DEATHLIKE is a mature + closed + literate Harry Potter au krp set in a distant future dystopian South Korea following the Third Wizarding War and near-total decimation of magical schools across the globe.
Elements used for this roleplay were heavily inspired by J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter series, as well as by various short stories.
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would the fae have a language of their own, besides korean? is their naming system similar to that of other races, or because they don't have real parents, consistent of only a first name (and maybe a title to follow -- ex. ____ of the seelie court)?
hello!
because faefolk are born from nature and are not conceived by actual parents, yes, their names tend to run differently than that of other species. the courts are ancient, and their origins mostly unknown; pulled from various countries worldwide.
we currently have faefolk integrating themselves into society, however, and they can choose to go off by a korean pseudonym, so to speak, to better blend in with others. ex: a faerie named oona goes by kang minah because they work in a business in seoul.
and yes, faefolk do have their own language to communicate with each other!
Hello! I'd just like a bit of clarification on the event. Has the whole night been set up by the High Court? If so, is my muse supposed to be in on it or is she just as clueless as the others? Or is that for me to decide?
hey! i’m going to answer your question publicly in case anyone else might have the same train of thought!
the long story short is that this whole mishap wasn’t actually organized by any members of the high court. the building, all along, was disguised as the high court’s building, but its given form has since faded and presents itself as an actual prison! so your muse would be in the dark about it, absolutely. but you can pretend that your muse is in on it, if you want to spook some other court members and cause further chaos!
i feel so cheated right now those sparks are cute i want some!!
oh no, we’re sorry! we’re horribly indecisive with our gfx and only just a few days ago thought of trying something new. but you can have all of the pretty sparkles! :>
HIGH COURT'S PARK CHANYEOL is a PURE-BLOOD WIZARD residing in HONGDAE.
He's an AUROR.
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11:13
jeju island
i. he was the book, staining his pages with regret. bleeding black into parchment.
wish i may, wish i might.
a man, ragged. he stood proud, towering over the fields, the grass, the blades. briefcase in hand, he’d conquer this land, this life, this world. he’s money, power, influence; history inscribed in concentrated wrinkles. there’s a thin line of approval by the corner of a mouth, and a gash of failure torn across a cheek. but the world needs a hero, ( a hero is not the badge-boasting, uniformly-dressed man. that is a coward, weaving destruction through simple, devastating words. fine. money. court. jail. spiders. barking. words that destroyed lives, worlds. ) the martyr to bring to ruin the chaos. waves crash onto the shoreline. those four walls of steel towering high look a little lonely, entrance inviting, beckoning. they need a sacrifice, the spiders and dementors are growing hungry.
protest: ₩100000 fine
disturbance: ₩150000 fine, 2 months community service
uproar: ₩200000 fine, dogs chewing at heels, probation
riot: ₩500000 fine, jail
anarchy: ₩5000000 fine, deportation
ruination: death
meet a starstruck woman. she’s the mastermind behind these vigilantes. she’s the tens of thousands of wasted bills. the criminals, the murders. a naïve follower, fond of turning blind eyes and denial – seduced by glitz and glamour. killed by greed. see, the government belonged to us, not these fools masquerading as our citizens, officials, said the briefcase man. he’s collected the debt of millions, stashing away their secrets in leather and lock, ( carrying criminals, deaths, fines. she’s but an asset ).
for now, just for now. cope with this reality with a little ‘pick-me-up’. it’s a guaranteed potion to lock up the dangers and fears. ( curiosity ) officers shall become street performers. go on and applaud for them in their entertainment. cheer, laugh. ( escape ) but whatever you do, don’t offer gratuity. they are a pack of wild animals looking to bite your hand off. should when fantasy wears off, come see me again. ( slave ) your mind will have betrayed you by then. ( addiction ) the men will return in their hexing-glory, wands poised and itching for blood. ( illegal ) we shall keep you in perpetual fantasy of bliss; where nothing goes wrong, where there’s no troubles, nothing to worry over. where the only price to pay is a small sum. ( life )
23:46
seoul
ii. we’re the ruined, never resurrected, always agonied. we’re the once kissed, never missed, always dismissed.
baa baa, black sheep, have you any soul?
briefcase man and starstruck woman, have you no conscience? here you lie, collapsed in a smoke-ridden bed with paint-peeling walls surrounding you. you’ve exchanged liquored kisses with bated, drunken breath. in the wake of this aftermath, a stolen briefcase, stars stabbed from eyes, reality. disheveled sheets, no longer what could’ve been their security. the curtains are pulled shut, and this crime scene attraction isn’t yet open to the general public. barks rock the crumbling building – oranges and reds peek out from curtain underside. now, tell me how it feels to lose it all when you’ve come so far, sacrificed everything? dignity’s nothing when you’ll be walking these streets by morning, panhandling and playing on the pity of law-abiding civilians. easy. there’s nowhere to go but up from here. you’ve starved your clients of feel-good drugs and took them down with you.
starstruck woman’s shared history with briefcase man. she’s the broken woman. broken woman’s come alive at last to witness the puppetry of man controlling woman. of man lusting to rob the stars, rob her body. he’s gone by mid-morning, pledging a formal farewell to her, wishing the best in her endeavours. they’re guilty, callous words of a boy having broken his toy. in his briefcase is a three millionth collection. starstruck woman indulged in her high-risk high-reward russian roulette as long as it would last. broken woman scoured the streets, sunrise to sunset. from nothing, she became nothing. she needed briefcase man to keep afloat, stay alive. no, she’d take over and become the hero.
17:29
seoul
iii. we’re the succeeded, always feared, never pursued. we’re the once destroyed, always determined, never unfinished.
three blind mice, three blind mice, see how they run.
enter result of an illicit relationship; he, who studious and conning, and she, who foolish and trusting. broken woman declared war with briefcase man but fifteen years ago – demanding support for their wizarding child – but briefcase man continued to play the lottery against all odds – losing it all, winning it all ( he’s dying in addiction and mustn’t ever break down in front of clients ). no, it must be kept hush-hush. i can’t have my reputation ruined. i’ve worked so hard ( too hard ) for everything and it can’t come down to this. the boy, maybe, perhaps i can see him once a year for his birthday, but no more. take the money, fine. but this must be kept a secret or else. and whenever the boy asks, shut him up some more. ( shut him up with expensive wands and books, all signed by dad ) you’ll learn that a child’s anger means nothing. teach him, tell him how ignorance can be his best friend. i am too busy to come home, i’m sorry. but i always think about you. should he cry, go ahead and hug him. remind him that i’ll be home soon. just another day, ( another dad-less night ).
so was the plan for bright-eyed, ambitious son. crafted with the finest, most delicate bones of fallen birds. he grew up carefully constructing dad by imagination. dad made the nightmares better, dad encouraged son to soar above and beyond. dad, his hero. dad, the comic book protagonist defeating evil. a brave soldier, having set sail on the seven seas shy of six months ago since their last encounter. but birdboned boy couldn’t spoil the secret. it’s his to keep. friends knew birdboned boy’s father as a renowned official advancing the world one step at a time. the father with the weight of the world upon his shoulders. the father all the other boys in class aspired to have, sick with envy in their glowers and clenched fists strangling wands. they craved that wealth; boys begging to be spoiled rotten by briefcase man’s family.
there's dad,
no, that isn't dad
spitting venom black. he splits in two innocent bystanders in the wake of ( another ) murder. the court strokes its ego.
ill words of absent father? forbidden in this sanctuary mom bled for to build. he’s fed lies daily as a three-course meal, desserts optional with false hopes and promises should his bright eyes defy mom turning the lights off. dad is great. dad helps and saves people. dad makes people feel better and gives them hope. ( erase that idea that dad’s dipped his hands in the blood of hundreds and broke down this country. he was of refined purple, not of chaos black. the death court is a mockery. betrayers. ) where there’s light, there’s darkness, ( light is good, darkness is bad. so they say. but darkness is safety, blankets to drown in ). his beloved bedtime story becomes the tale of briefcase man and starstruck woman, partners-in-crime, ‘til death do they part. dad’s the unseen force. where shadows lurked, dad existed. and mom’s the brains, slaving over her study space day-in and day-out to create the most peculiar of potions for any ailment. the dealer and the fool, as they’d say.
it’s only when holidays come and go that disappointment breeds rage, hopelessness. mom fears letting a monster loose, leaving money for birdboned boy to wake up to, along with a phony letter signed,
‘love, dad’.
mom fears breaking her child, for there’s nothing more she could do. so she beckons to the son, for him to come closer, for him to put his trust into her instead while dad is away. they would bond over their love for stars, the night sky, the moon. she would read to him her favourite constellation, and how the constellation was a hero in greek mythology. birdboned boy wants to join the stars one day. mom tells him, ‘not until i’ve gone there first’. but one day, one day. he’d bother dad for the secret on how to reach the stars. the sky turns dark, he frustrates himself again and again trying to disappear from ground and land upon a comet.
light hurts. it’s annoying. through dawn, daytime, and beyond, his room’s a fortress perpetually shut in by curtains. he wears the darkness, experiments with darkness, learns from darkness. it’s powerful. it makes the light wither. a few too many lightbulbs are put to waste in his trials-and-errors. mom’s retired from potion-making. now instead, opossum tails hang from her window as good luck charms. through the letdowns, the empty promises, the shattered hopes, there’s one thing that remains. birdboned boy will make superhero dad proud, be just like him.
make disappear the evil. resist temptation.
scrub tongue of unforgivable curses. toss weight of the slain from his shoulders.
COURTLESS CHA HAKYEON is a MUGGLEBORN WIZARD residing in NOWON.
He's a WANDMAKER.
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ONE. MODEST BEGINNINGS.
he was born in busan as lee seung-yeon to muggle parents. without a sliver of doubt, his early childhood was the happiest time of his life—although his family was far from wealthy, his parents were gifted with loving, openminded temperaments and offered seung-yeon freedom and love found only in the simple moments of life. what he lacked in money and gifts was replaced by days spent at the beach, running around town with friends, or conversing with shopkeepers and elders about multiple subjects. it grew increasingly obvious to his parents that he was a tactile, hands-on learner, so they planned to place little pressure on schoolwork. whatever and wherever seung-yeon wanted to do or go to, they would accept it. that was the plan.
TWO. FAUSTIAN CONTRACT
but life has a habit of throwing wrenches into plans; a few weeks after his sixth birthday, seung-yeon proudly showed his parents a magic trick he’d taught himself—transfiguring a bouquet of flowers into a flock of white pigeons. it’d been a pleasant sight at first, but once they’d realize there were no illusions, no tricks or misdirection—just pure magic—they knew life would never be the same. it was not long before an old family acquaintance reappeared in their lives to bring them offers and revelations.
it was clear that seung-yeon was a wizard, but the acquaintance told them that muggleborns would not have it easy in the magical world, so he offered a deal: raise seung-yeon as his own pure-blooded son, let him shape the boy to his whims in return for a wealthy life free of muggleborn-related discrimination. naïve and willing, his parents agreed and that was the day lee seung-yeon became cha hakyeon. just before the child left for seoul, his mother firmly looked him in the eyes and made him promise that no matter what he would live and survive regardless of any hardships he would encounter, and it was sealed with a pinky promise.
THREE. TRANSITION PERIOD
as soon as he arrived, he was placed under intense scrutiny for his sudden appearance as a “long lost” son, especially since he supposedly took after his mother in many physical aspects. his only saving grace was that his basic ideals, hands-on approaches, wit and stubbornness seemed to be directly taken from his “father.” he was not one to bury his nose into books, but with his father’s wealth he was afforded endless hands-on opportunities that he soaked up like a sponge. such moments hakyeon enjoyed immensely, but could not say the same for the etiquette or history lessons he received, classes in preparation for grooming him as a high-ranking death court member his father could move however he pleased. hakyeon vehemently wanted nothing to do with court life, but with his mother’s promise in mind he obliged and turned a blind eye to his father’s dealings and exploits.
FOUR. A WHOLE NEW WORLD
he received a death court education, and while on the books he appeared average it was common knowledge amongst peers and staff alike that hakyeon was skilled in the more practical, hands-on classes. he was especially adept at transfiguration—the first thing he’d shown his biological parents—despite his inability to properly explain the scientific concepts behind his spells. this skill also led to him becoming an animagus; he hoped to transform into something that could take him to faraway places and at least give him the façade of freedom.
with a few nudges from his father, hakyeon managed to transform into a homing pigeon, which he gladly used to facilitate his ongoing escapades to the muggle life. despite the classes and warnings, he could never completely abandon his muggle heritage and has a surprisingly-extensive social life that reuses his original name, seung-yeon. he once used his form to attempt to find his parents, but found they’d disappeared off the grid.
to his chagrin, he is also an adept duelist. he was gifted an ebony wand with a dragon heartstring core, which lends itself well to strong spells and combat magic. an eccentric to most of his peers for his righteous, noble ideals, hakyeon was not a stranger to making enemies or falling into verbal arguments, and while he was not one to propose duels he was the recipient of many requests. he was not a relatively-prolific duelist at school, but he still earned a reputation for rarely, if ever, losing a fight even if his opponent used underhanded means.
FIVE. FALL FROM THE THRONE
it was during his sixth year in school that hakyeon came home to the bloody scene of his father lying on the floor, his aunt standing over the man’s corpse. she’d never trusted hakyeon, and had spent so many years gathering evidence and attempting to sabotage his father, but in the end this was the best solution she could come up with. she chose not to kill hakyeon out of fear of raising further ire from his father’s supporters who undoubtedly would want the boy to replace his father. instead she hissed into his ear to take the dead man’s fortune if he must, but leave the family, swear allegiance to no court and never return.
SIX. A RISING PHOENIX
so he did. he finished his magical education and chose to affiliate himself with a popular, skilled wandmaker in seoul. although he is no longer considered an apprentice, he’s chosen to stay out of grudging fondness for his master, and also because he fears they may one day face danger from their black market dealings in the back of the shop. his father’s grooming has made him no stranger to manipulation and politics, and sometimes he will hear whispers from the death court urging for his return, but for now he chooses to be the young wandmaker who can still be clumsy around wands, and is often sent on errands to prevent disastrous “accidents” from occurring on a regular basis.
DEATH COURT'S PARK JIMIN is a VAMPIRE residing in GANGNAM.
He's a CURSE-BREAKER.
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i.
There was once a time when he was soft, round-faced with sparkling eyes. A cherub, one of his nannies used to say. His mother would laugh her tinkling, delicate laugh - the one he’ll always think of when he thinks of her - and say she doesn’t know where he gets it from.
It was always devoid of warmth, that laugh.
ii.
Jimin wanted to laugh when he felt the steely cold of fangs pressed against his jugular. He think he might have, actually. Amidst the hysteria he was feeling, the rest of the world had somehow drowned out into nothing but background noise - blurred shapes and figures that meant nothing to him.
Granted, they didn’t mean much to him on most days.
He wonders now, if the vampire could feel the way the crazed, desperate laughter bubbled out of him. Wonders if it made him seem more appetizing as he unintentionally pressed into his bite.
Desperation had its own tang to it, after all. Maybe that’s why the monster went for him instead of his father, who stood there and watched, stone-faced as ever.
iii.
Going to work with his father was one of the highlights of Jimin’s childhood. He loved it. He loved every aspect of it. He couldn’t wait to grow up and become a curse-breaker, himself.
It was a profession that ran in his family. His father, grandfather, great-grandfather - all world-renowned in their field. It was only natural for him to follow in his footsteps. It’s why even his father was so lenient with him on those days, when usually his relationship was strained and distant.
“You shouldn’t have a child with you,” Jimin’s fathers and associates would say, reaching out to pat his hair or pinch his cheeks. They would always touch him, always. And Jimin would always cringe away. First, because he wasn’t used to someone touching him. Then, because he hated the thought of it, hated being so close to people that seemed to think they had any right.
“Especially not one so pretty, he could practically be a veela,” would always follow, fingers tipping his chin up so they could get a good look at him. It would leave him feeling slimy.
His father would look at him with shuttered eyes, the lines of his face deep, bushy eyebrows sitting low. “Well, you never know,” he’d say, voice wry. They’d all share a laugh but something in Jimin would always feel uneasy.
iv.
Jimin sits in on meetings regularly now, slowly taking over his father’s duties, dipping his toes into the shambles of their political world. The seat at the table is all his own, even if whispers of nepotism will always follow him.
He doesn’t care.
It was meant for him no matter what, favoritism or not.
The ring that sits on his finger as he taps on the tabletop feels heavy. He hasn’t gotten used to the sight of it yet, it doesn’t feel like it’s part of him. It feels strange and foreign. Like most things, now. Like the way he can hear every heartbeat in the room.
One of them kicks up a notch, a stutter in a pulse. Jimin’s eyes flicker up to meet his father’s. His father is hasty, looks away quickly, his heartbeat picking up further. Even this, Jimin can’t get used to. But it makes him smile.
Where his father once looked down on him, he can’t even meet his gaze now. It’s funny.
Jimin casts his eyes around the room. The rest of them will be the same one day, he thinks. Unable to meet his eyes, unable to look down on him. He feels the prick of his fang, uncomfortable in his mouth and has to close his eyes as anger boils up behind his lids.
He wonders how the rest of their carefully picked, elite court would react if they knew their faux-veela boy was actually a vampire, trying to figure out who he could get away with having for lunch.
v.
It’s hard. Of course it’s hard. He has no one to guide him through this, only what his guts telling him and his gut is telling him to feed.
He goes through three muggles before he decides he needs to leave. It doesn’t take much more than a flash of his new biters to get his father to agree to a convincing enough excuse, to come up with a destination that makes sense. No one would look for him and with that comfort in mind, he heads for the countryside, finds his feet in a village thick with dialect and full of people that wouldn’t know the difference between him and a beggar.
Jimin lays low there. He’s in town to eat, and eat he does. Muggles are delicious. Purebloods just as much. The in between are all passable for when he doesn’t have the time for hunting something better suited to his palate. The bloodbank at the local hospital becomes a frequent visit - Jimin has always been good at breaking into where he doesn’t belong. It comes with the territory of being a curse-breaker.
For two weeks, he does nothing but drink and hide. Confined to the night, the shadows, afraid to touch his wand for much more than the simplest of charms and spells.
It takes a glimpse of someone familiar for him to snap out of it.
He hides, and he hates it. Hates that he can’t be found, especially not like this. It lights a fire under his ass and Jimin is a force of nature when he’s determined.
Days upon weeks of research and studying, of forcing his parents to send him resources, pay off well enough when he can step into sunlight for the first time in a month. Can feel the warmth of it on his face without excruciating pain. His spells only last so long, though. He knows what he needs - and he intends to get it.
vi.
He finds the vampire that sired him through his father’s connections. Shady scumbags that deal in veela wings and wolf furs. Scumbags whose level he has to stoop to on far too many occasions, but his family has obligations in the black market that now rest on his shoulders.
Asking for favors means he owes favors but it’s worth it because he has an advantage over the vampire that took his life away.
He has magic.
The unforgivables slip off his tongue too easily. He used to be scared of them, but now his hands are stained red. It’s kill or be killed and Jimin’s not going to die. Not any time soon. Maybe not ever.
vii.
“He’s not my son,” Jimin remembers his father saying oh so clearly. His eleven year old self couldn’t understand, not completely. Or refused to.
Still, it made everything click into place.
Trying to have a proper relationship with his parents was futile, because he didn't belong. So Jimin decided he wouldn’t belong. He would take.
LUNAR COURT'S WON YOORA is a PURE-BLOOD WIZARD residing in JUNGNANG.
She's an APPRENTICE DRAGON DEALER.
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you are born on a clear, breathtaking night in december with a silver spoon in your mouth. the blood pulsing through your veins is that of a pureblood. your eyes hold all the stars in the world and your pink lips have already learnt the delicate art of a smile. born in the arms of care and safety, your hands reach out to touch your mother’s beautiful face. your father leans in to watch your tiny form bundled up in warm sheets and you can’t help but giggle at the sight. love and affection have been showered upon you since you were born into the world and you have never known otherwise.
at the age of five, you have already established the amount of curiosity lurking at the corners of your mind. you answer a question with another question driving your parents at the end of their wits. shoving your hand inside rabbit burrows and bringing out worms and other such creatures are just a normal process of your learning. your padded feet are almost always covered in mud when your mother calls you in for supper. she is never quite pleased with your antics but she gives in and chases you all around the place as you leave tiny, muddy marks of your feet wherever you go.
this stage, that your mother and father convince themselves is just a passing phase lasts far longer for you. why do birds fly? why does the clock show time? why does papa need to wear a tie? why can’t i wear a tie? can i go out to play with that boy? why does he get to stay out longer? i’m always the princess rescued by the prince when we play together. can’t i be the prince? your mother always tries to answer these questions calmly by settling you down at the table and trying to wipe your hands and face clean to make you look a little more presentable.
your father is always gone for long durations of time and usually comes back with scars and bruises marring his face and arms. you stare in awe at the colourful blue and red lines running across his face as he engulfs you in his arms. sometimes he even lets your little fingers run over his injuries while the pair of you wait for your mother to come in with the first aid kit. these instances never hold you back from fear rather you are more intrigued by your father’s profession. later, at night, your father comes in to tuck you to sleep and you beg him to tell you a story. he, despite being completely tired and worn out, tells you tales of dragons and other mighty beasts. you sleep dreaming of a beautiful emerald-scaled dragon with your tiny self attempting to tame the beast.
at the age of ten, you spend most of your time duelling with wooden swords and playing the part of a hero. you express your disgust at princesses who let themselves be damsels in distress. their thoughts and actions make no sense to you. you will also never understand the fairytale heroes, knights in shining armours, all that glitter fails to satisfy your mind. instead, you turn to things that you comprehend better. stories about mighty dragon tamers and sword-fighters who saved countries through their skill and bravery are the tales that tickle your fancy. oh, how you would want to be the one to do that.
at fifteen, against your mother’s wishes, your father takes you with him to witness something truly magnificent. for the first time in your life you are standing before a dragon, an actual dragon. it is far more titanic that you imagined and the sight has completely taken your breath away. you know now what you want to do for the rest of your life and you are willing to climbing any number of mountains to achieve just that. the first is definitely the task of getting your mother’s acceptance. she already has one family member in a risky occupation, it would tear her apart to let another to walk the same path.
at nineteen, you are now working under your father as an apprentice. it took years to get your mother to say yes and when she did, you might have hugged the living daylights out of her. you love the job but you realise that it’s not all sunshine and butterflies. in an attempt to save you from a rogue dragon, your father jumps in front of you resulting in half his body being burnt by the flames from the dragon’s mouth. you are completely helpless as your father is bed-ridden and no longer able to continue his work or teach you. your mother has withdrawn and become a shell of the woman she once was. you hold yourself responsible for all that occurred. you wish to discontinue your practice when your father urges you to go on. you are conflicted but you know that this dangerous path has always been your passion. you are determined to succeed and make your father proud.
you are now twenty. you are still a student that has miles to go but you are learning everyday to become better at your job than you were the day before. but it’s not as simple as things were before. the politics of the different courts have adverse effects on your profession. most, who are willing to own dragons, want them to be ferocious beings after the blood of other beasts. more specifically, muggles. you are being pressurised through illegal means to do their end of the bidding. they are holding your parents and your close ones hostages. you are at the verge of losing your mind. you have always wanted to protect the things you loved dearly but you never understood the price you had to play till you were standing on a dead end yourself.
HIGH COURT'S HAN YOUNGAE is a PURE-BLOOD WIZARD residing in HONGDAE.
She's a PARALEGAL & MERCENARY.
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By day, she is the princess of court.
Long legs, tanned skin and a pretty face made her stand out, surely, but she was even more revered for her family name. Born with a silver spoon clasped in her hand, Han Young-ae never knew what it was like to feel struggle. Her parents made sure of it. She was an only child which made her progenitors even more cautious in raising her. Young-ae was meant to be the face of the High Court, just like those who came before her.
The name Han has been in the parliament of the High Court since its establishment in 2017. Since then each offspring of the family tree has been integrated into the politics of the court, whether it be for a talent in politics or law or even just for face value. Each Han has been trained meticulously from birth to be exactly who the High Court needed them to be. There was no individuality allowed because without it, the Han family saw illustrious results. Young-ae’s upbringing, to an eye looking in, went the same way. Of course, no one could imagine what went on when the sturdy iron doors to the basement were shut.
The Han family prided itself in never being caught in a controversy. They ran their business in the parliament with pure intentions for the betterment of the country. There was a golden standard to meet while being in that family and anything else was promptly discarded. Young-ae had been home schooled for her early life. Her parents trusted no one else to teach her how to be a Han. Tutors and mentors were scrupulously chosen for Young-ae and she started learning the day after first signs of magic were seen.
Young-ae’s place was chosen for her. She was to be the face of the Han family and the High Court. While other children learned magic only, Young-ae’s lessons were doubled. She was taught to be graceful and elegant, to speak with proper articulation, to seduce with a stare. She was also taught the ark of politicking and maneuvering within the parliament. Her parents were convinced that she did not need to take part in any of it, she should only be an approachable figurehead, but the dark face who kept a close eye on her training persuaded them otherwise.
After all, she would need a realistic cover story.
As Young-ae grew older, she became a regular at gatherings and galas. People of the other courts became familiar with her face; the golden Han daughter. She never spoke out of turn and impressed even those with a rival eye for the Han legacy. She was skilled in magic, but even more so in the art of conversation. She became a paralegal in one of the High Court’s law firms. Her work was renowned, but her work was not her own. She had two assistants who did most of the labor for her, but no one needed to know that. Teenage Young-ae to early twenties Young-ae did nothing but add to the squeaky-clean reputation of her family.
And then the dark face was sent to Jeju.
The family bounced back rather quickly. It was their first controversy in possibly a century and this family of smooth talkers found it easy to convince everyone that the dark face had no part in their internal affairs. He was barely family. Young-ae bit back her emotions and said what her parents needed her to say. But who would she be without that dark face?
By night, she becomes Aeris.
The dark face, when shutting the doors to the basement, became her uncle. He was the only vehicle through which Young-ae was able to express herself. He allowed her to cry freely, to curse at him so she would not curse at her parents, to talk about her true dreams in life. Uncle Jae-hwi was her father’s brother and he never left the house. Young-ae never understood why he was forced to stay in when she was younger but she later learned that he had committed some outrageous crimes and the family was hiding him. Young-ae found solace in him as he allowed her to be who she really was, and Jae-hwi found solace in her for being the only person in that damned mansion who was willing to be real with him.
Jae-hwi saw himself in her.
The first time he brought Young-ae down to the basement, she found out what crimes he had really committed. He was a mercenary, a jack of all trades. He killed humans for profit. He hunted creatures for profit. He became the middle man for profit. His life used to be filled with the excitement and amusement that Young-ae had longed for.
In her, Jae-hwi saw the beginnings of a sadist. Young-ae’s personality was handed to her on a platter. She never had time to develop her own. Her life was only made of up fake smiles. She was sick of it. And Jae-hwi, knowing he would never be able to reclaim his old life – he was on the run – knew just how to give Young-ae the release she had been looking for. In that basement, he taught her everything he knew, from how to kill a man to how to seduce a man for information. On the day before he was sent to Jeju, he gifted her a harlequin mask that would suit her face just right.
And then he was gone.
Young-ae enjoyed Jae-hwi’s sport, but she had always thought it was for shits and giggles. She never imagined it could become a feasible career for her. She had so much fun with what her employers gave her and she was not willing to stop.
And so, when she puts on the mask, Young-ae no longer exists. Aeris is born and her specialties include murdering, hunting, smuggling and collecting information. She is contacted by texting to a private number; one that has impenetrable security set up so she can never be found – collected from those researching new technologies at the Lunar Court. She is paid in money or information, on her terms
The name Aeris is whispered throughout Seoul. Her legacy is almost as bright as the Han family, but not so. While Young-ae serves the High Court, as Aeris, she is courtless and disloyal. She lives out her uncle’s life as her own.
are there/what are the repercussions of leaving a court (death and high courts in particular)? also, i'm not entirely clear on what a high court education would look like.
hello!
there’s really no repercussions for leaving a court if the person in question becomes courtless after. however, hopping from one court to another is extremely frowned upon and a huge no-no! it’s considered betrayal, and depending on which court it is you’re leaving, you’ll probably fear for your life.
information is under the cut!
as for leaving the high court, it’s discouraged, but by no means would you be threatened for attempting to, or successfully leaving. ( however, renowned high court officials are barred from leaving. officials know just a little too much and the high court mustn't risk their information being leaked out. an official would be threatened. ) as it’s the most selective and prestigious of the courts, its members want to, as best as possible, retain that nature of themselves. however, if an ex-high court member was discovered to have either joined the death or solar court, and especially if they were discovered to be engaging in felonious or illegal activity, they’d be detained and brought before the court for a trial.
leaving the death court proves to be the most risky. if the dogs don’t find you, its members will, and they’ll forcibly drag you back or kill in failure to comply. if they don’t find you, they’re ( sometimes ) content with sabotaging what you hold dear; whether it’s friends, relatives, tangible possessions, etc. they’ll tear you down as quickly as they helped build you up. once you pledge your allegiance to the death court, there's no way out but death.
the life court is very forgiving, and will almost always pardon department from its court without a second thought. only transferring from life court to death court would ( maybe ) cause members of the royal guard to come knocking on your door and demanding you come with them. but it’s usually nothing too serious unless the ex-member committed a crime.
the lunar court itself allows for its members to come-and-go, but that doesn’t necessarily mean its members are fine with that. there’s a number of personalities thrown into the court, and some wouldn’t even bat an eye at your leave, and others might be very begrudging and personally seek you out; it all depends on how tied you were to the court, and the friends and enemies you’ve made.
because the solar court is abundant in numbers and its structure is quite chaotic, members leaving isn’t something new and no one would probably notice another number down. it’s more like, you wouldn’t be missed.
as for high court education, because its members are so few compared to the lesser courts, they receive education directly from the court’s building itself, located in hongdae. most high court members are metamorphmagi that are homeschooled for their first couple of years ( because in this day and age, it simply isn’t safe enough for parents of metamorphmagi children to send their kids to district schools; not when there’s hungry solar court members looking to get their hands on them. ) and then they transfer to the court’s building to receive hands-on training in perfecting their abilities as a metamorphmagus.
high court wizards, however, actually receive their education from a district school until they gain recognition from a high court official and are personally invited to become a member. so an aspiring death court wizard, for example, may end up becoming a member of the high court well before graduation, and thus would switch to the high court’s building school.
we have a tag of fc recs that you can browse through right here.
aside from that, i just want to say i really, really still want a chen. i’d also like to see shinee’s jonghyun, nct’s ten, lee soohyuk, lee jongsuk, ikon’s bobby, and got7′s jackson!
