YEARS UPON YEARS the chaotic magician has spent existing in an abyss of concealed information, struggling to find & face his true self. a decade and three quarters living with a too realistic flesh mask of a mortal, jinhien’s grown to know how they tick and how he should behave if he ever, god forbid, wanted to blend into the humanly crowd. even upon discovering his true identity, it took more time & effort for the petit mortician to unveil what exactly separates him from every other witch, or chaos witch to be precise. learning that not everyone has the power to manipulate spirits trapped in the afterlife made him realize why he’d get so many appalled stares upon conversing with ghosts in front of someone, be it a human or a witch. as arrogant as he may be, he’s mastered his ability above his own high standards and utilizes it frequently.
             SAT ON THE CONCRETE in a currently not particularly busy park, under the shade of a golden-leafed tree, jinhien’s legs are slightly bent at the knees, but not all the way up to his chest  ------  it’s as if there’s just enough room for a little creature to snuggle itself in his two sizes too big striped jumper. and there actually is a sweetly cradled animal, concealed from the eyes of all but the gifted warlock  ------  a ghost of an old, not long ago dearly beloved shih tzu with a collar that reads CHARLIE. both pairs of eyes are set on an adolescent girl walking a rather similar pet, though only three or so months old, calling for him by the exact same name, not too far away from the witch.        ❛   you’ve done such a good job, you’ve loved her and made her happy for fifteen years, helped her grow up. she’ll be fine, and she’ll miss you, you know ? i promise.    ❜    mangie’s whispering the gentle words to the dog’s spirit and petting his fluffy head with an unspeakable amount of fondness, able to feel the ghost within his arms. traitorous tears roll down his cheeks and create salty trails as his lids squeeze shut at the realization that a dog dedicates their whole life to their owner, while only being a small part of their human’s existence. he can feel the soul ready to move on towards, hopefully, puppy heaven, since charlie’s seen his owner dealing with her loss, managing her pain, and smiling again. the warlock concentrates and slowly, though painfully, helps the spirit leave its realm and carry on. a few deep breaths are needed in order for him to regain the stability & power to uncover his browns, rimmed with damp lashes. he can sense it on his skin that someone’s got him in a scope, and he’s not wrong  ------  there’s someone who’s just witnessed him seemingly conversing with himself and cuddling pure nothingness in his arms while nearly bawling his eyes out. violently he wipes his face dry, leaving it slightly rosy because of the harshness of the fabric.      ❛  what ?! you got nothing better to do than stare at people ?!    ❜   Â