butterfly wings;

ash isn’t ignorant to the implications of lyna inviting him over. back in december, he’d been ready to accept that any chance of exploring the new physical pull they felt to each other had fizzled away that day in the dance studio. friendship was still on the table and that’s what was most important to him, but in the months since then, it has been impossible for ash not to notice the way their conversations have worked back around to that line they’d already crossed once. the innuendo, the curiosity, it’s all there again. stronger, this time, ash thinks, but that could be the increased awareness that comes with more confidently knowing what it could mean now.

still, when the door opens, he’s stunned into momentary silence by the nightdress that drapes over lyna’s form, all strategic hems and taunting neckline, and it takes at least a full second after he notices what she’s wearing to remind himself not to stare. “hey.” lyna’s an attractive woman. she has been as long as ash has known her, but somehow, her nightdress makes him feel like he’s shown up wildly unimpressive in comparison in the tightest-fitting shirt he’d brought to new york (which doesn’t say too much, really, in a wardrobe he’d crafted specifically not to cling too tightly to his body, but he’d tried) that’s just a little tight across his chest, sleeves short (another rarity) with the intention of showing off his arms.

his arms wrap around her waist in greeting and he’s grateful for the few seconds it gives him to re-calibrate himself to where lyna’s set the bar. “wow, and i thought what you looked good up on stage today.” he keeps his tone even, like he might really be that invested in the trendiness of her wardrobe, but as he withdraws himself from the hug, there’s a hint of a smile on his face that gives it all away. “i couldn’t wait for you to get me alone myself, you know.”

She's satisfied with the reaction she gets, with the second it takes him to reply, and her smile widens just enough to part her lips, but she composes herself quickly. This isn't about boosting her confidence, after all. (It might be, in part. There's something about the feeling of being wanted, of daring to play around with that.) “You look good yourself,” she says, still less than an arm’s length away, lingering. “I like this.” The last word, she emphasizes by trailing her fingers along the exposed skin of his arms, slowly, like she's familiarizing herself with the sensation all over again.

There's a lot more to explore and for a moment, Lyna allows herself the luxury of letting her gaze wander, from his arms to his hands, then up his torso, over his chest, his neck, and back to his face, unabashed and taking her time. They know each other well enough now that she's no longer as worried about making him uncomfortable, about crossing lines, because she trusts him to tell her. To stop her. So when she takes a few steps away from him and towards the bed, she wears that confidence like a second skin, lets it guide her movements and lend a sway to her hips that can't be considered subtle.

Jiwon had the worst start to this retreat with the previous day consisting of her being overwhelmed by everything. She’s not proud of it, but it had to have been to most she has cried in one day in a long time. However, it was a new day so yesterday was now in the past. She may have been beyond exhausted, but that wasn’t going to stop her from trying to take advantage of what the resort had to offer. If she had the energy, she probably would’ve tried out one of the hiking trails, but the day would be used on the tame activities she had interest in.

The hammock area was one that piqued her interests the most that day. Jiwon’s mind was at its emptiest state, not caring about her image or any future responsibilities. Doing absolutely nothing for a while sounded like heaven with the rare occurrence of nothing running through her mind. She was walking towards a random hammock when she heard her name. Jiwon turns to find Lyna being the one that called out her name. Her eyes brightened as she moved towards the other.  “Hey,” the tone of her voice is lacking expressions, but the smile on her face showed otherwise. “I’m happy to see you too, even if it doesn’t sound like it. I’m just worn out from past few weeks combined.” The retreat had managed to provide a break for 7rophy near the end of their promotions, providing Jiwon with the needed break from reality.

“How do I use hammocks?” Jiwon asks, more towards herself than to Lyna. She never was asked that before, and it was something she never gave much thought. “I’m not exactly sure myself but i guess my main focus normally is to let go of everything? Clearing my mind beforehand or bringing something with me to distract me normally works. I tend to have difficulty staying still when my mind is full of clutter.” Her mind was always thinking about something, especially when there were things she needed to improve in, so she understood fully if it was difficult to do nothing. “I use the time to pretend I’m not me and don’t have any responsibility, but it’s okay if it ends up not being for you. Even I have to be in the mood to enjoy it. Some people are better at doing more physical activities than ones like this.”

Lyna's features immediately soften as she processes Jiwon's words and the frustration that accumulated after many long minutes spent trying and failing to find relaxation within herself dissolves in the face of a real problem, of the reminder that the time she wasted means nothing in comparison to the time others might not have. “Have they been working you too hard?”, she asks, with worry barely concealed by the smile on her face but peeking through its curtain nonetheless. “I love 'No', by the way, but it seems like it's high time for a break, hm?”

She nods in response to the explanation she receives, nods to herself because it makes sense, but she feels a spike in her agitation again, something uncomfortable right under her skin, inconspicuous but pulsing, like a mosquito bite. Letting go of everything. It calls to mind a conversation she had the day prior, and once again enforces that it seems she's unable to. Why? “That sounds reasonable,” she says to get herself out of her head, to focus on the conversation at hand instead, because now is not the time to ponder the implications and limitations of the workings of her mind.

sometimes she sees lyna as an image of her mother — a veil of concern swaddling each subtle movement of her composure. yet, other times she saw lyna as a hidden gem, flickering sheens of humor across the dull rubble of phonies scrawled around. “milady, milady. my prince charming — we’d make the grimm brothers quiver right now.” an end of her lips pull upward, revealing the unsymmetrical grin as she dips her head mid-curtsy, fingers jutting her shirt outwards as if she’d been housed in a grand ball gown.

your standards aren’t high — the statement that strums a heavy laugh out of minjung’s chest, eyes crinkling from a smile pulled too tight and too wide. “i don’t have standards — maybe that’s why i’m always the one stumbling into a destructive avalanche. but you know what’s the best part? i’ve made a home in the snow, becoming a yeti myself. but you know what, you’re the best prince charming thus far.” and she’s imposed to rethink the past relationships that embittered with invisible scars and unceasing reminders etched under and over her skin — her body a journal, written on and over with each person she’s given her heart to.

her hands remain entangled behind her back, hair free flinging with each swift step she takes — a nonchalance of a simple graze, an aimless direction hoping maybe her feet will befriend her for the night and lead her astray. “you just don’t think, and do. too much calculation only causes a wallow of tears once you realize expectations come short of reality,” minjung pauses, casting her gaze past her shoulders to take a visional approach to the echoes trailing along. getting lost, a feeling of anonymity and thrill that punches her numb — that was an ode to the thrilling adventure she’d envision. “getting lost can also mean the thrill of not knowing where you are or where you’re going — a nomad in a new town of unwelcoming faces. making you shake in fear, that’s the excitement an adventure brings. it makes you feel.”

“Yeah, I think the fact that we're both women and you still call me Prince Charming alone would be enough to make them quiver, but the story's pretty good too,” she says as though she's making an admission, as though playfulness wasn't written all over her features, all smiling eyes and cheeks plump with laughter that hasn't made it past yet. The tension she carried in her muscles as she stared into the bonfire is long forgotten, but Lyna stands up straighter nonetheless, pushes out her shoulders like she assumes a proud prince would. (If only she'd paid more attention to them when she was younger, looking through picture books to find pieces of herself in them.)

It's not on purpose, of course it isn't, but Minjung's words hit Lyna in a spot that still hurts a little, brings back the echo of pain that hasn't left yet, even though the place that ached has been vacant for a while. “What a good match we are,” she muses with a smile she has to craft, has to remember how to. “Both without standards, both accustomed to it — and now, bound together for a happily ever after.” She knows that it's merely a joke, something said in passing, but she's always preferred friends over romance, and if a happy ending is to be found anywhere, wouldn’t it be in a companion who expects nothing of you?

hyunsoo was glad that there was someone out there who understood his thought process. there was something about growing up by the ocean, the familiar smell of sea salt and the crashing sound of the waves that had brought him so much joy. maybe it was just the tranquillity of life in his hometown. either way, it was nothing that a pool could replace, but it was as good as it was going to get and he wasn’t going to complain about it. “same here,” hyunsoo laughed, “my hometown is about an hour away from here, i grew up by the beach. i think i knew how to swim before i could walk.”

watching lyna put up her hair, hyunsoo busied himself by sinking more into the water, allowing himself to get more used to the temperature. he definitely was glad he didn’t have to deal much with crazy coloured hair dye and the problems that came when it bled out - the only time he’d had a colour other than black, brown, or blond was back when he was during aju nice era, and that had only been random green streaks in his hair. “i have to admit, i was here to get some laps in.” it was relaxing to him, just focusing on counting how many strokes and laps he’d done. “water fights, though? it depends, what do you propose, noona?” 

“Oh, really?” Surprise widens her eyes and Lyna automatically dips her head to the side to convey curiosity, unsure if the topic of their hometowns ever came up, and even if it did, she's never been much of a geography wiz, so at home in two countries and neither that she'd never bothered submitting their maps to memory. “An hour on foot? If so, why not sneak away for a bit, pay old friends and family a visit?” Her tone is even and bright, a smile in her voice a testimony to her seriousness. She means it, considers it a possibility, though a part of her realizes that she, as the older among the two, should perhaps preach of more responsibility than that. But what's the importance of some silly rules weighed against someone's happiness?

twelve years and it leaves him to feel numb, no — more so, a negative taste of apathy stuck deep in his chest. being told what to do, how to sing and the steps to dance on stage comes at a price, and taejin’s shed every ounce of the enjoyment that used to garner a tiny sliver of enjoyment for the life on stage. now, there’s nothing left and he’s simply programmed for auto-motions of the body doing what it’s been trained to do. “after having the spotlight for so many years, i think it’s time for me to take a backseat and let the newer faces have fun on stage” he speaks with a warmer tone, weaving his arms into each other across his chest — the truth revealing itself in the air. 

lyna’s question pulls a turn of his head to face her, dead-straight with amusement bringing a warmer gaze in his eyes. “yeah, it’s interesting what people choose to sing when they have the independence to choose what songs.” like him, they were all walking puppets yanked into obedience, and the resort only offered a free chance to sing and dance as they pleased. “i’d like to see the next sung si kyung and baek z young on stage. or maybe even a yoon jong shin,” he counters cordially, evidently bringing out his age that tapered his personal preferences to crooning ballads.

taejin keeps his eyes faced to hers, extending a hand — a physical treaty to the vexed storm that brewed over their last encounter. “cheers to a fresher start, hoping that this isn’t an effect of the relaxed high everyone’s on,” it’s a joke, yet strummed from an earnest offer of peace. first impressions or not, he was no longer a raging tyrant nor was he a tantrum filled child that barreled through the layers of strangers. 

“Now you're making me look bad for even singing at all today,” she replies without any weight to her tone, speaks instead through a grin and with the airiness of barely held back laughter. While she still jumps at every opportunity to do what she believes she does best, which is and always has been singing, she empathizes with the sentiment. Discovering new talents is among her motivations for being here tonight, because too much stays hidden in the shade of whatever role the companies choose for their idols to portray. “But I get it, taking the backseat. I've had the chance to show who I really am, now it's time to root for others to do the same.”

Amusement still paints warmth across her features, only further accentuated by the lighting that highlights the shadows dancing across her face, from the crinkles around her eyes to the upturned corners of her lips. “It would be a pretty depressing night, though, if too many people wanted to follow in their footsteps.” It's another joke, rounded off by a light giggle she finally lets slip. “Obviously, I'm a big advocate for atmospheric ballads myself. I just think it'd be funny if someone crooned a sad song and made us all cry on this wellness retreat.” Then again, she's sure there's some benefit to be found in that. The release of something pent up, the solidarity of a room full of people seemingly sharing their feelings with you, you with them.

“I am too, I kind of hoped we could keep something like this back at home, but there’s a reason I don’t have plants in my apartment, except for the cactus and plastic imitations,” Jiah shrugs and she’s not actually upset at the idea of not being able to grow something like a little garden but the reason lies more in why she can’t keep one. Work has been such an important part of her life in the last decade that there are a couple of things she lost her touch. Finding time and space for new hobbies included. But nevertheless, she was glad for doing this with someone like Lyna. Someone who fits the image of nature and flowers so well. This idea gives her some peace in her heart and after everything that Lyna went through, Jiah thinks she deserves some quietness.

Jiah can’t stop herself from laughing but she cuts it off quickly because, after all, they were still trying to keep the silence, but the idea was amusing anyway. “I wish. This is all deduction, I have absolutely no idea of what I’m doing, really,” she admits with a sheepish smile and a nod of her head. She wasn’t lying. Despite her grandmother having the so cherished green-thumb, Jiah had no such talent herself. “I think she tried to teach me when I was little but I never had any real talent for it and the little I learned I already forgot because it happened such a long time ago.”

“It’s actually impressive how well I can imagine you being that kind of grandmother,” she says with a fond smile, “living peacefully surrounded by your plants and having a nice life, it fits you well, unnie,” she says honestly and buries the seeds she was given. Her hands are surprisingly gentle, it almost felt like playing the piano. It’s a nice thought. “You can always fool your grandkids and make them scallion pancakes instead, giving them carbs mixed with your healthy greens,” she comments easily, “at least that’s how my parents used to do. I didn’t even like kimchi for a while, not until my dad told me to mix it with ramyeon and since then I started to love it,” she says with a fading little smile. Of course, she would end up remembering him now.

“I do keep some potted plants, but I don't think I could afford a place with a garden in Seoul, if I'm honest.” It's not something she's ever really considered, because it isn't something she ever thought she needed or even wanted, not now, not yet, but with the unpredictability of her finances, she realizes it won't be on her agenda anytime soon. “Maybe a small home garden on a balcony or something, that should work.” She still carries a smile in her voice and her movements are guided by lightness, by a carefreeness that speaks volumes of the optimism she thinks she must have been born with. There's always a way somehow, always a light somewhere.

A small pout finds its way onto her lips, though it's more for show than in any way serious, and she turns her head towards her friend so she can see it, too. “Wish I had your talent for deduction then.” Not even a second after, she's laughing again herself, shaking her head to dismiss any seriousness lingering in the air. “But for all it's worth, I think you're doing well. I read somewhere that plants react to how you treat them, like any living thing, so I do believe that with a little practice, you could be a master gardener!”

it couldn’t be said that duri was competitive. to be quite honest, he wasn’t competitive at all, as he would be likely to help other people to win. but, he just seemingly happened to be good at such things that involved competition. that would probably explain why he won king of masked singer, as well as the challenges presented on running man. plus, it probably helped that he was tall with this race; the long legs giving him more distance. he giggles, a bit loudly, “sorry! it’s just how i grew!” he jokes, another giggle seemingly leaving his lips afterward. it probably also helped that he’s athletic, at least gym athletic. he’s climbed rock walls too, so maybe that just adds onto it. 

his legs had pumped underneath him, running towards the end goal; trying his best to not let as many giggles as he could sneak past his lips. the wind blew past him, as if he was a puppy running through an open field, as happy as ever, as the sun beat down. being a puppy was truly his element, that’s for sure.

as he had reached the rock, a larger giggle left his lips, turning on his heels. however, as he’s turning, he hears the thud to the ground, which seemingly makes his heart feel like it just jumped out of his chest. “are you okay?” he asked, not seeming to answer her question. he walked over, reaching out his hand to help her up. “did you get hurt? i have a first aid kit in my bag!”

“How about I give you some of my heels and you give me some of your height in return? Deal?” She's laughing through her words, fully aware of how nonsensical the trade she's proposing really is, but what's the need for logic here? What's the need for thinking, for seriousness? Truthfully, she doesn't even mind being short much anymore. It's been years since she's learned to accept herself as she is, and stepladders exist for a reason.

The smile never leaves her face. It fades, perhaps, for the fractions of a second that she's falling as her body braces for the impact, but returns immediately after, unchanged. “I'm fine!”, she's quick to assure Duri and takes his hand to pull herself upright again, not even flinching at the sting of a fresh wound. “Thank you, though!”

she was having a lot of fun. ( maybe too much, because the staff wondered if she was drinking and it was just a natural high for her. ) she had already taken the to the stage for the open mic night with someone. once her turn was over, jiyoo went back to watching, enjoying every performance and dancing a little wildly to them.

then she heard someone call her name and jiyoo turned to the other girl with a smile, returning the hug. “yeah! i’d love to perform with you.” she wasn’t the type to say no and jiyoo didn’t mind getting on stage again. “what should we sing? something of yours or my group or something different all together?” it didn’t really bother her, whatever they did.  

It was a rush she hadn't felt in a long time, the prospect of sharing the stage with someone she liked both as a person and as a talent. Yes, she had been part of quite a few collaborations throughout her career, but very few ever got any live stages, which was a shame, because she'd always thought that music was something that should be shared with others and enjoyed alongside them.

It's an elaborate event to her, this open mic night, carries more meaning than any of the countless festivals she's attended along with a selection of these very people. It's different, because it's just them here. No public scrutiny. No backing tracks to drown out their real voices.

She can look at them as people here, instead of the polished gems their companies like to portray them as outside, and she's always been drawn to people. Right now, the voice of a young man she can't recall ever having heard sing so clearly has caught her attention, and she reverts back into the eager audience of a busking gig, feels the tether between them that only small venues and genuine vocalists provide as she approaches him once he leaves the stage. Maybe it's just her and the idealism she keeps buried underneath years of experiences that taught her better, but she's excited all the same, smiling with the innocent warmth of appreciation.

It's really paradoxical how antsy the very simple, supposedly relaxing act of lying in a hammock makes her, as if the fabric that's holding her suspended in mid-air kept whispering into her ear all the ways in which she could be more productive right now. Or having more fun. It feels like she's doing a whole lot of nothing, and there's no better way to remind yourself of all the things on your agenda than absence. Silence. Nothing.

A heavy sigh leaves her lips as she spreads her legs so they dangle from either side of the hammock and sits up. There's no point in looking around, no hint to be found that could help her unravel the mystery of how this is supposed to be relaxing. That is, until a familiar face walks right into her field of vision, which instantly makes Lyna's faded smile resurface. “Jiwon!”, she calls out, like it’s possible to miss her where she sits in plain view. “I'm so happy to see you.” Despite her current predicament and how close she is to reaching the edge of the cliff that is her patience, she means it. Ever since their first meeting, Lyna has been looking forward to every interaction she gets to share with this junior of hers, who's growing more precious to her with every word exchanged.

The tips of her hair are still wet from the shower she took to wash off the traces of today's show and a few stray droplets of water she missed tickle her as they run down her skin, but she decides that it's dry enough and pulls it up into a ponytail she fastens with the hair band she's been holding between her teeth. With that done, Lyna smiles at her reflection, at the way the black nightdress hugs her body just right to show off what she has to offer, at how little it does to hide her cleavage and how confident she feels in her skin for the first time in a while.

Before she can think about how to spend the remaining minutes until he arrives, there's already a knock at the door that brings a smile to her face and her back to her feet to answer it. She opens the door with eyes glittering with warmth, reflecting the bright artificial light of the hotel hallway before she quickly steps aside to let him in, more because she's happy to have him there than because she's worried someone might see. 

Of course Daisuke knew who Lyna was as soon as he laid eyes on her. He was a big fan of her music, her being one of his favorite soloists. Her voice stood out amongst the hundreds of active idols within the industry, easily one of the best. Daisuke was sure that he wasn’t alone in his thoughts regarding her talent, that was for sure. Anyone who tried to say that she couldn’t sing well obviously didn’t know talent when they heard it. Luckily Daisuke wasn’t one of those people. “Me too.” Even though Daisuke had caught the music bug rather late in life compared to a lot of other idols, he did love the craft more than most things in the world. It had become an integral part of his life. He looked down at the guitar in his hands, chuckling slightly, a little nervous. “I’m not that good. One of my members has been teaching me.. But I can play something?” He started strumming the opening chords to I Will Show You. 

“I figured,” Lyna replies with a smile, drawing warmth from the admiration she holds for this young talent she encountered by chance. “I think you can usually tell when you hear someone sing –– if they love it or not.” It doesn't seem like he's particularly uncomfortable with her there, so she decides to stay and pulls out a folding chair for herself to take a seat next to him. “It's fine! It doesn't have to be perfect.” She knows all too well that perfectionism is an occupational hazard, but she's always thought there was charm in the little slip-ups, the not-quite mistakes. It's what makes it real, every performance one of a kind. Her eyes follow the movement of his fingers for a few seconds, but she soon closes them while her smile widens when she recognizes the song, oddly touched that one of hers is in his repertoire. Singing along comes naturally, like a habit, like she can't hear these notes and not let her voice join the familiar melody, and then her eyes flutter open again to focus on him, to silently invite him to join in as well.

it had really been a shame that he was so close to home and yet still so far. growing up in the quiet city of gangneung, his earliest memories were mostly focused around water and its various forms - the ice under his skates, the sound of the waves against the shore during a family trip to the beach. it was something that always had made him feel relaxed and so the pool was a sufficient enough replacement for the fact that he couldn’t go to the beach.

he hadn’t really expected anyone to be there but he figured he had been a bit naive to think so. after all, there were so many people there at the resort. at least it was someone who he didn’t mind being in the presence of, offering a smile to lyna in greeting as he places his things down on one of the lounge chairs before making his way closer to the pool. he probably should have seen it coming, but he still let out a quiet noise of indignation at the water splashed over him. “yeah, figured that i might as well make the most of it whilst i’m here,” he explained, deciding to just quickly lower himself into the water than dragging the process out. “nothing more relaxing than being in water, right?” 

The soft giggle that leaves her lips in response to his reaction could be classified as almost childlike, or alternatively childish, but she doesn't mind either way. They're on a wellness retreat, which means that the only person whose standards she's going to adhere to is herself. “You get it!”, she says with enthusiasm bordering on too much, the smile she wears big enough to light up her whole face, “I've grown up around, and often in, water, so I think I can be considered at least a quarter mermaid.”

yes. she did. trouble with idols was you could never tell who were the ones with the biggest risk streak in them. at least in ‘the wild’ people expressed their personalities more in their clothing, demeanor, body art.

or maybe idols were just fucking boring.

“white wine?” he tsk’d, playful two clicks accompanied by a shake of his head. “where’s the whiskey? the gin? easier bottles to hide in your luggage, right? you could have had more room for gowns for this,” he gestured around at bonfire, “dignified affair,” and punctuated with a huff of a breath through his nose, a hint of a laugh.

then, he mimicked lyna. a too-soon callback to her own reaction, hand pressured against his chest, eyes innocent as a doe’s. “insinuating i haven’t got a clean image? i’m shocked. hurt. pained.” and as quickly as she had, his demeanor dropped. “not wrong, though. it’s always the types from something like wish or aria, innit?” nonexistent god knows charm had a massive populous of delinquents from debut.

Lyna scans the event with the detached air of someone who isn't part of the affair at all, as opposed to not wanting to be. It's the beauty of being a soloist, or the curse. Anonymity. She has friends here, yes, somewhere, but she isn't part of any one group you would expect to see herded together.

She shoots Andy a sideway glance, lips curved in a small grin, the subtlest hint of amusement in her eyes, mixed in with the dancing flames they reflect. “So now you're calling me underdressed, eh?” It's merely another joke, which is quickly made evident by the laugh lines the night's shadows so unsparingly paint around her eyes.

they’re too cautious around each other–her, with a tenderness that’s terrified that she’d be pushed away once again, and the other for some other reason that she doesn’t know or desire to understand. her fingers wring together for a moment, long lashed eyes flickering slightly as she frowned, relenting hesitantly as she turned around slowly, blinking back at the other girl who was once her friend. 

“sure.” she fidgets a little, just ever so slightly as she took a moment to let her eyes linger over lyna’s features, hearing the determination in her voice and offering a reassuring smile of her own, tentative and apprehensive. “i mean, go ahead. i’m always open to listen.” she’s never understood what exactly went wrong between them–there were fights, yes, and both of them had been angry. but what exactly became the cause of why she became cautious around lyna, or even attempted rather audaciously and fervently to avoid her–youngjoo had long forgotten the exact reason for it. 

in fact, youngjoo had long forgotten that they actually had something going on between them. avoidance had become somewhat of a sad normality between them that she had no longer questioned as to the reason why she had felt it right to avoid the path that lyna always seemed to step upon. but now–she bit her bottom lip slightly, unnecessarily nervous. it seemed as though that the other girl wanted to patch things up with her. they both had their wrongs, youngjoo was sure. her for jumping quickly into conclusions and consequently avoiding someone that could be a steadfast friend in favour of constant avoidance had led to them never being able to patch things up between them, though things seemed to be changing for the better now.

the thought itself made a soft wobble of a smile flicker across her lips–one that she sorely hoped that she hadn’t mangled. “what do you..” she trailed off slightly, wondering what exactly was the right response to the younger girl. “what is it that you wanted to say?” the words tapered off a little awkwardly, and youngjoo squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, crossing her fingers mentally that it hadn’t come off too standoffish towards the younger girl in her momentary flusteredness.

The funny thing about resolutions is that they make everything seem so easy, so cut and dried, right up until the point you're in the situation and nothing is as it's supposed to be. Lyna doesn't feel particularly level-headed or even calm, with the heat of nervousness, of fear running through her veins. It shouldn't be like this. Not with Joo. It's Joo. Just Joo. (But Lyna has forgotten what that's supposed to mean.)

It comes back to her in little pieces, like a puzzle she's in the process of putting back together. The sound of Joo's voice the first piece, the ghost of a smile she offers the second, and slowly but surely, a picture is coming together. A picture of a woman she recognizes, who's too different now to call familiar, changed. It's hard to tell now what she's thinking, if she's really willing to speak to her or simply too nice to say no.

“Thank you,” she makes sure to say first, because even if nothing comes of it in the end, she's glad for this chance to have a conversation. “I don't even know where to begin.” Embarrassment swims in her voice and Lyna struggles not to drop her gaze to the floor, but she bites down on her lip instead and forces the beginnings of a smile on her features. “I'm sorry, I should have prepared what to say beforehand.” Had she known she'd be this nervous, she would have.