#fmt!pr

when choi jinri sees a man stumbling about the halls of the main lodge, she feels obligated to help.  why?  because she's capable, perfectly capable--being sober, awake and with time to kill--and in her world of seemingly simplistic ideals, that's good enough of a reason to.

wide eyes and tentatively curled lips mark the face of the aerokinetic as she approaches the man, tapping lightly at his arm before catching a handful of a staggering shoulder--ethanol emanated off him in waves, stench strong and a bit sad in the middle of the day--a small, breathy, "woah there, sir," parting from her mouth.  "let's get you steady."  before you hurt yourself.  

idle conversation is what she maintains with the man, mind stretched between finding a place to seat him before pressing onwards on her mission to see him off somewhere safe.  the 

"look," the mutant mumbles, pulling them to a pause and giving a seemingly moist squeeze to the brunette's shoulder.  when he jerks his head upwards, jinri follows the direction with her gaze, confusion marking her fair features--mistletoe?  so what?--those which are quick to twist into surprised panic as he turns her around, gripping her shoulders with a surprising insistence.

it stings, it really stings and so she struggles, motions of the dull, feeble strain that accompanies shock.  rough hands slip up the girl's neck, licking cool flame across her skin; hot, foul breath brushes against her face, carrying words equally as vile,

"haksaeng-ah... shouldn't we kiss?"  

it's as if his words are thunder, and she's the fool who could only freeze in the face of lightning; it's the menacing rumble of his murmurs and laughter that prompt her to get to her feet and plow through his chest, zipping down the halls and out the door.

he did something, he did something--she knows, because her skin burns and her head spins and the air won't take her, she won't take to the air; her flight is sloppy, her breath is ragged and she continues to dip, dip and rise before she finally wipes out, hitting the ground with a thud and rolling.  

xx. they forgot something.

airheaded—jinri’s had the adjective slung at her number of times, a play on her gift and (though she wouldn’t like to admit it) a pretty accurate one to utilise when describing the girl; it’s certainly a word that runs through her thoughts—along with a slew of frustrated expletives— as she searches through her bag for a certain something, embarrassed and panicked. she can’t find it, she can’t find it, the little bound, black moleskine she used for a variety of things, tattered and worn from her varieties of distress.

the brunette heaves a sigh, dark eyes searching the heavens—as if they’d be there, unless she’d… no, no, no—before dropping to her hands; she frowns, stroking a pale thumb against a blushing fingertip—she’d been busy in the last while, leaving her digits to forget the cutting caress of steel strings and grow irate.

steel strings.

she pulls out her phone, searching through her contacts before pressing the device to her cheek; contemplation colours her face as the dialtone continues to hum (this has to be it, it has to be), eyes widening with foolish surprise as she’s presented with a greeting. jinri clears her throat, tongue flicking across her lower lip before she responds, “hi! um, by any chance, did i leave a little notebook behind?”

gmxwendy:

( ... )

"I need you to come to that one street next to the café I work at- yeah, that’s the one, i’m next to the convenience store there- anyways, there’s this boy I kinda acquired on my way home and I need you to give me and the kid a ride-" Wendy’s sentence is cut off as she narrowly dodges a punch in the face, sticking out her foot to trip her offender. "Please be here soon, Jin!" She manages to make out as she hangs up to properly hold off these kids until Jinri gets here- which is hopefully soon. 

nothing sells quite as well as meat and cheap alcohol on nights like this, jinri finds--and with the weather being as it's been in the last while, the smoky halls of her second job were constantly full; it's with a sigh of relief that she finally melts off the floor, a flutter of limbs and air as she enters the break room, perking at the sight of a coworker.

 idle chat fills the warm air between the two, easy laughter bubbling to her lips--she felt most together when busy, almost as content as she felt when she was with her favourite people--only paused by the woman's declaration of needing to go to the bathroom. the mutant waves her off with a grin, leaning back and rolling stiff joints as she pulls out her phone and fiddles around.

a small sound of surprise drops out of quirked lips as it begins to buzz, head tilting slightly at the contact, or well, lack thereof--"unknown caller."  regardless, she doesn't hesitate to pick up--broken phones and new numbers were a regular part of the mutant experience--lips parting to drop an inquisitive, "hel--" that's cut off by the person on the other side of the line.   the voice is strikingly unfamiliar, conversation horribly onesided--all jinri manages to stammer is, "w-wait, which cafe?  is it the one by 107th?  um, who a-- wait!  i don't--" before being greeted by the taunting hum of a dialtone.  

"i don't have a car."  

heaving a sigh, she frowns and looks about herself, stomach churning--there's no way she can leave things the way they were, misdial or not; she's obligated to help, simply because she can.  the girl stuffs the device into her back pocket, rushing out of the room to speak with her manager, apologising profusely and promising to make up for it, somehow, somehow!  she figures she'll regret the vow sooner or later, but there was no way it'd amount to the same level of remorse she'd feel if she didn't check on the mysterious stranger.  

the aerokinetic takes to the sky the moment she bursts out of the door, pale skin prickling with goosebumps--ah, she'd forgotten her jacket--before she assumes the form of the air around her and heading to her supposed destination.  stirring above the general street, jinri spots a girl carrying a child, surrounded by what is definitely not a group of friends; she's quick to make an assumption, scooping up the pair in a soft bed of air and reassuming her corporeal form midair, wearing a slight frown as she studies both the girl beside her and the boys below her.

it's not uncommon.

it's not uncommon, she reminds herself, to dislike hospitals; after all, what is there to like? from the whitewashed floors and walls, to the scent of antiseptic that somehow managed to settle on her tongue--there's nothing amicable about sick houses, nothing at all, so she doesn't have to be so frustrated with herself, by the fact that she needs to pause a few steps into the hospital's lobby, by the fact that she needs to concentrate on the comforting crescendo of a hum of the happy pill she'd taken prior to her excursion.

white fingers curl and uncurl around the stems of the bouquet in her hands and her lips slip into a small, sweet smile; she makes her way to the front desk, growing into her expression and role--she's here to offer support, comfort, so she'd do it! she'd definitely do it; the mutant remembers all too well the desolation of the injured--stiff, sedated and solitary. the moment she passes the lobby, the brunette takes to floating, gaze gripping every spot of colour they could find; yellow wristbands, a shock of violet hair--it's han quality, she thinks, the quirk of her mouth deepening as her eyes catch their next target, a nurse's bright green shoes.

when jinri finally reaches taekwoon's room, she raises a hesitant left fist, tapping at the door idly. a few seconds pass before she grows a combination of curious and impatient, hand dropping to wrap around the doorknob and turn, head peeking through the gap she creates.

20. they can't find their phone

her dedication to keeping busy is one that’s bound to forge forgetfulness some time or another; jinri’s forced to be aware of this, painfully so as she scrambles around, searching for her now lost phone. why did it have to be her phone that went missing? she’d loaded the device with many a precious treasure, memories of now and then that she’d lose if she couldn’t find it (internally, the aerokinetic curses herself—this is what she gets for being too lazy to back the thing up on her computer and too scared to upload it on the cloud).

somewhere amidst her panic, she pauses, releasing a shuddering sigh as she sinks to the floor of the staff changing room. it’d be stupid to cry over something like this, the girl tells herself, running twitching fingers through dark hair and reminding herself to of how to breathe, resting a heavy head against aching knees.  staring through her lashes, she becomes sharply cognisant of how fragile she is today.  

as quickly as she deflates, the girl bursts to her feet, all soft flutters of air and fake bravado; it’s dangerous to stay still for too long, to soak in the same sentiments, she knows this, she knows this, she knows this!  the mutant is quick to extend a sweet smile at a coworker, asking to borrow their phone for the shortest while, tucking herself back into the locker room.  jinri strums her fingers against the side of the device, holding her breath as the dialtone breaks into actual, human dialogue; the grin on her face is evident in her tone.  

9. They think they’re being followed.

tonight marks the end of another long shift accompanied by a trip home in the winter dark, abnormally grey and black—all the snow, which would usually leave the streets with a magical sort of violet hue, had been washed off the streets with the onslaught of recent rain, which even now insists on falling.  it could be worse, she notes—the wind, while whistling to the point of being a bitch to fly in, isn’t so much of a force that her drained self can’t form some sort of barrier; and so she does such, taking the air about her and pushing out, lips twitching before breaking open to release a yawn.

it’s the kind of weather that’s nice to sleep in, jinri ponders, small smile dancing on her lips as she takes quick steps through the streets, occupied more with the memory attached to the thought than where she’s going; it’s no surprise that she walks straight into a garbage can, stuttering out an apology and bowing before noticing what she’d bumped into.  jinri stands in silence, quietly embarrassed, a small nervous laugh dropping from her lips as she looks about herself, checking that no one had seen.

from the corner of her vision, her eyes catch a figure shaped collection of shadows slipping into the overall dark; it throws her off so severely that she simply blames it on fatigue, patting herself down and reminding herself that it wouldn’t be the first time she’s seen things that weren’t there—tired, she’s simply tired.  tired and too sober, that’s probably it; the thoughts don’t do much for her, something evident by the electricity that bounces from synapse to synapse, leaving her anxiously electric.

whatever.  i can take it.

those are fighting words, she realises, but they’re much more comforting than the ones she’d churned out before; she grows slowly more comfortable, at ease, until she hears what’s undoubtedly the sound of something big hitting the same can she’d just walked into—she whips around to the sight of nothing, heaving a sigh and scratching the back of her head. 

“paranoia won’t get you anywhere, choi jinri,” she mutters, pulling the gaseous cloak that’d dropped along with her stomach back together again, turning on heel and continuing to walk onwards.  undoubtedly, she’s still nervous, eventually choosing to pull out her phone and dial a variety of numbers—it wouldn’t hurt, to have some audio reassurance on a trip that seemed far too long—straightening up when she finally hears something other than a dial tone.

12. They got locked out of their home.

all she’d wanted was some eggs.

the constant storming that seemed to plague genosha’s skies tricks jinri into thinking it’ll be a simple, quick errand; however, fate has other plans entirely—the moment she exits the grocer’s, a dark feeling knowing settles in her stomach, but stupidly, she ignores it, taking to the skies anyway, quick to land at flash of lightening.  her steps become quicker, wider as the rain begins to hit with more intensity, curses slipping out of her mouth with the intensity of the pellets of moisture that seem to shoot out of the mouth of a celestial ak-47.

standing at a street curb, she sighs, mumbling, “at least it can’t get a—” words cut off by the slew of street water that hits her the moment a semi-truck makes an iffy turn.  the proverbial cherry on the fucking cake.

“why.”

it can’t get any worse, she tells herself, zipping through the halls of park towers; something the universe simply has to prove wrong the moment she stands before the airtight door to her apartment, keyless.  small shoulders tense before growing limp with the release of a frustrated sigh, forehead hitting the surface with a soft thunk as she knocks, calling out, “no one’s there right?  right?  ughh—” she slides to the ground, quietly brooding. 

a few seconds of silence later, the aerokinetic decides to extend a dripping hand into her plastic bag, pulling out the carton; she holds her breath as she opens the container, it escaping on a sharp exhale as she sees the yolky bloodbath that’s the insides—this was all for naught—and opens her mouth to press some sort of complaint to the forces of the universe under her breath, only to sneeze.

…

4. They're on a game show!

sally’s is dead—something severely short of being surprising considering the fact it’s another soaked, dreary tuesday night; what is surprising is the fact that there’s three hours until the end of jinri’s shift and she already finds herself a wee bit drunk.  if anyone were to ask, she’d weakly argue that her slight lack of sobriety is totally valid—she’s playing a skewed hybrid of ‘who wants to be a millionaire?’ and ‘jeopardy,’ with her coworkers, where there’s no money to be offered, just punishment shots at incorrect answers; and unfortunately, she seems to be taking a majority of the shots, her fellow servers finding amusement in sabotaging the group’s maknae by asking questions like ‘what genus was rediscovered in 1994 by david noble?’(to which she sputters, “what does that even mean?  none of you know what it means,” and is thusly made to take two punishment shots).

eventually, she’s had it, digging for phone the moment sunhee gets to pass with the simple question of ‘where is the eiffel tower?’, declaring, “i’m using a lifeline!”  their bewildered expressions draw a giggle from the girl, and stumbling fingers tap out what should’ve been a familiar number—but is actually a misdial—tapping for speakerphone mode and then shoving the phone in the face of the current question master (a very bemused lee shinjoon), who reads the next question, voice heavy with drunken mirth:

“what comes after ‘a, b, c?’”

the closest one can get to describing choi jinri’s face at that moment is by describing it as an encapsulation of caesar’s iconic, last words, “et tu brute?”; a portrait of total, unexpected betrayal.