#storvteller

Gayoon’s one eyebrow shot upwards and her lips popped out softly, the redness of their colour creating a bizarre shape close to a heart as she was thinking. “Maybe we should try and find the language we can both communicate in.”

ᴅʏɪɴɢ ʀᴘ sᴛᴀʀᴛᴇʀs

          On her knees but leaned against the other. Although she wasn’t hurt, she was covered in blood – she was covered in Iris’ blood. Little did ones who thought she was a monster know; even if she took lives – she was ready to give up on her own for the sake of the better. These two, though, had found themselves followed by a group of men – they weren’t out for the other girl, but of course, for Iris. Oh, fuck. Everything was quite obvious to her but she tried her best to ignore it, she was trying to keep the other woman safe as they walked through the dark street. But one of these men decided that it was time to make a move and that was it, it was enough to start some kind of blood bath in the middle of nothing… or everything. 

                                  "Please, fight this. You have to fight it. You have to live.“

SYCAMORE: Curiosity

• • • VENDETTA WELCOMES HEO GAYOON. A 24 YEAR OLD STORY TELLER CURRENTLY RESIDING IN SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA.

Learn More About Her Below ↴ and Find Her HERE.

Have you heard of an Archive? A mysterious place which is believed to be the facility filled with records, books, scrolls, countless information, place where every single name has its history and meaning and you can find an answer to everything. Its roots are reaching ancient cultures which found home in Library of Alexandria, its shelves lost to fire a decade later. The building might have been destroyed entirely but not its content. Paperbacks were protected by special writings threaded with magic and most of the information were moved to the parallel timeline, dimension which was later called an Archive by those who got a permission to enter its depths. The worker has to be chosen by the quality of their blood. An invisible tattoo that is spread in between the blood cells is a key to that invisible place. Such workers are called Story Tellers and they are able to pass through special gates which have different coordinates each time. Their job is to research, to keep history intact and record current happenings, to help community solve the mysteries that don’t have a usual explanation. They help detectives, doctors, artists, musicians, people who were attacked by the supernatural or are simply curious about their family genealogy. Story Tellers have their own profession aside from their every day life.

21st century and an Archive decided to offer its knowledge once again, its web finding an anchor in the city of Seoul and the gate to it linked to a small bookstore in Gangbuk-Gu. Before it became Story Teller’s domain, the building was of a shabby kind, believed to be haunted. The woman appeared out of nowhere and put a name on it, Arabesque, and filled it with arts books all over the world. She became a mystery to her neighbouring store owners. This pale young woman spends her time in the building, coming out only in the morning for one shot of espresso. Sometimes they don’t see her at all, the bookstore closed for a month or more, he appearing after a while with a scar on her face but still with that calm smile on her lips. Gayoon’s origin is unknown to the guests who visit the bookstore but she’s able to offer them the works they need for their research. If question is asked though she won’t hide the past which is filled with travels, the knowledge of many languages and thrilling adventures.

From her very birth Gayoon was aware who she was, the gates to Archive opening to her in the dreams when she was still a child filled with a colourful imagination. She’d waddle through those ancient shelves, her small fingertips tracing the covers of paperbacks, texture of scrolls. The dust particles would linger on her plump lips parted with awe as she’d scan the insides of the trillions of books present in the dimension. As she grew older she could feel a slight pain traveling through her body, that very tattoo, the letter describing her whole existence, carving itself in her blood as a distant echo of the memories of the past Story Tellers and their will.