#m!me

( * making the long trek into busan was the punishment choi jinri deserves and she knows this, knows it with a certainty that could move oceans, lands, even worlds.  and so she carries her burden, her weight of sin, on small, slouching shoulders.  she lets dark hair hang over her face and wears the cloak of shadows produced by the wounds around her as a declaration of her penance. ) i am a martin. ( *nods solemnly.  wait, was that the right word?  pauses her steps, to look up contemplatively at the sky. ) no.  i am a martyr! ( *GOD THAT SOUNDED COOL!  SHE WAS SO COOL.  GRINS before remembering she has a role to play and coughs to herself, surveying the area about her to make sure she hasn't been seen before continuing the charade for a few moments longer.  it doesn't take her long to grow bored of the game and year for another.  wrinkling her nose, she decides to race a butterfly into the city, laughing as it disappears from her site--she was the victor!  ) AHHH.  AHHHH.  THE CROWD GOES WILD FOR CHOI JINRI. ( * running begins to hurt a little on the cement, and so the girl slows into a walk.  she wonders if she should've been more observant of white, spherical objects back in the bush.  shrugs.  her fate was to see the city, find the ball and get icecream!  another burst of assurance props her chin up, and she marches onwards.  upon passing a car, she hears a voice beckoning. ) 'whatcha doin', kid?' ( *jinri slaps a hand to her chest. ) i'm on a mission ahjussi! ( *the man laughs and she's reminded of an old accordion, dusty and wheezing ) 'how about you let me help?'

( *blinks slowly, dumbly, drawing the question into herself with the hesitance of a stubborn child.  it sidles into her conscious, sharp and true, drawing lines of pain that point towards memories coloured sanguine.  her voice is small, tentative, afraid. ) i regret a lot of things. ( *unknowingly, jinri’s gaze has travelled to pale, tight hands. she smiles at the twisting masses. )  i… i’m… g-guilty for a lot of th-things, you know… ( *smile extends, head pounds; they said smiling tricked oneself into the state of happiness—though she wasn’t so foolish to hope for that, rather, she just hoped for something that would allow her to ignore the sobering truth—but why did it never work?  somehow, the whole attempt left her sadder.  made her shoulders dip further, with the weight of the world that was no longer her darling.  somewhere along the line, she’s teared and the realisation draws shame.  the effort of keeping together draws a minute tremble, before the girl, moments from combusting cools.  an odd shift takes place, and her head rises.  a placid cool smile fills her face, charming in its entirety.  it doesn’t belong in the library of expressions the girl sitting there, seconds prior possessed.  oddity is marked by her next words, said with the calmness of a comment on the weather ) probably surviving, right?  surviving as is… rather than initiating something new… allowing for rebirth from back then… hmm.  ( * smiles ) there’s always time for that, though.  rebirth.

and here i was gon’ call out a certain jung. ( *ehehehehe; lopsided grin before a sigh ) this is harder than our last middies.. ( * looks about herself before tugging soojung closer.  whispers ) ok, so, i have eyes okay? okay. ( *looks about herself again, as if she was divulging a gigantic secret ) until someone got here, i would’ve said elsa ssaem, but… ( *whispering somehow manages to drop in volume even further ) .. now that jaehun is here… ( *nods.  there isn’t much more to say.  the words are in her expression.  said words being, dat ass. )

… that other person and all her baggage, hul. ( * ఠ ͟ಠ ) on top of the us’. ( * ఠ ͟ಠ )

me?  ( *eyes widen slightly, lips curl into a small smile and a mass of dark hair shifts to the side as she tilts her head.  pupils fall to the floor, eyes narrow—a face of concentration )  i… ( *frowns, words quietening.  laughter bursts from pressed lips as she looks about herself, looking for an answer in her surroundings; she doesn’t like this, this strange quaking feeling—it was as if she was to fall into ‘the sad’ again, even though she was hours off that mark. ) today is nice…  right now is nice.  so i guess… i guess… ( *dazed stringing of the words allows her to steady, for tense parts to slacken slightly, though at her next words, a pronounced crumple in her features appears momentarily ) … i’m most afraid of tomorrow?  tomorrow. yeah. ( * :> )