#obshaechul

@obshaechul

🖂 to: Haefool --> “Did you eat my fucking bread.” 🖂 to: Haefool --> “You shit I literally didn’t even buy that for myself and now it’s gone.” 🖂 to: Haefool --> “Like I eat bread but hear me out I was going to try and make sandwiches for some of my friends because they are broke.” 🖂 to: Haefool --> “And now I have to order take out for them.”

( A few minutes later...)

--- @obshaechul

The weather is stormy. Or, well, not literally -- but it certainly feels as though there are clouds above the city, and they loom as heavily over Shoumu as anyone.

Shoumu would prefer, given the choice, to simply blend into the patchwork seams that comprise Sunseong -- to be of no particular note among its irregularities, so that nothing of note will ever happen to them. They would rather take the world simple, one foot in front of the other, peaceful. So in light of how the city is panicking, people whispering and milling about fearfully -- they can completely understand not wanting to leave the safety of one’s home until the storm blows over, they can.

They are not so certain that that course of action is healthy, particularly if you’re -- actually, is that sentence even true for fae? Shoumu’s knowledge on them is, admittedly, limited to say the least -- they’ve certainly never asked Haechul any questions about the matter -- but regardless, if you’re a terribly sociable person as Haechul most certainly is, then there is definitely a problem here. Yes, that’s a sensible conclusion. It’s got nothing to do with the fact that they’ve checked in on him having terribly obscure nightmares about locusts in the past few nights -- obviously, absolutely nothing of the sort has occurred. That would be silly.

しょうむʕ•ᴥ•ʔ: yaaa, hyung. r u there......? ʕ ᵒ̌ ‸ ᵒ̌ ʔ しょうむʕ•ᴥ•ʔ: havent seen u in days...... wondering if ur ok...... im coming over しょうむʕ•ᴥ•ʔ: u better let me in!! ʕ •̀ o •́ ʔ

Honestly, Shoumu has no idea if Haechul will even see the messages they sent -- given the fae’s track record with having his phone charged. Can it be that bad when he’s literally in his apartment with access to a charger? Whatever, it just seems like the proper courtesy to pay regardless.

@obshaechul

Establish a good distance; one that will let you see everything you need to, but won’t let them see you.

Maintain it. 

Gyuri raises a hand to nonchalantly tuck her earbuds deeper in. She hears nothing but her own paced footsteps. The arewere simply a prop to aid her performance as a normal civilian walking among the crowds of people. The bill of her cap shields her face as she kept her head lowered. With her sunglasses on, nobody can tell where her gaze is locked on, but her target remains in the scope of her vision.

One seventy-five cm in height. Dyed auburn hair. Walks with a bit of a slouch. She remembers seeing the same figure emerge around the park last night. A section of it was marked off by police tape and high beams illuminated the crimson tipped blades of grass. No body was found near by the puddle of blood but when she saw a figure dash from the scene, she had to follow. 

( And she has been since six a.m. today. )

A left turn is coming up ahead. The crowd stands at the intersection waiting for the light to give them the signal to cross. Her suspect bypasses it and disappears behind the corner. She speeds up just a touch because the other important rule of a trailing, other than “don’t get caught,” is:

Don’t lose sight of your target.

The evening streets were busy as he wandered, as he tended to do these days, looking for something to occupy his time. He liked when it was busy, he could slip unnoticed between the couples and  street performers, another face in the crowd. The smell of streetfood filled the air, and music from the performers battled around them all. If you strained, you could almost hear the faint sounds of the waves lapping at the shore. He continued in this way for a while, losing track of the time as his mind wandered as well.

He knew he needed to find some place to live, a job as well. He needed to blend in more fully with the humans, but at the same time the idea of making connections, making friends, was daunting. And so, he wandered along the seaside road, until a large crowd caught his eye. The crowd was gasping in awe one moment, and then laughing uproariously the next. The atmosphere was almost electric as he slowly made his way forward in the crowd until he could see.

It was a magician, it seemed, performing some magic tricks that were of course astonishing to humans. He smirked a bit at the idea that this could be considered magic, and was about to turn and leave before something caught his eyes. The form of the magician changed, slightly, just for a moment. But Wonho’s eyes widen as they caught it. The magician had, for that moment, been made entirely of locusts. In an instant he was charged with fear. This was no human magician, this was a fae. His eyes suddenly met the eyes of the fae performer, and he knew that they had realized he was also fae. 

This was dangerous, he needed to go, and quickly. He broke his gaze, hastily pushing back through the crowd, much to the annoyance of the spectators. Finally he was free of the large crowd, and he dashed down a small alley that he knew led to one of the larger streets. At this time of night, that street was sure to be crowded, and he could easily lose himself. He had almost made it, sure that no one was following him, when he spotted the small cafe. He quickly ducked inside, intending to wait to make sure he hadn’t been followed before he continued on.

@obshaechul

It was raining that night, and most people had removed themselves from the streets. The sun had only just set; it was getting darker by the second. Hands in his pockets, he drudged through puddle after puddle. By the way he was walking, someone at a distance might have assumed he had a limp. He was in one of those moods again, the kind of mood that felt like the world was on his shoulders. He didn’t know where he going, he just didn’t want to sit in his apartment tonight. This was unlike him, who more often than not simply ignored things that would get under a person’s skin, or he would sarcastically laugh it off and move on. But recently, so many little things had built up, and for once, he caved. You couldn’t attribute any single thing to his mood, but his breaking point was more than definable. He had a rough morning at the docks, and he didn’t care too much to remember it in detail as he continued his sullen crusade through the city. 

The rain was starting to let up, but he didn’t care either way. His hood was up and his hair was dry and that’s all he cared about in that regard. He soaked his shoes as he made his way across another puddle. He wasn’t being very attentive, not only to his surroundings, but to himself either. He was snapped out of regressing into his sad thoughts by the sound. He glanced around immediately, looking for the source. Nothing around him. He heard it again, even louder this time. He looked down and realized the source of the rumbling. He was hungry. It was too late for most places to be open, and he wasn’t particularly familiar with this side of town. In fact, he didn’t recognize anything around him. He had no idea how long he had been walking, though he remembered that the sun was still above the horizon when he left home. Despite being lost, he didn’t seem too concerned. He kept walking, this time with a purpose.

After a few blocks, he saw a bright neon light hanging over a staircase that appeared to lead to the basement of a building. He didn’t care to look at the name of the bar, but he saw a small chalkboard sitting to the side. The words had been mostly desecrated by the rain, but he could make out the vague implications that there was food inside. He crossed the street in a hurry, and began his descent. There was a thick smog hanging in the air inside, and it began to waft toward him as soon as he opened the door. The bar was dimly lit, with red walls and warm colors accented everywhere. It certainly felt warm, at least in comparison to the cold and damp environment outside. There were no more than ten people here at first glance. None of them seemed terribly interested in Jiho as he walked up to the bar, though he certainly looked out of place here. He glanced around as he made his way by the mostly empty tables. The people here seemed sketchy at best; he realized the smog in the air was the product of a trio of ruffians smoking quietly in the corner. A normal sane person would probably have turned around at the door. This place wasn’t too well-kept, but it certainly wasn’t the messiest place he had been to. He sat down at the bar and ordered a drink. He almost never drank alcohol, but he was beyond being picky at this point.

      there was a feeling of terror, but the want to laugh at the situation at hand. she had been walking home when suddenly... she saw fire in front of her. there was no reason for it, it was just there. to a human, it would probably make no sense and they would run in the other direction, but in her case, she knew it had to be some magic. the weather wasn’t particularly hot enough to start any random fires, and the street was pretty much empty, so no person could be the reason as to why the fire started, so it had to be magic. 

       she stopped, looking at the fire, looking around her, but not seeing anything. ‘ listen, i know this isn’t real fire, ’ she started, still looking at her surroundings, ‘ so i suggest you come out and stop this illusion before someone else sees and calls the fire department. don’t want to be exposed as a witch, right? ’ she gripped the bag that was over her shoulder, waiting for a response from whoever was creating the illusion. 

@obshaechul

The bar was Cris' favorite place in the restaurant. Between the black and gold accents separating the area from the rest of the natural décor, and warm lighting that highlighted the marble perfectly, everything just screamed baller. It was where he liked to get to know people, a welcoming area for all, especially other supernaturals. "My pops knew a couple of fae's once." He began again, once his employee walked away to continue cleaning up the area for closing. "He described them as 'mysteriously majestic'. One had white wings and the other had black tipped claws, standing in the middle of the forest like something straight out of a canvas." Swirling his whiskey, Cris quickly reached over the countertop to drop some of the ice in the sink. He always thought whiskey went down smoother when warm. "He couldn't stick around though because he had some hunters on his tail, but I always wonder what happened to them. Where did they go and where did they come from."

9.Makeup?

Makeup seems interesting, but due to his glamour he has little need of it. He finds the concept of it all fascinating, particularly the products that contain glitter.

17.Preferred mode of dress and rituals surrounding dress 

Wonho’s style changes by the day, depending on what he sees on the streets. He does have a fondness for chokers and loose long sleeved tops over tight pants. He has no particular ritual to get dressed, but he tends to match his color choices to the weather.

23.How organized are they? How does this organization/disorganization manifest in their everyday life?

Extremely organized. Spending his formative years as a soldier, essentially, he learned to keep everything in it’s proper place at all times. Disorganization bothers him a bit, as he feels the need to correct it.

34.Thoughts on privacy? (Are they a private person, or are they prone to ‘TMI’?)