#dxplicity

The next upcoming birthdays are Emily & Teddy Liddell February 28th, (tomorrow) and after that we’ll have Nick Wilde March 12th, Rosalie Sprite March 19th, Eton Orangeboar March 23rd, and Heather Gothel March 28th. We’ll be sure to celebrate with them real soon!

“No…but your lungs will scream in their death with how many sticks you have gone through tonight,” Yavi said with a soft smile as he passed a hot mug of water to the other man, his own resting precariously on his lap.

Sometimes in contemplation, Yavi wondered if his lacking interest to know more about a person was a stoppage in his life. He was, after all, nowhere near a disadvantage to know all he desired, and yet, after meeting a certain child all those centuries ago was enough to satisfy that need.

Kai scoffs, exhaling a lungful of smoke. “The fact that you even need to ask that makes me question your state of mind a bit. Only slightly.” Part of him is amused by Yavi’s method of revenge, the other part is more interested in knowing how the victim of this ‘prank’ fared; had he realized a switch happened, or had he suffered the unpleasant consequences. “I suppose I should praise you for your creative use of condiments, never thought of that myself. Remind me not to get on your bad side.” Stubbing his cigarette out against the balcony railing, he flicks the butt over the side and makes his way back indoors. “Oh, and if an angry guy smelling of hot sauce shows up looking for you, I’m gonna bail. Not my fight.”

Yavi could really only bark out a laughter and attempt not to spill himself over the railing. Not necessarily because what the other said was so extremely funny, but just the mere thought of Aedin's reaction in his mind was enough for the traveler to burst from the seems in guffaws.

He was cruel; to that he will admit. However, the almost sadistic jesting between he and his two best friends have been in existence long enough (at least for this lifetime) that he couldn't find the shame to be so proud even if he had wanted to.

The fifteenth, then twentieth streetlight passes before he asks her why she preferred to drive. He could do it just fine; 3AM passed half an hour ago.

She glances at him, an unladylike snort stuffing her nose, and then-,

She blames the placement of her bathtub on the childhood that still visits her, still haunts and shadows her steps everyday. Some would see it as a lack of attention, others found it a need she had and couldn't control. Soojung just found their assumptions a "trying too hard to sound sympathetic" queer that this society conjured up and injected into the people's mind over copied out soap operas and steroid infused advertisements about mental health. 

In her childhood, built and painted between four walls that made her home, attention was given without question. It was given in bouts of anger, often times leaving reds and blues on her skin - but of course, never where anyone but her mirror and mother could see. 

Sometimes she wished she had a father to blame; could describe to the people who acted like they cared that he was a big man always with his leather belt at hand. But no. There was no father since her birth to blame. Just her mother and her poison laced tongue and fingernails scraping into her tiny wrists and pulling her away from the playgrounds. 

After knowing her Jump…after the accident, she thought she'd been free. And now…-

Soojung had a thing for sitting horizontal to her bathtub's vertical placement to the door. Legs dangling easily over the right side while her neck remained proppped and contoured by the left, giving her a nice view of the chandelier hanging right above her ("when will that thing just drop…?"). It makes her feel orderly; in some bizzare way. 

Other times, she reasoned with herself that it was because the knob was closer in this position, and that she could feel the hot water better.

Confusion and forgotten; just her semblance of executing control in the end.

It’s how Kai finds her eight minutes to 9pm. The only difference between this time and the times before, is that the water is still running (hot, now lukewarm) and spilling over the tub’s curved edges. Her shoes, bag, and the upper half of her hair are the only things not drenched, while her clothes stayed on her body. 

There’s a wine bottle clutched to her chest - half gone - and drops of water dangling off her heel. She ignores the latter and takes another drag from the former before turning neither dead nor curious, just red rimmed eyes to him.

She held his gaze for a moment, remembering briefly how much curious she had been on their first meeting, before dropping it with a dry laugh. 

“You know,” she said, tone dry and scratched, and holds up her wine bottle. “I read somewhere that you’re not supposed to drink while you’re taking a bath. Relaxes your body too much or something. And then you knock.”

The next laugh rings a little louder, a little more broken through the studio. 

“I should be feeling so happy right now. She’s gone, and I don’t have to keep running around like a headless chicken, and that’s a great thing-...but. I’m sad instead?” Something between distressed and feral looks back up at him, holding out before dying out with resignation. “They asked me three times if i really wanted to pull the plug and I said yes the first two times. But the third…I nearly stopped them.”

Breathe for who and what. 

“She made my life hell. Nearly killed me…and when I finally had the chance to be done with her, I hesitated…”

Three lines up her left thigh…a gash on her back; too many to count on her arms. If she had had a chance to be insecure, hadn’t considered each scar and mark a friend, she would’ve wondered what he thought of them.

"And why exactly are you in Essetir?"