#orbhaera

@orbhaera

too many things have changed, not many settling to be a constant. with the exception of her dearest, haera -- she reminds her of what’s good in her life. this remarkable person sees her as someone beyond exceptional... why? 

prior to her father’s passing, exercising free will for conventionally selfish motives had never even been presented as an option, but now -- she operated with indifference and lack of motivation, her perspective on life crooked and imbalanced. the once poised and confident girl, no where in view. she’s eternally wounded, visible for everyone to see. the most minuscule glimpse of the inner workings of her mind. 

little did they know how much she’s hurting.

who do you miss the most?

@orbhaera

he sits in the seat designated to him, slumped down as far as he can, his combat boots taking up more than their fair share of the floor space, but he’s not the type to give a shit. he looks around the room, as their commander issues out directives and notices, how many of them are sitting up straight, sitting to attention, giving this briefing the much-deserved respect it requires. he figures he’ll probably either get scolded for his slouched posture, or suspended again. perhaps he ought to really fret over that, but he can’t bring himself to, it’s too early in the morning and he’s still not used to biting up at the chain of command. he’s been a captain of his own ship for four years now, and all of a sudden, they want him to obey?

he’d rather just steal one of their ships and take out the first order by himself.

although his chances of success dwindle quite impressively if he does that, so here he sits, only barely listening to everyone’s newest superior, his golden eyes floating around at the faces of what he assumes will be his new crew. he mildly recognizes some of them, is surprised to see others. one or two of them make him uncomfortable, but it’s a singular face in the mass of chairs that spins jaewon’s heart into a flutter, catches in his lungs and gets stuck in his throat. he wants to cough but his body is frozen like an ice sculpture, the emotions ringing in his ears like a distant memory; fear and confusion, curiosity, and worst of all, shame.

TAKE ME TO CHURCH I’LL WORSHIP LIKE A DOG AT THE SHRINE OF YOUR LIES

@orbhaera

the first time he comes to the silk road, he is a writhing, dying mess, the poison coursing through his veins like a curse in an old fairytale, the world spinning and hating him, full of evil colors and maniacal sounds. his crew has brought him here for lack of anywhere else to go, having heard the powerful abilities of the women who live here and operate here. everything is detestable to him in his hellish state and the few times he wakes up, the few moments the poison lets him come up from the water to gasp at air, all he can think about is the way his bones feel like they’re on fire, the way he has to claw at his chest to find his lungs, and the way one certain girl’s eyes and hands and voice is the only thing that can calm him down enough to pass out again.

when he does finally wake and become coherent enough to ask about her, some mythical angel he’s sure he must have dreamed up in his fever, that’s when he first meets her officially. not a dream. worse: a real girl with real eyes and a real smile and jaewon resolves himself to not speak very much the entire time he’s under her care and that of her mothers’. he’s grateful, the whole crew is, but apart from paying them, he can’t really give them anything, give her anything, tell her anything. he pretty sure by the end of it that he’s actually managed to freak her out a bit with all the constant staring.

the second time he comes to the silk road, it’s because he realizes he cannot stay away. perhaps it’s because the temptation is too great, having docked the ship at a nearby town to refresh supplies and give the crew their space. and now jaewon finds himself wandering through the doors to the main area, music and dancing on stage that he can’t really even focus on because his golden eyes are trailing after every dark-headed girl, every flash of slight wrists and sly eyes, any sign of his seraphim angel amidst the crowd.

he sits slowly, but he doesn’t feel like watching the show or drinking. he’s just not sure how to get ahold of her, how to ask for her. haera; a six-winged beauty that ties his tongue in knots and probably has no idea why he would come back to see her, why he would even care at all, probably is already in love with someone else, probably too good for him, probably doesn’t even remember his name. all of that is inconsequential to him though.