Restless

@no-zomi

Muscle that’d once been present had begun loosing their mass, months of neglect had brought him to this point. As much as it was to be avoided, Iseul knew that putting off going to gym, or participating any workout for that matter, wasn’t going to help. Slacking on his own physical honing, Iseul knew that it was probably best to maintain his cover as nothing more than inter this way. Song Jae wasn’t one that attend gym often nor one much for fight. He’d learned that when male had met his untimely demise at hands of fellow comrade. There is no time for regret nor remorse in life he lead, one that really wasn’t his own. If anything Yeong Iseul was nothing more than an empty shell, a blank slate of man who followed order and became whatever was needed of him at time. He knew this was to be his fate, after all, it’d been what he’d trained toward practically his whole life and eventually he’d end up just like one he’d stolen year beforehand. Dead and gone without trace or proper funeral.

Upon entering gym, Iseul takes note of emptiness, it was better this way – allowing him to avoid conversation best he could with those stranger that always seemed to find him friendliest face. Amusing how it wasn’t even his own. That of which he bore was nothing more than knockoff, product of several painful surgery, chiseled feature far from natural. No one said this mission would be easily done, nor did they state it’d be painless.  Kneeling down now, Iseul goes to tie shoe lace, making sure it’s adjustments are proper before heading toward treadmill; his prowess residing in running. He adjust speed accordingly and gets to work, jogging to build pace before going into full run; breathing steadied out. 

It’s only thirty minutes into his state of blissful solace, does he notice door opening from corner of eye and unknown male entering without single word or glance tossed his way. Normally Iseul doesn’t pay mind to such things, focusing his attention elsewhere, but, male bore visage he’d never seen. One that brought forth a state of intrigue if not mild weariness. Continuing his run, however, he does nothing more than occasionally watching latter from reflective surface of window adjacent to himself. Only slowing speed of treadmill once he feels lung burn and sweat dripping from forehead, another glance cast to stranger as back of hand is used to wipe away beading sweat. 

@santozakiSEND 😴 TO CATCH MY MUSE ASLEEP IN YOUR MUSES BED 

Her touch is like soft cotton; from tips of digit to ample tier, she exuded an ethereal like softness. It was odd, to say least, to find something or someone seemingly pure in such a world. One he’d given up on years ago when he was nothing more than hopeful child. If he were to compare her to anything, it would be that of brief transition from winter to spring; when weather began to grow warm, sunlight seemingly rising higher in sky, becoming much brighter than anytime before. Sana seemed like this. Similar to sunlight, exuding warmness, yet still lingering that mysteriousness of winter.  Easily he could be pulled into her whimsy, dragged along by simple words, or subtle action. It wasn’t an infatuation nor anything regarding unexplained feeling. It was mere flow, like that of ocean wave to shore. 

Now, curled up in a mass of blankets, it doesn’t come as surprise to himself to know he’d made home here. Her warmth was attracting, hot like a burning sun, and he were cold blooded reptile that needed to bask. With shift of weight upon mattress, frame is pressed closer to opposite, trim frame facing back to visage. He leans closer, not caring much to alarm her, even if she were unaware of his presence he doubts it would be minded much; wasn’t it her who always wanted to share bed with him? Another thing he didn’t quiet comprehend when it came to female. What was so addicting about his own presence? Like stated previously, he found himself nothing more than cold blooded reptile, a snake to be more fitting. 

His father had made it clear his own talents lay in what had been taught over years thanks to man’s own influence and not Iseul’s hard-work. Hadn’t even batted single lash when young boy had not only passed every class of high-school level at mere age of sixteen nor when he’d managed to earn degree at nineteen. It seemed there was no pleasing his father. Then again, hadn’t he given up on that long ago? Soft snort exudes, tip of nose pressing betwixt thin shoulder blade of feminine frame; inhaling softly. 

@lvment​ 

SEND 😴 TO CATCH MY MUSE ASLEEP IN YOUR MUSES BED

The first indication should have been sweet aroma of femininity that filled nostril with every deep inhale. Another that of added weight to mid-abdominal that wasn’t normally present. He wants to move, kick free of blankets and perhaps escape this suffocation, but finds it nearly impossible; instead giving way to subtle grunts and displeased noises. It’s unlike Iseul to stay where he feels uncomfortable, then again he is not one to really complain much when he does. He’s learned over years that keeping one’s mouth shut was much more rewarding than earning a slap to cheek or lash to back for opening his mouth to spout nonsensical complaints. 

She is sleeping comfortably; soundly. So it seems. Emily, one female he probably felt most comfortable around. Given their history thus far he held no reason no to. While Em was a stunning specimen he didn’t think much past that. Her brash nature and crudeness made it easily to get along with her, made it easier not to keep up facade of exuded happiness that wasn’t always present in his line of work. Easy to talk to and be around, it was no surprise to him to learn that he’d made home in well - her home and eventually her bed. 

Apartment was quaint, more so than his own bedroom. He could probably compare this to his living space back home, her closet not even comparable to any room in his home. If given choice he’d much rather live in small space such as this. It was less ground to cover, easier to keep eye on in case of enemy presence. Alas, to keep up what cover had been made for himself, Iseul was left to stay within prodigious confines. Shifting what weight he can, frame is brought a tad closer to feminine visage. It’s unlike him to grow curious, learning lesson of what comes of it so long ago in his youthful days, yet, it doesn’t stop subtle pursing of tier nor protruding digit that comes to press at wrinkle resting betwixt finely arched brow. 

What was she dreaming of?

Moment doesn’t last long, however, frame tensing more than it ever had at sound of soft canine growl that exudes near his left lobe.  Thick swallow is granted, his own nerves riling up to heights he never knew existed. It wasn’t as if he held such -- discomfort, by choice, no. Iseul was a man without many fears, at least not those that’d leave him hindered. Yet, canines were -- well, such discomforts he could not handle. His preference resided with felines; for a good reason. So, when growl resounds again, he finds himself practically rolling out of blankets confines; dragging half of fabric along. 

Backside hits floor with loud ‘thump’, shoulders squaring out instantly as dark orb meet that of canine stare. Emily had warned him she had dog, but he hadn’t expected such a -- massive one. Rapid blinks are made as canine settles itself along edge of bed, looking as if it may pounce on him at any moment. Grasping for nearest object, which happened to be bunny slipper, to be used as potential block between canine and himself. “Y-yah.....stay back....you...drooling massive hound---” nose scrunches as frame is inched backward, faint shake granted to dresser when back meets wooden placement.

@imsujin​

SEND 😴 TO CATCH MY MUSE ASLEEP IN YOUR MUSES BED 

It’s warm, what  little heaven he has stumbled upon in middle of night, light seemingly floral scent infiltrating nostril with every deep inhale; followed by slowed exhale.  He wants to stay here, for what time is allotted, reside in this peaceful state of mind, and perhaps momentarily forget pounding in back of skull.  There is no recollection to be made of previous passing hours, he can barely recall how he’d managed to get in this place. Imagination gives way, however, and he finds himself thinking of endless drinks pounded back without remorse or regret; heated liquid sliding down throat in order to ease worries if just a tad. 

Iseul wasn’t a heavy drinker. That much was for certain. Two or three drinks could do him in easily. Child that had barely been exposed to normalcy growing up didn’t have time to learn a man’s way of coping. An it wasn’t as if his father had taught him such minor things. No, Iseul was meant for other things.  

Now, turning over in blanketed warmth, a faint rustle of sheets is made. This isn’t his bed, that much is obvious by simple feel, atmosphere far too different than what he’d made his home to be. Yet,  there is no hint of alarm nor urge to move from cozy confines. It breathes femininity. Softness of a woman that had been racked up to another thing Iseul had neglected to indulge in. Ah, but, where was the time to do so? In his more youthful years, there had never been chance. When he’d exited training there was lack of interest. Nothing and no one had made heart palpitate. 

Long lash fluttering against a brush of sunlight brings stir to frame. Sheet urged to come midway along visage, covering everything but forehead and dark brow; locks a disheveled mess. It takes a moment or maybe two, before he peeks upward, dark orb forced to focus on opposite figure. There is no alarm, calm perhaps a strong point of his, and despite a fuzzy recollection he imagines he’s made himself at home in females residence; this place that exuded warmth was defiantly not his. It didn’t take rocket scientist to figure that much out. Despite not being heavy drinker, he knew how he was whenever he did manage to get liquor down throat and flowing throughout system. 

Tagged by: @heredem Tagging: ( last five followers ) @whitexrabbits ; @xxwoobin ; @jihnq; @kthrns; @leexsun Rules: Repost. Don’t reblog.

TASTES— ;

Bitter flavors that most would detest; sweets out of question, easily bringing forth scrunching of nose or even a sound of disdain; spicy is avoided, pushed to side for more bland flavors, preferred in warm broths during much colder times.

SMELLS— ;

Musk yet light scent, easily pulled into one’s nostril with a deep inhale; fresh cut strawberries, like those that have been grown naturally, stirring up fondest of memories in past; light scents that bring forth ease and calm; heavy stench of iron where messy ‘job’ has been performed; mixing with that of lemon, scrub pressed to floors, filling room to rid place of stain.

SIGHTS— ;

city lights fading into distance, covered by heavy lids and promise to return back to far away home; large kitchen where unnecessary cooking rarely takes place; long stairs that lead up to second floor; home too big for just one but nonetheless lived in by sole body; hospital walls, pasty and white; bright lights that leave no space for darkness or imperfection; OR where a heartbeat can be hear clearly, felt in one’s palm; crimson stains upon fabrics; a soft flutter of long lashes; faintest crinkling along dark orbs when amusement is hinted.

SOUNDS— ;

slow and steadied breathing in an overwhelming silence; light sighs and subtle grunts; constant clicking of thumb to pen, habit formed when frustrations had risen high; clicking of tongue to roof of mouth; chuckles airy and sarcasm dripping from one’s tongue; soft beating of anothers heart; monitor beeping near ear drum, reminder that another still lived underneath precise lacerations; loud page reverberating in hospital halls; alarm ringing in early mornings; palpitating pulse when fear nervousness would arise.

SENSATIONS— ;

warmth of thick muffler around neck coinciding with that or faint tickle via it’s itchy fabrics; firm pat to back when achievements are made; digits combing through soft locks in reminder to receive haircut; warmth of morning coffee sliding down throat sip by sip; adrenaline that rises whenever burner phone dings to life; rush of blood, boiling in veins, as feet carry body from point a to point b; water that traces what definition of muscle has been splayed across abdominal, back, and thigh

OUTFITS— ;

casual clothing fitting for form and season; all neutral in coloring, blacks, browns, grey, and whites; soft fabrics that ease flesh and keep from discomfort; baggy some days and form fitting next; hoodies and sweatpants adorn during days where feet can not carry frame further that living room sofa; jeans and dress shirt worn when outside appointments have been made; fashionable and trend following; always adorn, that of silver ring, kept around thin chain, a family memento belonging to younger sibling

BODY— ;

Failure was and never had been an option. 

Not in this life and Iseul is so certain his next life won’t be as easy. At least if he lives up to beliefs of what has been done in this lifetime will affect future. If that is case, then he is more than likely going to be brought back as bug that is stomped beneath one’s shoe. Just as he’d done with those that he needed to surpass. It wasn’t as if he truly desired to become like this, to be someone who rids world of flickering flames, extinguishing them before giving chance to allow light to illuminate. Yet, he needed to survive in this kill or be killed world too, if not for himself than for his younger sister and mother who waited back home.  

It was why, when faced with situations of which he could step in and help another with what skills he’d acquired over years, he instead would avert his gaze; feigning ignorance. How many times had he walked away or avoided sparing someone life’s horrors? Seen men mistreat, women lie, and true scum get away with petty crimes -- how many times had he avoided the situation entirely? Perhaps he truly were a bad person, finding one set of lives more important than the next -- but, he couldn’t risk it. That failure that would ultimately bring him his end, be it with own life or those kept so dearly to his heart.  

An maybe, karma is out to get him for it now. Back pressed to cool surface of wall, hard stare fixing on man whom holds gun above head, shouting for everyone to get down; Iseul has half a mind not to walk up to said man’s lazy grip upon weapon and shove it up latter’s ass. He snorts, partially amused by mental image of mediocre robber in jewelry store having to waddle for rest of his life. Ah. This job was too sloppy, he can tell, observant from very moment man had walked in looking far to suspicious; guard that was on duty too busy flirting with female worker to notice. 

He doesn’t like following orders, at least via those that haven’t proven themselves to be great leaders nor earned respect for said title; be that with fear or another rivaled emotion. It was why, when asked to shadow after another, Iseul felt rather -- well, reluctant to do so. It wasn’t as if he truly were on intern level, no, he’d learned what enough to earn degree twice over. Of course, it wasn’t that easy. At least not in such a place as this. While he’d hate admit it, adjustment to this new -- well, environment wasn’t going as well as he’d like; not flowing as easily. There were still many things he didn’t understand, like those who were almost too friendly to him, even having audacity to come up to him and hug his arm or try to perform more ‘cutesy’ acts in order to gain attention. It was --- distasteful, and allowed him to truly see difference in how he’d been raised; how much more conserved his home had been. 

Messing with ends of white pressed collar, he leans against nurses station, nose wrinkling slightly as he pretend to truly remain interested in what conversation was playing on. It wasn’t as if he were cruel, cliche man whom had rough childhood, and took it out on world -- no, Iseul simply liked to keep to himself. His kindness something earned rather given out, although his mother had taught him differently, not knowing of what her child would become in future. An while his cover had been that of bright med-student eager to learn, he couldn’t help but find slight interest in topic itself. Had he been given an honest choice, he would have chosen to walk path of doctor himself.   

   Emily was like a jigsaw puzzle. One that was missing a few pieces here and there, said pieces left to be discovered elsewhere or perhaps lost for time being. Her presented picture was nothing short of fake, he’s so certain, knowing only what she allows him to see -- Iseul had never liked puzzles, however, it was probably why his interest in female had dwindled down to nothing but a brief flicker. It wasn’t as if he were obligated to learn more of her. Truly, he didn’t hold much interest in a lot of things aside from what his mission entailed. Holding back his true capabilities in order to keep his cover from being blown, he was nothing more than what he allotted others to perceive him to be. An perhaps Em and himself were same in that aspect, at least. 

    Even now, he neglects to find interest in why female finds constant desire to crawl into his bed in middle of night; having his only warning being that of light shuffle of sheets or sudden warmth near his back in early mornings. Iseul had never believed in sleeping, always an early riser for most part, yet, whenever female would happen to find herself beside him ( no skinship  ), he found himself staying in if an hour longer than his norm. He rules it off as nothing more than smart move, no desire to hear her whiny voice fall into his eardrums, nor her complaints or pleads for a nice breakfast. It wasn’t as if he owed her anything. 

   Still. He wonders why he bothers in helping out. Occasionally reaching for something that was out of her reach or even granting compliment when it seemed subtle downturn of tier would occur. It wasn’t as if he cared of her mental state, no, he just found her frowns to be unsightly. She doesn’t even know his name, not that anyone really did, doesn’t know the first thing about him -- but, acts as if they are close. 

     Iseul or well, Jae, had never held  friendship before. In fact, the only friendship he could recall was one that resided in past, his more youthful years beck in elementary. It was a friendship based of nothing more than sharing of snacks and colored markers, but -- wasn’t that all friendship really was, a give and take?  Emotional connections, no matter how insignificant, were not allowed. He knew that much. Allowing another to grow closer to him, even if they weren’t actually getting close to /him/, was still too close. Anything that could impact his mission was deemed a threat. Or perhaps it was excuse not to discover that bitter taste failure nor rejection. 

@jikanism​ ( undertale meme ) 

Excited? Happy? 

W a i t. Should he be smiling right now? Iseul wasn’t too sure at this point; standing before a rather massive display of flashing lights, faint ringing of sirens blasted behind him as yet another winner was signaled in nearby game stall. There wasn’t many things that brought Iseul anxiety, in fact said list was so small he’d deemed it insignificant; tossing imaginary parchment to trash.  Yet, why was his heart beating so fast when coming face to face with such monstrosity those would refer to as an attraction. There was nothing attractive, however, about a potential end to one’s life dare cart go off wooden tracks. Eyeing latter adjacent to him, Iseul wants to shove male into trash – would he even fit? momentarily he finds gaze straying toward nearest waste-bin; image alone curving smile onto tier. Smile, too. Smile, he says – sight of opposite pearly whites is almost blinding or maybe he just needed reason to squint more.

Why had he agreed to come along to this? Ah, right, right. This is what more mundane people would indulge in on their free weekends, wasn’t it? With a launching of amusement parks brand new attraction it was undoubtedly crowed. Situation he’d normally find irking, yet, when faced with his potential downfall ( that of which he’d imagined differently ) he finds himself — what….nervous? “Y-yah….” tone wavers, if fraction, deep timber raising an octave before forced to steady with subtle clearing of throat. “Are you trying to kill me from the get go? Can’t we build up to this – you know, ride one of those less……” he eyes wooden roller-coaster death trap wearily, optic crinkling,  “intimidating rides…like those fun little teacups near the entrance.”

@jaexordium​  ( undertale meme ) 

“Hm?”

Slow blink is granted; curved needle for suture held near torn flesh. He hasn’t bothered asking why exactly male is hurt in such a manner, ugly gash along forearm, noticeable but having capacity of healing quickly and without much of a scar. The human body was amazing in this aspect. Healing the most nasty of wounds; flesh mended together once more.  Dark optic land upon wound eyeing it with utmost care, having done such intermediate procedure time and time again so no doubt clouds mind – well, aside from male’s sudden reluctance to have torn flesh attended to. “It won’t hurt.” he speaks once more, peering upward from long lash, than back down once more. It wasn’t as if he wanted to be here, stitching someone up when he could be on floor or ER learning more than he ever could with such basics. 

Iseul is only left to assume, however, what exactly it was younger? male held profession in. It wasn’t as if he were up to date with all the latest trends that flourished in South Korea, no. Of course he’d taken time to study what was deemed necessary. Knowing basic knowledge of what grasped attention of those whom could potentially become useful to him in long run. Assumptions are based off facts that surround, like those nurses that constantly peek in room, or looming strangers that resided in hospital waiting rooms; this male was probably someone important. “It won’t scar if that’s what you are worried about, you seem like someone who cares for their looks or well, depends on them.” he speaks casually, not bothering with formality, head tilting to side in order to crack neck as needle is withdrawn, “Basic anesthesia has already been administered to nerves around your wound, you won’t feel anything, but, if you want me to wait until you’re ready –” 

@lvment​    ( undertale meme ) 

He hasn’t even realized he’s been staring; slow blink granted at female’s words but nothing more. It’s becoming habit, losing his train of thought, finding himself staring into space without waver. Normally his gaze would land upon nearest wall or passing strangers visage as brisk walk is made from point A to point B. Impassive stare withholding deep thoughts from being properly expressed. Thoughts of which he has many of these days, mind filled of possibilities, and what ifs. Being in another country, even if it were neighboring, was still – f o r e i g n to him. How many times could he say he’d done nothing but sat at home during times of ‘rest’ – how many times could he say he was allowed actual rest? 

It takes a moment or two before snort resounds throughout kitchen. She comes over to his home too frequently. Not that he minds, that much was obvious, had he minded Emily wouldn’t even make to the front door; much less be sitting adjacent to himself, mug in her dainty grasp. Amusement crosses features, if momentarily, dark optic fully focusing upon feminine visage. “Aaaahhh—” her crudeness isn’t at all off-putting and if anything Iseul finds himself smiling more so than frowning. No one had ever spoken to him so brashly, boldly, before – it’d be lie to say he found it distasteful. It wasn’t as if he allowed just anyone to come inside his home, a place of solace, a place he’d found for himself, and worked hard to maintain. While Emily wasn’t anyone -- special, in his life, he did consider her a friend. Not rather close, for she knew nothing of his time before nor cared to know, but in a way that was close enough. Anymore and he’d have to reel away. 

“Pissing you off, huh.” corner of tier come to life, twitching high as dark gaze settles back on bowl of cereal that is placed before him; spoon half dipped into milky confines. “ Noona, did you forget whose house this was, whose food you enjoy gobbling down?” he’s amused, nothing more and nothing less. Swirling spoon around in bowl, he messes with last few bites, head tiling to side, “Besides, you’re pretty, who wouldn’t stare with a stupid expression.”