From what you been hearing about colours...what is your favourite colour?
ăăăI truly love and appreciate all colours given to me, the information is more valuable to me then I can express in words or actions. However, one colour has always stood out among all of the rest. An old friend gave me this colour long ago, and Iâve kept it close to me ever since.
ăăăăăăăăăăăăăăăSapphire Blue
ăăăâItâs like⊠Iâm not sure about the colour, but the gem - itâs like looking into the centre of nebula, a thousand million galaxies spread out before you. Layers upon layers, twisting, turning fate - it feels like destiny, like all the bad choices and good paths your could ever take in your life. Blue is melancholic, but sapphire blue somehow looks like hope, too.ââ jasonmancer
ăăăThe idea of this blue fascinates me, the small and glistening colour that shines through the others, and that holds so many possibilities. Itâs a limitless blue that will outlast the others. I find it a shame that I cannot see it.
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"Just Jason, please. Iâm not particularly particular to names."
Not what he was expecting.
Thatâs okay though. He could deal with unexpected.Â
Even so, Jason shot a quick glance around the room and wrinkled his nose. It smelt very strongly of slightly rotten food.Â
"No mirrors, I see," he ended up muttering into his coat. The redhead couldnât help himself, whilst well aware that bright red hair clashed with just about anything but black, he was also fairly certain that no one with working eyes and a good mirror would pair orange with- anyhow. Not his problem.
"Iâm looking for a⊠largish spotted cat. He, uh, answers to Hitsuzen,â Jason blinked, trailing off for a moment, and chuckled. âHe also answers to âyou massive clawed bastard Iâm going to get you fixedâ, but thatâs neither here nor there.â
Another brief pause, not exactly awkward, as the front office door crashed open, a herd of elephants (or their auditory equivalent) stampeded through, crashed into a desk, and whirl-winded back out.
"Sheâs⊠really very angry, isnât she?"
Jason frowned - again, not my problem - and digressed.Â
"Honestly, he normally returns by himself, but itâs been a week and Iâm concerned heâs gone and gotten himself taken in by animal control. Not microchipped, unfortunately, and I donât believe he would be very⊠amicable to being handled by other people."
Contrary to popular belief among in certain circles, Dirk was, in fact, not a half-witted imbecile. His unconventional methods might be regarded with incredulity by the majority of the population, but his own belief in them was unwavering. A new case was a welcome distraction and not merely for the financial remuneration it might bring -- which happened to be very welcome -- but also because it might be a stepping stone to bigger things. Indeed, anything could happen once the principles of quantum physics were in play.
Dirk watched the man sitting in his office with mild curiosity. Unlike certain detectives, he did not feel the need to make unnecessary deductions based on the appearance of his clients; how was knowing the contents of a man's breakfast from two days ago of any use to him? He had other pressing concerns
"An admirable beast, I'm certain," he replied amicably, choosing to ignore the excessive auditory stimuli they were being assaulted with from the front room, "A week isn't too long, I've known certain cats whose whereabouts have evaded even me for a far longer period than that. Indeed, I've been on a case for about thirteen years now -- a case of collapsed waveform, you understand, Â and a particularly tricky one. Each morning I wake up convinced that I am one step closer to triangulating the vectors of poor Roderick and uncollapsing his waveform."
"Your Hitsuzen -- an excellent name, by the way -- can undoubtedly be discovered once we begin to follow the chain of events surrounding his disappearance. My years of experience has showed me that no problem is too great or too small to be solved by the fundamental interconnectedness of everything, there is however the small matter of my fee to consider....."
"Hello," he says, voice soft but quietly amused, stepping silently into your office with his head low and hood high, chin ducking into the tall collar of his coat, "I have a problem. I hear you do cats." The distinct sound of a door slamming echoes through the room behind and he pulls the hood back to reveal a razor sharp smile, at odds with the mellow chuckle accompanying it. "I also believe you need a new receptionist, because she seemed /quite/ angry."
 Lost in the myriad of images sketched on his wall, trying to determine the ever elusive connections between events, the stranger's voice is a welcome distraction. A client, excellent. He pulls together the lapels of the over-sized coat he has on, which, incidentally, clashes rather horribly with his orange tie. No one admires his sartorial sense, a fact he happens to be happily oblivious of.Â
"Good morning, sir," he beams, that Cheshire cat grin lighting his face, "Indeed, cats happen to be a specialty of mine." He gestures towards a chair, trying to ignore the slamming door that indicates his secretary's displeasure.
"A slight hiccup, that is all," he replies, the grin still fixed on his face, "My secretary feels the need to quit at least twice a day -- I believe it is on her doctor's orders. Clears the sinuses."
Re-positioning himself on the perch of his desk, he says congenially, "Please, tell me more about your cat, Mr --" he break off, raising a questioning eyebrow.
"Oh!" Not looking up from the book he was reading, Jason accidentally walks into someone's back. He steps back, blinking - surprised - and then considers the two or so centimetre difference carefully. "Hello." The redhead offers a smile, easy and careless, and raises one hand in a greeting. "I'm Jason, fancy bumping into you here."
Another meeting by accidentally running into him. It's too cliche of a meeting, but that's how he's meeting most people now. Amazing how much a friendship can grow just from a simple hello-- though his friendships, he tried not allowing them to last for longer than a week. Trust is becoming too big of an issue for him. "Ah, Jason." Yifan speaks lowly, brows knitting together. "I wouldn't quite say that--" It's too casual of a meeting to even name it fancy. "I'm Yifan."
Admin, unfortunately between uni and work and other family stuff I haven't been online much and I can't really see that changing in the next few weeks, unfortunately, so I'm sadly going to withdraw Jason from his place in the academy. I love it here and I've had an amazing time with you and the world you've created and everyone here at the rp. I don't know if I'll come back (but I think it'll always be on the cards, because this place is awesome). Thank you so much for everything! ^_^
Aww, your family is always here to welcome you back <3 ;;
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Hostage!AU: One of our characters is a criminal, that takes refuge in the other characters house, essentially keeping them hostage. The hostage begins to develop feelings for their capture and helps them evade the police.
Jongdaeâs legs burned as he ran faster and faster, his hair whipping behind him and occasionally hitting him in the face when he chanced a look behind. Were they onto him? Could they see him? He pushed himself even harder, the burn in his calves increasing with every smack of the pavement from his shoes (nothing near fit for running). It wouldnât be long until they caught him, he needed to hide. Quickly, he ran up to the nearest home, bursting through the door and locking it behind him; his hands barely managing to turn the lock before collapsing against the door.
Jongdae threaded his hands through his hair, angrily grabbing fists of it and tugging, trying to fight back the tears that were threatening to fall. It wasnât supposed to go like that. No one was supposed to be there. He had panicked, one hand on the trigger of the gun and one hand practically elbow deep in jewels. He hadnât meant to do something like that, he truly, truly hadnât meant to. But he did. The gun was still in his coat pocket, and there was still blood on his hands. Jongdae hadnât meant to kill the man, he really hadnât.
âOh god. Oh god. Oh dear god no. Â I wasnât- This wasnât supposed to even happen-â He choked on his words, letting them come out in angry short bursts between heavy breaths and watery eyes. God he was scared. He was scared absolutely shitless. The robbery was supposed to be something simple, later in the day, nobody around to see it. A simple get in and get out. But it had gone terribly wrong, so terribly terribly wrong. âI kill-â he couldnât even say it aloud, the mere thought of it making him practically retch. Burying his face in his palms, a miserable sob escaped from the robber, the murderâs, lips. It wasnât supposed to be like this.
---->
Kim Jongdae. Twenty, almost twenty one.
Youngest member of the gang Chil Pa Sung based in Busan.
Caught in a rut at a young age, he entered the gang at the age of 16.
Never has he killed. Beaten, yes. Hurt, yes. But killed? Never.
It had been just like any other time he was assigned a job. Information handed over a thin manila folder by the leader, with a subtle threat to get the job done or suffer the consequences. Jongdae had served the gang well, his young age aiding him and allowing him to hide within crowds, going unnoticed until necessary. This particular case was rather simple. A small jewelry store was in debt, it was his job to go collect. After hours of course. It was normal, something not uncommon in his career.
âYou can do it right?â A long thin hand slid the folder across the table to him, lightly tapping the top of the few scattered papers. Jongdae reached out for the folder, beginning to slide it back into his own lap when the aforementioned hand reached out to grab his own. The fingers wrapping sickeningly around his wrist and gripping tightly, causing the boy to jerk his head up at the leering face. âOr do you need more lessons from your âhyung.ââ With a quick motion, he had brushed the hand off of his own, a glare settled into his eyes. âOf course I can.â
In retrospect, he probably should have been able to tell that something would happen, simply from the leer on the other manâs face. Whenever Jongdae had seen that expression, that disgusting face directed at him, he could tell something was going to happen. Something he probably wouldnât like. The first time he had ever seen that expression was shortly after when he had first joined the gang, the action that followed was deemed as an âinitiation requirement.â Jongdae highly doubted that was the case.
Still new and fresh off the streets, they had only assigned him small tasks, such as making a cup of coffee (no sugars, a little drop of cream) or cleaning the toilets. The boss had made a brief comment about the condition of the closets in his office, leering out of the corner of his eye at the teenager. Jongdae had stepped into the small space to check the âconditionâ of the closet, only to have the door shut tightly behind him, a chair brought up to keep the door locked. He had ended up spending a whole day in the closet with no food nor restroom, at several instances pleading to be let out. It was dehumanizing to say the least.
---->
Crash.
Jongdae looked up from his hands, his eyes still glistening, but now sharply focused on the house around him. There was someone home, and judging from the glass pieces that littered the floor, they were nearby. A wave of panic began to settle into him as he pulled out the gun, back facing the door and the weapon pointed outwards in front of him. He brought up his second hand to steady the other as it shook violently, the gun almost rattling in his own hand. âShow yourself⊠I mean it! I have a gun if you donât and I- Iâm not afraid to use it!â Contradictory to what he had said, Jongdae was scared, very, very scared. The boy practically reeked of fear as he watched the houseâs occupant emerge in front of him, the gun still shaking in his hands and pointed at the emerging occupant.
jason-ia said: *he follows you and grins brightly, nodding* A trail. Your voice is very distinctive, like the way you see life. *he laughs* Iâm a sound-colour synesthete, though I donât tell that to many people. So keep it a secret, no?
 /takes a break from scanning the streets for 'that one' cafe, turning around to face Jason.  Thank you, that's nice of you to say. /he perks up at the mention of the other's condition, already interested. Are you? Could I... You don't suppose I could ask you a couple of questions about it in the future do you? /he quickly nods. And of course i'll keep it a secret if you want me to.
