#seignne

dear sen.

   He has to admit, it’s a damn great idea. 

   His agent seems to think so too, judging by the tears of pride that glisten in her eyes when he first proposes it. Minjae’s never been particularly involved in his career, save the actual writing part; a fault of his own, really, because if he keeps coming up with ideas like this, he’ll be rich in no time.

   And really, it is a good idea; what could be better than re-releasing his book -- which, by now, has become something of a cult classic -- with an all-new cover, all-new authors note and, most importantly, all-new illustrations.

   That last part had sort of been the deciding factor/inspiration/his entire reason for even thinking of the idea in the first place. And Minjae’s always been one to give credit where credit’s due. He stumbled across Sen’s artwork while (not creeping, but totally creeping) his way through some old message boards, and her URL was one that had been repeated countless times. Deciding to brave the potential viruses and pop-ups for ‘Busty Russian Beauties!’ he’d followed the link only to find himself faced with a portfolio of art inspired by him.

   For hours he’d stumbled through piece after piece, drinking in every brushstroke and line, the way she’d captured the hesitance behind Taesun’s movements, the light behind Seokjin’s eyes. It was well into the early hours of the morning before he’d been able to tear his gaze away.

   He’d contacted her immediately -- there was no way he couldn’t: she’d captured his characters so fully, so incredibly. He had to meet her. 

   They’d agreed to meet at noon the following Saturday at a coffee shop in Hongdae. Minjae looks down at his watch: 11:56AM. Still time.

   She’s never needed to be afraid of the dark, not with the comfort of the bright city lights. In Seoul there was never a moment she truly felt as though she were submerged into darkness, instead thriving in the energy the city provided. Jihyo wonders how it must feel to not have the crutch she’s been dependent on for her whole life and what types of creatures hid behind the black shroud.

   The female hopes she’ll never be thrown into such a situation, she knows she wouldn’t be able to handle it and more than likely feel trapped in the lightless area. It’s sad, she thinks, how many adventures was she giving up simply to avoid trekking off into the unknown?

   Exciting items could be awaiting her, but the dancer chose to keep her distance and cling to the lights as though they’d protect her from all the bad in the world. How silly. One day, of course, there was the possibility she’d have no choice but to leave her place of comfort. What was she to do then? Maybe cry. That seemed reasonable.