing to a soul that's known death. there are two of them that day. fragile, ghastly things, forever irreversibly marred and torn by forces they will never quite fully comprehend. and like those apparitions cursed to endlessly wander, today they thread through the thick of the underbrush in search of what all mortals eventually come to want - freedom.

beneath distant rustling and the slow and purposeful exhale of the wind, mina holds her breath in some primal anticipation. her clammy hands cling desperately to a shoebox like a drowning man would to a straw, unwilling yet to truly let go of the memorabilia inside it. still, she straightens her shoulders, if only to save what she presumes is her last remaining bit of dignity in front of graves.

they've been walking for a while before they settle on the place - a mellow clearing, unexpectedly open amid the evergreen trees and on first glance infinitely unfit for rituals. she blinks and she swears that two children are rumbling in the grass, their laugher echoing distantly. she blinks again and the moment is gone. ultimately she settles on a thought: this is a graveyard in every way that matters.

she looks at him for probably the first time since they began their trek, inexperience flooding through her tone, "so. what now?"

and it dawns on her that she has now crossed an invisible line and began a journey that is too late to abort. a small, hungering part of her hopes she might find the same inadmissible comfort in him that she always does. another, less selfish and much more human, knows she is about to impart a burden on him that for many would be far too much to bear.

still, she persists. she has to. "i'm not much of a funeral person."