merlot

MUN INFO 

name/alias mia age 18+ pronouns they/them  timezone pst discord upon request!  little trivia fact about yourself i’m writing this from the airport bc my flight’s delayed 😔 thoughts n prayers

CHARACTER INFO

character name seo mirae  stage name [rae voice] yeah no  age 27  zodiac sign aquarius sun / capricorn moon / leo rising group/band/position promoter #1  info links stats / bio / plots listed at the bottom

quick points about your character

grew up in a well off family with three other siblings! big brother was expected to take up most of daddio’s chump change until he fell off into the deadbeat territory

now it’s on her to not be disappointment numbah 2. luckily that hasn’t been so hard thus far

was vaguely aware that her dad owned some property in hongdae, but didn’t know what it was for sure until he (tw: stroke mention) he had an unexpected stroke and finalized the minute details of his will while recovering at the hospital

to make a short story even shorter: rae’s not stoked about these properties being a bunch of music venues for hipsters or the premise that she has to work there to “validate” her claim to his money

started out as a 21 year old college grad with chronic rbf who looked like she’d rather be clipping her toenails at home than be there 

is now a 27 year old working busybody with chronic rbf who still looks like she’d rather be clipping her toenails at home than be here 

truth be told she doesn’t hate the underground scene she just doesn’t...get it. but now that her day job is communications at an agency that’s all about #youthculture and targeting gen z and young millennials, it’s been good marketing research in the meantime

the extra money isn’t so bad either 

as a person: not friendly but fairly dedicated to the circle of people she’s got and dependable, doesn’t get easily swayed by heart-on-sleeve infused stuff, insensitive in the sense that she’ll take a friend to a restaurant they can’t afford and have the gall to ask why they’re only ordering water and not the $$$ steak tartare 

as a promoter: again not friendly but conducts herself w civility, not very compromising and doesn’t give people a chance to rub elbows. it’s not personal, but she’s not sorry if you feel that way

plots or any development you’d like to see for your character

the unofficial “tour guide” to the ways of the hongdae underground scene when she took up the promoter mantle (prereq: active since 2015 or earlier) 

those from similar well off backgrounds, knew each other well or were distant acquaintances at social gatherings and/or school

someone who’s a little too eager to be her friend and she’s like um wyd wdyw

a would be romance that died off for reasons 

purely by the basis of personality it’s obvious that you two won’t ever get along but there’s mutual toleration because she’s good at her job and your musical act brings in the big bucks

her youngest sister miryeo is a fan of yours and it’s a little (a lot) embarrassing

at some afterparty for something and you’re both stuck with a mansplainer. let the miserable bonding experience commence

people that don’t like her for one or all the reasons

When she spots him by the venue curbside, her first instinct is to turn the other way.

Not out of hard feelings, rhyme or reason. All matters to do with one's pride are strictly, embarrassingly personal. To revel in that, alone or let alone with the likes of him evokes all sorts of things. Slogging through browned slush in the dead of January. Thin, coiled discomfort at the pit of her stomach. A sensation sickeningly close to nausea, but not quite there. 

She looks up at the evening sky, as if a good excuse to pivot on her heel and forget about it altogether will be found between the cascading snowflakes or the barren overhang of the tree branches. After a long minute, her head falls back with a sigh. 

There’s a score to be settled here—though not in the way most think. Most believe in altruism being commonplace, at no additional cost. Most also don’t balance a checkbook of unsolicited deeds, as a result. 

And then there’s Mirae. With her head counts, tally marks, and a never-ending laundry list of every possible gesture, grudge, and grievance under the sun. Playing God (in this economy?) has never done anyone favors, and yet she carries on this poor man’s imitation in full stride.

(...)

he turns his attention on himself, placing the fabric napkin on his lap and fiddling with the position of the utensils. in between moments, seoyun looks up to mirae, giving her a smile. “thanks for letting me take you out,” he says opening up the drink menu and looking through a list of expensive wine. seoyun always swears he’s going to learn the difference between the names, years, and countries but he never does. when the server comes, he’ll just ask for whatever they recommend, even though he knows he’ll hate the taste. 

“how are you doing?” he asks, leaning his head on his hand, still smiling with a numbingly sweet disposition. 

Mirae's no stranger to the fuss of etiquette. Most with friends ("friends?") aren't. The frenzied back and forth tango over the last slice of dessert, the bigger chunk of the bill, the ride home free of charge—all notes to a familiarly dreaded tune heralded in public spaces. Pointless as fuck if you ask her, but that's probably why nobody ever has. She has half the sense (at her big age and all) to minimize any signs of annoyance to a subtle eyeroll when the moment comes. 

Because that's what friends do. Not out of sheer obligation nor spite, but a connection that runs deeper and with far less strings attached.

She’s positive none of those things apply here. Correction—they shouldn’t. No amount of history working through the same growing pains warrants bending the boundaries set in stone. 

But Seoyun insists for the sake of all of it. Shows it with the car pulling into the pick up spot right on time, the eager displays of gratitude, and right down to a shirt that’s seen too many hot washes. 

For the millionth time within a bare span of minutes, Mirae’s eyes can’t help but land on the wrinkled edges of the linen collar before they drop splat to what’s left of his shoes. She’s in jeans and a wool sweater and he’s playing dress up for an unwilling party of one. There’s a joke somewhere on how chivalry isn’t dead but she wishes it was. Only she’s in no mood to laugh and he’s not self aware enough to say it.

Mirae stares and stares at his sunwide grin and takes what’s probably the world record for Longest Pause Ever before she announces, “I need a drink.”